Chapter 22 #2
“My father knows something of the matter.”
Darcy’s attention returned to her. “You told him?”
“I told him what I saw, but I did not accuse Wickham of crimes I could not prove.”
“Nor have I.”
“You called him dishonest, indebted, and dangerous.”
“I called his conduct dangerous.”
“You leave others to understand what you refuse to say.”
Color rose in his face, though his voice remained controlled. “And you dismiss my warning because it comes from a man you dislike.”
Sarah returned from the ditch and stopped between them, her ears moving from one speaker to the other. Elizabeth touched the dog’s shoulder, more to steady herself than Sarah.
“I did not dismiss it,” she said. “I questioned it.”
“You believe Wickham because he tells you everything and doubt me because I will not betray those who trusted me.”
“While you offer your rank in place of an explanation.”
“I did not mention my rank.”
“Because you believe your name serves that purpose.”
Darcy stared at her. For several seconds, the field seemed too quiet. Then he looked toward the west hedge, where Bennet had appeared through a gap in the trees.
“I came to speak with your father,” he said. “Stay or return to the house, as you please.”
Elizabeth heard the dismissal and resented that she had made it possible. “Then goodbye.”
Darcy did not attempt to stop her.
She crossed the field with Sarah beside her and looked back when she reached the gate.
Bennet had joined Darcy near the hedge while Thomas continued along the fence line, giving them what privacy he could.
Darcy spoke first, and Bennet listened without interrupting, though Elizabeth could not read his expression from that distance.
Elizabeth entered the house through the kitchen, avoiding her mother. She removed her bonnet and went upstairs, but Kitty’s door was closed. No sound came from within.
In the schoolroom, Mary sat at the table copying a passage from a sermon. She glanced up as Elizabeth entered.
“You returned without Mr. Darcy.”
“He found Papa.”
Mary waited. Elizabeth moved to the window, where she could see the west field through the trees.
“He came to warn us about Mr. Wickham,” she said.
Mary laid down her pen. “For what reasons?”
“Reasons he considers sufficient and everyone else must accept without examination.”
“That sounds like Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth turned. Mary’s agreement was too quick to satisfy her.
“He says Wickham has debts in Meryton and used his name to get credit. He will not identify the tradesmen or give details because doing so might expose them.”
“Then his warning is difficult to judge.”
“Impossible.”
Mary considered this. “Not impossible, inadequate.”
“That is generous.”
“And precise.”
Elizabeth left the window. “He expects Papa to restrict Kitty because Mr. Wickham is dangerous, but he provides no proof that we can question and no source we can examine. What would you call that?”
“An unreasonable expectation.”
“Agreed.”
“But unreasonable expectations do not prove malice.”
Elizabeth looked at her. “I did not accuse him of malice.”
“You accused him of using rank in place of explanation.”
“He does.”
“That may be pride, not spite. His warning can be inadequate without being dishonest.”
Elizabeth felt the argument narrowing into one of Mary’s distinctions, correct enough to irritate her.
“Mr. Darcy knows his accusation carries more weight than another man’s.
People listen when he speaks, but when he refuses to offer any facts, Mr. Wickham faces the accusation while everyone else has to decide whether to believe it. ”
Mary folded her hands over the open book. “Yes.”
The ready answer stopped Elizabeth.
Mary continued, “Mr. Darcy cannot expect belief without explanation. He should either provide enough evidence to support his warning or accept that people may doubt it.”
“That is what I told him.”
“But his failure to give a proper warning does not prove that the warning is false.”
Elizabeth turned back to the window. Darcy and her father were no longer visible.
“You are determined to rescue him from his own conduct.”
“No. I am separating the conduct from the claim.”
“While Kitty waits for us to decide which part matters.”
“Both parts matter.” Mary’s voice remained calm. “If Mr. Darcy is wrong, any suspicion may injure Mr. Wickham. If he is right, rejecting the warning because we dislike his manner may injure Kitty.”
Elizabeth had known that in the field, which was why Darcy’s silence angered her. He placed the burden of his knowledge upon them while keeping control of that knowledge.
