Chapter 14
The scandal sheet that appeared the following morning was received with an urgency unlike any before it.
“Lizzie!” Jane called from the breakfast room. “You must come!”
Elizabeth descended at once, her heart already braced. The distinct rustle of broadsheet paper greeted Elizabeth as she joined Jane and the Gardiners. Unlike so many mornings prior, there was no pallor in Jane’s face, nor quiet endurance of another blow. Instead, she looked astonished and relieved.
“Mr Darcy was as good as his word,” Jane said, beaming. She pointed to the front page of the sheet.
Elizabeth stepped beside her and read the paper over her sister’s shoulder. The column was much longer than usual, and detailed in its retraction of the last several weeks of gossip. But it was the last paragraphs that left Elizabeth little short of astonished.
In short, this columnist regrets to inform you that I, like yourselves, have been grievously misinformed by recent reports.
It has come to this author’s attention that all the information received about the young ladies by the last name of B and regarding the D family were made not in good faith, but in malicious conspiracy and with the intent to commit extortion.
The scheme was uncovered through the cooperation of parties possessing both discernment and integrity; the scoundrels responsible have made a full confession and issued an apology for repeating false claims. Now, it remains only for me to do the same.
Those who were able to recognise the persons concerned may oblige this columnist by considering the record revised in full.
The Bennet sisters had once again found themselves in print, only this time as vindicated heroes, not villains.
Elizabeth exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening on Jane’s shoulders.
“That is a rather pleasant reading experience for a change,” Mrs Gardiner said.
Jane pressed a hand to her heart. “I scarcely dared to hope it would be so plain.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lingered on one line in particular, that which noted that Mr Wickham’s scheme had been uncovered “through the cooperation of parties possessing both discernment and integrity.”
She knew beyond a doubt whose integrity was meant.
The relief that swept through her was swift and dizzying. It was as though weeks of tension had been released all at once, leaving her light-headed in its wake. Yet even as her spirits lifted, she felt a familiar spark of indignation kindle anew.
“I wonder,” she said dryly, folding the paper, “how long it will be before someone claims to have suspected the truth all along.”
She did not have to wait long to find out.
∞∞∞
Caroline Bingley arrived at Gracechurch Street that afternoon, accompanied by a rather harried-looking Louisa Hurst.
She burst into the parlour with the air of someone delivering news of the greatest importance, though Elizabeth suspected she was as eager to display her proximity to scandal as to distance herself from it.
“My dear Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Bingley exclaimed, seating herself without invitation. “What a shocking business! I trust you have seen the dreadful revelations?”
Elizabeth inclined her head, barely suppressing a smirk. “I have.”
Miss Bingley shook her head with theatrical regret. “To think how everyone read and repeated these columns, and put such faith in them! One must be so careful, must not one? It is difficult to know whom one ought to trust.”
Elizabeth met her gaze coolly. “So I have heard.”
Miss Bingley continued, unfazed. “Of course, I always believed you and your sister to be quite innocent. I said as much, and often!”
Elizabeth doubted this very much, but saw no reason to dispute it.
“I am sure,” Jane said politely.
“And what relief for Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley added, with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Though I imagine he will wish the entire episode forgotten.”
Elizabeth smiled back, sweet and composed. “Oh, I imagine Mr Darcy will wish the truth remembered. He is, after all, a man of great integrity.”
Miss Bingley’s expression dimmed briefly before she rallied. “Well. One must move on. Society is nothing if not forgiving once a new diversion presents itself.”
With that, she rose, her appetite for drama evidently satisfied.
Elizabeth watched the Bingley sisters go, feeling only a faint echo of irritation. Miss Bingley’s spite had lost its power, and now knowing her to be innocent of any crime greater than repeating gossip, Elizabeth fully intended to think of her as little as possible.
However, one truth remained clear after her departure. If the Bennets’ reputations were restored, Wickham’s was irrevocably undone.
The consequences were swift and public. Wickham was dismissed from the militia in disgrace, his charm no longer sufficient to shield him from the weight of his actions.
Mr Denny, having confessed fully, was spared the severest penalty but would carry the mark of his desertion for the rest of his life.
Both men vanished from society with remarkable speed.
Elizabeth felt no triumph in their fall. She had spent so many hours suffering because of them, and yet she only felt a grim satisfaction that justice had prevailed.
Perhaps something of happiness could now be hoped for. Now that the rumours had been dispelled and the Bennet name restored, there must be some hope for Jane and her happy ending — that was all that mattered now.
