Page 107 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“He said Mr. Darcy pretended to dislike what he most wished to command.” Kitty looked ashamed as soon as the words escaped her. “I did not know what he meant.”

“Kitty, this was not kind,” Jane said.

“He is in difficulty.”

“Then he should speak to men, not ask a young woman to answer for him.”

Kitty flinched. “He asked no such thing.”

“Yes, he did,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Wickham asked you to tell Mr. Darcy that he had not avoided him and made his reputation your charge.”

Lydia’s expression shifted from amusement to irritation. “Well, I would not do it. If an officer cannot explain himself, he may find another girl to do it.”

Kitty snatched the note from Jane. “You all hate him because Mr. Darcy hates him.”

“No,” Elizabeth said. “That would be easier.”

Kitty looked at her in confusion, then fled upstairs.

Jane made as if to follow, but Elizabeth stopped her. “Let her be for a few minutes. She will not listen while she can still persuade herself she is defending him.”

Lydia lingered, tempted by the drama but no longer certain she agreed with Kitty. “I still say he writes a very pretty letter.”

“He writes with a purpose,” Mary observed from the doorway.

Jane looked at the folded paper. “We should show Papa.”

Elizabeth knew it was necessary, though Kitty would regard it as a betrayal. She was less certain whether her father would consider the matter serious or find amusement in it.

They found him in his library, where he listened without interruption while Jane explained the note and Elizabeth added what Kitty had admitted. He read Wickham’s lines twice.

“At least,” he said at last, “Mr. Wickham has the merit of thrift. He spends other people’s credit, tests their patience, and trades upon their daughters’ confidence.”

“Papa,” Jane said.

“Yes, my dear, I know. It is not amusing. Or rather, it is amusing if one forgets that Kitty is crying upstairs.” He set the note on his desk. “What do you propose?”

“That she send no answer,” Elizabeth said.

“I do not think he asked for one,” Jane added.

“Not in words, but he invited one.” Bennet leaned back. “Has your mother seen this?”

“No.”

“Then she need not. I have no wish to hear that Mr. Wickham’s handwriting proves the goodness of his heart.”

Elizabeth almost smiled, but resisted the temptation. “Will you speak to Colonel Forster?”

“I may have to. First, I will write him and learn whether this trifling matter of business has a name. I suspect it does.”

He looked from Jane to Elizabeth. “You must not torment Kitty.”

“We do not mean to,” Jane said.

“No, but any truth that does not flatter her will feel like torment because we have allowed the nonsense to continue so long.”

Elizabeth accepted the rebuke because it was not for Kitty alone. She laughed at Kitty’s weakness often enough, and when Wickham first distinguished her, Elizabeth regarded it as foolish rather than dangerous. Elizabeth had dismissed Kitty’s vanity without considering how someone might exploit it.