Page 79 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“Wickham is very charming when it serves his purposes,” Georgiana said. “When he… when he convinced me he loved me, I believed every word. I was fifteen and foolish, but he made me think I was the most important person in his world. It was only when Fitzwilliam arrived in Ramsgate that I learned the truth.”
“You were so young,” Elizabeth said. “Your innocence was not foolishness.”
“Perhaps not, but it taught me how persuasive Wickham can be when he wishes to cause harm. You should not fault yourself for being deceived, even briefly.”
Darcy paused outside the door, his hand frozen on the handle. Elizabeth was here, speaking with Georgiana about Wickham. His sister was revealing the very secrets he had been too proud to share.
“Elizabeth.” Georgiana’s voice brightened as she noticed him in the doorway. “Fitzwilliam has returned.”
Elizabeth rose from her chair, her face pale but determined. “Mr Darcy.”
“Miss Elizabeth.”
They stared at each other across the morning room whilst Georgiana glanced between them with obvious concern.
“I shall leave you to speak privately,” Georgiana said, moving towards the door. She paused beside her brother, reaching up to squeeze his arm. “Be kind to her, Fitzwilliam. And to yourself.”
When they were alone, both began speaking at once.
“I must apologise—”
“I owe you an explanation—”
They stopped, sharing a tentative smile despite the tension.
“Please,” Darcy said, gesturing towards the sofa. “Allow me to explain about Wickham.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Georgiana has told me everything. About Ramsgate, about his attempt to elope with her for her fortune. I understand now why you could not speak of it before.”
“I should have told you,” Darcy said, moving closer. “I should have warned you what manner of man he was. If I had overcome my own pride and shame about failing to protect Georgiana properly, you would never have been vulnerable to his lies.”
“And I should have dismissed his accusations immediately.” Elizabeth’s voice was thick with emotion. “I should have trusted what I knew of your character instead of allowing my own fears to cloud my judgement.”
“Your fears?”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “I have been so happy these past weeks. So content in your affection. Perhaps I was expecting something dreadful to happen, because such happiness seemed too good to be true.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I realise now that I have never cared for anyone the way I care for you, and it frightened me. I began to doubt whether I deserved such good fortune.”
Darcy’s chest ached. “Elizabeth, you are the finest woman I have ever known. If anyone deserves happiness, it is you.”
“I was a fool to listen to James Morton’s poison, even for a moment. I knew what manner of man he was, knew he would stop at nothing to strike back at us. Yet when he appeared with Wickham and those letters…”
“The letters were forgeries,” Darcy said. “Every word of them.”
“I suspected as much almost immediately. There were no addresses, no specific details that could be verified. But by then, the damage was done. I had already shown you how little faith I had in your character.”
Darcy reached for her hands, relief washing through him when she did not pull away. “We have both made mistakes, Elizabeth. But perhaps we can learn from them. Be more open with each other going forward, more trusting.”
“I should like that very much.” She squeezed his hands. “Though I confess, there is something else I must tell you. Something that may change how you regard our future together.”
Darcy’s heart clenched. “What is it?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I discovered who wrote the original notices to the scandal sheets. It was my mother.”
“Your mother?” Darcy stared at her in shock. “But how could she have known about the ball we attended? You and Jane were still at Longbourn when it took place.”
“She did not know anything specific about the ball,” Elizabeth explained, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “She simply assumed there would be social events during the season. She knew from Lydia that Caroline was fond of dancing, and she gambled that you would both attend some gathering or other.”
Darcy’s mind reeled. “She fabricated the entire story?”
