Mrs. Gardiner had not pressed the point, leaving her Elizabeth to mull the implications at the end of their conversation. They’d not since been able to resume the subject, as the weather turned harsh; the party was forced to stop awhile to let Mr. Gardiner and his lordship back into the carriage.
“I do so hope this wind lets up tonight,” said Mr. Gardiner. “It’s been an age since I got to ride this much. I’ve never seen this part of the countryside on horseback before.”
“Nor I,” agreed Darcy. “But snow is common in these parts this time of year. I shan’t be surprised if we see a flurry or two before we see Newcastle itself.”
“Have you ladies enjoyed your solitude, then?” said Mr. Gardiner turning to address his niece. “I hope we’re not intruding on your confidences.”
“You tease, uncle, but as a matter of fact, you are doing just that,” said Elizabeth. She knew not what devil prompted her next words, but they came before she could consider their cost. “Mrs. Gardiner has just revealed to me the true purpose of our journey north.”
“What, hey?” said Mr. Gardiner, laughing. “Have I been duped then? Here I thought we’re just up to see the family.”
“We are just up to see family,” Mrs. Gardiner said, her eyes round as saucers as she stared pointedly at Elizabeth.
“Oh, yes, family,” said Elizabeth, smiling a little. “Haven’t you heard, uncle? You’ve an unmarried nephew about my age.”
Darcy’s amusement dimmed from his face. Abruptly he turned to the window and became preoccupied with the view, whatever there was of it.
“Is that right, Mrs. Gardiner?” said Mr. Gardiner. “You had me fooled, wife. I thought for certain your sister was anticipating another happy event, and that’s why we’re visiting!”
Mrs. Gardiner was blushing and very deliberately not looking at Darcy, Elizabeth noted.
Elizabeth hadn’t considered what Darcy might think of her aunt’s matchmaking. At any rate, it likely didn’t matter. Theirs had been an alliance for show; there was no reason to think her aunt’s motives should bother him at all.
“I simply wanted Elizabeth to know she would not lack for company while we visit,” said Mrs. Gardiner, her nose in the air. She turned to stare out the other carriage window, effectively dismissing her husband even as he continued to chuckle.
“Never fear, Lizzy,” said Mr. Gardiner. “If Henry doesn’t suit, we could always wait until Scotland to marry you off.”
“Really, uncle,” said Elizabeth. It was her turn to blush. Her uncle’s teasing was never meant to be cruel, but he’d struck upon the one subject about which she could not easily joke.
“I don’t think Miss Bennet has so much as spared a glance at a suitor, much less made pursuit of one,” said Darcy suddenly.
“Why do you say that?” said Mr. Gardiner. He was a sharp-witted man, bent to a benevolent nature, but he perceived the Earl had come to some realization regarding his niece Elizabeth, and Mr. Gardiner would understand it fully before allowing her to be taken any further in jest.
“I think, Mr. Gardiner, had your niece ever cast an eye of favor upon a man, he’d have fallen at her feet on the instant,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat.
Darcy turned his gaze back to the darkening window. “That is why I defend her so.”
“I commend you, my lord,” said Mr. Gardiner, satisfied. “You have perceived what I think many a person would not. My niece is a doughty character, to be sure. Else she’d not have borne that bad business in London so well as she did.”
“Really, uncle,” said Elizabeth, but at the mention of London, Darcy returned his attention to the conversation.
Darcy focused his gaze on Elizabeth. “I had most of the story from my sister, of course, but would you tell me what happened, from your own lips? If it would not distress you, I should like to hear it from someone who was there.”
“Of course, my lord,” said Elizabeth.
“Is that really necessary?” said Mrs. Gardiner, turning back toward them and chancing a side glance at the earl. “You needn’t go over it again, Lizzy, if you don’t wish to.”
“It’s perfectly alright,” said Elizabeth. “What would you like to know?”
“My sisters claimed the villains were already in the house when you arrived; is that accurate?” asked Darcy, his tone quiet. The tension in the air of the carriage thickened.
“They were,” said Elizabeth. “Your butler had been rendered unconscious – I do hope he’s alright, my lord – and one of the men saw me when I entered the front door.”
“You were not accompanied to the house at Mayfair? Was there no servant or chaperone to attend you there?”
“No, my lord,” she said, blushing. “I sent my maid along with the coach on to my uncle’s home ahead of me. It had been a long journey and she’s been feeling poorly; I thought nothing would come of it.”
Darcy was silent a moment.
“Go on, please,” he said at last. Elizabeth recounted the events of that night as best she could. Each time she said the name ‘Wickham’, Darcy tensed visibly. When she told him of Lady Catherine’s threat and Wickham vanishing into the night, Darcy fisted his hands and breathed deeply in a clear bid to check his temper.
By the end of her tale, she could scarcely bear her curiosity any longer.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Elizabeth said after a pause. “What is the nature of your connection to this George Wickham? I never had a chance to ask Miss Darcy.”
Darcy took his time forming an answer.
“George Wickham is the son of my late father’s steward. He was a very respectable man, and my father thought well of his only child. Wickham was his godson. As such, my father supported him at school, and after at Cambridge. It was important assistance, as Wickham’s own father was always poor due to the extravagant spending of his wife,” said Darcy. “His manners have always been engaging; my father thought it would bode well for his future life, and intended Wickham to join to the church; he intended to provide him the living as well.
