Chapter 3
Still Thursday
Elizabeth burst into the parsonage, her mind in great tumult and her hair a blousy mess about her face. She made directly for the stairs and she would have made it to her room unimpeded, but Charlotte stepped into the hall just as Elizabeth was reaching for the bannister.
“Eliza, whatever is the matter?” she cried.
Elizabeth opened her mouth but instead of words, a choking sob emerged. Mortified, she turned away from her friend and raced up the stairs.
Charlotte, ever practical, ordered tea, told Maria she would be indisposed until dinner, and followed Elizabeth. She rapped twice on the door and entered without waiting for a response. Elizabeth was lying on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, weeping.
Charlotte sat beside her and stroked her back. “Dearest, whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, Charlotte! It’s all such a muddle!” This was followed by more sobs.
“Have you received bad news from Longbourn or from the Gardiners?”
“No, everyone is well,” Elizabeth replied before noisily blowing her nose on the handkerchief her friend pressed into her hand. “I am only a very great fool who has made a goose of herself.”
Charlotte resisted the urge to laugh. “Have you quarreled with one of the gentlemen? I know you often meet them on your walks.”
Elizabeth shook her head, avoiding her friend’s gaze.
“Eliza, you know I ordinarily would not press a confidence, but you are staying in my home and under our care. If it involves anyone from Rosings, it will affect us in some way. I must insist you tell me what has happened to leave my normally sanguine friend in such a state.”
There was a knock on the door and Charlotte answered it without letting the maid come inside. She took the tea tray and was careful to close the door and lock it behind her. She quickly prepared two cups and pressed one on her friend.
“Drink this and tell me all about what is troubling you.”
Elizabeth had hoped no one would ever know of her shameful idiocy, but the truth would come out sooner or later—she may as well be done with it. And perhaps seeking succor in her old friend was a wise choice.
“I met Colonel Fitzwilliam on my walk this morning.”
“Yes?”
“Oh, Charlotte! I am an addlepated ninny!”
Charlotte spluttered on her tea.
“He told me the most awful things. We have been terribly deceived in the character of Mr. Wickham.”
“Mr. Wickham?”
Elizabeth nodded vigorously. “Mr. Wickham. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me he was a reckless gambler—”
“That is not surprising.”
“—and that he leaves debts in his wake wherever he goes.”
“How could he afford to pay for anything on his income?”
“And who do you suppose discharges those debts after Wickham has left the area?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes!”
“But why?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I do not know. I asked the colonel the same question and he said Mr. Darcy feels some sense of responsibility for Wickham because he had been his father’s ward and a favorite of his.
Colonel Fitzwilliam fears the Darcy patronage spoiled Mr. Wickham and taught him to be a monster. ”
“A monster?”
Elizabeth made quick work of telling Charlotte what the colonel had told her of Mr. Wickham’s spending habits. Charlotte was appropriately shocked, and Elizabeth was able to forget her own stupidity for a time in the face of Mr. Wickham’s villainy.
“There is more.”
Charlotte leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
“He is a bald-faced liar,” said Elizabeth emphatically.
Charlotte leaned back. “Have you proof of this?” she asked carefully.
Elizabeth explained about the living Wickham had supposedly been promised, and the money he had been given in exchange for relinquishing any claim to it.
“Four thousand pounds!” cried Charlotte. “A prudent man could live some time on that amount of money.”
“You needn’t look at me like that, Charlotte. I already think myself the greatest fool in Hertfordshire.”
“We are in Kent.”
“Then I am the greatest fool in two counties. How could I have believed such a man?”
“He was very charming,” said Charlotte in a conciliatory fashion.
“You are too good to say you told me so, but we both know that you were not convinced by him.”
“Not entirely, no. But I did not truly give him much thought.”
Elizabeth fell back on the bed dramatically. “The good colonel also said there was more that was not fit for a lady’s ears, but that Wickham was not to be trusted around ladies, especially young impressionable girls.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “That is disturbing indeed.”
“Indeed.” Elizabeth threw her arm over her eyes. “How could I have been so blind?”
“He was a very convincing liar.” Charlotte attempted to be consoling, but Elizabeth knew she was dying to tell her friend she had been a fool who should have listened to her older and wiser friend.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam said there were things he could not speak of for fear of breaking someone’s confidence. He alluded to a foiled elopement of some kind. I don’t know any of the particulars, but the colonel was grim when he told me of it.”
