Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
The heavy January rain blocked her primary light source, but Elizabeth was still painting in her attic when she was informed she had a caller.
Her first thought was that Mr. Wickham had come, but he had not indicated he would see her before going to Bath.
She was frustrated that he had not allowed her to return the diamond comb.
She was uncomfortable having it in her possession still.
Although early in the Season, she had seen a few friends at the ball the night before.
She hoped she had not offended any of them or caused a scene by departing so early.
Likely one or two of them wished to discuss the ball.
She went to the basin to wash her hands.
Removing her smock, she hastily dried her hands as she hung it on its hook.
A quick look in the small mirror over the basin assured her she was presentable, so she proceeded to the drawing room.
Aside from wishing to be rid of the comb, she had not consciously given much thought to either Mr. Wickham’s or Mr. Darcy’s behavior at the ball the night before.
She had pushed out thoughts as they tried to intrude.
She was not yet ready to process anything beyond the excitement she had felt at Mr. Wickham’s touch to her hair and cheek and the confusion she had felt at finding Mr. Darcy so much more attractive than Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Darcy had not even smiled last night, and Elizabeth did not remember him being so handsome when he wasn’t smiling.
His dark hair was thicker, his eyes were more piercing, his broad shoulders fit his greater height.
Stop it, Lizzy!
She was being shallow. A man was more than his appearance. Elizabeth knew she was attracted to the man who had suddenly departed, not the man who had moments later appeared in front of her. She emptied her mind of both men before opening the door to the drawing room.
Perhaps she should not have been surprised to see Mr. Bingley had called for the first time that Jane was not in residence, but she was. She assumed Mr. Darcy had put him up to this. She had had quite enough of that hypocrite the night before. She crossed her arms and stood glaring at Mr. Bingley.
“Lizzy, are you well?”
Aunt Gardiner would not appreciate her being surly in her home.
“Perfectly.” She relaxed her stance and went to greet Mr. Bingley and sit by the chair he had selected.
“Um, good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” He sounded nervous. She had not made him particularly welcome.
“Shall I call for some refreshment?”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth got up to ring the bell, grateful for an excuse to move a bit more before regaining her seat.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Bingley.”
“And you.” He cleared his throat. “You must know why I am here. It seems my sister and I do not know Mr. Wickham, Lizzy. Miss Elizabeth. My apologies.”
“Your sister introduced me to the man, and I am sure you introduced them.”
“Yes, but that was the only time Caro had met him, until you all met on Bond Street. I myself have seen him only a couple of times. I had thought he was Darcy’s friend, but he has not been for many years.”
“Yes, I am aware.”
Mr. Bingley nodded and swallowed.
“Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted with either money or…” He glanced at Aunt Gardiner, whose sewing sat untouched in her lap as she listened to the awkward conversation. “…money or…or women.”
“But he seemed so sincere and gentlemanly,” Aunt protested.
“Yes, well, I thought so, as well, but apparently he has high debts despite having received a large inheritance from his godfather.”
“He should have had a steady income afforded by a church living, Mr. Bingley. But your friend refused to give it to him.”
“Yes, um. About that. Darcy did tell me Wickham did not want the living. He instead requested and received three thousand pounds.”
“Surely not! Mr. Wickham could have nothing to complain of in that case.”
“And that was in addition to the thousand pounds by direct bequest in Darcy’s father’s will.”
“Why should I trust you over Mr. Wickham? You know nothing of this for yourself, I am sure. This will be only what your friend has told you.” Elizabeth was also not inclined to put much faith in Mr. Bingley since early July. The things he had said disgusted her even now.
“Darcy did tell me, but I believe him. He is always honest and is the most upright man I know. I must tell you that despite Mr. Wickham’s inheritance, he has more than a thousand pounds in debts in the areas around Pemberley.
Darcy has purchased these debts to pay back the tradesmen Mr. Wickham left high and dry.
Darcy said he could send for the proof, but I told him I have no need of it.
