“I shall ride to Meryton this evening,” Darcy said, rising. “Thank you, sir. I am indebted to you both for your discretion—and to Miss Elizabeth, for her courage and sense. Had it not been for her, and for those faithful creatures, who knows what might have come of this day.”
Elizabeth met his gaze. “I did only what anyone would, sir.”
He smiled faintly. “I have known very few who would do as much.”
With that, he bowed to them both, his expression still troubled but his resolve firm, and left the room.
Elizabeth remained where she stood long after he had gone, the cadence of his voice and the weight of all he had revealed still pressing upon her thoughts. From beyond the frost-misted window came the faint, steady sound of Apollo’s bark as he followed his master home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Longbourn – December 1811
THREE DAYS AFTER Mr. Darcy’s last visit, Longbourn was again alive with a gentle stir of excitement. Word had arrived that morning that both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley would call, and Mrs. Bennet had been in a flutter ever since, ordering the parlour to be swept, the hearth to be lit, and fresh tea to be laid out with a plate of sweetmeats “fit for the gentlemen of Netherfield.”
Elizabeth stood by the window when the carriage finally came into view. Apollo leapt down first, bounding ahead of his master with a joy that startled even Hill at the doorway. When Darcy and Bingley entered, the warmth of welcome was genuine—especially from Elizabeth, whose eyes went at once to the dogs.
Apollo approached Pippin, who lay upon a soft rug by the fire. The greyhound crouched low, tail wagging, as though aware of her still-tender paw. Pippin gave a short, delighted bark and stretched forward to nose his cheek. The sight drew an indulgent smile from all who watched.
“How good it is to see them both so well again,” Jane said softly.
“Indeed,” Bingley replied, “I daresay they have weathered their adventure better than we did.”
After a round of cheerful inquiries, Mr. Bennet, who had been observing the reunion with quiet contentment, turned to Darcy. “Now, sir, if you would be so good, I am eager to hear what news you have of Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy inclined his head. “It is settled at last, Mr. Bennet. Wickham was found two days past, near St. Albans. He could not travel far on his injured leg and was forced to seek medical attention. Colonel Forster’s men apprehended him there.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Lydia, her expression unusually subdued, leaned forward. “And what is to become of him, sir?”
Darcy’s expression remained unchanged. “He owes a number of debts, and it is likely he will face the debtor’s court. There are also charges of deceit and forgery in Hertfordshire and beyond which must be addressed.”
Mr. Bennet nodded grimly. “I am not astonished. I saw a handbill three days ago—his name printed in bold, offering a reward for his capture. I confess, I thought it would come to this.”
Mrs. Bennet shuddered. “Such a terrible fellow! I heard talk that he borrowed money from several in town. Even Mrs. King said her husband lent him a considerable sum.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet said dryly. “It amazes me how ready people are to trust a smooth tongue. To lend money to a stranger merely because he wears a uniform is folly itself.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly. “He has ever possessed the art of persuasion. It is his greatest weapon.”
“In his defence,” said Mr. Bennet, “the militia has always enjoyed a degree of trust in every town they inhabit. People are inclined to believe a man in regimentals.”
Darcy gave a faint, rueful smile. “Perhaps too inclined. The investigation continues, though one matter has already been made plain. Miss King — Mrs. King’s daughter — has comeforward. She has shown the letters he addressed to her, urging her to elope with him. There was never any true affection in it, though he contrived to make her believe so. His interest lay chiefly in her fortune.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands. “Heavens! Mrs. King’s fortune is common talk. She inherited near ten thousand pounds from her late aunt. Every man within ten miles has had designs upon it!”
Mr. Bennet turned sharply toward Lydia. “You see, child? I warned you about what comes of excessive flirtation with officers. Imagine ifyouhad been the one deceived. I doubt you would have had the sense to refuse him. You might have ruined yourself and shamed your whole family.”
“Mr. Bennet,” cried Mrs. Bennet, scandalised.
Her husband paid her no mind.
Lydia coloured and dropped her gaze, while Kitty whispered a feeble defence about officers being “so very gallant.”
Elizabeth gave a quiet laugh, though her amusement was tempered by thought. Her father was not wrong. Lydia was far from strong-willed in matters of admiration, and she had spoken of Mr. Wickham with enough enthusiasm to concern any prudent sister. Elizabeth felt a shiver of gratitude that Miss King’s dowry was considerably larger than Lydia’s own, for she could scarcely bear to imagine what might have happened otherwise.
When the tension had eased a little, Darcy spoke once more, his tone thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Wickham remains my late father’s godson,” he said. “And though I cannot defend his conduct, neither can I entirely abandon him. He will be held until his debts are reviewed. I have considered the best I can do for him. If he consents to quit England for the Americas, I shall pay his passage and discharge what he owes. It is, I believe, a small price to ensure his absence.”
Mrs. Bennet, astonished, declared, “How very generous of you, Mr. Darcy! To do so much for such a wretch—it is noble indeed.”
