Miss de Bourgh stared at Elizabeth with round eyes, making her resemble her taller, younger cousin much more than usual.
Elizabeth eased her harsh demeanor with a smile. “Second, what if I told you, hypothetically speaking, that I have it on good authority that the only reason Mr. Searle hasn’t proposed yet is because he understands that your mother can keep you out of Rosings for so long as she’s alive, and he’s worried you’ll refuse him rather than give up your home? Furthermore, that he has no interest in Rosings, only in you, because he does hold you in great affection.”
“Truly?” Miss de Bourgh breathed, clearly stunned.
“On my honor.”
“Oh, thank you,” Miss de Bourgh exclaimed and surprised Elizabeth by pulling her into a hug.
“May I also add,” Elizabeth said when Miss de Bourgh released her, “that you would both have saved yourselves anguish if you’d simply talked to one another.”
“Yes. I daresay you’re right,” Miss de Bourgh said, but she was already turning away. “Georgiana, I’m done,” she called as she headed toward the door. She paused at the entrance to the room. “I’m sure he’s here by now, if you’ll excuse me.” Not waiting for an answer, Miss de Bourgh hurried away.
Elizabeth turned back to find Miss Darcy looking over the back of the couch, expression amused. “That was a short talk,” she said.
“I suppose we should head back as well,” Elizabeth observed, casting a longing look about the library. “Dinner will be served soon.”
“Actually, if I may, I’d hoped to find time to speak with you about something as well,” Miss Darcy said. Unaccountably, she blushed. “Would, that is, could you close the door? If you don’t mind?”
With mounting concern, Elizabeth closed the library door, then went to the back corner where Miss Darcy sat. She took a place on the other end of the couch as Miss Darcy closed the book in her lap. She darted a glance at Elizabeth, then away. Elizabeth remained silent. She was curious, but she wouldn’t force Miss Darcy into a confidence she didn’t wish to make.
“Do you remember my saying I almost did something very wrong?” Miss Darcy blurted.
“Of course.” Elizabeth recalled the conversation well. She still couldn’t picture Mr. Darcy as frightening.
Miss Darcy fanned the pages of her book, then snapped it closed again. “Miss Bennet and Miss Kitty want me to come to their weddings.”
Elizabeth nodded. She had no notion how the two were related. Had Miss Darcy’s near-crime taken place at a wedding?
“Your sister, Mrs. Wickham, will be at the wedding.” Miss Darcy’s hands clutched the book, her knuckle’s white.
“I should hope so,” Elizabeth agreed. In truth, they hadn’t heard back from Lydia yet. Worried she was refusing to pay for her mail, Jane and Kitty had plans to hand deliver a second invitation.
“That terrible thing I almost did,” Miss Darcy whispered. “It was… I agreed to elope with Mr. Wickham.”
Shock radiated through Elizabeth. She was glad Miss Darcy was looking down, for she’d no time to hide the emotion. Mr. Wickham and Miss Darcy?
“I… I was in Ramsgate. My brother wasn’t expected, but he came to visit, to surprise me.” Miss Darcy’s voice was very small. “I was so happy to see him. I spend so much time alone, you know. Or I did, then. Now, Fitzwilliam makes a point of spending time with me, but I can’t tell if it’s because he wants to, or because he doesn’t trust me anymore.”
Miss Darcy closed her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks. Elizabeth slid across the sofa to put her arm about the younger woman. She hugged Miss Darcy to her. Miss Darcy pulled out a handkerchief.
“What happened?” Elizabeth asked. “Rather, why didn’t you elope with Mr. Wickham?”
Miss Darcy dabbed at her eyes. “When Fitzwilliam arrived, I felt guilty and confessed. If he hadn’t come, I would…” She shook her head. “Now, I know Mr. Wickham was only after my dowry.” She raised teary eyes to meet Elizabeth’s. “I can’t see him again. I can’t go to the weddings.”
Elizabeth kept an arm about Miss Darcy, but her thoughts reeled. It explained so much. The depth of dislike between the two men. Why Mr. Darcy, who’d by his own words had never wronged Mr. Wickham, went so cold and angry when the man was mentioned. He hated Mr. Wickham.