Mr. Wickham also has a great many gambling debts, I am told. ”
If this were true! Could any part of what Mr. Bingley said be trusted?
“That is a gross accusation, Mr. Bingley. What did you mean he could not be trusted with women? Lizzy, perhaps we should send for your uncle, so he can hear this.”
“Mrs. Gardiner, I would be happy to stop by the Emporium to speak with him if he is in his office.”
“Thank you. Please go there when you leave us. But what did you mean about Mr. Wickham and women? Is Lizzy safe with him?”
“Darcy believes quite the opposite. Given Mr. Wickham’s expensive tastes and propensity for gambling, Darcy expects he will wed only an heiress. Other women, he simply uses for his own amusement.”
“Oh, Lizzy. You must not see him again until we can disprove these accusations.”
“I see no reason to trust Mr. Darcy over Mr. Wickham. Only one has been so ungentlemanly as to lose my good opinion.” Although Mr. Wickham’s hasty exit and refusal to take back the silver comb had been unsettling, he had never been harsh or cruel.
Still, her voice lacked conviction as she defended him. If any part of this were true…
Mr. Bingley grimaced. “Darcy did ask me to apologize to you—”
“He already made the attempt last night.”
“No…he asked me to apologize to you right after it happened nearly two years ago. In the note he sent the next morning to inform me he was leaving for Pemberley, he asked me to extend his apologies to the ladies, and he wrote, ‘especially Miss Elizabeth.’”
Elizabeth’s heart stuttered. She had waited for Mr. Darcy to explain himself, sure he would have a valid reason. She had been sure he had only had a bad day. But when he had left town instead, she had thought the worst of him.
“But why then did you not?” Her voice wavered.
“You did not come back. I thought I had told Jane, but perhaps one of us forgot. It was surely my fault. I am so sorry, Miss Elizabeth. He now knows he caused you great pain. When he finally returned to town and danced with you last year, he realized his message had not been delivered. He asked me to bring him here…”
“The day Mr. Cage was here? The morning after that ball when I danced with Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes.”
“But Mr. Darcy only sat and glared the entire time.”
“I cannot explain Darcy’s manners except that he was frustrated not to find you alone. He had hoped to go for a walk to apologize to you privately.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Too many memories were roiling about and changing shape and importance.
“I thank you, Mr. Bingley. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course, but Miss Elizabeth, do you believe me? Do you believe Darcy?”
She shook her head. “I do not know. Aunt, I will be in the attic if you have need of me.”
Elizabeth had been making steady progress on a cheerful London scene for her cousins, but she prepared a new canvas for her current mood.
As she painted a much darker setting, she turned over in her mind all she knew of two very different men.
Had Mr. Wickham seen Mr. Darcy before rushing off so quickly?
He had seemed distracted by something behind her.
She knew he had not wished to encounter Mr. Darcy the previous week at the park.
He must have seen him at Mrs. Humphrey’s ball.
Why would Mr. Wickham run from Mr. Darcy if he told the truth?
For it seemed that was exactly what he had done.
She chuckled bitterly. Elizabeth might have run herself had she seen Mr. Darcy before he was directly in front of her.
She sighed heavily. How could she know who to believe?
It was unfortunate Matthew was otherwise occupied and had not heard Mr. Bingley’s claims. He seemed to be a good judge of character, and she would like to know his opinion.
If Mr. Bingley had gone to speak to her uncle as promised, she was sure he and Aunt would express their views to her this evening.
She would most likely be forbidden from seeing Mr. Wickham again.
Elizabeth was surprised to find the strongest feeling that came with that thought was not heartbreak or despair or defiance but relief.
She would no longer have to work so hard to interpret Mr. Wickham’s actions to determine whether he was acting with propriety.
Elizabeth realized with shame that she had been taken in by his charm and physical magnetism.
She had been flattered by his easy affection and excited by the possibilities he presented.
He had been the most eligible suitor she had found, or so she had told herself.
She knew, had always known, he may leave the moment he heard about Papa Oliver.
Until she told him, she could pretend he would not care.
