Georgiana gave her a wan smile. “I am well, Mrs. Bennet. I am almost recovered, and I had my aunt, my cousins, and most importantly, my brother to help me overcome my disappointment.”
“Of course, you did,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy has done right by you, my dear. I hope we can offer you some small assistance in your recovery with our friendship and esteem. Please know that you are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish, for I hope my daughters will become great friends with you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Georgiana, offering her a shy smile. “I appreciate your welcome.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled at her and nodded, striking Elizabeth with an odd notion. Her mother had taken to Georgiana with such ease that Elizabeth was certain she considered her an honorary daughter already. The girl needed a mother figure in her life, and if Mrs. Bennet was not the most sensible, she was most certainly a mother, regardless of her sometimes strange way of showing it.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, catching and holding their attention. “Mayhap I do not need to emphasize what a great boon Miss Darcy has given us all by exposing the rake who used to walk in our midst, but I believe I shall, regardless. If even a whisper of this makes its way toanyone, it might ruin Miss Darcy’s reputation irrevocably, for nothing more than being put upon and deceived by an unscrupulous man. I will have your solemn promise that you willneverspeak of this matter again, even amongst yourselves. Have I made myself clear?”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet, rising to her feet again. “No harm must come to our dear friend. We shall never speak of it again.”
Though he acknowledged her, Mr. Bennet said nothing, his heavy gaze falling upon the one daughter who was not nodding along with Mrs. Bennet’s statement. Lydia sensed his authority at once, yet her reaction was a huff, accompanied by the folding of her arms, as she glared about her in silence. Her antics did not amuse her father.
“I will have your verbal agreement, Lydia,” said her father. “If I ever hear any trace of this matter on the tongues ofanyone, I shall know to whom I should direct my displeasure.”
While Lydia paled, she nodded at once. “I shall not speak of it.”
“Good.”
Little enough passed between those present for some time, though Georgiana carried on a low conversation with Kitty and Mary. The rest appeared to be considering what they had just heard, while Mr. Bennet fit the new pieces of the puzzle in with those he already possessed. That his gaze often fell on Elizabeth did not escape her attention.
The most promising was Lydia, for she appeared thoughtful, her gaze focused inward. At times, she shook her head or muttered to herself, trying to dismiss what she had heard, but the tight downturn of her brow told Elizabeth she could not, no matter how much she wished. Lydia might still refuse to believe, but it heartened Elizabeth to know that Georgiana had courageously imparted information that might make her hesitate. Perhaps the girl would think before doing anything rash. At the very least, an instant of indecision might make all the difference.
Chapter XI
Darcy could never have imagined what awaited them when he and Fitzwilliam returned to Longbourn bearing Georgiana’s effects. The notion that Georgiana would speak of such a sensitive subject, especially before those who were so little inclined to restraint as certain members of the Bennet family had not penetrated his mind. Yet it appeared to be so, given the testimony of Georgiana herself, coupled with Miss Lydia’s demeanor, a mixture of anger and uncertainty, a clear sign of a girl who had been chastened. It appeared he might not have worried for the continued secrecy of Georgiana’s experience, for the Bennets hastened to assure him that no word of it would make its way to society from them.
“Your sister’s confidence is safe with us,” declared Mrs. Bennet after they had made the events of the past minutes known to Darcy and Fitzwilliam. “Indeed, I am inclined to put the blame for the entire affair on the shoulders of that libertine you once called a friend.” Mrs. Bennet was rigid with offense. “To think we revered him as an excellent gentleman! It appears we were all deceived, for he has used your sister most cruelly!”
“Aye, that he has, Mrs. Bennet,” said Fitzwilliam, bemused by the situation. “Wickham excels at misrepresenting himself wherever he goes. If others knew of his true nature, he would not find welcome nearly so much as he does.”
“His true nature?” demanded Miss Lydia. “At present, all we have areyourassurances of his true nature. I wonder that my family has taken the word of those with so little connection to us.”
“Lydia!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, her voice high-pitched as it was during her infamous boasting at the ball at Netherfield.
“No, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy, stepping in but not unaware of the irony that what had so annoyed himthenwas nothing less than satisfyingnow. “Miss Lydia is not incorrect, for weareasking you to take our word of his worthlessness with no proof.”
Miss Lydia nodded as if she had just scored a significant point while her mother and sisters looked on, apparently uncertain. Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, he noted, watched him with an air of expectation, as if they knew he would not allow matters to rest there. They were correct.
“We have offered no evidence at present,” continued Darcy, “but it does not follow that verification does not exist.”
The girl’s self-satisfaction fled, and she scowled at him. Rather than take offense, and speaking quickly to forestall the reprimands of more than one of the party, Darcy smiled at her.
“It does you credit you would defend your friend, Miss Lydia. Unfortunately, you do not have all the information that would allow you to make an accurate judgment.”
Miss Lydia regarded him through narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I presume Wickham has spoken of his history as the son of my father’s steward?”
“I do not care for that!” protested Miss Lydia with some heat. “What does it matter if he is a steward’s son?”
“It does you credit that you judge him without considering his descent,” said Darcy agreeably. “My purpose was not to point out those details, but to determine what you have heard of our history.”
The girl sniffed with disdain. “Mr. Wickham has spoken of your friendship as children and how you disrespected your father’s wishes and denied him a family living.”
“Yes, I denied him the living,” replied Darcy. “But again, Wickham has left out enough of the truth to render himself blameless and leave me the blackest of villains.”
“As is his wont,” said Fitzwilliam, disgust dripping from his tone. “I have never seen a man who is as proficient at using the truth in just such a way as to lead others to a specific conclusion.”