“He leaves everyone else to bear the consequences,” she said. “The shopkeepers must decide whether to expose themselves. Papa has to restrain Kitty, and she endures suspicion without knowing why.”
Mr. Darcy protects himself and those who trusted him while the rest of us act in the dark.”
Mary looked down at the passage she was copying. “Mr. Darcy may be right, even though it is inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient to whom?”
“To everyone, it would seem.”
Elizabeth almost laughed, but the sound did not come. “Does that make it admirable?”
“No. It makes it costly.”
Footsteps sounded in the passage, and Kitty entered without knocking. Her eyes moved from Elizabeth to Mary, then to the books on the table.
“Mama says Papa is speaking with Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth said nothing.
Kitty’s face sharpened. “Is it about Mr. Wickham?”
Mary closed her book.
“Why should you think so?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because Lydia said Mr. Darcy looked at you when she mentioned the note.”
“Lydia notices more than she understands.”
“And you understand everything?”
“No.” Elizabeth kept her voice even. “That is the difficulty.”
Kitty stood near the door, one hand gripping the edge of her sleeve. “Mr. Darcy hates him. Everyone knows it.”
“Everyone knows they dislike each other, which is different.”
“If Mr. Darcy has said something against him, Papa will forbid us to see the officers.”
“Papa will decide what is reasonable.”
“Reasonable for whom?” Kitty asked.
The question was close enough to Elizabeth’s own complaint to bother her. Without waiting for an answer, Kitty left, shutting the door behind her.
Mary looked at Elizabeth. “She has chosen which man to believe.”
“No. She chose the man who is telling her what she wants to hear.”
“Is that any different?”
Elizabeth did not reply.
Bennet sent for her half an hour later. Darcy was gone, and her father stood behind his desk, resting a hand on the chair, his amusement absent. “Mr. Darcy warned me with so little detail that it might as well have come from a committee.”
Elizabeth sat opposite him. “Did you believe him?”
“I think he believes himself.”
“That is not enough.”
“True, but it is better than nothing.”
She looked out the window. “Mary said much the same.”
“Then Mary and I agree without either of us enjoying it.”
“What will you do?”
“I shall speak to Kitty, make certain she is not alone with Wickham and receives no letters without my knowledge.”
“She will think you have condemned him on Darcy’s word.”
“So? Let her think what she pleases. I do not have to condemn the man to stop a secret courtship.”
Elizabeth could not object. It was what she had wanted before Mr. Darcy arrived, but it felt as though he had imposed the decision upon them.
Bennet watched her. “You dislike that he brought the matter to a head.”
“He did not. We had already spoken.”
“He made it harder to put off.”
“That does not mean he is right.”
“No, but you would dislike him less if he were wrong.”
Elizabeth rose. “You and Mary are taking far too much pleasure in this.”
“I take pleasure where I find it.”
At the door, she paused. “Did he tell you more than he told me?”
“No names or useful dates. All he said was that Mr. Wickham used his connection with Mr. Darcy for credit, and that he stepped in to spare certain Meryton tradesmen an immediate loss.”
“He told me that much.”
“He also said he spoke with Colonel Forster.”
Elizabeth turned. “Did Colonel Forster believe him?”
“Mr. Darcy did not say. He just assured me the colonel would be watchful.”
“Again, he expects us to accept his conclusion without knowing what supports it.”
Bennet sat and opened the book on his desk. “My dear Lizzy, we seldom have all the facts we want. The trick is knowing the difference between too little and nothing at all.”
She left before he could see how the remark struck her.
In the passage, Kitty’s voice rose, Lydia answered, and Mrs. Bennet demanded silence from both. The familiar noise did not ease Elizabeth’s thoughts.
Darcy was proud, guarded, and unreasonable. He asked for belief without giving enough to earn it. Yet the little he revealed agreed with what Elizabeth had begun to see. Wickham accepted confidence, encouraged hope, and allowed others to risk what he did not promise to protect.
That agreement should have made Darcy’s warning easier to dismiss as self-serving. Instead, it made his silence harder to forgive.