It did not signify that she and Mr Darcy had conspired to bring their foe to justice, or had blurred the line between reality and fantasy during their sham courtship. It did not matter that their time together had ended, because they had accomplished what they had initially set out to do.
And yes, her opinion of him had changed. He was kinder and gentler than she had ever supposed him to be. But that did not mean that their acquaintance should turn into anything more than friendliness.
No, it was best to forget about Mr Darcy, even though her chest ached with a hollowness she could not identify. Instead, she put on a cheerful smile for her sister, who had already exchanged a promise to see Charles Bingley at the Feversham Ball.
∞∞∞
The Feversham Ball wore a gentler aspect that evening than the other assemblies that had lately been the stage for speculation and cruelty.
That morning’s scandal sheet had done its work amongst the ton.
The truth, once printed, spread faster than any lie.
Whispers still moved through the room, but they lacked their former sharpness.
What remained was curiosity, no more biting than it had ever been before.
Gossip was eternally a source of great amusement for most in attendance.
Jane stood beside Elizabeth near the edge of the dance floor, her posture composed though her fingers worried the silk of her gloves.
Elizabeth had spent extra time on Jane’s hair and made sure that her gown was pressed to perfection, but the attention to and loveliness of Jane’s appearance did nothing to dampen her nervousness.
Elizabeth leaned close to murmur a reassurance when a familiar voice sounded behind them.
“Miss Bennet.”
Jane turned, and there stood Mr Bingley, his expression open, earnest, and unmistakably anxious. He bowed to both sisters, who curtsied graciously.
“I hoped,” he said, glancing briefly at Elizabeth before returning his attention to Jane, “that I might speak with you.”
Elizabeth withdrew at once, retreating a discreet distance while keeping them in her peripheral vision. She had rarely seen Mr Bingley look so upset.
“I owe you an apology,” he said without preamble. “A sincere one. I allowed myself to be guided by fears and hearsay when I ought to have trusted my own knowledge of your character. I deeply regret the pain my absence must have caused you.”
Jane, ever generous, did not pretend indifference but met his confession with honesty. “I was sorry to lose your company, but I understand how difficult these circumstances have been.”
Bingley’s relief was immediate. “I should like, if you will permit me, to call upon you tomorrow. Not as a matter of obligation,” he added quickly, “but of hope.”
Jane smiled, soft and radiant. “I should be very glad to see you, Mr Bingley.”
Elizabeth turned away at last, satisfied, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
She had scarcely taken three steps when Mr Darcy appeared at her side.
“I see congratulations are in order,” he said.
Elizabeth glanced back at Jane and Bingley, then smiled. “It seems justice is in a forgiving mood tonight.”
Mr Darcy hesitated only a moment before speaking again. “May I claim the next dance?”
There was no calculation or necessity for performance in the question. Elizabeth felt the significance of it keenly.
She, of course, accepted.
As they moved onto the floor, Elizabeth was aware of the glances that followed them, but they no longer burned. If anything, they felt approving, if not curious. The ton observed them now not as an absurdity or through the lens of scandal, but as a possibility finally made sensible.
They danced easily, in step and in silence for a time.
“I am glad,” Mr Darcy said at last, “that Bingley has found the courage to trust his own happiness.”
“So am I,” Elizabeth replied. “Jane deserves nothing less.”
Darcy studied her, his expression softened by admiration. “You defended them both,” he said. “Jane. Georgiana. You never wavered.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin slightly. “It would have been harder to do nothing. I have never been very good at that.”
The smile he gave her was broad and unguarded.
When the dance ended, Darcy did not immediately release her hand. Instead, he turned as Mrs Gardiner approached, her manner gracious but purposeful.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, “I hope you will forgive my boldness, but my husband and I should be very pleased if you would dine with us later this week.”
Darcy looked momentarily startled.
“We owe you more than we can properly express,” Mrs Gardiner continued. “Your efforts on our nieces’ behalf were generous, and undertaken at no small personal inconvenience. We should like the opportunity to thank you, sir.”
Darcy inclined his head, clearly moved. “The honour would be entirely mine, Mrs Gardiner.”
“I shall send the invitation directly,” she declared.
Elizabeth caught his eye as something unspoken passed between them.
As the music resumed and the evening carried on, Elizabeth reflected that the ball this evening had given them all something rare. Not merely restored reputations, but restored faith in discernment, in constancy, and in loyalty that endured even when tested by the worst that society could invent.
This time, when Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm to rejoin the room, she felt there was nothing false in it at all.