Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elizabeth kept herself warm by tramping up and down the lane that led to Meryton. Occasionally a horse and wagon passed her, and she would give a smile and pretend that she had stopped to tie her lace.
She was almost at the point of giving up when she heard a familiar shout.
“Miss Elizabeth! What a delight!” Mr Wickham sped up to greet her. “Look how I did not startle you this time—we must not have you suffer another injury. Although, if I were a selfish creature, I might admit that I enjoyed having a woman of your beauty on my arm.”
“You are too charming, Mr Wickham. But I am so glad to have met you here.”
His lips curved into a wolfish grin. “And I you, Miss Elizabeth.”
They walked together down the lane. Mr Wickham spoke very charmingly about the weather and Elizabeth’s plans for Christmas. She answered politely, wondering when Mr Wickham would move on to his favoured topic of conversation. She did not have to wait long.
“I believe I must congratulate you.” Mr Wickham gave her a knowing look.
“Whatever can you mean?”
“It has been widely reported that you are soon to be engaged to Mr Darcy. A more fastidious man cannot be found—you must have impressed him greatly.”
“There is nothing between Mr Darcy and me,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I find him disagreeable! It is only the idle tongues of Meryton that wish for an engagement.”
Mr Wickham patted her arm in a familiar manner which made Elizabeth’s skin crawl. “Can I confess that I am relieved? I would not like to see a spirited young woman shackled to a man such as Mr Darcy.”
“You do not think it a good match?”
“It would have its advantages, but you would not be happy, I think.”
“And you presume to know what qualities would suit me in a husband?”
“I dare not presume anything in your lovely presence, but I am confident Mr Darcy could not satisfy a woman as sociable and as lively as yourself.”
“Your dislike of him runs very deep, does it not?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Can you believe once we were childhood friends? It is only my affection for his late father that prevents me from making my disapprobation widely known.”
Elizabeth suppressed her disbelief at this audacious lie, knowing full well of Mr Wickham’s plan to exploit Miss Darcy.
If she had any doubts in her actions, then they were swept away in the face of Mr Wickham’s self-serving falsehood.
Now was the moment to put her plan into action.
“Mr Darcy has certainly treated you very ill,” she said soothingly.
“If only there were a way for people to know of his true character.”
“A man like Darcy is too rich and too powerful. I do not have his connexions. I must suffer in his shadow.”
“But what if there were a way to spread the truth about Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth widened her eyes to assume what she hoped was an innocent expression.
“I am thinking, of course, of my godfather. Whenever he is in England, he associates with the very finest families; even the Prince is known to command Mr Vanderbeck’s presence at his dining table.
What if I were to tell Mr Vanderbeck of your struggles and that Mr Darcy’s conduct towards you needs to be exposed? ”
Mr Wickham raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “That would be most kind of you, Miss Elizabeth. But I thought your godfather was away presently?”
“He is due to return to London next week. I try not to tell people of his arrangements, for his arrival attracts so much attention. He will visit us soon, I am sure—my father is a particularly dear friend of his. I could organise a meeting and you might tell him in person of your suffering at the hands of Mr Darcy. He would be most interested, I am sure.”
“My dear Miss Elizabeth! What an angel! To have the ear of such a man would surely put me in a favourable position.” Mr Wickham spoke almost to himself, and Elizabeth knew him to be well and truly snared by her suggestion.
“Naturally, I shall need proof,” she said lightly. “If we are to gain Mr Vanderbeck’s support, he will ask for evidence of Mr Darcy’s wrongdoing.”
“Evidence?” Mr Wickham echoed.
“Yes, something that unequivocally implicates Mr Darcy. Do you have anything? He will want to examine it.”
Mr Wickham hesitated. “Alas, I do not have a copy of the late Mr Darcy’s will.
“A pity!” Elizabeth forced herself to appear disappointed. “And you are sure there is nothing else that could be used to expose the Darcy family’s true nature?”
Mr Wickham’s eyes glazed over as he contemplated her question and then his lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “There could be, Miss Elizabeth, but it is a delicate matter.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. This was her gamble, and she had to take care not to overplay her hand. “If you were to give your evidence to me, I could present it to Mr Vanderbeck on your behalf.”
