The grey fog returned, confounding Elizabeth all the more. What could be the meaning of his conflicting story? Despite Wickham’s appearance as a man who had been wronged, his story was an absolute lie. Why would he go to such lengths to discredit Darcy? She had no reason to doubt that they were close as children, but something must have happened for him to turn against his childhood friend.
He pressed his lips together as though attempting to compose his emotions. “My friend Denny tempted me to enter the militia with his account of the excellent society in Meryton. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude,” he said, shifting his weight in his chair. “A military life was not my intention, but I must have some employment. The church ought to have been my profession, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”
Elizabeth observed the cloud reappear, then darken. Certainly, a man meant for the church would never deign to speak anything but the truth, she thought. Eager to learn the reason for his falsehoods, she encouraged him to continue.
“The late Mr Darcy intended to provide for me by bequeathing me a living, but it was given elsewhere.”
Although she could not believe him, she wanted his explanation and played along with his ruse. “How could his will be disregarded?” she said.
“The informal terms of the bequest offer me no hope from the law. A man of honour would not dispute the terms, but Darcy chose to treat them as merely conditional, and claimed that I had forfeited all claim by extravagance, imprudence—in short, anything or nothing,” he said, abandoning his cards. “The living became vacant two years ago, but it was given to another man. I have a warm, unguarded heart and have done nothing to deserve losing it.” During this elaborate tale of woe, his eyes darted around to the other occupants of the parlour, settling briefly on Elizabeth.
“How shocking!” she said, unable to discern his motivation for such falsehoods. “What could have induced him to give the living to someone else?”
“Jealousy. His father’s uncommon attachment to me enraged him, and he hates me for it.”
Elizabeth recalled her discussion with Darcy, when he admitted to being resentful: My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever. Nevertheless, she could not believe him capable of denying his father’s final wishes for the sake of revenge on a childhood friend. “Were you very close as children?” she inquired, although she had already discerned the truth of that part of the story.
The cloud encircling Wickham dissipated as he fondly recounted the story of his childhood at Pemberley. Scarcely able to fathom his meaning, Elizabeth watched the haze fade and return, as though some parts of the story were true but others false. “Before my father’s death, my godfather promised to provide for me, as a debt of gratitude and affection, but his son was too proud to allow it.”
Elizabeth could not deny that Darcy was proud; he had admitted as much himself: Pride will always be under good regulation. When Darcy had uttered that claim, he had spoken with genuine sincerity. She had no reason to mistrust him, making these claims against him inconceivable.
Wickham interrupted her reflections. “However, his family pride serves him well. His position as master of Pemberley affords him a wide range of influence. He is also an affectionate brother and a very attentive guardian to his sister.”
Recalling Caroline Bingley’s lavish praises of Darcy’s sister, she wondered what Wickham knew about her. “What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?”
He shook his head. “It gives me great pain to speak ill of a Darcy, but she is like her brother—too proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing and extremely fond of me; I devoted hours and hours to her amusement, but she is nothing to me now.”
Gazing at the sight before her, a cold shiver sliced through Elizabeth. The cloud, previously various shades of grey, had turned black. Never in the entirety of her life had she witnessed such disturbing malevolence. Since she had become aware of her gift, the inconsequential lies she had detected had presented as vague shadows or mists. Even Caroline Bingley, whose lies had shocked her, had not spoken with such venom. However, despite Wickham’s perfect manners and easy address, the unalloyed depravity emanating from this man utterly terrified her.
The card games ended, quickly followed by supper. Elizabeth had some difficulty composing herself and scarcely touched her meal but stayed close to Jane, whose serene demeanour calmed her. Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth was not easily intimidated; however, she stayed well away from Wickham after supper and made no attempt to glance in his direction, for fear of seeing the ominous black shroud again. Thankfully, no other dark disturbances assailed her for the remainder of the evening.
