CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE GENTLEMEN OF NETHERFIELD arrived only moments after the stable boy who had carried Mr. Bennet’s message, their greatcoats lightly powdered with snow.
The boy had plainly ridden faster than any carriage could travel, for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were still brushing the frost from their cloaks when they stepped into the hall.
The air within Longbourn was warm and faintly scented with the liniment Mr. Jones had applied to Pippin’s paw.
“Where did you find them?” Darcy asked the moment he crossed the threshold. His tone was controlled, but the strain beneath it was evident.
“At a small farm near the edge of Meryton,” Elizabeth replied, rising from her chair. “Pippin was caught in a rabbit snare. Apollo stayed beside her until we found them.”
Apollo, lying by the hearth, thumped his tail once at the sound of his master’s voice, though he kept it tucked close as if in apology. Pippin lifted her head and gave a faint, grateful bark, the sound soft but certain.
“Mr. Jones has already tended to her,” Elizabeth added. “He used a salve of honey and turpentine for the wound, and wrapped it with fresh linen. He says it will heal in a few days’ time.”
Darcy exhaled slowly, his gaze softening as it fell upon the two dogs. “The stable boy told us of Pippin’s wound.”
Bingley, cheerful even through his concern, looked from one dog to the other. “What amazes me most is that Apollo has never strayed far from Netherfield since Darcy arrived. It seems he broke all habit for friendship’s sake.”
Elizabeth managed a small smile. “Pippin has a will of her own, Mr. Bingley. Perhaps she persuaded Apollo that adventure was worth the trouble. One or the other must have slipped away to find their companion, and together they made a jolly excursion of it.” She drew a steadying breath.
“If I were to hazard a guess, I should say Pippin came to Netherfield sometime in the night, and the two of them contrived to escape again.”
Mr. Bennet’s voice carried from his place near the fire. “Then thank Heaven for Pippin’s influence, for it was that same trouble that saved her life.”
Darcy bowed his head slightly. “Indeed, sir. I owe Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia, and Miss Kitty more gratitude than I can express, for both their courage and their kindness.”
Kitty and Lydia exchanged delighted looks, giggling as though they had just been honoured by royalty itself. Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured faintly, but before she could reply, Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and gestured toward his study.
“Now that the excitement has subsided,” he said, “there is a matter of some importance we must discuss. Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth — if you will be so good as to step into my library.”
A quiet stir went through the room.
Jane’s eyes widened slightly; Elizabeth had already given her hint of what happened on their search. Lydia and Kitty exchanged knowing glances. Only Mary, Mr. Bingley, and Mrs. Bennet appeared entirely at a loss.
Mr. Bingley, however, seemed untroubled by any mystery.
He looked rather pleased to find himself free to speak to Jane without interruption.
Mary kept her gaze upon her book, showing no inclination to concern herself with family affairs.
Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, cast a series of sharp, inquisitive looks toward her husband, her daughter, and Mr. Darcy — though the evident felicity between Jane and Mr. Bingley soon distracted her from forming any conclusion.
***
INSIDE THE QUIET STUDY, the crackle of the hearth was the only sound. Mr. Bennet stood behind his desk, his expression grave.
“Lizzy has told me something that may bear consequence,” he began, turning toward Darcy. “But I thought it best you should hear it directly from her.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed as he looked to Elizabeth.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bennet, looking at his daughter. “You have my permission, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before she began. She recounted how they had met Mr. Wickham that morning and how readily he had offered his assistance. She explained how Wickham had heard of Apollo, learned to whom the greyhound belonged, and then pressed her with questions.
Gradually, she told the whole of it — every insinuation Wickham had made about Mr. Darcy and about Miss Darcy.
“I hardly knew what to think as I listened,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“He spoke with such apparent feeling that, had I not come to know you better these past months, I might have believed you a monster of selfishness. When we found the dogs, and Apollo ran at him so violently that he fled, it struck me all at once that there must be far more to his tale. Apollo has never shown the least sign of aggression toward me, or toward anyone in the village.”
