Chapter IX
Whatever Elizabeth had expected to see in the library, it was not the grave looks of the three gentlemen within.
She had even glimpsed Mr. Bennet and Colonel Fitzwilliam and sensed a bit of their banter before her arrival had rendered them serious.
That suggested it was something about her that concerned them, though Elizabeth did not know what it might be.
While they showed their obvious alarm, that was nothing to the way Mr. Darcy regarded her, showing a hint of his old gravity that she had always taken as disapproval.
There was nothing of censure in him now, for his grimness spoke to worry.
“By the long faces you are all showing me,” said Elizabeth, attempting to lighten the mood with humor, “I can only suppose something truly dreadful has happened.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam rose from his seat and greeted her, bowing over her hand, much as he had in the hall. “Not dreadful, Miss Elizabeth—or at least not yet. A troubling matter has arisen as you have divined, but I dare say we have it in our power to overcome any difficulty that might arise.”
“Please, sit, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, inviting her to take the third chair they had placed before the desk prior to her arrival. “The gentlemen have come bearing news, tidings I do not deem it prudent to keep from you.”
With a nod, Elizabeth sat between the two gentlemen and looked at each in turn. Colonel Fitzwilliam took this as a demand for information, for he lost no time in addressing her.
“Miss Elizabeth, I have recently become aware of a viable threat to you from an acquaintance. Darcy and I, unfortunately, know him far better than I hope you ever will.”
Catching his inference at once, Elizabeth listened while Colonel Fitzwilliam related the details of his recent activities, from Colonel Forster’s request for help, to what he had learned of a certain officer in Brighton, to his attempts to locate the man before he put his plans into action.
Throughout his recitation, Elizabeth listened intently, wondering at the man’s depravity which surely must eclipse what he had attempted with Georgiana Darcy.
Yet, Elizabeth could not help but wonder why Mr. Wickham might target her, of all people.
When the colonel completed his account, Elizabeth was not slow to respond.
“That is interesting, Colonel. Despite what I know of Mr. Wickham, I did not believe him this bad, though I comprehend his feelings for Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth looked back and forth between Colonel Fitzwilliam and his cousin. “What I cannot account for is what you believe this has to do with me.”
“There is no need to dissemble, Lizzy,” said her father.
“The gentlemen have already explained the facts of Mr. Darcy’s regard for you, not even withholding the rather infamous scene that occurred in my cousin’s parlor.
I must express my gratitude that Mr. Collins remains ignorant, for I can only imagine it would be far more publicly infamous if so loquacious a man had heard even a hint of what happened between you. ”
Embarrassment stung Elizabeth’s heart, for she had not supposed Mr. Darcy would speak of such a matter. Her father’s diversion suggested he considered it a grand jest, just as she might have supposed. The gentleman saved her the trouble of a response when he spoke.
“That interest still exists, Miss Bennet, for your refusal and our argument has done nothing to cool it.”
Elizabeth turned to regard him with wonder, prompting a soft smile in return.
“Before this business with Wickham arose, I had determined to put myself in your company again to see if there was any hope of changing your mind. Unfortunately, the only way I could think to accomplish it was to return to Netherfield with Bingley, and as that event will still be some weeks away, I had determined to return to Pemberley in the interim.”
“You mentioned something of his return in the sitting-room.”
The gentleman colored and cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment.
“I believe he will. Bingley is in the north visiting relations at present, but before he left, I suggested it may be best to look in on his investment. I can promise nothing, but his behavior implies he will not prove obstinate.”
No small feeling of wonder came over Elizabeth.
That Mr. Darcy would set Elizabeth’s rejection to the side and put himself in her path again with no notion of success was a response she had never considered.
The notion that this man’s feelings were not the work of a moment, or an infatuation of which he would soon tire once again made itself known to her.
There was a depth to Mr. Darcy she had not, even after the debacle at Hunsford and the subsequent letter explaining his actions, credited to any great extent. What sort of man was he?
