Page 46 of Bitterness of Spirit

“That is my biggest regret too, Fitzwilliam,” Wilson responded. “I had news of your grandparents’ passing; then I was informed about your mother’s decease thirteen years ago. I could only imagine how devastated George must have felt, but I knew he had you and your sister to palliate his sorrow. Then for several years, I was away from everything and everybody. When I was finally free to do as I pleased, I hired people to gather information about the people that mattered to me. And then I discovered that George—the best man I have ever known and the best friend I had in this life—was gone. Believe me, I suffered more than you can imagine.”

“Then where in hell have you been all this time?” Darcy exclaimed.

“Abroad, somewhere in the world. In wars of all sorts, in places so beautiful and frightening that I sometimes do not want to remember.”

“You were in the army. I know that.”

“Yes. In the last years I served under the Duke of York’s command.”

“Is that where you got that scar? My father never mentioned your having a scar on your face.”

Wilson gulped some brandy and averted his eyes. “It is too hot in here; you should open a window. The scar is not from the army; George did not mention it, because he did not know about it. I got it right before I left Derbyshire. A memory I have to pay for,” he whispered.

“Again you speak incoherently. You must be clearer and provide me with more proof of your identity. You know a few things, but you could have learned them from the real Mr. Wilson. It would not be the first time someone stole another’s identity.”

“I shall provide you with any proofs you wish, Darcy.”

“So…before that…why did you come here tonight? What was your reason for this strange visit? I assume you did not just happen to arrive in Town.”

“No. I returned before Christmas. And I have been in London since February.”

“Are you…? My aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh spoke of a brother of Mrs. Gardiner. It seems Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Collins mentioned you to her. I am not sure you know Mr. Collins.”

“I do know Collins; he is a ridiculous idiot. And may I ask what your aunt said of me? Nothing good, I dare presume.”

Darcy hesitated before replying. “She did not say much as she is not interested in things and people unrelated to her. She only mentioned the happenstance briefly one evening during dinner. So you are the one.”

“Yes. But nobody is aware that I am Gilbert Wilson, the son of a poor tenant from Lambton and the one who was your father’s friend. I introduce myself as Drake Wilson to everyone outside the family. And I would appreciate it if you would keep my secrecy for a time until I decide to make the announcement. We have only met and already share two important secrets.”

Darcy watched him in puzzlement. “Maintaining secrecy is not a subject of debate. But to whom might I betray it? Besides your family, who would be interested in your identity since my father and grandfather passed away so many years ago? I doubt anyone else besides me and my sister even know of your existence. I am sorry to say that, but even those who once knew you most likely have forgotten you.” He poured himself another cup of coffee. “Besides, there is nothing to say since I do not believe you are who you pretend to be.”

“Yes, you declared that. Let me know what proof you require,” Wilson replied. “Would the word of the Duke of York be enough?”

“Only if he was acquainted with you when you were young and has seen you without interruption since then. Otherwise, you might well attempt to deceive both him and me.”

“Would it be enough to show you the scar on my chest?” Wilson inquired shortly. Suddenly, he removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the trace of an injury spreading from his shoulder towards his heart.

Darcy paled as he watched. “The wound you received when you saved my father,” he whispered. “I cannot believe it. It must be you,” he uttered, pacing around the library.

The visitor arranged his attire with perfect composure, then finished his brandy, and asked for another. Darcy refilled the glass and resumed his pacing. For a long while, there was complete silence; only the sounds of the street through the open window could be heard.

“You said you have been in London since February. Why did you not call on me before now?”

Wilson threw him a sharp glance. “I intended to, but I was not certain of my reception. To be honest, I was gathering information about you since I did not know how much of your father’s character you inherited and whether you would welcome a ghost from the past.”

“I assume the information was not favourable since you have only come to see me with regard to fabricated ill behaviour towards Miss Elizabeth. You could not find any positive reason to introduce yourself to me before now,” Darcy responded coldly, aware of the grudge in his voice.

“I confess I did receive reports of various kinds that puzzled me exceedingly, especially those from Hertfordshire, and in particular those from the Bennets. I heard about little except your rude manners, haughty, disdainful behaviour, ill nature, and selfish character. I was pained and disappointed on George’s behalf, so I searched for more opinions in London and Derbyshire, and they spoke differently.”

“Really? That is astonishing,” Darcy replied uncertainly.

“Do not blame me; I only repeat what I was told, Darcy. So today, I saw Miss Elizabeth return home in perturbed spirits and hasten to her chamber. And Miss Lucas privately informed me that she witnessed a disturbing scene between the two of you in Kent. And that Miss Elizabeth had cried; she is not a lady to be easily troubled or to cry without reason. During my life, I have seen many young women abused by men of great fortune and connection; I thought that was the case. I came to confront you about your vicious behaviour.”

Darcy was so furious that his fingers clenched his brandy glass. “So, people speak so ill of me that you believed me capable of hurting Miss Elizabeth? Or any woman?”

“Some people. Not all. Since I had no observation myself, I did not know what to believe. However, I never imagined a marriage proposal. It is beyond astonishing.”

“Well, you are not alone; neither Miss Elizabeth expected it nor even myself. So you did not inform her that you were coming?” Darcy asked, suddenly disturbed by different thoughts.