And would undoubtedly never bind himself to the man. Not by letting Wickham abscond with his sister and not by marrying a Bennet. Elizabeth swallowed, cursing Lydia for what she’d done.
At the time, it had seemed as if Lydia had been careless with their futures, flirting with ruin, but had gotten away with her actions. Now it was clear. Lydia had forever ruined any chance Elizabeth might have of being more than a friend to Mr. Darcy.
Her eyes fell on the handkerchief Miss Darcy clutched. Lacier, but the G. D. was there, reminding her of the initials on Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief: D. G. D.
Why hadn’t Mr. Darcy warned them? He could have kept Wickham from their lives. He needn’t have told them Miss Darcy’s secret. Simply decried the man.
Elizabeth shook her head. She couldn’t lie. She knew she wouldn’t have believed him. She’d thought Mr. Darcy all things abhorrent and Mr. Wickham amiable and good. How could she, how could all of them, have been such terrible fools?
“You hate me.” Miss Darcy’s whisper cut into Elizabeth’s recriminations.
Elizabeth turned to her, aghast. “What? No. Not one bit. It’s Mr. Wickham I can’t abide.” And my own foolish self.
“I almost did a terrible thing,” Miss Darcy said.
“But you didn’t, did you?” Elizabeth said, seeking to reassure her. “And now it’s all in the past.”
“It was less than a year ago,” Miss Darcy admitted.
Less than a year? Had the scoundrel gone straight from trying to seduce one young woman, barely more than a child, to the bed of another? “That doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Do you now know that eloping with Mr. Wickham would have been wrong?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth was glad Miss Darcy said that firmly, though tears still streaked her cheeks. “Do you agree that he was taking advantage of your youth and inexperience?” Elizabeth pressed.
“Yes, but it was more than that,” Miss Darcy said slowly. “He took advantage of his relationship with my father. Also, my governess, Mrs. Younge, often left us together. She shouldn’t have.”
Mrs. Younge? That was the same name as the woman who ran the boardinghouse in which Lydia lived. But what were the odds it was the same woman? It was a common enough surname. “You see, then? You weren’t at fault, at least not completely, and when the time came to make the final decision, you made the correct one.”
“I did,” Miss Darcy said, sitting up straighter.
Elizabeth dropped her arm from Miss Darcy’s shoulder, so she could turn to face her more fully. “He should be the one to be embarrassed, not you.”
“You’re right,” Miss Darcy said, but then her firmness faltered. “But what should I do about the wedding?”
Elizabeth considered that, now that she understood why Miss Darcy didn’t want to be near her extended family. She wondered how much it pained Mr. Darcy, to know Wickham would be there, at his cousin’s and his dear friend’s weddings. “You can pretend to be sick. It’s not a perfect solution, but it will solve the immediate problem.”
“I thought of that, and I may,” Miss Darcy admitted. “But you’re right, it’s not a perfect solution. I like Miss Bennet and Miss Kitty, and Miss Kitty is marrying my cousin. I know they don’t see a lot of the Wickhams, but they see them some of the time.” Her expression was miserable. She went back to flipping the pages of the book. “I don’t want to avoid their company, but I will never feel comfortable knowing that Mr. Wickham might be there.”
“You can’t be safe from seeing Mr. Wickham if you are going to continue to be friends with my sister,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“But I want to be friends with your sisters,” Miss Darcy protested.<
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Elizabeth was awash with sympathy, but she made her expression and voice firm. “Then, as I see it, you have two choices. The first is to confide in my sisters so they can take an active role in helping you avoid Mr. Wickham.”
Miss Darcy shook her head, expression fearful. Almost absently, she blotted at her eyes with her handkerchief.
“Your other choice is to brave it out. In a way, you are never safe from Mr. Wickham. Your brother can protect you only so much.” Elizabeth had no trouble assuming Mr. Darcy was protecting his sister. “You could meet Mr. Wickham on the street.”
Miss Darcy’s face registered shock. “Or at a party,” she said in a whisper.
“It’s not very likely, but possible,” Elizabeth admitted.
Miss Darcy wrung her hands. “I could meet him anywhere.” She was silent for a moment. “But I know he’ll be at the weddings.”
