“His name is Mr. Wickham,” she said.
I shot to my feet.
She, of course, could not stand, and so she stayed where she was, staring up at me in surprise.
I took several deep breaths and then I forced myself to sit back down.
“Well, he is known to you,” she said.
“He is the man,” I said in a low and tight voice. “The man who tried to elope with Georgiana.”
“Georgiana?” She was confused.
“My sister,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, understanding coming over her. “Oh, my. I see. But… he said he was the son of your steward.”
“Yes,” I said tightly.
“Oh,” she said in another voice. “Yes, well, I see how that is worse, in many ways. Oh, dear, yes, if that came out, forher, for your sister…” She hunched up her shoulders. “Well, I suppose he did it out of revenge, but that is not an excuse, not at all.”
“Revenge,” I muttered. “He considers himself wronged, I suppose.”
“He does,” she said. “I must say, your family is not one for having anything written down as a formal agreement in writing, are they? No betrothal between you and your cousin, and no provision for his taking over the rectory in Derbyshire.”
“What?” I said, eyeing her. “That living? Well, he could not make his mind up about wanting that, anyway!”
“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Yes, he must have told me falsehoods. I suppose he does not seem entirely trustworthy, given that he hid all of that, with your sister, from me, did not mention it at all. He said, in fact, your sister was exceedingly proud. That she would not deign to pay him mind.”
“Oh, is that what he said?” I seethed.
“Let us leave this,” she said, putting her hand on my arm. “I did not mean to remind you of it. It is my error.”
“No, you did not know,” I said.
“I know now,” she said. “We shall not speak of him.”
I let out a breath. “I am grateful for that.”
“Of course,” she said. “And I suppose we must turn our thoughts to whatever we can do to make sure that your sister’s secrets are never discovered. Perhaps this, with me, it will be a bit of a distraction from your sister. Shall I be a bit of a scandal, Mr. Darcy?” Her eyes twinkled at me.
“You seem a bit warmed at the prospect,” I said, amused.
“Do you like mebecauseI’m a scandal?” She waggled her eyebrows at me.
It was my turn to blush.
She chuckled under her breath. “What’s more scandalous than a frightfully short engagement?”
I turned to her. “What are you saying?”
“Well, this is all for your sister, is it not?” she said. “You do what is expected of you and you take care of your obligations. So, that would be rather convenient, I suppose, for you, to have eclipsed any discussion of your sister’s improprieties by replacing it with talk of your own.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re not… improper, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, we scarce have a conversation in which you do not remind me of how very improper I am,” she said archly.
“I do not mean to—”
