To loseFitzwilliam now filled Elizabeth with unspeakable dread. Elizabeth thought back to the morning in the cottage and wondered whether there was any difference between herself and Lydia in his mind. They both gave themselves to men they loved without the protection of marriage. It had felt perfectly right and natural, but Fitzwilliam’s grave looks made her fear he might now think upon their actions with shame. She was sorry to focus on her own private cares in the face of the public ruination of all her family, but she could not help it.
And if everyone in Meryton learned that I had given myself to Fitzwilliam, would it matter that I am engaged and Lydia is not?Would anyone see her choices and actions as acceptable as she did because Fitzwilliam loved her and had promised to marry her? Or if anyone found out, would she be condemned the same as Lydia would be?
She covered her face with her handkerchief and wept.
She was recalled to the present when Fitzwilliam sat by her. “Elizabeth, your sorrow over Lydia has clouded your judgment, and you have mistaken my frustration at this situation for disappointment with you. Nothing will prevent me from marrying you. In my heart, you are my wife. I would not give you up over this or anything.”
She knew better than to assume him capable of only the most severe judgments, and she ought to have learned by now not to judge hastily. She released a shuddering sigh of relief.
“Forgive me, dearest, for adding to your anguish. I intended to spare your feelings, but instead I have hurt you even further.”
He tugged the handkerchief away from her face, and Elizabeth felt the warm pressure of his lips against hers, and the familiar sense of belonging when he pulled her into his arms. He sighed and pulled a letter from his pocket, turning it over in his hands as he looked at it in distaste.
“This was waiting for me when I returned to Netherfield this evening. It is not for the eyes of a lady, but I cannot deceive you, and now I must let you read it and suffer your anger at having disappointed you.”
Elizabeth was, for a moment, transported back to an April morning in Kent when he handed her a letter with a look of haughty composure. She took the letter and read, and her pulse raced as her stomach sank to the floor. She bounded from her seat to pace, overcome with nervous energy as she read. Her astonishment was beyond expression. Wickham had seduced Lydia as revenge on her and Fitzwilliam, and demanded recompense to preserve Lydia’s reputation.
“I did not know such villainy persisted in this world!” she cried.
Fitzwilliam met her gaze with a serious look. “I ought to have learned by now not to be surprised at the lengths to which Wickham will go to achieve his desired end, which most times is enough funds available to him to gamble as much as he chooses.”
“Why did you not tell me this immediately?” Her voice shook as she held up the letter. “After everything we have said, everything we have done, why would you keep such a thing a secret? It shows a want of confidence in me.”
Fitzwilliam sighed and leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. When he spoke, he looked at his hands. “The whole of this sad affair may be imputed to my mistaken pride. Had I lain bare what I knew of his character, Lydia might not have been so easy a target. When we discussed informing the neighbourhood, I thought he would soon be gone, and it did not signify whether people knew what he was. I did not want to disclose my private dealings.”
“That is why you feel responsible, Mr Darcy, but it does not explain why you kept his disgraceful attempt at coercion to yourself.” Had they not spoken of his irritating tendency to control every situation and arrange the business of everyone to his own liking? Had he not promised to involve her as an equal?
“Do you not see, Miss Bennet?” He stressed her name in response to her own detached style of addressing him. He rose and stood before her. “You have already accused me of being devoid of every proper feeling, of being too prideful. How could I bear to lose your affection when my selfishness is the reason Wickham targeted your sister?”
The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself and, from actual weakness, fell back to her seat. Fitzwilliam was just as frightened of losing her regard as she had been of losing his.
“I hope to recover Lydia before the world knows that she eloped,” he spoke quietly and carefully. “I have no intention of paying him thirty thousand pounds, especially if I can convince her to return to Longbourn. If she refuses to part from him, I shall do what I can in order for them to marry and support themselves in tolerable independence. I wished to spare your feelings, but I now see that, in trying to keep this from you, I have done more harm than good. I am exceedingly sorry.”
He knelt and grasped her hands as he had tried to do in the tearoom at the assembly. This time she did not pull away; rather, she raised an unsteady hand and ran her fingers through his hair. With a sigh that released the burdens of the world, Fitzwilliam closed his eyes, and Elizabeth watched the tension drain from his face. He took such comfort in her touch; she marvelled that it was in her power to make him happy.
“I did not think you could forgive me for not making Wickham’s character known.” His eyes were still closed.
“I cannot blame you for Wickham’s misdeeds any more than you might blame me for Lydia’s thoughtlessness.”
He opened his eyes and rose to sit next to her, holding her hands within his own. “I could not leave you to think my affections were changeable, even if it meant you would hate me for what Wickham had done.”
“I do not think that your reserve, or anybody’s reserve, can be answerable for the event,” she said sadly. “They have only themselves to blame, though we all must bear the consequences.” Elizabeth hesitated to ask her next question, but she would speak her mind. “Fitzwilliam, if Lydia refuses to leave him and we compel him to marry her, how could you endure it?”
“What do you mean?” He raised his arm and pulled her to rest her head on his shoulder.
“How could you stand to be brother-in-law to Wickham? And Georgiana—what would she suffer?”
“I would not receive himat Pemberley,” he answered quickly, “but Lydia and the rest of your family will always be welcomed in our home. As for Georgiana,” he said, deliberating, “I think she and I are of a similar mind: she has the highest opinion in the world of you and would not give you up for anything.”
They sat together in silence and drew from one another the strength to face the following days. Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder until sleep finally found her, and Jane discovered her in the morning lying on the sofa, tucked beneath a blanket with Wickham’s letter folded in her hand.
* * *
“Darcy,this calamity will reflect poorly on the Bennet family should we not find her in time,” Bingley said as Darcy’s carriage carried them into town.
“I shall do whatever is required to ensure the honour and respectability of the Bennets.” Darcy stared out the side glass. He tried to remember who, among his servants, had been well acquainted with Mrs Younge.
Bingley cleared his throat. “The more time that passes before we recover Lydia, the more likely the scandal will break.”
