Chapter IV #3
“Yes, Lydia, it is an excellent reputation.” Elizabeth returned her sister’s glare—she did not think Lydia had much appetite for it, though she did not move away.
“From everything I have heard, Mr. Darcy’s reputation is not lacking, for he is a respected member of society.
Those who have known him for many years—Lady Catherine, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bingley and his family—all give him an excellent name.
His poor reputation in Hertfordshire results from his discomfort here; everyone who knows him agrees he is not at his best with new acquaintances.
“Mr. Wickham, by contrast, is all but unknown.”
“We all know him!” cried Lydia. “He has lived among us for months.”
“No, your sister is correct,” interjected Sir William, with an uncharacteristic seriousness about him. “From what I recall, Lieutenant Denny is the only member of the regiment who knew him before, and by his own admission, the acquaintance was slight.”
Grateful for his intervention, Elizabeth nodded before turning back to Lydia, who was no more willing to listen now than she had been before.
“The only information we have about Mr. Wickham is what the man himself has told us. Other than that, he remains an enigma.”
“Do you know anything else about Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth?”
This was the moment she could lay all before Sir William, for the gentleman would act if he knew all.
Yet Elizabeth held back, for Sir William was not a man of great subtlety; his response would be loud and direct, and Mr. Wickham would flee at the first sight of trouble.
Elizabeth’s reason for tarnishing Mr. Wickham’s reputation in this way was guided by the desire to see the man held to account for his misdeeds, which would not happen if he slipped away to practice his deceptions upon another unsuspecting neighborhood.
Thus, she once again decided that delicacy was required.
“As I said, Mr. Darcy has said little about Mr. Wickham. My caution about him stems from his falsehood about the living. If he is capable of spreading lies about his dealings with Mr. Darcy, what else might he conceal? It seems to me such behavior may extend to other vices.”
Sir William regarded her for a few moments, then allowed a slow nod of agreement. “You are correct, of course.”
“Sir William!” exclaimed Lydia.
“Do not concern yourself, Lydia,” replied the affable gentleman.
“I will do nothing to accuse Mr. Wickham where it is not necessary. It is prudent to remain wary of a man of whom, as your sister pointed out, we know nothing. For the moment, I believe that is sufficient—should anything else come to light, we can take a more active position.”
Though unhappy, Lydia appeared to understand she could say nothing in disagreement and remain dispassionate.
Not that Lydia was unbiased, if her glare at Elizabeth was any indication.
Elizabeth ignored her—Lydia was pigheaded and would not see sense, not if Elizabeth rubbed her nose in it.
When the truth about Mr. Wickham emerged, Elizabeth doubted her sister would even acknowledge her error.
That did not matter; all Elizabeth was concerned about was the need to protect her sisters from a predator.
The visit to Lucas Lodge ended not long after, the Bennet ladies departing to return to their home.
Lydia did not deign to acknowledge Elizabeth’s presence, and Elizabeth did not care for her sister’s manner of insolence.
She walked ahead with Kitty, whispering furiously, though she did not get the support from her sister that she wanted.
Kitty looked back at Elizabeth often, once catching her gaze and rolling her eyes.
Elizabeth shook her head, telling her sister that she should keep her own counsel so she could continue in Lydia’s company, and Kitty appeared to understand.
While they were walking, Mrs. Bennet stepped close to Elizabeth, appearing uncertain, and when she did speak, the subject she chose was not at all surprising.
“It is curious to hear you speak of Mr. Darcy as you did, Lizzy. Do you not hate him?”
“No, Mama, I do not. Mr. Darcy was not civil when he was in Hertfordshire, but hate is a strong term. The offense was not sufficient to provoke such a response.”
Mrs. Bennet regarded her. “Yet you do not appreciate him.”
“No, I do not, but my feelings are not at issue.”
“I suppose they are not,” replied Mrs. Bennet.
She chewed her lip in indecision. “Should I forbid Lydia from speaking to Mr. Wickham?”
“Do you suppose she will obey?”
Mrs. Bennet’s flat look was one Elizabeth had not seen often. “She will, or she will find herself confined to her room.”
The notion was an amusing one, though Elizabeth did not pursue it. “If you feel it will do any good, I would not object. Lydia is mulish and may disobey—it may be best if we watch her for any hint she means to act as she should not.”
“Then I shall leave it in your hands,” said Mrs. Bennet, relieved.
Elizabeth understood—Mrs. Bennet had not forbidden Lydia anything in Elizabeth’s memory, and to begin now would invite conflict.
As it happened, Elizabeth thought that vigilance was more useful than command.
She did not tell her mother that Kitty was also part of the conspiracy, a necessity as Mrs. Bennet was not known for her ability to keep secrets.
Today had been an important step in ensuring that Mr. Wickham received his due for his actions. Tomorrow would be another day.