“That does seem very likely.” Elizabeth wouldn’t grant her the false hope of mentioning that Lydia had yet to reply to her invitation.
“I don’t want to make a scene at Miss Bennet’s and Miss Kitty’s weddings,” Miss Darcy said.
“Then don’t,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You can’t control when you might meet Mr. Wickham, but you can control how you behave when you do.”
Instead of more tears, Miss Darcy turned thoughtful. “How should I act?”
Elizabeth was glad Miss Darcy worded her question as she did. Acting was what was called for. “Don’t cut him. That will create a scene. Admit you know him by greeting him when it is appropriate, but don’t go out of your way. Don’t run from him,” she said, emphasizing that rule. “He is the one in the wrong.”
Miss Darcy nodded. “Yes, he is the one in the wrong.”
“But don’t expect him to be embarrassed or to apologize,” Elizabeth added with a somewhat bitter smile. “I don’t think he knows how to be ashamed.”
“No, I suppose not.” Miss Darcy let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry for this.”
“Don’t be. You aren’t at fault.”
“I mean, rather, for dragging you away from the party and crying on you.”
Elizabeth smiled. “It’s an honor to be someone you’re willing to cry on.” Ignoring the startled look that earned her, she stood and held out her hand. “Now, let’s get you sorted, and make sure neither of us has a crumpled dress, and we’ll go back and tell them all how wonderful the library is.”
With an answering smile, Miss Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand, and accepted her help.
Part Six
Wickham, Willfulness and Weddings
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning, Elizabeth remained at the Gardiners’ while Jane and Kitty took the carriage to Lydia’s to hand deliver a second invitation. Kitty groused about the need, saying Mr. Wickham gave Lydia more than enough money to afford the mail, but Jane was sanguine. As soon as the two left, Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner retired to the front parlor, where Uncle Phillips sat reading the morning paper, in order to work on their wedding gifts.
Elizabeth had hardly organized the ribbons she was using for Kitty’s gift when a commotion in the foyer signaled her sisters’ return. She exchanged a startled look with Mrs. Gardiner. They both hastily tucked items into Mrs. Gardiner’s large sewing basket. She pulled a cloth across the top as Jane and Kitty walked in.
“Back so soon?” Uncle Phillips asked, lowing his paper.
“She’s gone.” Kitty sounded a touch exasperated. She plopped down in an armchair.
“Gone?” Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner echoed.
Mrs. Gardiner looked to Jane, who nodded confirmation as she moved to sit on the couch across from their aunt and Elizabeth.
“Gone where?” Uncle Phillips asked.
“The woman who keeps the lodging house…” Kitty trailed off, casting Jane a questioning look.
“Mrs. Younge,” Jane supplied.
Elizabeth frowned, reminded of the coincidence that the woman who ran the house Lydia was living in had the same last name as Miss Darcy’s onetime, unreliable, governess. Or was it a coincidence at all?
“That’s right,” Kitty agreed. “She said they left without leaving a forwarding address.”
“That’s all?” Uncle Phillips said.
“I think she was lying,” Kitty supplied. “Jane, of course, does not.”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked.
Kitty shrugged. “I suppose because Jane sees the best in everyone.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, calling for patience.
“Why do you think Mrs. Younge was lying, dear?” Aunt Gardiner prompted.
“She knew about me.” Kitty tapped her chest. “She looked us over and said I must be the sister who was marrying a Fitzwilliam.” Kitty pulled a face. “I’m not marrying a Fitzwilliam, I’m marrying Colonel Richard Arthur Fitzwilliam.”
“Do you think they ran away from debts?” Elizabeth asked. “Mr. Wickham’s done that before.” And Miss Darcy had given her evidence that he was a man who repeated his bad behaviors.
“No,” Jane said. She cast Kitty an amused look. “And not only because I see the best in everyone. Because Mrs. Younge said their lodging was paid up. I asked.”
Kitty folded her arms across her chest, expression mulish. “I don’t care if Lydia is at my wedding.”
“Kitty, you don’t mean that,” Jane said softly.
“I do, and you shouldn’t want her there, either,” Kitty said. “I’m sure she knows we’re getting married. She’s only run off to make our weddings more about her. She always has to be the center of things.”
