12
Back at the theatre Elizabeth found Count Rosicky’s party still in his box. Justina and Lord Selborn looked aghast at her dishevelled gown and demanded where she had gone; Darcy, seated at the back next to Georgiana, frowned and said nothing. But Lady Selborn, ever practical, intervened with a brisk ‘Explanations can wait’, and wrapped a warm stole round her shoulders. Five minutes later they had retrieved their coats and Elizabeth, pale and shivering, was huddled next to Justina in their coach, with Lord and Lady Selborn opposite.
‘Well?’ Justina said.
‘I thought I saw two people I knew …’
‘Then why run off?’
‘They were leaving.’
‘Why the urgency?’ Lady Selborn said. ‘Who were these people?’
‘I knew them years ago in Hertfordshire …’
‘What happened?’ Justina asked.
‘They left on foot. I followed, but lost them.’
‘A wild goose chase.’ Lord Selborn regarded her, frowning. ‘I find it hard to account for your behaviour, Miss Bennet. Alone, no coat, in the rain, chasing people whom you thought you recognised? Whatever came over you?’
‘You are right, sir. I was—foolish.’
Justina put a protective arm around her. ‘Really father, do you not see Lizzy is unwell? We must get her into dry clothes and call Mr Koch.’
Lord Selborn glared at Justina, and Lady Selborn patted his arm. ‘You are right, dear, as Miss Bennet has acknowledged, but the priority is certainly to get her warm.’
He took a deep breath, and faced Elizabeth. ‘I’m sorry if I was harsh, but please understand that I feel responsible for your safety.’
Elizabeth nodded, then had a moment of panic when she thought she had forgotten the address. But the chant still echoed at the back of her mind. Two ?tupartská.
At the palace Elizabeth submitted as the Selborns, aided by the Rosickys, attended to her welfare. Justina helped her select new clothes. The fire in her chamber was relit. A jug of hot cocoa arrived. A maid brushed out her straggly hair. Mr Koch checked she had no fever and prescribed warmth and rest.
Darcy hovered, evidently anxious, and she managed to draw him aside.
‘We need to talk. Tonight if possible. The woman was not Lydia. But the man was Wickham, and …’
He whispered, ‘It’s late. You should rest.’
‘I beg you. A few minutes.’
A sigh. ‘I will wait in the lounge until midnight.’
In her chamber Justina was preparing for bed, and the maid asked cheerfully, ‘Your turn, ma’am?’
‘You may go, Sarah. I can manage alone.’ She turned to Justina. ‘I have to do something. I won’t be long.’
The corridors were cold; she took a shawl and quietly descended to the lounge, where in dim light she made out Baron von Kutscha taking a nightcap of brandy with the count and Lord Selborn. They glanced at her curiously as she passed to a corner where Darcy sat reading a book.
She sank into an armchair beside a low table holding a porcelain jug and two mugs.
‘I took the liberty of ordering mulled wine.’ He poured. ‘It will warm you.’
She sipped the hot sweet wine, spiced with cinnamon and cloves, as he continued, ‘What possessed you, chasing after that villain, alone and in pouring rain?’
Grateful for the wine, which was imparting a glow to her whole body, Elizabeth set down the mug with a clumsy bang. ‘I might ask you, sir, by what callous indifference you refused to help me! Wickham left Brighton in the company of my sister , of whom I have heard nothing for four years. Was it not the most natural thing in the world to find out what had become of her?’
‘Let me remind you that I too have a sister, whom it is my duty as guardian to protect. Did you really expect me to descend to the foyer, risking that my sister might follow and run into—that man? Have you any idea how long it has taken her to recover? Upon my word, you ask too much.’
Elizabeth blinked in utter confusion. ‘Mr Darcy, I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about. What has Mr Wickham to do with your sister?’
‘You know perfectly well.’
‘I do not!’
He sighed. ‘I handed you a letter at Rosings, after—you know. It described my dealings with that devil, including Georgiana’s, ah, misfortune. Fearing you might disbelieve me, I asked Colonel Fitzwilliam to remain at the parsonage. You told him you had no need to consult him, so he assumed you had believed my version of events, and went on his way. And now you feign ignorance! How could such a matter be forgotten? It is ridiculous.’
