Her jaw dropped open, and Darcy regretted his impulsive retort.
“That is a baseless accusation,” she cried.
“In Meryton, perhaps, but I have dealt with similar repercussions in Derbyshire. And while I hope that acknowledging a defect can lead to its correction in my case, Mr Wickham is not principled enough to be capable of reformation.”
“You denied him a living. You simply hate?—”
“Mr Wickhamhimselfresigned all claim to assistance in the church,” he interrupted, trying to keep his temper in check. “My father desired that a family living might be Mr Wickham’s as soon as it became vacant. But for years I saw his vicious propensities and his want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of my father. When the time came, Mr Wickham wrote that he was resolved against taking orders, and expected some pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment.”
Elizabeth’s face went white as she stared at him.
“He accepted in return three thousand pounds and wrote that he would enter the law, and I heard little of him, other than that he lived in idleness and dissipation. Three years later, he appliedagainfor the presentation after he had learnt the living was then available. His circumstances were dreadful. He had spent the money I gave him, as well as the thousand pounds my father had left him, and was no closer to taking the bar than you are.”
“It cannot be true,” she whispered, falling into a chair.
“Do you think I would say all of this to you if I could not summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity?” he said, following to stand near her. “Or show you the letters we exchanged on the subject?”
“But why? Why would he claim you had refused to grant it to him?”
Darcy could give her no explanation she could understand, for how could an unsuspicious person comprehend the motives of a wicked man? “All I can say for certain is that his resentment of me was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances. He was as violent in his abuse of me to others,” he said pointedly, looking at her, “as in his reproaches to myself.”
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands, and he thought he heard her mutter, “I have been blind.”
Darcy swallowed thickly as he took the seat across from her. He wished he could leave matters as they were, but Elizabeth had to know the true depths of what Wickham was capable of.
He carefully laid plain his sister’s history with Wickham, how she was removed from school and put under the care of a woman who had actually been in collusion with Wickham, how Wickham had followed his sister to the seaside, and he and her companion convinced her to consent to an elopement.
“I joined them unexpectedly just before, and Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending me, acknowledged the whole of it. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister’s credit and feelings prevented any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr Wickham, who left the place immediately. His chief object was my sister’s fortune.”
He sat back in his chair, feeling weary after telling the tale of one of the worst experiences of his life.
Elizabeth was sniffling into her handkerchief when she said, “I suppose he had also the hope of revenging himself on you.”
Darcy exhaled a long breath. She believed him. “Yes, his revenge would have been complete indeed.” She wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. “Are you well?” he asked.
“You are asking about me?” she said through a strained laugh. “My feelings are acutely painful and rather difficult of definition. Your relation of events must overthrow my every cherished opinion of Wickham’s worth.” She looked thoughtful. “And I now see that his behaviour toward me had no acceptable motive.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants to marry for money and he knew I had no fortune, and so he must have been gratifying his vanity by encouraging my preference for him, one I see now that I incautiously showed.”
“That is why I told you about Georgiana,” he murmured. “The rest of our history might have been enough to dissuade you of wrongdoing on my part, but you must be cautious around him while the militia remains in Meryton.”
She finished drying her eyes and wiping her nose, nodding to herself as she put away her handkerchief and tugged on her glove. It was time for them to return before anyone grew suspicious. He rose, adding, “I feel no doubt of your secrecy. Only myself and my sister’s other guardian, my mother’s nephew Colonel Fitzwilliam, know how close my sister came to losing everything.”
“Of course, although I will make it clear amongst my acquaintance that Mr Wickham is not to be trusted.”
He bowed; there was nothing more to say. Darcy picked up the first book he saw and left to return to the others.
To think he had considered encouraging Elizabeth when all of this time she had hated him, had not even thought of him as a gentleman. He had written to L as a means of distraction from yearning for Elizabeth, and all along she neveradmired him. And now that he had overcome his ridiculous scruples in considering a woman beneath him in connexions and consequence, she hated him. She believed his narrative of events, but knowing the truth would not make Elizabeth love him.
He would write to L as soon as he returned home.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth had sat stunned for a long time last night after Darcy left the library. She had eventually grabbed the nearest book and pretended to read in the drawing room for the rest of the evening while astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed her.
However, the recitation of events had not appeared to distress Darcy. He was reading when she returned to the drawing room, but when the whist game had done, he joined the others and continued to be pleasant to everyone. She could not attend to a single conversation, but she heard him talk of the panorama to her uncle, of Derbyshire to her aunt, of how was she enjoying town to Jane. He tried to press Bingley into attending a lecture with him. He even showed patience to Miss Bingley, who continued to court his attention despite his lack of encouragement.