Why had Wickham singled her out as his confidant? Why would he seek to malign Darcy with a fabricated story? Was she correct in her assumption about the meaning of the black cloud? Since she had never witnessed it before, she could not be certain. With so many burning questions, she longed to share her newfound insights with Jane. Finally, Elizabeth, her sisters, and cousin took their leave and boarded the carriage for the ride home.
Upon arriving at Longbourn, Elizabeth claimed a headache and hurried to her chamber to put order to her troubled thoughts. She had long enjoyed the study of human character, and her gift allowed additional insight; the lies people told often revealed hidden information about them. Sometimes lies protected others from offence or harm; other times they were meant to protect the liar. Some are told in jest or to evoke a reaction; others are meant only to exaggerate, flatter, or soften bad news. We are fond of telling children tall tales to force them to behave, like the night creatures who might steal them away if they ventured outdoors after dark. Most of the lies Elizabeth had witnessed were harmless, never told with the same malice she had witnessed this evening.
Although Wickham’s full truth was still unknown, she knew without question that she would never trust him with her friendship; nor could she allow her sisters to befriend him. She had often chided Jane for being too trusting, but without her gift, Elizabeth would not have suspected the evil concealed behind that handsome face.
When Jane entered the chamber, Elizabeth threw her arms around her and held her tightly. “Lizzy, what has made you tremble so?” Jane said, guiding her to the bed and wrapping a blanket around her.
Elizabeth clung to Jane’s hands. “I am a fraud, pretending to be so self-assured and insightful. I allowed myself to believe that my gift, enjoyed by no one else of my acquaintance, afforded me superiority over all others. I thought I knew everything about people and their flaws, but I have never met with Mr Wickham’s equal before.” She relayed to her sister what had passed between Wickham and herself.
Jane gasped upon hearing her account. “I had no notion that anyone could be so wicked. What can he hope to accomplish with such falsehoods?”
“I can only assume that he seeks the fulfilment of the bequest.” He had offered so much detail on the living and Darcy’s refusal to grant it that it must be his objective.
“Oh, but a man like that is unfit for the church,” Jane said, keeping one arm wrapped around her.
Elizabeth could not disagree. “Perhaps he seeks revenge on Mr Darcy for his refusal, but how am I to warn him? He knows nothing of my gift, and I am not inclined to disclose it. How else would I know the story is false?”
Jane contemplated this for a moment, then shook her head. “You ought not tell him of your gift, but you might advise him of Wickham’s claims that he was cheated out of his rightful inheritance.”
“Intruding on such a private matter would be the height of impertinence,” Elizabeth said, her shoulders slumping with the weight of this burden.
A glint sparkled in Jane’s eye. “Mama did warn him of your wild manners,” she said with a laugh, and Elizabeth allowed herself to relax.
Despite this moment of levity, they agreed that the family must be told of the deceptive lieutenant. Knowing Lydia’s and Kitty’s obsession with officers, nothing good could come of an
y flirtation with him.
Chapter 10
After a night of fitful sleep, Elizabeth sipped her tea at breakfast the next morning, still meditating on how best to advise her sisters of the deceitful Wickham, especially in her tedious cousin’s presence. Preferring that Mr Collins remain in total ignorance of her gift, she decided to wait until he had left the parlour. Unfortunately, her youngest sister pressed the issue.
“La, Lizzy, ’tis too bad,” Lydia said, slathering her toast with a generous helping of marmalade. “Mr Wickham is so handsome, but even I could tell he was hoaxing you last night. All the signs were there; his hands covering his mouth and his shifty eyes,” she said, oblivious to the presence of their guest at the table.
Elizabeth sent her sister a quelling glance, warning her to hold her tongue.
Mr Collins chuckled lightly. “Ah, Cousin Lydia, I did not know that you were a student of human mannerisms. How curious!”
“Indeed, Mr Collins, all of my daughters are perceptive to the physical signs employed by those who wish to deceive,” Mr Bennet said while maintaining a reserved composure.
