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“There is a reason neither Darcy nor I can abide him that I believe you out to know. Perhaps, it will help you see Darcy and Wickham in the light they both deserve.” The colonel urged Elizabeth to have a seat. “You already know that Darcy and I are Georgiana’s guardians. Darcy had to come to her rescue when George Wickham followed her to Ramsgate and pledged violent love to her. The reason Georgiana does not speak ill of him is because she blames herself. She does not know his true character—that he only wanted to control her fortune of thirty thousand pounds, that he would have done anything to spite her brother. Neither Darcy nor I told her the true reason for Wickham’s defection. It was enough that he fled town. We did not want her thinking less of herself for falling for a man who meant her such harm.”

“Perhaps, had Mr. Darcy honoured his father’s wish and gave Mr. Wickham the living he ought to have, he would not have resorted to such desperate measures.”

“I am afraid you have been woefully misled on that score, for Wickham came to Darcy even before the Ramsgate affair with demands of his own. He did not desire the living. He demanded three thousand pounds in lieu of the living, a demand to which Darcy acceded, for he knew Wickham was not fit for the clergy.”

“I posit it is merely Mr. Wickham’s word against Mr. Darcy’s. I would expect you to side with your cousin.”

“I have seen the proof of Darcy’s allegations in the form of a letter in Wickham’s own hand. The man is a fool to spread his lies about Darcy to anyone who would hear, but then again, he knows Darcy would not expose him. It would be beneath my cousin to give credence to the man in any such fashion.”

Elizabeth did not know what to think or how to feel. The carriage’s arrival could not have been better timed. Elizabeth desperately needed a chance to consider all that she had heard. Mr. Darcy is good, and Mr. Wickham is so very bad. She connected her friend Georgiana’s account of her painful past with an unnamed lover with the colonel’s words. Mr. Wickham was the scoundrel who broke my friend’s heart and taught her not to trust and not to believe in love. How could I have been so mistaken about his character? Do I even know myself?

Moments later, Elizabeth stood outside the Parsonage gate with her intimate friend Charlotte before boarding the carriage.

“Dear Eliza, it has been such a pleasure having you here.”

“Charlotte, I do not suppose my cousin shares your sentiments. I fear my presence may have exacerbated or given rise to matters best left undisturbed.”

“Whatever do you mean? Certainly you do not refer to his manner of speaking to me.”

“I would be lying if I denied that I find his manners officious and dogmatic.”

“Why, Eliza, you could not have chosen two better words to describe the greater percentage of the male populace.”

Elizabeth could not deny the veracity of her friend’s claim, but she certainly would not submit to its acceptability as regarded her own sensibilities. She did not walk in her friend’s shoes. “Charlotte, as long as you are contented in your situation, I have no right to judge.”

“Truly, it is all I ever asked of you. I am quite contented. It is so nice to be mistress of my own home. Although it may not seem like very much now, I trust my situation will not always be this way.”

Elizabeth drew her head back and regarded her friend in dismay. “Pray do not allow my mama to hear you speak this way.”

“Forgive me, Eliza. I did not mean to sound insensitive as regards the entail.”

Having taken no offence, Elizabeth said, “No—I understand. Truly I do. It is not your doing. You have every right to anticipate your becoming Longbourn’s mistress someday.”

Charlotte smiled meekly. “As for the other aspects of my life, I never suffered any misapprehensions of what my future held. It is for that reason I have learned to do a great deal of seeing and hearing those things that give me pleasure and disregarding those things that do not.”

Elizabeth placed her hands on Charlotte’s. “It seems you have adopted a very wise philosophy.” She embraced her. “Thank you for your hospitality. While I do not suppose I shall ever visit you again here in Hunsford, owing to my cousin’s censure and her ladyship’s stern disapprobation, I can certainly say I am forever altered by having been here.”

“Why do I suspect your alteration has more to do with the company you were keeping even before you arrived in Hunsford?”

Elizabeth looked over to where Mr. Collins and the colonel stood. They were industriously overseeing the carriage’s imminent departure. The latter signalled the time had come for Elizabeth to take her leave. “Oh, Charlotte, it has everything to do with the two gentlemen who accompanied me here.”

CHAPTER 13

LONGBOURN’S SHAME

Elizabeth had the presence of mind to toss her list into the fire before heading to her awaiting carriage in Hunsford. She set off for Hertfordshire prepared to accept her destiny—that of the spinster, so certain was she that nothing would persuade her to accept her father’s suitor, not after the complete shambles she had made of her life pursuant to her rejection of Mr. Darcy’s hand. Elizabeth would not regret her decision. How could she? Given a choice between Mr. Darcy, with all his wealth and connections and privilege, or the joy of forever remaining in the bosom of her family, her preference was clear.

Things were calm and quiet in the Longbourn household upon Elizabeth’s arrival. The only disturbance at all occurred those first days when it was decided that Lydia was to travel to Brighton with Colonel Forster, his wife, and the militia. But soon after she left, a sense of normalcy returned. Jane was blissful, and Mrs. Bennet was busy planning a grand wedding. Elizabeth and Jane had happily agreed that the former no longer needed to contemplate their father’s prearranged marital scheme, for there would be only one wedding—Jane’s to Mr. Bingley.

An early morning visit from Colonel Forster turned the Bennet’s world upside down. After what seemed an eternity of marching in concert outside Mr. Bennet’s library while he received the colonel, the ladies proceeded to the parlour, where they were certain to catch sight of the gentleman upon his leave-taking.

Mrs. Bennet wailed. “Whatever has brought the colonel here at this hour all the way from Brighton cannot be good. I fear something dreadful has befallen my Lydia—something dreadful.”

Elizabeth knelt on the floor in front of the sofa where her mother laid prostrate with grief. “Mama, we must not expect the worst. Soon, Papa shall tell us what has happened.” Elizabeth pretended to be calmer than she actually was. She had warned her father not to allow Lydia to travel to Brighton, thinking a young girl of Lydia’s wild temperament and young age surrounded by soldiers was a recipe for disaster. I pray Lydia has come to no harm.

When the library door flew open, the colonel headed straight for the front door. Moments later, a very weary, forlorn Mr. Bennet emerged from the room. He looked as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulder. Elizabeth stood back as her sisters Kitty and Mary raced to his side. “Oh, Papa! Pray all is well with Lydia.”

“I fear the news from Brighton is grave—grave indeed. Lydia has run away.”