Page 43 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“And then he returned for more,” Elizabeth guessed, recalling the details Mrs Reynolds had mentioned.
“Precisely. But by then, Darcy understood his true character and refused further assistance. Wickham disappeared for a time—then reappeared last summer at Ramsgate, where Georgiana was staying with her companion.”
She sucked in a gulp of air, recalling what Mrs Reynolds had said—that something else had occurred, something to do with Georgiana. She hadn’t wanted to go into detail but the matter had troubled her.
Richard’s expression grew graver still. “Georgiana was not yet sixteen. Wickham somehow gained her confidence, convinced her that he loved her, and nearly persuaded her to elope with him. His target, of course, was not Georgiana herself but her fortune of thirty thousand pounds.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. “How dreadful! Poor Georgiana, she must have been devastated when his true purpose was revealed.”
“Darcy arrived unexpectedly and discovered the plot just before it could be executed. Georgiana, heartbroken and ashamed, confessed everything. Wickham disappeared immediately.”
The pieces fell into place for Elizabeth—Mrs Reynolds’s dislike, and the odd contradiction between the man she had come to know and the one Wickham had described to her.
“How mortifying,” she said and shook her head. “And no wonder Mrs Reynolds was so very opposed to his portrait hanging with the others.”
“She was never taken in by him,” Richard explained. “Many others, including my uncle Darcy, were. His greatest talent is identifying exactly what impression will most recommend him to each new acquaintance.”
Elizabeth understood this to be true. With her, he had presented himself as the wronged party, the one most unfairly disadvantaged by someone richer and of more consequence. She was glad now not to have told Darcy at once that she knew Wickham, but it bothered her still that she had kept the secret. Perhaps now she knew the full story she could explain and somehow lessen the impact?
Would it be acceptable, she pondered; to say she had met him in passing though that was not entirely true?
“I have witnessed his duplicity for years,” Richard added unprompted. “And paid for it more than once in my efforts to extricate him from various scrapes before he involved Georgiana. Darcy was far more patient with him than I would have been, out of respect for his father’s memory. That is also why the portrait remains.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, they heard footsteps approaching. Darcy appeared at the conservatory entrance; his tall figure silhouetted against the light from the hallway.
“I see you have begun your tour,” he observed, joining them. “I hope my cousin has not been too tedious with his botanical knowledge, Elizabeth.”
“Not at all,” she replied, rising from the bench. “We have been having a most… informative conversation.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy’s face carefully, wondering if he would detect the change in her demeanour. The knowledge of Wickham’s treachery had altered her understanding of Darcy’s character profoundly, revealing a depth of devotion to his sister and a restraint in the face of provocation that commanded her respect.
“Indeed,” Richard said, his manner shifting back to its earlier geniality with remarkable ease. “I was just telling your wife about Lady Anne’s passion for rare orchids. You might show her your mother’s journals someday—her descriptions of each new bloom are quite poetic.”
Darcy’s expression softened at the mention of his mother. “I had forgotten those notebooks. They must be in the library somewhere. I shall look for them.”
They continued their tour of the conservatory, with Darcy occasionally providing information about particular plants or renovations to the structure. Elizabeth walked beside him, acutely aware of his presence in a way she had not been before. She was grateful his cousin had not mentioned the actual topic of their conversation, as it would have robbed her of the chance to make up her mind about what to do.
As they paused before a magnificent flowering vine, Darcy turned to her with an expression of concern. “You are unusually quiet, Elizabeth. Has something troubled you?”
“I imagine the flowers have bored her to tears, Darcy,” Richard said with a chuckle.
“I see.” Darcy’s tone was measured, but Elizabeth detected an undercurrent of tension. “It is unusually warmtoday. It is a wonder you are not more uncomfortable,” he said and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“I agree.” Richard cleared his throat. “I believe I should see to my horse before dinner,” he said. “The groom mentioned he seemed a bit lame after our journey.”
“Of course,” Darcy replied, though his eyes remained on Elizabeth. “We shall see you at dinner.”
After Richard had gone, Elizabeth moved towards a bench set among flowering shrubs, and Darcy followed, sitting beside her with a careful distance between them.
“My cousin has taken to you,” he said then.
“I am glad at least some in your family are pleased to have my acquaintance. He has been rather entertaining.”
“I hope he has not told you more stories of me falling into assorted ponds,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Do you make a habit of falling into bodies of water, sir?” she said, feeling lighter than before.
“Only in my youth,” Darcy admitted, his expression relaxing. “Though Richard would have you believe I regularly sought out opportunities to soak my attire.” He wetted his lips and continued. “I must apologise,” Darcy said suddenly, his tone serious once more.
