“No!”
“Why ever not? Miss Bennet becomes Mrs Wickham, her reputation is recovered, and you no longer have to worry aboutyour cousin.” Lewes’ bushy white brows raised up as he waited for Fitzwilliam to formulate a reply.
“What sort of life would I be condemning her to, though?” Fitzwilliam said. “Quite apart from the fact that Wickham is far too profligate to ever support a wife, I do not doubt that in his disappointment, he will treat her badly. Perhaps even dispose of her, as an obstacle to his plans. Frankly, sir, even if I had a woman I called my enemy, I would not wish to see her married to Wickham. No woman deserves such a husband, least of all a girl like Lydia Bennet.”
“Like Lydia Bennet?” Lewes queried.
“Innocent. She is barely sixteen, sir, and though she plays at flirting, I have no doubt she knows nothing of men’s perfidy. She is sheltered and yes, a little spoiled, but I think she is a sweet girl at heart.”
“Exactly my impression,” Lewes mused. “Well, then, I see only one honourable alternative. Don’t you agree?” Sharp blue eyes pierced Fitzwilliam, skewering him where he sat.
He had already come to the same conclusion.
“Yes, sir. I intend to visit Colonel Forster tomorrow once I have dealt with Wickham, and then I will write to Mr Bennet to ask him for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”