Silenced by this rejoinder, Mr Collins stared, flushed, and shrank lower in his chair.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, encouraged by her father’s prompt. “For example, when the speaker wishes to conceal their deception, he might squint or blink, mention excessive details, or recite a rehearsed speech. Some perspire heavily.” Mr Collins retrieved his handkerchief and mopped his damp forehead.
Mary added her own observations. “Leaning forward and gesticulating wildly are other examples.”
“The shifty eyes are the most telling sign,” Lydia said with a twinkling laugh. “Wickham gave himself away.”
“I am determined to avoid him,” Mary added.
However, Kitty pouted. “’Tis a shame, though. Mr Wickham is the handsomest man I have ever met.”
“I believe he is not a man of fortune,” Elizabeth said, attempting to dissuade her sister from the rogue.
“You shall not set your cap at a penniless soldier, Kitty,” Mrs Bennet said with an air of finality.
“Don’t worry, Kitty,” Lydia said. “We still have reason to hope with Denny, Pratt, and Chamberlayne.”
“May the good Lord help them,” said Mr Bennet with a wink.
Mr Collins said not a word during this discussion. Elizabeth thought perhaps he had chosen this time to enter a period of quiet reflection.
Later that morning, as she stood before her father’s desk, the power of speech eluded her. She had resolved to tell her father what had transpired between her and Wickham the previous evening and seek his advice, but now she hesitated, unable to move forward or retreat. How could she possibly tell this disturbing story yet again?
“What has overcome you, my dear Lizzy?” Mr Bennet said, putting his ledger book aside.
With a heavy burden weighing on her, she released a great sigh. “I hardly know where to begin.”
He reached out, guided her to the chair beside his desk, then closed the door. “If I am to advise you, you must tell me what troubles you.”
Mr Bennet listened quietly as she relayed the confusing tale, ending with the forbidding blackness which had engulfed the handsome deceiver. “I am certain it has something to do with Miss Darcy, for the cloud was at its blackest when he spoke of her.”
“As it would seem, but what are we to do about it? If he has a quarrel with Darcy, it can be none of our affair.”
“No, indeed, and I do not intend to pry into his personal matters, but I feel obligated to warn him in some way.” Mr Bennet absently polished his spectacles while contemplating this notion, then suggested that perhaps he ought to speak to Darcy himself. Lizzy immediately objected. “You have never even met Wickham. Your account would only be hearsay.”
He released a great sigh. “True enough, but I cannot like you discussing such private affairs with a gentleman of such short acquaintance.”
“No more than I wish to meddle in his concerns.”
Her father studied her intently, then reached out to take her hand. “Tell me, Lizzy, do you admire Mr Darcy?” he said with a knowing smile.
She closed her eyes and nodded; she could no longer deny her attachment. “He can be everything charming when he wishes to, but his reserve usually prevents it.”
“Well, I should think him a fool to withhold his charm from you, my dear girl.”
A rogue tear escaped, but she quickly swiped it away. “A man of his consequence should give no notice to a woman of little fortune.” She hung her head, ashamed to admit such a harsh truth to her father.
Raising her chin with his thumb, he forced her to look at him. “Do not sell yourself short, Lizzy. Your mother may be a shameless matchmaker, but she is not entirely mistaken. Any man would consider himself fortunate to win your hand.”
She clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling. Her dear father, with true sincerity in his eyes, had always been honest with her. “Naturally, you must support your own daughter, Papa,” she said in jest.
He frowned in mock disdain. “Not true, my dear. In no way would I wish my silliest daughters on him, despite his fortune.” She could not help laughing at his dry humour, and he laughed along with her. “There now, shake off the dismals and tell me what you mean to do,” he said, squeezing her hand.
Although revived by her father’s encouragement, no enlightenment followed. “I am certain to think of something. To be sure, I cannot disclose my gift, but I might elude to Wickham’s claims about the living.”
