He gave a wry smile at her hopeful tone, but it fell quickly. “Why did Georgiana do this?”
Elizabeth met his eye with a patient look. “She wants a romance? Perhaps I am not doing her justice, but she is young and foolish, like most people when they are fifteen.”
“She has been taught to consider serious subjects. She is not idle nor thoughtless.”
“Like my sister?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“No,” he insisted, meaning it. “I only meant that I am shocked by her decision. She had begun to push against me in small ways, assuming I was more controlling than I was, but I never could have predicted this. As you said, Wickham can easily captivate a woman. And with girlish hopes and a companion to encourage her, I can now see how she could be convinced.”
“She is an innocent girl,” Elizabeth said, “and you can convince her not to marry him.”
He wanted to believe her so desperately, but he was the sort to prepare for the worst outcome. “What if she is already married by the time we get there?”
She shook her head. “We will beat them to Scotland.”
“What if she won’t leave him?” He hated the way his voice shook when he asked the question.
“Georgiana will see reason, although we will have to tell her theentiretruth, his history with…with women of the town and all of that. If it were me, I would be convinced if someone I trusted raced after me and told me those things about my intended husband.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly. He disliked the way he felt, his stomach twisting as though waiting for her approval. “You met me a week ago, but you knew Wickham a few weeks longer.”
“I knew him longer,” she agreed, “but knew littleofhim. It was all superficial friendliness and flattery, the sort of acquaintance one makes at the seaside—probably why you do not care for such places,” she added. “But he did something despicable, and you offered aid the moment I needed help.” She blushed, then added in a rush, “I knew a little of your character from your sister, too.”
“I am glad for it, because you are too astute not to have thought of what must happen if we cannot convince her to come home with us.”
The full consequence of their actions only just came to him. If Georgiana marrying Wickham was the worst scenario, then marrying Elizabeth to keep their good names was the second worst. She looked at him, confused, then blinked, and looked away with a heavy sigh.
In the silence, he added, “If we are forced to marry, you should at least be able to trust me.”
“There is no reason to fear on that score—on our being forced to marry, I mean,” she said, stumbling over her words. “I never in a thousand years would think we cannot persuade her.” She gave a high-pitched laugh that felt false. “You must be as distressed and panicked as you were in London when you heard the news to worry about a thing like that. What nonsense.”
“I did not say it was likely, only that it was possible.”
“It is possible highwaymen will hold up the mail coach. Do not fall into melancholy over unlikely things.”
Was being robbed at gunpoint worse than marrying a near-stranger to save her good name after she tried to save Georgiana’s? One was temporary, the other forever. Hopefully, only one of them held the threat of terror and death.
“I am merely being honest, Miss Bennet. If she marries him, it looks to the world that you and I ran away to Scotland together.”
“You and I will be determined to convince Georgiana to leave him,” she added, smiling and sounding more like herself. “From what you have said since nearly the moment I met you, you would regret a connexion to a family such as mine.”
How ungentlemanly had he been? Was that the sort of man he wanted to be? One where a woman knew instantly that he disdained her? “I regret more the complete loss of your reputation when you only came along to protect my sister’s.” He supposed that was not reassuring. “I regret offending you and speaking against your family.”
“Do you regret your offensive pride as well?” she asked, sounding sincerely curious about the answer.
“My pride?” he repeated, confused.
“I understand your concern with family reputation, of course, but I think it is time to challenge your improper pride, considering Georgiana’s actions. You might try being civil to people too. One may quickly get a reputation for being unpleasant, and family reputations feel precarious to me as of late.”
“I am perfectly civil,” he insisted. It made good sense to be civil to people, after all. One never knew who might marry whom, who might be well-connected, who might be relied on in the future. But one did not consider the feelings and worth of those outside one’s circle.
“Mr Darcy, your manners are not inviting, no matter what words you use. You have a selfish disdain, I think, of the feelings of others. And toward me, although you have also been generous and obliging, you have even been ungentlemanly.”
She said it plainly, without malice, as though observing the weather. He was affronted, and then he slowly realised that she had his measure. If he denied it, he would make a fool of himself.
Had he acted in pride and conceit, been taught to be selfish and overbearing? The truth of it struck him forcibly. He had just admitted in his own mind that he cared for none beyond his family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world. He gave offence to Elizabeth within a quarter of an hour of meeting her. How many others had he undeservingly offended?
Darcy endeavoured to be composed as other passengers boarded inside the coach and on its roof. That was not the sort of man hewanted to be. And Elizabeth deserved better from him, even if she had not risked everything to protect his sister.
