Page 105 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

That evening, Kitty came down late and refused supper. Lydia announced that Wickham had sent no message and was therefore either confined by Colonel Forster or amusing himself elsewhere. Kitty left the table before Mrs. Bennet could demand an explanation.

Mary watched her go. “Mr. Wickham may have told both accounts so often that he no longer remembers which one is true.”

“That is not charitable,” Jane replied.

“No. But it is possible.”

Elizabeth looked at Mary, then at the empty place beside Lydia.

Darcy’s warning still lacked the completeness she wanted. He remained too accustomed to deciding what others might know and too certain that his judgment should carry weight where his explanation did not. None of that had changed.

Wickham had, or her view of him was changing. His charm no longer concealed every flaw. A debt might have an explanation, a boast might mean less than it seemed, and memory might account for a story’s changing details. Taken alone, each meant little. Together, they formed no proof, but they no longer allowed her the comfort of believing there was nothing to prove.

Chapter 24

ELIZABETH WOKE WITH no clearer opinion than the one that had kept her awake most of the night. Darcy was not amiable because she doubted Wickham, nor did his pride become less objectionable because Wickham’s charm proved less honest than it appeared.

Kitty came to breakfast with reddened eyes and turned on Lydia when she asked whether Mr. Wickham’s failure to ride past Longbourn had made her cry.

“I never said he would.”

“No, but you looked out of the window whenever a horse came up the lane.”

Mrs. Bennet began complaining about her daughters’ interest in officers, but Kitty pushed away her plate and left the room.

“It proves she expected him,” Lydia said.

“It proves you enjoy distressing her,” Jane replied.

Elizabeth said nothing. Wickham had shown Kitty enough attention to make neglect feel like injury, but too little for her to complain.

After breakfast, Jane asked Elizabeth to join her in the little parlor. “Kitty will not speak to me because she thinks I took Mr. Darcy’s part yesterday.”

“You told her Wickham should not leave her expecting a visit he never meant to make. That is taking Kitty’s part.”

“She does not see it that way.” Jane hesitated. “Do you think he meant to call?”

“I do not know.”

Before Jane could answer, Hill came to say that a boy from Meryton had brought a note for Miss Catherine. Kitty, who was halfway down the stairs, ran the rest of the way before the housekeeper finished speaking. She took the note, broke the seal, and turned toward the drawing room as Lydia emerged behind her.

“Is it from him?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Then it is from him.”

Kitty clutched the note to her side and tried to pass, but Lydia caught her arm with more curiosity than malice. Jane intervened before their mother heard the quarrel and carried it into the breakfast room.

“Kitty, if the note concerns only you, no one will press you. But if it concerns Mr. Wickham coming here, Papa ought to know.”

Kitty’s face changed. “It does not concern Papa.”

Elizabeth held out her hand. “Then tell us what it says.”

“You have no right.”

“No, but if you are wise, you will not refuse.”