Chapter Twenty-one #3
“And it was not even about me?” said Georgiana.
“Obviously, it was not,” said Elizabeth, understanding that full well. “It was always about his own selfishness. He thought he was entitled to pleasure. He thought he would take it wherever he wished. He did not think that trespassing against us was wrong enough to stop him from doing that.”
“But it was,” said Wickham. “But I should have.”
“Shut up,” said Georgiana, sighing. She looked up at Elizabeth. “On second thought, I do not know why I wished to see him.”
“I should be happy to never see him again,” said Elizabeth.
“Let us go,” said Georgiana, and Elizabeth nodded.
She turned sideways, and perhaps her profile gave him a view of her silhouette that gave it away, she could not be sure, but he let out a noise, a sort of wounded noise, and he sat up in the bed, reaching for her.
“Miss Bennet,” he cried, “you are with child.”
Elizabeth looked at him, horrified that he had guessed it. She hesitated too long, before she said, “Of course not. Don’t you know it’s a wretchedly rude thing to say to a woman? I have simply eaten too many raspberry tarts, that is all.”
“I shall marry you,” said Mr. Wickham, who was struggling to get out of the bed. “That’s the least I could do, is it not? And I shall likely die two days hence, but at least the babe won’t be a bastard, and you’ll be a widow, and I think I must, really I must, after everything—”
“Never,” said Elizabeth in a lethal voice. “Never.” She put her hand to her belly. “This is not your babe.” She met his gaze.
Wickham was stunned. “Oh, God, you are not serious.” He eased himself back into the bed, grunting in pain, clutching his wound. “Well, no wonder he tried to kill me. Why has he not married you himself, then, Miss Bennet?”
“My own fault,” she said. “At first he did not know, and I did not know his character well enough to think that I could trust him and now… all will be righted. But you must never think that—he had me first.”
Wickham sagged into the pillows. “Well, thank heaven, then. One less sin I’ve committed. It wasn’t even your virtue I took, Miss Bennet.” He sighed.
Elizabeth realized, with a jolt, this contradicted what she had said earlier, that she and Mr. Darcy had not been close when she had been in Brighton. Would he remember that?
Wickham only shivered. “Send my father in, would you? Send him in with more blankets? I am ever so cold.”
They left him, and Elizabeth was still full of fear that he would realize her story was ludicrous and that he would not accept it, but he was asleep before they were out the door, snoring again, looking even paler than he had when they had arrived.
She and Georgiana walked together down the road, heading back to Pemberley. It was growing dark now.
“I suppose I should wish it was my brother who was the babe’s father, too, if I were you,” said Georgiana. “Wickham seems to have believed you.” She turned to look at Elizabeth. “It isn’t true, is it? My brother did not get a child on you and abandon you, did he?”
“No, of course not,” said Elizabeth. “He would not do such a thing.”
“Well, when it comes to you, who knows what he would do,” said Georgiana. “I can’t believe he shot George. I think he is going to have killed him, in the end, and I can’t say that it’s awful for George to have to suffer.”
“Perhaps he gets the chance to seek his own redemption,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps every man is owed it.”
“I don’t want him to be redeemed,” said Georgiana. “I don’t think he deserves redemption. I want him to have thought through what he was doing before he raped me.”
Elizabeth was struck by the word. It made her steps falter and her throat feel tight. She said, and her voice was not strong, “Yes, that it is what I wish as well.”
“Perhaps I wish him to die.”
“Perhaps I do, too,” said Elizabeth, though all she wished was for Wickham to never attempt to take the babe.
If it could be proved that he were actually the babe’s father, then he would have all the rights to it.
He could take the babe away, take it from Elizabeth, put the child into a school or into another’s care or do anything he wished, and Elizabeth would have no recourse.
As long as Wickham believed the babe was Mr. Darcy’s, that was all that mattered.
Georgiana turned to look at her. “Will you take care of my brother, then? Since he has lost his head over you? Will you look after him?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I shall. And I shall make certain he looks after you, if that is what you wish.”
“I think I may have to rely on you for that,” muttered Georgiana. “He would go to the ends of the earth for you.”
“Well, I have done nothing to encourage him, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, I know that,” said Georgiana. “But if you promise to be good to him now, not to treat him as if he is a bad man, for he is not, you see? If you promise, I shall give you both my blessing. And then you and I can be sisters. In many ways, I think we shall understand each other quite well.”
Elizabeth smiled at the other woman. “Yes, I think we shall.”