Only, she also knew that she would not do it. Eva’s concerns were now her own. But what on earth was she to do about it?
She stood, leaving the offensive letter on her desk. Elizabeth paced back and forth, thinking furiously. She had promised Eva she would see to the letter, but she was in uncharted waters now. She was the lady of the house, and it was her duty to respect the privacy of her guests. On the other hand, she also had a family obligation to protect her new sister-in-law. What if Mr Wickham was involved in something that would hurt Georgiana? Normally, she would never dream of snooping into someone else’s mail. But Mr Wickham had already shown himself capable of a disreputable action. Eloping with a sixteen-year-old girl showed that much, despite his protestations of uncontrollable love. Mr Wickham thought himself ill-used by Mr Darcy, while Mr Darcy obviously believed his brother-in-law capable of anything. What was Mr Wickham, victim or villain?
The letter might hold the answer.
At last, Elizabeth stopped her pacing. She stood before her desk, staring at the letter. Perhaps there was nothing really wrong at all. Perhaps it would turn out to be a benign correspondence between Wickham and Georgiana. If she opened the letter, she would have to give it to Mr Wickham afterward and admit what she had done. He would be justified in taking grave offense, as would Georgiana. It might prove disastrous to the fragile rapprochement between Will and his sister.
But if the letter was all she feared, they must know the truth, whatever the cost.
Elizabeth stepped over to the desk and snatched up the letter, holding her finger under the lip. After a moment of hesitation, she broke the seal and unfolded the missive.
My dear Mr Wickham,
I must protest your treatment of me these last months. Why will you not answer my many letters?
Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly in her chest. It would seem her instinct that the letter held dire information was correct. She scanned the lines, searching for the name of the sender.
“Your wife, Elaine Wickham…” Elizabeth read aloud.
Her heart nearly stopped when she read the words. The suspicion that had been in her mind since first reading the letter’s address, the one almost too terrible to speak aloud, was true: Mr Wickham was already married. In the eyes of the law and the church, he and Georgiana were not married at all, and she was ruined.
She snatched up the letter again and read it in full, each line worse than the last. Elaine Wickham spoke of the years of their marriage and her abandonment by Wickham since the previous summer.
The previous summer, when he courted and eloped with Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth sank into her chair before her writing desk. She could not think of what she must do next; she could hardly breathe. It was almost too much for her mind to comprehend. How could she have been so duped by the man? He had seemed too honourable and charming to do anything so devious.
And Mr Darcy had tried to warn her all along. His slights against Wickham’s character had not been too stringent. If anything, he had been too generous. Could anyone believe such villainy as this? Mr Wickham’s outrageous behaviour was beyond anything.
But she could not remain at her desk forever. Taking the letter into her hand, Elizabeth went out into the hall. She would walk a little, clear her mind. And then she would find her husband. Together, they would decide what must be done.
In her distracted state, Elizabeth strode as quickly as though she hoped to outrun her thoughts. When the door to the east sitting room abruptly opened almost in her face, she only just stopped in time.
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise.
“Dear me!” The door was quickly closed. “How sorry I am! I ought not to have opened it so abruptly. Do forgive me.”
Emerging from behind the door, Mr Wickham gave her a warm, apologetic smile, as though a quickly opened door was the worst thing he had ever done in his life.
Elizabeth knew her face must have looked quite odd, but she could not control her shock and revulsion for the life of her. Mr Wickham looked at her in concern.
“Are you quite well, Mrs Darcy?” he asked her gently, taking her elbow to steady her. “I did not hurt you, did I?”
“No, no, not in the least,” Elizabeth said hurriedly. “I am quite well, thank you.” The letter clutched in her hand felt as though it might burn her.
“Are you certain? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he said slowly. He released her, for which she was grateful. “Or perhaps you have had some disturbing news in the post?”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, trying to remain calm. “The post? No, not at all.”
“I should not wish to pry,” Mr Wickham said gracefully. “It is only that I saw you have a letter there. I do hope your family are all well?”
“I believe so, yes,” Elizabeth told him, privately disgusted at his counterfeited concern. That was Mr Wickham all over — saying everything that was right, and doing everything that was wrong.
“I had hoped to speak with you about Georgiana’s dowry, actually,” he said. Mr Wickham motioned for her to follow him down the hall, but she remained stock-still. He frowned, clasping his hands behind his back. “As you know, Georgiana and I will be leaving for London shortly. I would never dream of imposing, but you, of all the family, have a sense of honour and compassion upon which I can safely depend. Surely you must see the injustice that Georgiana and I have suffered? It is not right that Mr Darcy refuses to release her funds to their rightful owner.”
Elizabeth drew her lips into a thin line. For the first time, the true ugliness of Mr Wickham’s plans became clear. Likely he had never cared about Georgiana at all. He had only wanted to get his hands on her fortune. And when thwarted in his first attempt, he had gone to work another way — by attempting to suborn her into joining his cause. To gain access to Georgiana’s full dowry, he would have had her persuade Mr Darcy against alljudgement, to make him weigh his affection for her against his wish to protect his sister.
And if he had yielded, what followed could only have been disastrous.
He furrowed his brow in concern at her silence. “Are you sure there is nothing amiss? Shall I call for your maid? Truly, you seem very distressed.”
