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“I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for you both. And I am reminded of how fortunate I am to have both of my parents in good health.”

“Indeed.” Would her devotion to her family prevent her from settling far away from them? “Have you had the opportunity to see other areas of the country?”

“I have travelled but little. I have stayed with my aunt and uncle in town once or twice each year. The summer before last, they took me on a memorable visit to Margate.” She sat taller. “I adore the seaside—the sights, sounds, and salty air. My uncle has promised to take me on a trip next year, perhaps to the Lakes. He lent me his copy of Wordsworth’s guide to the area, and I have read it twice.” Her head tipped to the side. “Have you been there?”

“Yes, the views are remarkable, and there are endless paths for walking. You are certain to be impressed.” What a singular pleasure it would be to show her those sights. Yet that could never come to pass…unless I married her.

“Do you have a favourite seaside town?”

Ramsgate came to mind first, not that I should be in a hurry to return to the site of my sister’s misfortune. “I am fond of Lyme Regis, although my partiality may be influenced by an old family friend who once resided there. He has been gone these past ten years, but my parents and I stayed with him several times in my youth.”

“I should love to walk upon the Cobb one day.” Her gaze drifted towards the window before she resumed reading her book.

Based upon Elizabeth’s statements, she may be amenable to settling far from her family home. In fact, she might prefer to be situated a great distance from certain relations prone to impropriety. Perhaps she could be persuaded to meet them infrequently, and I could— With a wince, I terminated that train of thought. What sort of villain would discourage his spouse from seeing her relations? I could not wed her without accepting her entire family as mine.

I absently leafed through the book, and David’s missive fell onto my lap. I retrieved the folded paper, and the gist of his message came back to me. Why did Wickham have to come here, of all places?

And what would happen if he shared company with Elizabeth? The concept of that fiend ingratiating himself with her soured my stomach. Would she believe his lies and mistake him for a man of honour—one worthy of trust? I could not allow that to happen; she must be forewarned.

I cleared my throat. “Miss Elizabeth.” I paused until she looked up from her book. “News reached me today of an imminent arrival to the area. He is a man of my acquaintance, George Wickham, who has joined the local militia. He and I grew up together and once shared a close friendship. However, by his eighteenth year, Wickham’s dishonourable character had been revealed to me despite his efforts to conceal his misdeeds.”

The corners of her mouth edged downwards. “Is he a dangerous man?”

“Yes, I should say so.” I placed the letter in my coat pocket. “He is blessed with magnetism, intelligence, and flawless acting skills, so he makes friends wherever he goes. My father held Wickham in affection and hoped he would seek a profession in the church. However, the wastrel decided not to pursue a religious instruction. That is a blessing, for a man who is loyal to no one and cares only for himself could do much harm as a clergyman. He is a profligate, a swindler, and a libertine.”

“Oh dear.” She tucked a dark tendril behind her ear. “You mentioned that you and this man, Mr. Wickham, grew up together. Is he a relation of yours?”

“No, he is the son of our former steward at Pemberley. Despite having his education financed by my father, Wickham proved to be an errant student and never pursued a respectable career.”

She moved to fully face me, her chin raised. “Have you ever considered that your former friend’s character might not appear so dreadful to you if he had been the son of a duke rather than the son of a steward?”

How dare she? My every muscle tensed. She knew nothing of the rapscallion. “You imply that I am prejudiced against Wickham because of his heritage.” I took a moment to regulate my intonation. “That is not the case. I admired the late Mr. Wickham. He was an honest, moral man, but his son is nothing like him.”

With a slight nod, she maintained my gaze. “I imagine it may have been disconcerting for you when your father took such an interest in another young man. Could it be that jealousy has affected your estimation of Mr. Wickham?”

Heat shot up from my neck. “One might wonder why you are determined to dispute me, despite having no basis for your arguments.”

“If your father wanted Mr. Wickham to become a clergyman, he must have thought well of him—I do not suppose he would want any congregation guided by a dissolute man. Therefore, is it not possible that your father was correct, and you are wrong?”

With several deliberate breaths, I maintained at least a semblance of calm. Most people would deem me credible due to my standing alone, but not Elizabeth. Her boldness drew my grudging admiration, dampening my ire. Her scepticism demanded specifics. Accordingly, I must be more explicit than I had intended. “Wickham took care to hide his corrupt tendencies from my father, his benefactor, above all others. About six years ago, I became aware of a housemaid who had been misused by him. When the woman became with child, he abandoned her.”

Her nose crinkled. “That is…despicable.”

“Yes. Perhaps I ought to have revealed Wickham’s misconduct to my father, but his health had already begun to suffer, and I sought to spare him from knowledge certain to occasion pain.”

“What happened to the maid?”

“Once her condition became difficult to conceal, she went to stay with her parents, who are tenants at Pemberley. She intended to hide her pregnancy and pass off the baby as her mother’s child, but she suffered a miscarriage.” I grimaced. The poor woman had almost died from the ordeal. “She is still employed at Pemberley.”

“That must have been dreadful for her. I am glad she did not lose her position.”

Without revealing my sister, I should inform Elizabeth of his most recent scheme. “Last summer, Wickham embarked on a design to delude a young heiress of my acquaintance with the help of the young lady’s corrupt companion. His plan to marry the heiress and gain control of her fortune did not succeed, and she is safe. However, he will seek others to exploit for his vile purposes.”

Elizabeth shuffled her feet and averted her gaze. “Thank you for this warning. I appreciate your candid explanation and your tolerance of my questions that bordered on impertinence.”

“You are welcome.” Somehow, I could not retain even an iota of annoyance at her. Rather, I battled a vehement desire to take her in my arms, cover her audacious lips with mine, and—Good God, what am I doing? I wrenched my sight from her, quashing those perilous yearnings. I should leave the room, but the urge to remain near her overruled my reason.

After all, she would leave Netherfield soon; once that occurred, my sanity ought to be restored.