Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Dead?” Elizabeth repeated faintly. “Are you sure?”
“The manner in which he lived caught up with him. He lost his life in a duel as a result of his gambling debts.” Mr Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze. “Georgiana does not know.”
“You do not intend to inform her?”
He shook his head. “I fear her grief would overwhelm her, and she might never recover.”
Elizabeth fell silent, her mind too occupied by all that she had learnt. Suddenly she became aware that her hand was still in his. She looked up at him; he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth flowing from his body. She exhaled shakily and carefully moved her hand away.
Mr Darcy did not break his gaze. “Thank you for entrusting me with this painful memory. You may depend on me to never breathe a word of it to another soul.” He stood, his expression anxious, and brought his chair so he sat closer beside her, as though he did not wish to leave her alone.
“You may tell your sister.” Elizabeth did not dare meet his eye, lest her courage should fail her. “Now that I have told you, it is as though a burden has been lifted. In sharing my story with Miss Darcy, I hope to alleviate her pain.”
“You do not wish to speak with her yourself?”
“No—I believe that you and Miss Darcy need to have a frank conversation about Mr Wickham’s true nature, and I am not in possession of all the facts regarding your past dealings with him.
However, you may use my experience as a starting point, and—” All her bravery momentarily deserted her.
She took a fortifying breath. “—and I believe that it would be of great benefit to Miss Darcy if you were more open in your thoughts and feelings.”
Mr Darcy’s brows disappeared under his curls. “What do you mean?”
“Your sister craves your approval. As an outsider looking in, your devotion to Miss Darcy is evident, but for Miss Darcy, whose confidence has been greatly damaged, she does not always see it. You need to make your affection for her more overt. She worries about displeasing and disappointing you, and this makes her particularly critical of herself. You must allow her to become closer to you, to see your flaws and vulnerabilities, and then she might not judge herself too harshly when she makes a mistake.”
Mr Darcy’s face was an alarming shade of red. “You think I do not know how to love my own family?”
Elizabeth’s heart sank at his offended tone.
Her earlier revelation had left her weak, and she had no desire to argue.
Faintly, she answered, “I presume nothing. I am merely observing that Miss Darcy sees you as an infallible hero-like figure—one that she will never be able to emulate. It would do her good to see you are human, just like the rest of us.” Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she murmured, “Forgive me, I overstepped. My nerves are overwrought tonight.”
At this confession, Mr Darcy’s posture instantly loosened, and he said softly, “I am not surprised after everything that you have suffered. Allow me to say that you have been very brave.” Light from the fire glowed in his eyes as he regarded her, his expression pained.
There was no anger remaining in his voice, only sorrow—her words had obviously affected him.
A silence fell. She both wished and dreaded for him to speak.
At last, he cleared his throat. “You never told me how you came to be by the lake.”
So the subject was to be changed. What had she expected—that he would bow his head in happy acknowledgement at her impertinent observations and agree to take all her recommendations to heart?
Suddenly, she wished for nothing more than to return to her bed and weep.
“I heard a noise, and, worried for your sister, I went to seek out its source. I found her wandering the corridors. At first I tried pleading and coaxing her back to bed, but to no avail. She seemed as one dead to the world. I left her briefly to raise the alarm, but when I returned with Mr Talbot, she had found her way outside. I sent Mr Talbot to find you, then I ran to Miss Darcy’s side. ”
“And you prevented her from drowning.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “I could hardly stand by and allow her to come to harm.”
“You have my unending gratitude.” She risked a glance at him.
Mr Darcy was staring at the bottom of his near-empty glass.
His dark eyes lifted and met hers. Her breath hitched.
No man had ever looked at her like that.
He seemed on the point of a confession, but it was as though the words were too difficult for him to utter.
Eventually, he said, “Tonight you have entrusted me with the darkest moments of your life. I feel compelled, if you would allow it, to tell you something of mine.”
She nodded, her body tense with anticipation. The sizzling coals were the only noise in the darkened room.
“There was a woman who worked here. Mrs Stopford. You knew her as Martha, I believe.”
“I saw her in Lambton the other day. She has a young son who greatly resembles Mr Wickham.” Mr Darcy said nothing to this, his silence confirming her every suspicion.
He turned the glass in his hands. “Just as my father’s health deteriorated, news of Martha’s delicate condition became known. She came to me in a dreadful state. I think she fancied herself loved by Wickham, and he had promised to marry her.”
“She approached you directly?”
“I later discovered that she confessed everything to Mrs Reynolds, who encouraged her to come to me for help. I believe my housekeeper wished for me to have evidence of Wickham’s depravity.”
“She never did like him,” whispered Elizabeth.