He shook his head. “I am afraid that would be impossible, Miss Elizabeth.”
“What a shame,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Dear Mr Vanderbeck delights in scandal and gossip. He is so often away in foreign society where he knows no one and gets dreadfully bored.” She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper.
“You must not tell anyone, but my father once revealed that Mr Vanderbeck pays well for secrets. He likes to be in possession of sensitive information concerning those in powerful positions. It helps him to protect his interests when he travels abroad.”
They had reached a crossroads, and she pretended she needed to take the opposite path to him.
“Thank you for our conversation. I cannot think of a time when I have had a more interesting walk.” She paused, weighing her words before adding, “At least you may take comfort in the fact that you will not cross paths with Mr Darcy for some time, if ever. I believe he has gone to London with no plans of an immediate return to Hertfordshire.”
“Darcy has left the area?” Mr Wickham’s face paled at this information.
“He departed yesterday in the greatest hurry.”
The news that his intended source of income had fled the county caused Mr Wickham to look positively unwell. She did not wait for him to reply but simply murmured her farewell and turned from him.
“Miss Elizabeth!”
Her heart racing, she turned, and he took hurried steps towards her. His face was no longer ashen, and a calculating glint flashed in his eyes. “Am I able to trust you?”
“Always.” Elizabeth had never knowingly flirted with a man before, but she lowered her lashes in a way that seemed to bring Lydia much success. “You have my word.”
Mr Wickham appeared to enjoy her admiration. “I may have something of interest to your godfather. It involves Mr Darcy, indirectly—there may be a certain poetical justice in its revelation. How quickly could you arrange a meeting with Mr Vanderbeck?”
“I could ask Papa tonight if I might write my own letter to Mr Vanderbeck. But I must warn you that my godfather frequents England very rarely so you must act quickly if you wish to become acquainted with him.”
He took her hands in his. “I am indebted to your kindness.”
She internally recoiled at his touch. “Naturally I would need to view this evidence for myself. Does it come in the form of letters or an eyewitness account?”
Mr Wickham coloured. “I am afraid that I cannot share that particular information.”
Elizabeth removed her hands from his clasp. “I must see it, Mr Wickham, before I write to my godfather. For your sake, I wish to expose Mr Darcy, but I will not involve Mr Vanderbeck without knowing the particulars.”
“The letters are not for a woman’s eyes.”
“Letters? How many are there?”
“Seven in total.”
Elizabeth feigned shock. “And they are of a sensitive nature pertaining to Mr Darcy? How did they come to be in your possession?”
“I have been long acquainted with the Darcy family.” Mr Wickham waved her questions away impatiently. “Do you think your godfather would pay well for them?”
“If I spoke favourably of you,” she lied. “I am his only goddaughter after all. I could explain how Mr Darcy has robbed you of your rightful future, and how it is your reduced circumstances alone that force you to request money.”
A bell chimed in the distance. She gave Mr Wickham a reassuring smile.
“I must go. I hope you do not think it indelicate of me if we arrange another meeting. I dearly wish to help you, but I must see the letters before I write to my godfather.” Mr Wickham hesitated, and she continued, “Would this afternoon be too soon? Do you know the lane that leads from Longbourn to the woods? If you continue along it, you will find an old, twisted oak, felled in a storm. We can meet there. I promise not to breathe a word of the contents of the letters to anyone. I know you to be the wronged party. You may place your trust in me.”
The greedy look had not left Mr Wickham’s eyes. “I cannot give them to you, Miss Elizabeth, but I will place them in your hands so you may see that I am telling the truth. I hope that will be sufficient?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s heart hammered so painfully against her chest that she felt faint.
This clandestine arrangement went against every notion of virtuous behaviour, but Mr Wickham had agreed to far more than she could have hoped for.
He would not destroy Mr Darcy’s sister if it was within her power to prevent it.
Caught up with his jubilation, Mr Wickham did not notice Elizabeth’s silence. “At long last my ill-fortunes are reversed!” His blue eyes flashed suggestively. “However am I to repay you, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth thought of Mr Darcy and the horrible threats Mr Wickham had made against his family. “I require no thanks. I am only pleased to know that you might at last get the justice you deserve.”