Jane looked about the room for help. Elizabeth only shrugged. She agreed with Kitty.
Uncle Phillips cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, she’s your sister. Even if you both weren’t about to marry, we would still want to find her.”
Kitty answered with a frown.
“Perhaps you and Mr. Gardiner could question the landlady?” Aunt Gardiner suggested. “You could go over when he returns from work this evening.”
“And I could ask Mr. Bingley,” Jane added. She cast Elizabeth a tentative look. “And you could ask Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth was leery to do that, given what she knew of the men’s histories.
“Well, I’m not asking Richard,” Kitty declared, saving Elizabeth from having to reply. “He went to escort his mother from Bath.” She cast a glare about the room. “And I don’t care if Lydia is at my wedding.”
“Well, I care,” Jane said firmly.
“We’ll all do all we can do,” Uncle Phillips temporized.
Fortunately, no one asked Elizabeth to agree to that.
***
That evening, they were all to dine at Mr. Searle’s house. Though the invitation had been extended to include Miss Darcy, she’d begged off after learning Lady Catherine would be in attendance. Elizabeth was a bit on edge, both because of Lydia’s disappearance and an announcement she expected.
They’d all walked that afternoon, except Kitty, who’d gone with Aunt Gardiner on a mission like Jane’s of several days prior, her trousseau. When the six of them who were there had drawn back together after their walk, Miss de Bourgh and Mr. Searle had looked practically giddy, but made no declaration. Elizabeth could only assume they were waiting for some specific moment. She was happy for them, but wary of Lady Catherine’s reaction.
As usual, Elizabeth’s family was the first to arrive. After greetings were exchanged, Uncle Phillips and Mrs. Searle moved to one end of the room, to sit in a semicircle of chairs arranged near one of Mr. Searle’s innovative stoves. Kitty trailed after, looking forlorn without Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth, chilled more by her worries than the wintery air, followed, leaving Jane and Mr. Searle conversing near the parlor entrance.
As she took a place beside Mrs. Searle, the tableau of Jane and Mr. Searle by the parlor door drew a smile from Elizabeth. The two got on well enough and appeared to converse easily. Elizabeth suspected, however, that it was a differe
nt kinship that prompted the conversation. Both wished to see the person they loved as soon as possible. Where they stood, just inside the parlor, they could almost view the front entrance.
Uncle Phillips and Mrs. Searle fell into conversation, Kitty staring glumly at the floor. Elizabeth considered joining Jane and Mr. Searle. Mr. Darcy had a way of smiling when he saw her that would warm her much more than the stove could.
That would create expectations, though. Ones she knew wouldn’t be met. She wouldn’t mislead her friends and family any more than Mr. Darcy would mislead her.
The next to arrive were Miss de Bourgh and her mother, with Bruce and Brice coming as far in as the hallway. It was their custom to help serve dinner when Miss de Bourgh was present. Predictably, Miss de Bourgh remained with Jane and Mr. Searle, while Lady Catherine headed straight toward where Elizabeth and the others were retaking their seats. While they’d all grown comfortable enough with each other not to stand on ceremony, they all still stood when Lady Catherine entered a room.
Lady Catherine shooed Kitty away, taking her place beside Uncle Phillips. Elizabeth saw her uncle and Mrs. Searle exchange a glance touched with amusement. Mrs. Searle turned to Elizabeth and engaged her in conversation, leaving Uncle Phillips to Lady Catherine.
Elizabeth did her best to keep up her side of the conversation, for she found Mrs. Searle to be a very pleasant woman, and intelligent as well. Her gaze kept straying to the door, though, as she waited for Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley to arrive. Her earlier agitation had only grown, and it was difficult to discuss Jane’s and Kitty’s wedding plans when her mind was on Mr. Darcy.
An interminable time later, he appeared in the doorway. Tall, undeniably handsome, and dressed in his usual crisp dark attire. Elizabeth stood, only belatedly aware Mrs. Searle was in the middle of a sentence.
Mr. Darcy’s gaze met Elizabeth’s. He smiled. She returned the smile, the nerves in her stomach metamorphizing from wriggling caterpillars into butterflies.
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