“That is no small matter, Eliza. If a man elopes with a woman, there is no settlement.”
“I know.”
“Her dowry is completely unprotected.”
“I know.”
“She is utterly at his mercy. And likely socially ruined.”
Elizabeth nodded miserably.
“If Wickham is such a one, then he is a monster.”
“Yes, I think you are right.”
Charlotte looked out the window, unsure of what to say to her friend. Elizabeth lay on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, tears silently running down her face.
“I am a fool. A ridiculous, vain, stupid fool.”
Charlotte squeezed her hand.
“I was so sure of my judgment. He had such truth in his looks!” She guffawed. “As if looks have anything to do with a man’s probity.”
Charlotte could only squeeze her hand again in silent commiseration.
“He flattered me. He flirted with me. He preferred me. And so I believed him! Have I always been such a fickle creature, so easily swayed? I believed everything he told me of Mr. Darcy on two days’ acquaintance.
The impropriety of his telling me never occurred to me.
Any sensible woman would have thought, ‘This man is telling me intimate details of his business dealings and I only met him yesterday. Perhaps something is odd here.’ Or ‘What can he mean by telling such things to a near stranger?’ But did I wonder anything of the sort?
No! I was flattered.” She laughed cynically.
“I thought he trusted me. That we had made some sort of ridiculous connection and were therefore instant friends and confidants. How could I have been so stupid!”
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow and growled into it. Charlotte stroked her hair. “Do not be too hard on yourself, my dear. You are young yet, and Wickham is a man of the world. You cannot be the first person to whom he has told such stories.”
Elizabeth clenched her fists in frustration.
“I should have realized! Looking back on it now, I see so many inconsistencies. Besides the impropriety of him telling me at all, he said he would not blacken the son’s name for the sake of the father.
But as soon as Mr. Darcy left Meryton, the whole town knew of his supposed perfidy.
Wickham wasted no time spreading his lies.
For that matter, he said it was for Mr. Darcy to avoid him and that he would not be frightened away from Mr. Bingley’s ball, and yet he went to London instead of attending.
And I defended him still! Vain girl.” She shook her head.
Charlotte continued to stroke her hair, not knowing what to say.
“Mr. Darcy insulted me and I was all too happy to hate him for it. I thought myself so original, to dislike a man so many bow and scrape to. It made me feel superior. Clever.” She scoffed.
“I had no evidence of Mr. Darcy’s lack of principle.
I had not thought him as bad as all that until Wickham whispered his lies in my ear.
Jane asked Mr. Bingley about it, and he said Darcy was blameless, but I ignored it, thinking Bingley was merely defending his friend. Stupid, foolish girl!”
“There, there. It could have happened to anyone.”
“Not to you.”
Charlotte gave her a speaking glance. Of course it would not, but then Charlotte was older and more mature, and she was not nearly as vain as Elizabeth, though she had less reason to be. “You were wrong about Mr. Wickham, but you know now. I’m certain you will be more cautious in future.”
Elizabeth scoffed. She would certainly be more cautious. And distrustful and suspicious.
“It does raise a great many questions about the other officers.”
“What can you mean?” replied Elizabeth.
“If they are aware of Mr. Wickham’s behavior, are they of the same ilk? Or has he deceived them as well?”
Elizabeth groaned, burying her face in the pillow again.
“And of course, there is the most pressing question of all.”
“What is that?”
“If you are wrong about Mr. Darcy in this matter, could you be wrong about him in other matters as well?”
Elizabeth sat up abruptly. “Such as?”
Charlotte raised a brow. “Perhaps he does not despise you as thoroughly as you have believed.”
“You think he may despise me only a little?”
Charlotte shot her a look. “I suggest he may not despise you at all. I have long suspected he likes you rather well, as you know.”
Elizabeth nearly groaned again, then remembered something. “You know, the colonel told me that Mr. Darcy thinks very highly of me. I confess I did not believe him at all.”
“Why would he lie about such a thing?”
“I do not think he is lying, but a person may be mistaken about such a thing. It is not so difficult to believe him mistaken.”
“No. What is difficult to believe is that despite evidence to the contrary and the word of two people who are older and wiser than yourself, you still insist on thinking Mr. Darcy dislikes you!”
“What evidence do you speak of?” Elizabeth asked with a doubtful look, though she had lost assurance in her own claims.