Chapter 11 – A Painful Admittance
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this had been the most enlightening, yet most heart wrenching night of Elizabeth's life. Her conversation with Mr. Darcy had shown her a different side of him, a more compassionate one. But she also faced her own faults, ones she had not known she possessed.
“And this man, have you heard from him again?”
Mr. Darcy threw another scoop of coal into the fire. “Sadly, our paths crossed again last autumn.”
“Last autumn? But you were in Hertfordshire until. . .” Her voice trailed off as the dates aligned in her mind.
It was the 28th of November when Mr. Darcy had abruptly quit Netherfield—just two days after the ball. Elizabeth had not recalled anything particular about his stay except for the strong antipathy she had for him at the time. His prideful, disdainful attitude had been the foundation of her dislike, but it was Mr. Wickham’s account that thoroughly destroyed Mr. Darcy’s character in her eyes.
Mr. Wickham. The name sprang to mind, unbidden and undeniable—and with it, a sudden, chilling clarity.
Her conversations with Mr. Wickham were still fresh in her memory. Could it be possible that the man Mr. Darcy was speaking of was the self-same officer she had met in Hertfordshire? Mr. Wickham was an old friend of the family who had known Mr. Darcy since childhood. He had even mentioned a connection with Lady Catherine and Miss Darcy.
It had to be Mr. Wickham.
Eyes wide with bewilderment, Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy as the realization struck her fully. His expression told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Yes, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, anticipating her question. “The man is Mr. Wickham.”
Elizabeth was in utter shock. “He. . . he has spoken so ill of you and your sister—he defamed you in the cruellest manner!”
“I know not which falsehoods he has imposed on you; I can only warn you not to believe one word he says. His character is most deceitful.”
“He claimed you denied him the living your father promised—that you withheld his inheritance and left him destitute!”
Mr. Darcy set the poker aside and slumped in the armchair across from hers.
“That is not true. Wickham never cared to take orders—he wanted money. He asked for pecuniary compensation instead of the living, accepting the amount of three thousand pounds. Together with the inheritance of one thousand pounds he received upon my father's death, he was left in an excellent monetary position. He told me his intention was to study the law, though the stated ambition was a mere pretence. How he lived, I cannot say, but about three years later, when he ran out of money, he came to me again to claim the position he had declined. I refused, of course, and he swore revenge. The next I heard of him was in Ramsgate.”
“Why did you not expose him while in Meryton?”
“His assertions never reached my ears; otherwise, I would have acted in consequence.”
“I never met anyone that duplicitous! His explanations were thorough; he was so convincing!” A cold weight settled in her stomach. How easily had she been deceived! Mr. Wickham’s charming pretence, his carefully spun tales—she had believed them all without hesitation. And now, the full force of her own misjudgement pressed upon her with humiliating clarity.
“You seemed to have taken eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth’s skin became heated and she lowered her gaze to her hands, ashamed of having encouraged the connection. “I mustconfess, I allowed myself to condole with his misfortunes without giving the matter deeper thought.”
“His misfortunes!” Mr. Darcy scoffed. “Yes, they have been great indeed.”
“I am so foolish!” She bit back the sting of shame.
“Do not blame yourself, madam. Detection was not in your power, and suspicion certainly is not in your nature. Well,” he added, with a hint of irony, “at least not inhiscase.”
His final remark, though lightly delivered, made her face grow warm again. They fell into silence, both absorbed in the weight of recent revelations. Only the gentle crackle of the fire and the erratic whistling of the wind at the window disturbed the stillness.
After a moment, Mr. Darcy said, “You must be eager to leave the island as soon as may be.”
“Indeed! All I wish is to return home. My sister Jane's spirits have been low lately, and I long to see her.”
“Is anything the matter with her?”
The gentleman’s participation in the separation of Jane and Mr. Bingley was a matter that had preoccupied Elizabeth, one she was eager to clarify.
“Yes. Yes, there is. For some time, I believed Mr. Bingley was persuaded to quit Netherfield because of his attachment to my sister Jane. This assumption was confirmed only two days ago by Colonel Fitzwilliam when he mentioned that you had been the principal cause of separating a young couple during your stay in Hertfordshire. I could only presume he referred to Mr. Bingley and Jane. Having misjudged your character once before, I must ask, have I been mistaken yet again?”
