Chapter 21 #2
“After our father died.” He crossed the room, his drink in one hand and a wooden chair in the other, until he faced Elizabeth.
He sat down heavily and took a deep draught.
With undisguised pain, he said, “Though it may have manifested earlier, and I was too preoccupied to notice. She suffered a disappointment last summer that has exacerbated her somnambulation.”
Compassion stirred in Elizabeth’s heart. “Is this what you wished to speak to me of?” Mr Darcy’s brow creased, and she gently prompted, “For what reason did you ask me to meet you here?”
Mr Darcy turned the glass over in his hands before looking at Elizabeth.
Flickering shadows danced over his face, and in the soft glow of the firelight, she could not deny that he was the most handsome man of her acquaintance.
He swallowed. “I wished to tell you about my sister, to speak of a most painful period of her—of our—lives.”
“Miss Darcy once revealed she loved a man who treated her cruelly.”
“She told you that?”
“That was all she mentioned—the poor girl said she had been sworn to secrecy.”
“Last summer, I employed a companion for Georgiana, a woman in whose character I was unhappily deceived, who sought to surreptitiously bring my sister into the company of the most unsuitable of men. He is already known to you—you have mentioned his name before.”
Elizabeth’s heart dropped. “Mr Wickham?”
Mr Darcy nodded. He began to say something else, but Elizabeth could not attend to it; the blood was pulsing in her ears.
“Miss Bennet, are you well? You are very pale.” His forehead creased with concern, Mr Darcy reached out a hand and placed it comfortingly on the back of her chair.
“How can you ask that of me? Have you really forgotten what he did—” Elizabeth could not finish, instead placing a trembling hand on her chest.
Darkness descended across his face. “What did Mr Wickham do to you?” His voice grew sharp. “Did he hurt you?”
A sob caught in Elizabeth’s throat. Apart from Colonel Fitzwilliam, she had never spoken of what occurred.
It was her shame to bear, and she had done so alone.
And all this time, she believed Mr Darcy had known of it.
How was she to tell him what had happened?
She closed her eyes, fighting the rising nausea as she relived it all.
“Mr Wickham told me I was needed—that Miss Darcy had fallen in the woods and was asking for me. I followed him willingly. When we were alone—by the back of the steward’s house—he started to compliment me and say how pretty I was and what a shame I was forced to live so far from my family.
I grew scared and asked to turn back, but he became more forceful and… ”
She shuddered. Opening her eyes, she looked down to her lap. Mr Darcy had moved from his seat and was crouched beside her. He covered her hand with his. “Go on, if you can,” he said gently. “Tell me this once, and you will never have to mention it again should you not wish to.”
Cheeks burning, Elizabeth drew strength from his reassuring touch.
“He pushed me against the wall of the house, and I could not escape. I think I must have been screaming because he put one hand over my mouth and with the other hand he—” A tear rolled down her cheek.
She could still feel his fingers grasping through the fabric of her petticoat, seeking to take that which was not willingly given.
“Did he—?” Mr Darcy’s voice was raw.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Dear, brave Colonel Fitzwilliam happened upon us. He pulled Mr Wickham from me and shoved him away, shouting that he ought to leave Pemberley if he knew what was good for him.” She did not add how she had sunk to the ground, sobbing, or how he had put his arms around her, and for the first time in her life she had felt protected.
Through blurred vision, she regarded Mr Darcy.
“I-I thought you knew. Did your cousin never tell you?”
“No.” Mr Darcy’s voice was grim.
“But I assumed that was why you sent me home.”
He visibly started at this revelation. “I arranged your removal because I did not think you would want to stay in a house whose master was dying, and”—his words caught in his throat—“and although I did not know of Wickham’s heinous attack upon your person, there were rumours amongst the servants that he took an unhealthy interest in innocent young women.
Around the time of your departure, incontrovertible evidence had come to light of his depravity.
I thought it to your advantage if you returned to Hertfordshire. ”
“You sought to protect me?”
He nodded. “You must believe me when I say how dreadfully sorry I am that you came to harm whilst in my family’s care.”
Impulsively, she squeezed his hand. “You cannot be held accountable for that scoundrel’s deplorable actions. I-I only wonder sometimes where Mr Wickham is, or whether I shall ever encounter him again.”
Mr Darcy’s voice was quiet, but his words shocked her to the very core. “He is dead.”