Darcy had gone pale. A look of pain, stark and unguarded, crossed his features. He drew several slow breaths, his jaw tightening as though he mastered something deeply felt.
At last he spoke.
“This is not a subject I approach willingly,” he said, his voice low.
Elizabeth’s heart clenched at the sight of his distress.
“I will ask for your discretion,” he continued. “What I am about to tell you is known only to a few. Not even Bingley, though he is my closest friend, knows the whole of it.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head. “You have my word, sir. Nothing said here will go beyond these walls.”
Darcy drew a long breath, steadying himself.
“Perhaps I have been too much inclined to silence. In seeking to protect my family, I may have allowed danger to creep nearer than I knew. When Miss Lydia mentioned the name Wickham, I ought to have made inquiries. I did not. And but for what has passed, Heaven knows what further harm he might have done.”
He fixed his eyes upon the far corner of the room, as if summoning the past, and then resumed his account.
“Wickham was once my father’s godson,” he said, his gaze fixed upon the hearth.
“He was brought up at Pemberley, shown every kindness, and treated almost as a second son. My father intended great things for him. He paid for his schooling, then for his studies at Cambridge, with the design that Wickham should take orders and accept the living on our estate when it became vacant.”
He paused, pain flickering briefly across his features.
“But instead of applying himself, he squandered every opportunity. He fell into idle company, ran through money as fast as it was given, and at length abandoned his studies altogether. I discovered that he had left Cambridge months before he admitted it. When pressed, he declared himself unsuited to the Church and asked, instead, for an immediate sum in place of the living — a very considerable amount.” Darcy’s voice tightened.
“My father was newly passed, but in his lifetime, he had trusted Wickham far too much. Out of respect for his memory, I agreed to the payment. Wickham signed a formal renunciation of all claim to the living, and I believed the matter concluded.”
Elizabeth listened in still silence, her hands clasped before her.
“Two years ago,” Darcy went on, “I sent my sister Georgiana to Ramsgate, to stay with her companion for the summer. I thought her safe. But one week, Apollo began sleeping outside her chamber door, whining constantly. He had never done so before. I thought it a strange affection until I noticed how he kept his gaze fixed on her portrait in my library. I grew uneasy, and decided to surprise her with a visit. When I arrived, I found Wickham there. He had persuaded Georgiana to believe he loved her and had nearly prevailed upon her to elope.”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth.
“I arrived the day before they were to leave,” Darcy continued, his voice tightening. “Had I delayed by even one day, she would have been lost—her fortune taken, her name ruined. For what? For ten thousand pounds of dowry.”
The pain in his eyes made Elizabeth’s throat ache. “Mr. Darcy,” she said softly, “I am so very sorry. No one should have to bear such betrayal.”
Darcy inclined his head, though his expression remained composed. “If Wickham is indeed here, wearing a regiment’s coat, then he is scheming again. I have paid his debts more than once, even cared for a servant’s child whom he left destitute. He cannot change.”
“Then it seems clear,” Mr. Bennet said. “You must speak to his commanding officer at once. Better a warning now than a scandal later.”
“I shall ride to Meryton this evening,” Darcy said, rising. “Thank you, sir. I am indebted to you both for your discretion—and to Miss Elizabeth, for her courage and sense. Had it not been for her, and for those faithful creatures, who knows what might have come of this day.”
Elizabeth met his gaze. “I did only what anyone would, sir.”
He smiled faintly. “I have known very few who would do as much.”
With that, he bowed to them both, his expression still troubled but his resolve firm, and left the room.
Elizabeth remained where she stood long after he had gone, the cadence of his voice and the weight of all he had revealed still pressing upon her thoughts. From beyond the frost-misted window came the faint, steady sound of Apollo’s bark as he followed his master home.