Chapter 13
Elizabeth spent the next three days in a torment of agitation, floundering without news of what had transpired between Mr Darcy and Mr Denny. She lived in a state of restless suspension, as though the world had paused mid-breath and forgotten to begin again.
Outwardly, life at Gracechurch Street resumed a careful normalcy. Elizabeth accompanied Jane on their usual walks, helped Mrs Gardiner with household correspondence and seeing to the children, and she even persuaded herself to read for an hour at a time.
Inwardly, however, her thoughts circled endlessly back to one subject, refusing all diversion. Mr Darcy was attending to the matter. The knowledge filled her with equal parts relief and unease.
Elizabeth trusted him, but her trust did not still her anxiety.
Each knock at the door made her start. Each raised voice in the street sent her imagination racing toward disaster.
She chastised herself for such weakness, yet she could not banish the image of Mr Darcy embroiled in difficulties, carrying the weight of justice and family honour alone.
One comfort, as both Jane and Mrs Gardiner reminded her whenever she became overwrought with frustration or worry, was that there had been no fresh scandals printed since their confrontation outside the printer.
Not a hint or whisper of anything new reached their ears, and the fashionable ladies and gentlemen of the ton wondered what on earth had happened to their salacious gossip.
Jane was quick to sense her disquiet, as usual. “You are quiet today,” she said gently on the morning of the second day, as they sat together by the window. “Where is my witty Lizzy, who can always find something amusing even in misfortune?”
Elizabeth attempted a smile. “I am merely exhausted by villainy,” she replied. “It is terribly fatiguing to be interesting.”
Jane’s expression softened. She knew her sister’s heart well. “You care very much,” she said simply.
Elizabeth did not deny it. It was an admission in itself. Jane, who was sensible when it came to matters of affection, did not pry, for which Elizabeth was profoundly grateful. The two spent the rest of the afternoon together in quiet company.
On the third day, just as Elizabeth had convinced herself that Mr Darcy would never appear, he strode into the drawing room, immaculately dressed and well-composed.
Her heart leapt traitorously into her throat, and she rose at once, scarcely aware of Jane and Mrs Gardiner exchanging a pointed glance behind her.
After bowing courteously, Elizabeth noted that Mr Darcy appeared strained beneath his composure, as if he had been carrying a burden for quite some time.
“Thank you for receiving me. I thought I ought to give an account of what followed our encounter with Mr Denny.” His eyes held Elizabeth’s as he spoke.
“We are most anxious to hear it, sir,” replied Mrs Gardiner.
Elizabeth wrung her hands together, eager to hear all Mr Darcy had to share.
Mr Darcy seated himself across from the ladies but did not relax into the chair.
He remained stiff and leaned forward slightly to give his report.
“Mr Denny was not long in reconsidering his position. When presented with the certainty that his absence from his regiment would be reported, and that his actions constituted desertion, a crime punishable by hanging, he agreed to cooperate fully.”
Jane drew a quiet breath and placed her hand over her heart. It was a serious crime indeed.
“He signed a full confession,” Mr Darcy continued, “detailing his agreement with Mr Wickham, the sums promised, the false names used, and the precise nature of the rumours he was instructed to deliver. I then escorted him back to his superiors in the militia, where he repeated the confession under oath.”
Elizabeth felt a rush of vindication so sharp it was painful. “And what of Mr Wickham?”
Mr Darcy frowned. “He is implicated beyond doubt. Both men are now facing punishment within the militia. Mr Denny for desertion and fraud, Mr Wickham for conspiracy, extortion, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Their prospects are quite thoroughly ruined.”
Jane dropped her hand as relief and sorrow washed over her face. “I am glad it is over,” she said. “Though I cannot rejoice in anyone’s downfall.”
Mr Darcy inclined his head, respectful of her sentiment. “Nor do I, Miss Bennet. But I am grateful that justice has prevailed.”
“And the scandal sheets?” Elizabeth asked.
Mr Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile.
“I have shown Denny’s confession to the printer and explained how his carelessness with the truth had made him an accessory to his crimes.
He was exceedingly cooperative once he understood the ramifications of continuing to publish such libel and slander.
A full retraction will appear tomorrow.”
Elizabeth exhaled a breath she felt she had been holding for weeks. “So, it is truly over,” she said, scarcely daring to believe it.