They were interrupted by a knock, and a servant spoke through the closed door. “Miss Lizzy is needed in the drawing room.” Elizabeth replied that she would come directly.
Mr Bennet leaned back in his chair and sadly shook his head. “I cannot fathom why the fellow disclosed such intimate dealings to you upon your first acquaintance. Such behaviour is unseemly.”
Elizabeth agreed that he ought not to have done so. “But now I am obliged to warn Mr Darcy.”
“I am certain that Darcy is well able to conduct his own affairs. If he knows the man well, as I suspect he must, this salvo can come as no surprise to him.”
“You may be right, Papa, but I shall not rest easy until I have spoken to him.” After the turbulent night she had passed, she could not allow Darcy to remain in ignorance of the threat against his good name.
Mr Bennet rose and opened the door for Elizabeth. “Well, then, when your mother has finished with you, come back to me and I shall escort you to Netherfield myself.”
***
Upon her entrance to the drawing room, Elizabeth found Mr Bingley and his sisters visiting with her family. Bingley made his bow, while Caroline and Louisa merely nodded their heads to acknowledge her. “There you are, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said, beaming brightly. “Now we can share our news.” He glanced briefly at his sisters, whose diminished enthusiasm failed to dampen his own. “We have come as promised, Miss Lydia, to invite you and your family to a ball at Netherfield on Tuesday next.”
Lydia shrieked with delight and jumped to her feet, dragging Kitty along. They joined hands and circled around the floor. “We shall dance with the officers all night long.”
Despite Elizabeth’s mortification at her sisters’ unruly conduct, her mother was no less delighted. “Oh, Mr Bingley, what a lovely gesture,” Mrs Bennet said, rising to shake his hand. “We shall be honoured to attend your merry ball.”
Elizabeth watched Jane exchange fleeting glances with Bingley, who had a dazzling glow around him as he gazed into her eyes. How strange, she thought. Although he spoke not a word, the air around him sparkled with light. Elizabeth had observed the same curiosity in him before, but Jane also shimmered, as though radiating light from within. Did this mean what she suspected?
Their small party enjoyed the highest spirits, except for Caroline and Louisa, who took no part in the revelry. “We must go,” Caroline said abruptly, claiming they had other invitations to extend that day.
She ignored the Bennet family as they offered profuse thanks; however, she clasped Jane’s hands and offered a practised smile. “How wonderful to see you again, my dearest friend. I offer my best wishes for your continued health, and I shall look forward to seeing you dance next week.” Not surprisingly, the grey mist followed Caroline out the door.
While her younger sisters continued their celebration, Jane took Elizabeth’s arm. “I apologise, Lizzy. There is no excuse for them,” she said, shaking her head.
“Never mind, Jane. They were far more uncivil to Mama, but she seems to have hardly noticed,” Elizabeth said as they watched Mrs Bennet glide across the parlour.
“A ball at Netherfield! What a wonderful opportunity for my girls!”
Mr Collins also seemed enthused by the prospect of the coming event. “I hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Cousin Elizabeth, for the first two dances especially.”
Although her cousin’s persistent attention gave her no pleasure, another far more pressing issue beset her. She accepted and curtsied her way out of the parlour to find her father. She must get to Netherfield as soon as possible.
***
Thankful for a quiet interlude on Thursday morning, Darcy perused the Netherfield library searching for a title to suit his mood. Bingley and his sisters had gone out on morning calls; he did not expect them back for some hours hence, leaving him free to follow his own pursuits. Already well acquainted with the disorganised shelves, he studied the spines and selected one at random, then settled in to read.
While engrossed in seventeenth-century history, a footman announced the arrival of Mr Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Although he had not expected visitors, he rose to greet them and noticed their grave expressions. The dark smudges under Elizabeth’s eyes and the absence of her impertinent twinkle led him to believe that something had gone amiss. Mr Bennet offered an apology for interrupting his solitude. In Darcy’s opinion, their solemnity did not bode well.
A Certain Something Page 6