“Years ago I began to think of him in a very different manner than my father did. The defects of his character, that utter want of principle he was able to conceal from my father, he could hardly conceal from a man his own age, who moved among the same peers.
“My father’s attachment to Wickham was so steady that in his will he particularly recommended to me to promote Wickham’s advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow. There was additionally a legacy of one thousand pounds.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open at this.
“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet,” he said, noting her reaction. “I am afraid of shocking you, but there is more which must be said if your question is to be rightly answered.” Elizabeth nodded. The Gardiners did not speak, but listened with all the attention they possessed.
“Wickham’s own father did not long survive mine and within half a year, Wickham wrote to me that he no longer desired to pursue a livelihood in the church; rather he intended to study law, and he wrote to discern whether I should see fit to discharge my father’s gift to him in a manner that would aid him in that direction. I wished, rather than believed him to be sincere. He resigned all claim to assistance in the clergy, should he ever pursue that avenue, and was granted instead the sum of three thousand pounds.
“Any connection between us seemed entirely dissolved. I knew too much, and thought too ill of him to receive him at Pemberley, or to receive him in town, which is where I believe he chiefly lived. For about three years I heard very little of him, until he wrote again. His circumstances had become exceedingly bad. He had found the law most unprofitable and was now resolved on being ordained; if I would present him with the living in question, as detailed by my good late father. I declined.”
“One could hardly blame you for refusing to comply with such a request,” she said. “You satisfied your father’s wishes to him long before that.”
“Wickham did not share that opinion. He was resentful, to say the least. I have no doubt his abuse of me to others was at least as violent as his reproaches to myself directly. Every appearance of acquaintance between us was dropped; I know not how he lived, until he reappeared last summer.”
Darcy stopped, pausing for so long Elizabeth began to think he would not continue. She nearly questioned him on it, but at length, he spoke again.
“The events about which I am to inform you are of a delicate nature, and have caused great pain to me and those for whom I care most in the world,” he said, meeting the eyes of every person in the carriage. “I must entreat you all to secrecy, for the events about which I would speak involve more than just myself. I would not otherwise mention it at all, but as Wickham’s actions have caused you some suffering you have earned the right to all knowledge I can give you,” said Darcy.
The Gardiners nodded solemnly. Elizabeth pressed her lips together and bowed her head in assent.
“Miss Bennet, you have met my sister, Georgiana,” said Darcy. “She is more than ten years my junior. About a year ago, she was taken from school and an establishment arranged for her in town. Last summer she traveled to Ramsgate with the woman who had presided over her arrangement, a Mrs. Younge.
“Thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; there later proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and that woman. By her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement.”
“Heaven forbid,” breathed Elizabeth.
“She was then but fifteen years old, which must be her excuse,” he said. “I am happy to tell you, she admitted this much to me herself. I joined them at Ramsgate a day or two before the intended elopement, and Georgiana could not bear the idea of grieving or offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father. She acknowledged the whole to me.
“You may well imagine what I felt and how I acted. My sister’s feelings, and the nature of the events which might have transpired prevented any public exposure. But I wrote to Mr. Wickham and he left the place immediately. Mrs. Younge was removed from her charge. Their object was undoubtedly my sister’s fortune, a sum of about thirty thousand pounds, but I cannot help but think that the hope of revenging himself on me was a tempting prospect. Had he succeeded, his revenge would have been complete indeed.”
Elizabeth heard this last with tears in her eyes, but she steeled herself against the feeling. After all he and his poor sister had been through, Darcy did not need to contend with her tears, too.
“I may have been a bit oblique in my earlier description of the events at your house in London,” she said, after they’d ridden in quiet for a mile or two.
“How so?” asked Darcy.
Elizabeth cleared her throat delicately. “Your sister was mightily abusive toward Mr. Wickham when he tried to persuade her to come along with them of her own accord. I rather think she may have boxed his ears at one point, though I did not witness it myself.”
It was small, but the glint of humor that returned to Darcy’s face sparked a flood of relief to Elizabeth’s soul. She would write to Georgiana, as soon as she was able.
“Georgiana gave me leave to impart this information to you,” said Darcy. “Have no fear on that score. Our hope is that we may stop that man from besetting himself on anyone else.”
They traveled awhile longer in silence. On stopping for the night, Elizabeth found she could not rest. Darcy’s story and the words of Anne de Bourgh clung like a damp fog to her mind.
Anne had seen what Elizabeth dared not show to anyone else in the world; her feelings must be nearer the surface than she thought. Poor Georgiana; and poor Darcy. To have borne so much after their father’s death and yet neither of them sought to lay blame, nor to vilify Mr. Wickham until they were forced to do so. Elizabeth admired them both greatly.
Yet that day she’d learned admiration did not describe all her feelings.
Self-deception was anathema to Elizabeth, for there was nothing in the world more foolish than a man – or a woman – who knew everything but his own thoughts or nature. And while she dearly loved to laugh, there was no humor in a flaw of that kind.
She’d been lying to herself all along. The kind Mr. Darcy of Netherfield, long before he became the Earl of Matlock, had somehow invaded her thoughts at their softest point and had planted himself in that tender place.
The knowledge did not bring her peace.