“Now that the excitement has subsided,” he said, “there is a matter of some importance we must discuss. Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth — if you will be so good as to step into my library.”
A quiet stir went through the room.
Jane’s eyes widened slightly; Elizabeth had already given her hint of what happened on their search. Lydia and Kitty exchanged knowing glances. Only Mary, Mr. Bingley, and Mrs. Bennet appeared entirely at a loss.
Mr. Bingley, however, seemed untroubled by any mystery. He looked rather pleased to find himself free to speak to Jane without interruption. Mary kept her gaze upon her book, showing no inclination to concern herself with family affairs. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, cast a series of sharp, inquisitive looks toward her husband, her daughter, and Mr. Darcy — though the evident felicity between Jane and Mr. Bingley soon distracted her from forming any conclusion.
***
INSIDE THE QUIET STUDY, the crackle of the hearth was the only sound. Mr. Bennet stood behind his desk, his expression grave.
“Lizzy has told me something that may bear consequence,” he began, turning toward Darcy. “But I thought it best you should hear it directly from her.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed as he looked to Elizabeth.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet, looking at his daughter. “You have my permission, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before she began. She recounted how they had met Mr. Wickham that morning and how readily he had offered his assistance. She explained how Wickham had heard of Apollo, learned to whom the greyhound belonged, and then pressed her with questions.
Gradually, she told the whole of it — every insinuation Wickham had made about Mr. Darcy and about Miss Darcy.
“I hardly knew what to think as I listened,” Elizabeth said quietly. “He spoke with such apparent feeling that, had I not come to know you better these past months, I might have believed you a monster of selfishness. When we found the dogs, and Apollo ran at him so violently that he fled, it struck me all at once that there must be far more to his tale. Apollo has nevershown the least sign of aggression toward me, or toward anyone in the village.”
Darcy had gone pale. A look of pain, stark and unguarded, crossed his features. He drew several slow breaths, his jaw tightening as though he mastered something deeply felt.
At last he spoke.
“This is not a subject I approach willingly,” he said, his voice low.
Elizabeth’s heart clenched at the sight of his distress.
“I will ask for your discretion,” he continued. “What I am about to tell you is known only to a few. Not even Bingley, though he is my closest friend, knows the whole of it.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head. “You have my word, sir. Nothing said here will go beyond these walls.”
Darcy drew a long breath, steadying himself. “Perhaps I have been too much inclined to silence. In seeking to protect my family, I may have allowed danger to creep nearer than I knew. When Miss Lydia mentioned the name Wickham, I ought to have made inquiries. I did not. And but for what has passed, Heaven knows what further harm he might have done.”
He fixed his eyes upon the far corner of the room, as if summoning the past, and then resumed his account.
“Wickham was once my father’s godson,” he said, his gaze fixed upon the hearth. “He was brought up at Pemberley, shown every kindness, and treated almost as a second son. My father intended great things for him. He paid for his schooling, then for his studies at Cambridge, with the design that Wickham should take orders and accept the living on our estate when it became vacant.”
He paused, pain flickering briefly across his features.
“But instead of applying himself, he squandered every opportunity. He fell into idle company, ran through money as fast as it was given, and at length abandoned his studiesaltogether. I discovered that he had left Cambridge months before he admitted it. When pressed, he declared himself unsuited to the Church and asked, instead, for an immediate sum in place of the living — a very considerable amount.” Darcy’s voice tightened. “My father was newly passed, but in his lifetime, he had trusted Wickham far too much. Out of respect for his memory, I agreed to the payment. Wickham signed a formal renunciation of all claim to the living, and I believed the matter concluded.”
Elizabeth listened in still silence, her hands clasped before her.
“Two years ago,” Darcy went on, “I sent my sister Georgiana to Ramsgate, to stay with her companion for the summer. I thought her safe. But one week, Apollo began sleeping outside her chamber door, whining constantly. He had never done so before. I thought it a strange affection until I noticed how he kept his gaze fixed on her portrait in my library. I grew uneasy, and decided to surprise her with a visit. When I arrived, I found Wickham there. He had persuaded Georgiana to believe he loved her and had nearly prevailed upon her to elope.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth.
“I arrived the day before they were to leave,” Darcy continued, his voice tightening. “Had I delayed by even one day, she would have been lost—her fortune taken, her name ruined. For what? For ten thousand pounds of dowry.”
The pain in his eyes made Elizabeth’s throat ache. “Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, “I am so very sorry. No one should have to bear such betrayal.”
Darcy inclined his head, though his expression remained composed. “If Wickham is indeed here, wearing a regiment’s coat, then he is scheming again. I have paid his debts more than once, even cared for a servant’s child whom he left destitute. He cannot change.”
“Then it seems clear,” Mr. Bennet said. “You must speak to his commanding officer at once. Better a warning now than a scandal later.”