“When it all came to light, my father was very angry and disappointed. Hastily, he informed Wickham that he would be cut from his will, leaving the rogue with no prospects. As for Martha, I arranged for her to be sent away to a place where she could deliver her baby safely. My father wrote her a good reference from his sickbed, and I ensured she had two months’ pay.
We could give no more without arousing suspicion towards our motives.
The guilt of it all weighed especially heavily on my father, who had long championed Wickham, despite his excesses.
It was an added pain, just as his body was failing him, making his impending death all the harder to bear. ”
A tear ran down Elizabeth’s cheek as she imagined the elder Mr Darcy’s disappointment. “It must have been awful for you.”
Mr Darcy did not reply, his attention firmly fixed upon his glass. It was a few moments before he spoke again. His voice was ragged. “Wickham did not deserve any of our consideration. My biggest regret was that it took the seduction of an innocent young servant for my father to discover this.”
“What happened to Martha?”
“Her family arranged for her to be married to a suitable man, far away from any curious eyes, and she returned to Lambton as Mrs Stopford, comfortably settled with a healthy baby son.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
Mr Darcy’s mouth flattened to a taut line.
“Would that this was the end of my sorry tale. Upon learning of my father’s change of heart, Wickham became outraged.
Incensed, he blamed me entirely, saying that I had concocted the whole story out of jealousy.
He vowed that he would have his revenge.
In my arrogance, I did not believe him. What could the son of a mere steward do to the heir of Pemberley?
He bided his time, then struck with cruel precision.
The object of his vengeance was my poor sister.
” In a sudden motion, he brought the glass to his lips and finished the last of his brandy.
“How am I to tell her the true cause behind her suffering? I could not bear it if she regarded me with disappointment.”
“I do not think there would be any circumstance that would cause Miss Darcy to lower her estimation of you,” replied Elizabeth. “You might find her honoured to be taken into your confidence.” Her voice dropped. “I know I am.”
For many moments, he stared at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. “As am I to be taken into yours. You have my most solemn vow, Miss Bennet, that I shall do everything in my power to make amends for any pain you suffered at the hands of that scoundrel.”
“But he is dead.”
“But the harm he caused you still exists—I can see it in your distress. It is my belief that you deserve every happiness, and I shall write to Fitzwilliam and request that he return to Pemberley as soon as my uncle can spare him.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth could not hide her confusion.
“I am not blind, Miss Bennet,” he said quietly.
“I can see how much you—how highly you regard him. Now that I have learnt of his previous defence of you against Wickham, I better understand the connexion you share with my cousin. You would make each other very happy. I shall do everything to convince my uncle of the match.”
His words stunned Elizabeth. “There is no need,” she protested softly. “It is only right that Colonel Fitzwilliam remains at Haddon Court.”
Under the blanket, she began to shiver. Mr Darcy set down his glass on the floor, his brows creased with worry.
“You are cold, and the hour is late. Forgive me for detaining you. I wanted to explain the reason for Georgiana’s distress, and I could think of no other time to speak to you without my sister becoming aware of it.
You must allow me this breach of propriety.
Only Mr Talbot knows of your assistance tonight, and his many years of faithful service leaves me confident in his discretion. ”
“You have my complete trust.” As Elizabeth uttered the words, she recognised their undeniable truth.
From the moment she had awoken to see Georgiana, ghostlike and vulnerable, wandering the moonlit corridor, to her confession, once so tightly held and now released, tonight had been an ordeal, but she felt strangely lighter for speaking to him.
In her childish mind, Mr Darcy had always seemed proud and forbidding.
Now her opinion had completely changed. Underneath his reserve, she understood there was a gentleman of real depth.
He had no improper pride. Here was a man who had suffered many disappointments, yet instead of lashing out at the world with bitterness, he acted only to protect others.
“I shall treasure it,” he replied.
A new emotion soared in Elizabeth’s heart, one she dared not name. Overcome, she said quietly, “I should return to my room.”
“Do you wish for me to escort you?”
The gentle tone of his voice made her want to cry. She stood. “I think it would be better if I go alone.”
Mr Darcy rose also and put a nearby candle in a stick, lighting the wick against the dwindling fire. He accompanied her to the door and paused to offer her the light. She made to hand him back the blanket.
He shook his head, his strong frame towering over her, blocking out the moonlight from the windows behind. “My mind would be at ease knowing that you were warm.”
With careful movements, he rearranged the fabric so she could carry the candle and still have the blanket and shawl over her shoulders.
Heat flooded her body, accompanied by a tremendous yearning to reach out and touch him.
His face was so close to hers, his presence dominating her senses so forcefully until she did not know whether she was still breathing.
“Before you depart, I wish to express my admiration and gratitude for everything you have said and done tonight.”
“Thank you,” she whispered before wishing him farewell, wondering how on earth she was meant to sleep with such a powerful burning sensation fluttering restlessly in her chest.