Page 46 of The Same Noble Line
Well, his arrogance made more sense now. He had been upset and angry. He ought not to have taken out his frustrations on those around him, but at least it was the result of a dreadful event and not his typical behaviour.
“I did not wish to meet with him, and he wisely avoided me. I heard no ill of him and did not, I am sorry to say, give him much thought. When I learned from Colonel Forster how much damage Wickham had caused due to my desire to avoid him, I was ashamed. And once I spoke with him, I was also concerned.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Concerned? For what reason?”
“Wickham is perceptive in ways that make him dangerous. He discerned that I held you . . . your family in regard, and he sought to exploit that. It was not merely an attempt to harm me, but to sow discord where he knew I cared.”
Her chest tightened at his words. She had not missed his original intent. “You care for my family?”
He hesitated, his expression unreadable. “Yes.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched, her cheeks warming against the winter chill.
Mr. Darcy stepped back slightly. “I have no wish to make you uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth shook her head quickly, her voice unsteady as she replied, “You have not. It was unexpected, but I thank you for the compliment.”
They stood in companionable quiet for a moment before Mr. Darcy offered her his arm. “Shall we return to the house?”
Elizabeth hesitated but then took his arm, her gloved hand resting lightly against his sleeve. “Yes, let us return.”
Later that evening, as she sat in the parlour at Longbourn, Elizabeth’s thoughts returned to the events of the day. Her feelings toward Mr. Darcy were more conflicted than ever. Her father entered the room, his expression amused. “I hear your friend Mr. Wickham has found himself in quite a predicament,” he said, settling into his favourite chair.
Elizabeth frowned. “He is no friend of mine, Papa.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows rose. “You were once his staunchest defender.”
“I was deceived,” she admitted, her voice tight with regret. “And I am not the only one.”
He chuckled softly. “A handsome face and a glib tongue can do much to blind the unwary. But do not be too hard on yourself, Lizzy. We are all fools for something.” He opened the book he had brought with him and began to read.
Her mother’s voice floated in from the hallway, filled with indignation. “A disgrace, that is what it is! Such a charming young man, and now this? It is all Mr. Darcy’s fault, I am sure of it.”
Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath and rose, her feet carrying her to the doorway before she fully considered her actions. “Mamma, you cannot possibly blame Mr. Darcy for Mr. Wickham’s misdeeds,” she said firmly, stepping into the hall where her mother was speaking with Lydia.
Her mother turned, her face flushed with agitation. “And why not? Mr. Darcy has never had a kind word for poor Mr. Wickham. It is no wonder he would spread tales to ruin the man’s character.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly, willing herself to remain calm. “Mamma, no one can send a man to the Marshalsea without evidence. It is not Mr. Darcy who has ruined Mr. Wickham, but Mr. Wickham himself.”
Her mother’s lips pursed as she narrowed her eyes. “I cannot fathom why you, of all people, would desert poor Wickham.”
“Indeed, Lizzy,” Lydia teased. “For Mr. Darcy said you were too plain to stand up with.”
“Tolerable” had been the word. But that hardly mattered now.
Elizabeth shook her head. “He has since apologised.” She did not say he had only done so earlier that day. She again recalled her Aunt Gardiner’s advice. “I merely wish that we not assign blame where none is due. It is not fair.”
“Fairness,” Mrs. Bennet scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Fairness will not mend Mr. Wickham’s prospects.”
“And what of the prospects of the merchants he cheated?” Elizabeth asked, exasperated. Had she not already had this conversation with her younger sisters? “Surely you must see that had Mr. Darcy not paid Mr. Wickham’s creditors, many ofthem would have been at risk of losing their businesses. And if the businesses failed, we would all have to search farther away for the things we need, which means they would cost more to obtain. We should be thanking Mr. Darcy, not insulting him.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment and then studied Elizabeth shrewdly. “You had best not consider him, Lizzy. I begin to think a man with Mr. Darcy’s fortune would never ask, and a man with his pride would never suit you in any case.”
Neither would the bumbling, idiotic Mr. Collins, but her mother had not hesitated to push Elizabeth at him.
Lydia parroted Mamma’s warning. “Mr. Darcy thinks himself too fine for us. He is not at all like his sister.”
“I am not considering Mr. Darcy in any way other than a friend to us all,” Elizabeth replied, but it was futile to argue further. Her mother’s opinions were unyielding, and Lydia was becoming just like her. With a quiet sigh, Elizabeth retreated to the parlour.