“Gentlemen, I never thought I would see the day,” came the amused voice of her father interrupting her sudden inability to speak. “Lizzy has always been the most sensible of my daughters. To see her thus flummoxed is a rare occurrence, and proof that she too is capable of being surprised.”
Though directing a mock scowl at her father, Elizabeth determined it to be best if she redirected the conversation to the subject at hand. Otherwise, her father might continue teasing her for some time.
“What I do not understand,” said Elizabeth, “is how Mr. Wickham knew enough of this to make me an instrument for his vengeance.”
The three men all sobered at once.
“Of the details,” replied Mr. Darcy, “Wickham can know nothing. I dare say few outside this room, other than my sister, are aware of my interest in you.”
“Charlotte long suspected it,” replied Elizabeth. “She has spoken on the subject many times.”
Mr. Darcy seemed to take this news in stride. “As for the scene at Hunsford, again, only Georgiana outside of we four can have any notion of it. Unless you have informed Miss Bennet.”
“Jane and I have few secrets, Mr. Darcy.”
The gentleman offered a smile but returned to the task at hand.
“The material point is Wickham’s understanding of my character, which is as profound as my understanding of his.
Even so short of a time in his company that day on Meryton’s thoroughfare might have given him an inclination of my affections.
Learning of our dance at the ball at Netherfield would have given him whatever confirmation he required. ”
“But that is not sound, Mr. Darcy,” protested Elizabeth. “We were not in each other’s company for four months complete after the ball.”
“Wickham would have attributed that to my overweening sense of pride,” said the gentleman, a faint whiff of discomfiture coming over him. “And he would have been correct, as you must understand.”
“It is still not enough,” said Elizabeth. “That is an enormous leap in logic for anyone to overcome, even one who sees what he wishes.”
Mr. Darcy considered her. “When you returned from Kent, did you have any interaction with him?”
Taken aback, Elizabeth considered the one visit thereafter. “Once in company,” said Elizabeth. “He asked questions of you and my time in Kent.”
“And what was the result?”
Not responding for the moment, Elizabeth considered Mr. Wickham’s behavior. “He was rather . . . knowing about it all, really, though I cannot recall giving him any reason for it.”
“I cannot say I understand how Wickham thinks, Miss Elizabeth,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“For the present, however, I cannot say that our guesses are incorrect, and shall not allow my guard to falter until I confirm there is no danger to you or your sisters. Until he is apprehended, for we have all agreed it is time that Wickham paid for his crimes.”
The colonel’s words pricked Elizabeth’s interest, leading her to deeper thought on the subject.
While she could also not understand Mr. Wickham suspecting anything between her and Mr. Darcy on such scant evidence, she did not discount the possibility they were right.
Why would he return here, a place where, she had heard it rumored, he had left substantial debts, for the possibility of vengeance when he did not have all the facts?
Surely he must know that Elizabeth would not play along with his schemes, and would allow him no liberties with her person.
Whatever else he was, Elizabeth could not believe he was a violent man, for he had never displayed such tendencies before.
There was something else at work here, something he might contemplate without the risk of capture, something that would be just as devastating to Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s eyes whipped up to meet her suitor’s as a notion occurred to her.
In her breast, her heart beat wildly as the implications of her suspicion made themselves known to her, spoke of dire consequences that they had evaded with only the barest of chance.
Had a slippery step and a defective boot not interfered, it might already have been too late for her family’s reputation.
“You have thought of something, Lizzy?” asked her father.
“I am not Mr. Wickham’s objective,” blurted Elizabeth, desperate to inform them of what she now suspected. “Not when Mr. Wickham might have had an easier path to his vengeance.”
Mr. Bennet frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Lydia, Papa. Lydia was to go to Brighton. Had she gone, Mr. Wickham would have had all the time in the world to work on her and persuade her to throw all caution to the wind. You know she would have had no distrust for his motives.”
At once, by the paleness in his features, Mr. Bennet understood the import of Elizabeth’s assertion.
“Your youngest sister?” asked Mr. Darcy, confusion evident in his intent look at her. “Is there something of which we are not aware?”