The words appeared inspired, for several officers turned their attention to Mr. Wickham, their eyes widening in recognition. Mr. Wickham saw none of this, for his gaze was fixed on Elizabeth, his mouth slightly open, baring his teeth. For a moment, she thought he might do something reprehensible right there. Then, he turned on his heel and marched from the room, his fists clenched by his sides.
Glances passed between several officers, and they hurried out, no doubt to prevent Elizabeth’s prediction from coming true. Silence fell in the wake of their departure. Then Mr. Denny, who appeared determined to support his friend, spoke into the silence.
“If my friend is not welcome here, then I shall depart as well.”
“It would be best if you did,” said Uncle Philips. “You heard my nieces speak of Mr. Wickham’s threats. Anyone who supports him is not welcome here.”
“Mr. Denny,” said Elizabeth with compassion, “I know you worry that Mr. Wickham’s behavior reflects poorly on you, but I urge you to learn the facts before you pledge unconditional support. If my intelligence is incorrect, an investigation will prove it. But I am confident in what I know, and his threats were beyond doubt. Do not allow loyalty to affect your standing in the regiment.”
Though Elizabeth wondered if he would speak again, Mr. Denny offered nothing but a curt nod and stalked from the room. The few remaining officers turned as a group and departed, leaving only Mr. Chamberlayne, who turned to Elizabeth.
“Thank you for the timely warning, Miss Elizabeth,” said he with a nod. “I have no doubt you will be proven correct in every particular.”
“Please watch Mr. Wickham, Lieutenant,” said Elizabeth, nodding her thanks. “He will flee if he has the opportunity.”
“I shall speak to the colonel at once.”
Then Mr. Chamberlayne too departed from the room.
It was not the way Elizabeth had meant to reveal the truth about Mr. Wickham, but perhaps it was for the best. Whatever else happened, Elizabeth doubted anyone in Meryton would ever credit Mr. Wickham’s pronouncements or his pretty manners again. Elizabeth had done what she set out to do—and done it well. For that she was grateful.
Chapter VIII
Whispers were Elizabeth’s constant companion the remainder of the evening at her Uncle Philips’s house, though little of the evening remained. Astonished though she was by what she heard, Mrs. Philips turned at once, throwing her full support behind her niece, claiming to all who would listen that she always thought Mr. Wickham was too smooth to be believed. Mr. Philips was another matter altogether.
“This is all curious, Lizzy,” said he near the end of the evening, having pulled Elizabeth aside for a few moments. “The last I knew, you were not at all opposed to Mr. Wickham.”
“I have learned more about Mr. Wickham, and that has made me cautious.”
“Yes, that appears to be so.” Mr. Philips paused and regarded her. “Do you suppose he will continue to create trouble?”
“I suppose he has already created it,” replied Elizabeth. “If I were to guess, I would expect Mr. Wickham to leave Meryton as soon as he can slip away.”
“Which will leave the merchants with unpaid debts,” said her uncle. “When you return to Longbourn, inform your father about what happened tonight. Tomorrow morning, I shall visit the merchants and obtain some sense of the damage he has caused. It may be best if your father comes to offer his support.”
“I will tell him,” agreed Elizabeth.
Mr. Philips nodded, fixing Elizabeth with an affectionate look. “It pleases me that you stood up for yourself to that man, Lizzy, but next time, consider confiding in me. Near the end, I thought Wickham would lose the use of his reason; I would notreturn you to your father with the duty of explaining to him how Mr. Wickham assaulted you in my home.”
“The danger of that was minimal,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham may be many things, but he is not stupid.”
“You could not know that, Lizzy.” The smile he gave her was no less than pointed. “Please consider your old uncle’s heart and allow me to protect you when you are in my home.”
Elizabeth smiled and kissed her uncle’s cheek. “With any luck, it will not be required. I hope we have seen the last of Mr. Wickham—before the regiment came, Aunt’s parties were not so exciting as this.”
“Trust me, Lizzy—I long for those days to return.”
There was no need to state the obvious, for her uncle knew Elizabeth longed for those days herself. Life was simpler before the regiment arrived—they could not depart quickly enough for Elizabeth’s taste.
Silence fell during the brief journey back to Longbourn, as none of the sisters was eager to speak of the significant events of the evening. Lydia glared and pouted, not unexpected given Elizabeth’s reprimand that evening, while Elizabeth gazed out the window at the darkened landscape. Their three sisters remained quiet with their own thoughts, existing somewhere between Lydia’s petulance and Elizabeth’s contemplation. All this changed when they walked through Longbourn’s front door a few moments later.
Had Elizabeth thought her youngest sister was cowed, the arrival at Longbourn was a death of any such expectation, for Lydia was eager for a quarrel. Mrs. Hill met them at the door, the maid ready to collect their bonnets, spensers, and gloves. The moment Lydia divested herself of her outer garments, she rounded on Elizabeth.
“How could you do that, Lizzy? What gives you the right to demean a man on the excuse of nothing more than hearsay?”
“Be silent, Lydia!” hissed Elizabeth. “I am no more interested in listening to your puling than I was at our uncle’s house. You sound like a child denied a sweet.”
The redness of fury bloomed in Lydia’s cheeks. “And you are a talebearer and a traitor! Mr. Wickham was right—one word from Mr. Darcy and all his riches, and you betray a man who was only ever polite to you. I never thought I would see you, of all people, listen to anything Mr. Darcy might say.”
