I am sensible that any location connected with Mr Darcy can inspire in you but moderate enthusiasm; yet you will allow that the neighbourhood is not wholly without more agreeable associations, since our dear Mr Wickham also claims that county as his native soil.
Believe me, my dear Lizzy,
Your ever affectionate Aunt,
Madeleine Gardiner
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered at the thought of visiting Derbyshire. Would Mr Darcy be there or would he be in Town? Why had he not come to Netherfield as a guest of Mr Bingley’s? How far was her aunt’s little town of Lambton from Pemberley? Would she be able to convince them to go and see it? What if he was at home? What would he think of her? Would he think she was chasing him?
Her head started to pound with a deep headache, under the onslaught of questions assaulting her.
She winced when she read one more time her aunt’s estimation of her feelings towards both Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham. Again she felt the weight of guilt for speaking so flippantly about one and so warmly about the other.
She would have to tell her aunt the truth; she deserved nothing less than complete honesty from her favourite niece.
The days dragged on languidly, with Jane and Mr Bingley now clearly courting. Yet no news of a more serious attachment between them was forthcoming. Lydia was gone to Brighton and the house was a lot quieter.
Finally the day of Elizabeth and the Gardiners departure for their Northern Tour arrived. Elizabeth’s excitement resembled a child on Christmas Eve waiting for her presents.
“I must say Lizzy,” Mrs Gardiner said with an affectionate smile, “I have not seen you this excited in a long time.”
As the miles took them closer and closer to Derbyshire, Elizabeth decided to tell her aunt the truth. On a day excursion, as the two of them meandered slowly through the grounds of Belvoir Castle, beside a shining lake she saw no betteropportunity. Her uncle was a few paces behind them talking to the groundsman about trout fishing.
“Aunt Gardiner, I saw Mr Wickham in Kent soon after Mr Collins’ passing.”
“Oh,” her aunt looked at her curiously, “and did the two of you had a nice tête-à-tête?”
“No, I slapped him... twice.”
Mrs Gardiner gasped, “What? Why would you do that?”
“Aunt, I am afraid we have been completely deceived in Mr Wickham’s character.”
“Indeed? How so Lizzy?”
“Mr Wickham was the worst kind of blackguard I have ever met Aunt, in fact while I was at Rosings he appeared there one day and tried to... he tried to force Miss de Bourgh to marry him.”
“Oh my goodness,” Mrs Gardiner said horrified, “where is he now?”
“He is dead. He deserted his post at the Militia, stole a horse, and left an enormous amount of debt behind in Meryton and I daresay in London as well. He was tried and hanged about three months ago.”
Her aunt looked at her compassionately, “And how do you feel about all this tragedy?”
“If you are subtly asking if I was in some way attached to Mr Wickham, I must now disabuse you. No, my heart was never touched by Mr Wickham. He flattered me, fed my ego but he did not capture my affections.”
“What about Mr Darcy? Do you feel differently about him too?”
Elizabeth blushed and turned away.
“Lizzy? Is there something else you wish to tell me?”
“Yes Aunt,” Elizabeth cleared her throat in obvious embarrassment, “I must say I feel very uneasy when I remember how I abused Mr Darcy both to his face and behind it.”
Mrs Gardiner said nothing and simply waited patiently for her niece to unburden her heart.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, “I spent a lot of time with Mr Darcy when we were in Kent. And I can now say confidently that he is a very good and honourable man.”
“I see.” Mrs Gardiner hid a little smile, “I never thought Mr Darcy was as nearly as disgraceful as you and Mr Wickham painted him out to be.”