Elizabeth felt a lurch in her stomach as the import of this speech sunk in. Shaking, in a small voice, she said, ‘I burned the letter.’
‘You alluded to its contents when we met in Brussels. I recall the occasion clearly.’
‘I opened it, but did not read to the end.’
He gasped. ‘Why?’
‘Can you not imagine?’ Feeling her energy return, Elizabeth took another draught of wine. ‘Do you think it gave me satisfaction to have my family insulted, and my sister’s heartbreak dismissed as of no importance? By a man who took pride in his cruelty, as if it stemmed from the loftiest principles? Why would anyone wish to punish herself by reading to the end? I finished the part relating to Jane; then, in disgust, threw the whole sorry communication into the fire, vowing never to think on it, or its author, again.’
He was silent a long time, then said in a soft but pained voice, ‘And would you like to know what you missed, as a result of this theatrical gesture?’
She nodded, albeit unwillingly, and almost in a whisper he related the history of his association with Wickham. As he spoke she glimpsed the gentlemen across the lounge as they rose, glanced curiously in her direction, and left. The wine was taking effect, giving her a feeling of unreality as Darcy advanced his story. That Lydia had succumbed to Wickham’s deceit was in character. But the genteel, intelligent Miss Darcy!
‘Do you believe me?’ he asked finally.
‘Yes.’
‘You will not, I hope, ask confirmation from Georgiana herself.’
Elizabeth shuddered. ‘Of course not!’
He nodded. ‘Perhaps, in the first half of the letter, I was more, shall we say, honest than necessary. But to leave the section about Wickham unread …’ He shook his head. ‘As you must see, your neglect had disastrous consequences.’
Near to tears, Elizabeth imagined herself in the parlour at Hunsford, holding the envelope over the fire. But in a wave of fury she swept the memory aside. ‘So it is all my fault? But what of your behaviour in Hertfordshire? Knowing Wickham’s character, how could you stand aloof while he flirted with Lydia and Kitty—and even made overtures to me?’
‘I told you Wickham was not to be trusted, advice that you scornfully refused to accept.’
‘You did not explain why! All I understood was that you disdained Wickham—just as you disdained my family and practically the whole neighbourhood. Even in your letter you felt it necessary to list the improprieties of my parents and younger sisters. And this from a man whose sister planned to elope, and whose aunt is one of the rudest and most ridiculous women I have ever met!’
‘What more could I do?’
‘Be explicit! Warn my father of Wickham’s predatory reputation.’
‘I am supposed to warn every neighbourhood Wickham happens to visit? So provoking him to retaliate by spreading tales about my sister?’
‘You understand, I hope, that Lydia was not the only victim. My father died from anxiety and exhaustion. Our family was disgraced. We lost our home and were left poor and excluded from society.’
‘All of which could have been avoided had you not been so blinded by prejudice that you ignored my advice.’
‘I see. It is all my fault, and you are blameless—in regard to Wickham, as well as Jane.’
He pressed his lips together. ‘We are none of us perfect, Miss Bennet, and as I admitted in my letter, I probably misjudged the sincerity of your sister’s attachment to Bingley. In fact I apologised for my interference on next seeing him in London, and advised him to follow his heart. But then we learned what had befallen Miss Lydia, after which there was nothing to be done.’
Elizabeth sighed, near to tears at this further revelation. Struggling to regain her composure she continued, ‘I have Wickham’s address. If I try to see him tomorrow, can you accompany me? I know you will recoil at the prospect. But he may have news of Lydia, and there is no-one else I can ask …’
‘You should leave now and rest. We can discuss tomorrow how to proceed.’
Elizabeth’s instinct was to press further, but she was indeed exhausted. Shakily she rose.
‘Allow me to accompany you.’
‘Thank you.’
The lounge and hall were empty, except for a manservant who murmured ‘Gute Nacht’ as they ascended to the guest wing.