Elizabeth walked beside him in thoughtful silence for a moment before she said, “And yet he did not receive the living.”
“No,” Darcy said levelly. “When the time came, Wickham declared he had no wish to enter the clergy. He professed a sudden preference for the study of law and requested instead the sum of three thousand pounds, which he said would enable him to pursue that profession independently.”
Elizabeth considered this for a moment. “A considerable sum. The request was granted?”
“It was,” Darcy said heavily. “I knew well that Wickham was not suited to be a clergyman. Though I cannot claim that I thought him to be sincere in his intention of studying the law, I hoped I might be mistaken.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “I see.”
“The money was paid,” he continued, “and Wickham departed with every advantage that generosity could provide.”
Elizabeth glanced at him. “But he did not pursue the law.”
Darcy allowed himself a faint smile, though there was little amusement in it. “No. He returned to me two years later. His circumstances, as he described them, had become difficult. He expressed regret that he had ever relinquished the church and requested that the living might now be restored to him.”
Elizabeth’s brows drew together slightly. “Surely it had been given elsewhere, after such a period.”
Darcy nodded. “I could not have left the people of Kympton without a parson for such a period, even had I been inclined to hold the post. The position had long since been filled. Wickham had been fully aware that his earlier choice would make such a request impracticable.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. “I imagine,” she said carefully, “that he considered himself badly treated.”
“I imagine he did,” Darcy said. “He had squandered every advantage that had been offered him, yet he was determined to believe that someone else must bear the blame.”
Elizabeth walked several steps without speaking. “At least,” she said after a moment, “that part of his story may be explained differently than he suggested. But you said there was more.”
Darcy felt the moment he had been dreading from the beginning of the conversation approach, inexorable and heavy. “Yes,” he said quietly. “There is more.”
He did not speak again at once. Though he had already disclosed more than he had ever said to anyone outside his own family, the most delicate portion of the history still remained untold. He had long guarded it with the utmost care, not merelyout of pride, but from a determination that his sister should never suffer from the consequences of a youthful error, made in misplaced trust rather than folly.
Elizabeth, who had been watching him with increasing seriousness, seemed to understand that the next part of his explanation would not come easily. “You said there was more,” she prompted gently.
“There is,” Darcy replied, and though his voice remained controlled, the effort required to maintain that composure was not entirely concealed. “The events I have already described might have been dismissed as the folly of an imprudent young man. I should have been content to think no worse of Wickham had they ended there.”
She nodded wordlessly, her eyes wide with apprehension.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “they did not.” Darcy walked several steps before he spoke again, as if his steps could measure how plainly he could state what must be said. “Last summer my sister was staying at Ramsgate for the benefit of the sea air. She had only recently completed her education and was placed there under the care of a companion whom I believed trustworthy.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened at the mention of his sister. “Miss Darcy is very young, I think.”
“She is sixteen.”
Elizabeth’s steps slowed slightly.
With an effort, Darcy went on. “Wickham contrived to meet her there. Whether by design or by opportunity, I cannot say with certainty, but once the acquaintance was formed, he lost no time in cultivating it.”
Elizabeth looked up at him quickly, obviously alarmed. “You believe he intended to deceive her.”
“I know he did.” Darcy’s answer was quiet but absolute. “He persuaded her that he was deeply attached to her and that he wished to marry her. My sister, whose disposition is affectionate and whose experience of the world is very limited, believed him entirely.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes for a moment, no doubt picturing the situation all too clearly. A girl of sixteen, newly emerged into society, flattered by the attentions of a man whose manners were as agreeable as Wickham’s, could hardly fail to be impressed. “And she consented.”
“Yes.” Darcy paused before adding, “Wickham convinced her to elope with him to Gretna Green.”
Elizabeth stopped walking altogether.
Darcy halted as well. “The marriage would have taken place before I had the smallest suspicion of it,” he said. “By a fortunate accident, I arrived at Ramsgate sooner than expected and discoveredwhat was intended before it could be carried out.”
Elizabeth looked at him with obvious concern. “You were in time to prevent it?”
