A faint breath escaped him. “That is a mercy.”
“It is indeed,” Elizabeth agreed.
Then she recounted the history of Lydia, Mr. Wickham, and the unfortunate scene connected to the hermitage.
When the hermitage came into view, Georgiana released her brother’s arm and ran ahead. She peered into the little ruin, circled it with eager steps, and emerged on the other side with bright eyes.
“It is charming, Elizabeth. No wonder you fancy reading here.”
She glanced about until she spied the bench. “Is this where you sat? And these must be the hedges.”
She darted behind one of them and called out, “Brother, can you see me?”
“No, my dear, not at all.”
“Nor can I see you,” she returned merrily, “though I hear you perfectly.”
Next, she hurried to the fence and slipped through the small gate. She began to test the stones with curious fingers.
Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Do you know what she is about?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, grinning. “She is searching for the hollow where Wickham and Lydia exchanged notes.”
“I see.”
They followed at a slower pace and stood watching as Georgiana continued her examination. At last, she discovered the loosened stone. With care, she drew it free and slipped her hand into the narrow space behind it.
A moment later, she looked up, surprise plain upon her face. “A note,” she declared.
Now it was Elizabeth who was surprised. “Indeed? Lydia has been away nearly four months; I am astonished to find anything within. Besides, I am persuaded they contrived this hiding place themselves. Who else would have need of it?”
Darcy’s countenance was grave. “Who else indeed.” He extended his hand toward his sister, and she placed the note within his open palm.
His expression hardened. “It is precisely the sort of scheme Wickham would devise. I have never known a more devious man.”
He opened the missive, then he read the contents. He handed the note to Elizabeth after reading it a second time. “Had we seen this sooner, we might have been prepared for his designs upon Georgiana.”
Elizabeth unfolded the paper, and Georgiana stepped close enough to read over her shoulder.
“Little Bird, you will regret refusing me, for now you shall never see me again. I shall bestow my attentionsupon another, who is fairer than you and possesses a considerable dowry. You have forfeited the privilege of knowing what a man such as myself might offer. I am angered by your refusal, Lydia, and should opportunity arise, I shall seek my revenge.”
“Revenge? Sir, what can he intend by that? Revenge for what? Does not a woman possess the right to choose whom she will give herself to?”
Both young ladies turned their eyes upon Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “Wickham regards no one but himself. He is cold and vain, unable to love anyone but himself. You are a scholar, are you not? Wickham exists only for the gratification of one person, and that person is himself. If you comprehend Ovid’s mythology of Narcissus, then you have a good understanding of Wickham.”
Elizabeth was considering Mr. Darcy’s explanation when Georgiana turned to her and said, “Lizzy, I have not yet told you. Mr. Wickham’s confinement will extend for many months, for he awaits transport. His ship sails at the end of February, and the voyage is so long that he will not arrive until July.”
Relief was evident on her face when Elizabeth answered. “Ah, his passage is secured. I am glad he will soon be far away from all of us.”
“Have you read anything of Australia?” Georgiana continued eagerly.
“No, I have not.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I should dearly love to see that continent. It is vast beyond imagination. Because it lies in the southern hemisphere, the seasons are reversed. There are black swans and creaturescalled kangaroos. The native inhabitants are said to be entirely unlike ourselves, and the climate exceedingly warm.” Georgiana removed her gloves and shook them out. “When next I am at Hatchards, I will ask for a book on the wonders of Australia.”
Elizabeth waited for further particulars, but Georgiana had exhausted her store of knowledge.