“As over as such things may be,” Mr Darcy replied, though his expression clouded. “There is one matter I must address more directly.”
Elizabeth met his gaze, her pulse quickening.
“I owe you, and your family, a profound apology, Miss Elizabeth.”
She frowned. “For what, precisely?”
“For my enemy’s choice of target,” Mr Darcy said firmly. “Wickham believed that by attacking you, by associating me with you in a manner meant to humiliate, he would strike at my pride. He believed I would find such an association insulting.”
Heat flared in Elizabeth’s cheeks, accompanied by a flicker of insecurity. “But why should he seek to wound you? What offense has he taken?”
“There is indeed more to the story,” Mr Darcy said. His voice had taken on a gravity that suggested the facts alone were insufficient without their history. “And I believe you deserve to understand it fully.”
Elizabeth felt the shift at once. This was no longer merely a report, but a confession of sorts.
“Wickham’s resentment toward me did not begin with this scheme, as you have surmised,” Mr Darcy continued.
“Nor even with his failure to secure the living my father once intended for him. For he was my father’s godson, and my father supported him in school, at Cambridge, and wished for him to enter a profession within the church.
When my father died five years ago, Wickham was included in his will.
Though Wickham quickly found that he desired a change of profession, claiming a wish to study law, and made a request for money.
I, who had seen his character in unguarded moments, did not trust him to use these funds for his stated purpose. ”
Jane leaned forward slightly, her expression attentive. Mrs Gardiner’s eyes sharpened. Elizabeth found herself almost holding her breath, so keen was she to understand the disagreement between Mr Darcy and Wickham. Prior to Denny’s revelations, her opinion of the man had been most positive.
“My father,” Mr Darcy continued, “was excessively generous. Wickham mistook that generosity for indulgence, and when my father died, he believed that indulgence should continue without condition.”
Elizabeth’s thoughts flickered back to Wickham’s easy charm, his air of injured merit. She saw now how naturally it might cloak entitlement.
“When I refused him further funds,” Darcy went on, “and insisted instead upon responsibility and restraint, he chose to view it not as correction, but as betrayal. From that moment, he has sought not merely compensation but vindication.”
“And revenge,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “But not of the obvious sort. Wickham does not wish to defeat me openly. He wishes to unmake me and prove that my principles are hypocrisy. That my pride is unjustified. To Wickham, I represent everything he believes was denied him. He cannot bear that I should prosper under the conditions of respect, consequence, and the benefits of restraint.”
Mrs Gardiner nodded. “So, the rumours were not simply extortion.”
“No,” Darcy said. “They were an argument.”
Elizabeth frowned. “An argument?”
“That my reputation rests upon nothing sturdier than circumstance,” Mr Darcy explained. “And that with sufficient pressure, I would abandon honour for convenience. That I would sacrifice the vulnerable to protect myself.”
His gaze drifted meaningfully toward Elizabeth. “He believed that my sister would be the lever that broke me. Georgiana’s youth, her sensitivity, and her previous near-ruin…Well, he expected me to pay any sum to spare her further exposure.”
Jane shuddered faintly.
“Her previous near-ruin?” Elizabeth asked. What more harm could have befallen sweet Georgiana?
The remnants of long-borne anger stiffened Darcy’s jaw.
“I shall not insult you by making you swear not to repeat this. You will understand the need for confidentiality only too well; he once attempted to persuade my sister to elope with him. Georgiana was scarcely fifteen at the time. He appealed to her affection and her inexperience. I doubt not that he would have told any lie imaginable for the fortune that would have been placed entirely in his hands.”
Jane uttered a soft exclamation of distress, and Mrs Gardiner pressed her hand to her lips. Elizabeth could scarcely believe it. And yet, she found she believed Darcy without question. He had proven himself more than trustworthy.
“It was discovered in time,” Darcy continued, “and prevented without public consequence. But he has only resented me more bitterly since that failure.”
Elizabeth clenched her hands. “He has behaved despicably.”
Darcy nodded gravely. “Both in acting against Georgiana, and against you, Miss Elizabeth. But in the latter, he acted on a misapprehension for which I hold myself much to blame.”
Elizabeth looked at him in astonishment. “You cannot be held responsible for any of this, Mr Darcy. Surely you cannot think it.”