A man who could give her a diamond hair comb, though, must be wealthy enough to care about her birth.
If he had lied about his estate as it seemed he may have lied about the church living, how could he afford the comb?
And why had he courted her? Did he think she was an heiress, or had he been courting her for a purpose other than marriage?
Elizabeth began to grow angry. Mr. Wickham had been far too familiar from the moment they met. She had been a simpleton and had caused Matthew and Dinah to worry. Now her aunt and uncle would also worry.
As did Mr. Darcy.
He had said he was at the ball to speak with her. Mr. Bingley must have told him what she had admitted that day in Meryton, that she intended to receive Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Darcy had worried about her safety enough to attend a ball with people far beneath his notice. Why? Why did Mr. Darcy care at all what happened to her? It must have been for Mr. Bingley’s and Jane’s sakes. Then why had he not sent Mr. Bingley in the first place? Why had he come himself?
Realizing she had put down her brush and stood with her hands on her hips, fingers tightened into fists, she loosened them. Her breaths came too heavy.
She had made so many mistakes since coming to London.
Matthew had saved her almost as soon as she had arrived as a reckless fifteen-year-old.
Had she learned nothing since then? Elizabeth had allowed Caroline Bingley to use her ill from the beginning.
She had not permitted her to change her name to Eliza, but she had stopped wearing her charm bracelet, even at home.
She had to agree it was not suitable for balls and card parties, but she had been only fifteen and homesick yet so desperate for acceptance that she had put aside her best reminder of home.
She had allowed Miss Bingley to be cruel to her because she was sometimes kind.
Elizabeth would never regret her friendship with Miss Bingley for one reason only.
Yes, Miss Bingley had cheered her for many months and had been a decent friend.
Yes, she had experienced many enlightening and still-cherished conversations with Mr. Darcy, a man she would not have met except through Mr. Bingley.
Yes, her cousin was in love with Mr. Bingley and had come to town more often because of him, allowing her to fully reconcile with Elizabeth.
Spending time with each of these people had also caused her substantial pain. She thought she might be willing to have never met any of them.
For a single reason, though, Elizabeth could not regret her fraught friendship with Miss Bingley.
Miss Darcy had desperately needed her that day after her father had died.
For that one day, to help that grieving girl, she would not have changed anything.
For all she knew, Mr. Darcy’s sister had changed and was now as cruel as he was, but for that one day, she had been sweet and innocent, and she had allowed Elizabeth to help her.
That day was one Elizabeth could reflect on as a day she had done something right.
Although she had made many mistakes before and after, that had been a heartbreaking, necessary day.
More relaxed, Elizabeth went to her portfolio of sketches and flipped through the loose pages until she found some of Miss Darcy.
After she had given all her drawings to the girl’s brother, she had hastened to redraw them before she forgot her face.
She flipped another page and saw that very brother.
He smiled at her with a fine crinkle next to his eye.
A lock of his wavy hair fell over his forehead.
It was this man who had captured her heart.
She cared for him in a different way than she had Mr. Wickham. A calmer, steadier, deeper way.
Thinking of Mr. Wickham now made her feel shameful and more childish than Mr. Darcy had ever made her feel, even when she had been fifteen.
She knew she had not loved Mr. Wickham. She had not been ready to marry him or even to allow him to kiss her.
If Mr. Darcy had spoken years ago the way Mr. Wickham had…
She could not imagine it. She would have been shocked, as she knew he had never thought of her as anything but a friend.
She had practically been his best friend’s little sister at that time, so constantly was she with the Bingley family.
Elizabeth slapped her portfolio closed. She had gone from having a tendre for Mr. Darcy when she was sixteen to being hurt and humiliated by him when she was seventeen.
When she was eighteen, he had confused and angered her.
What would happen when she turned nineteen next month?
Would he find a new way to hurt her? Or would she find that she had misunderstood him two years before?
She was afraid of what would happen to her heart if she discovered he was the good man she used to think he was.
She could not afford to really fall in love with him.
It would not be a childish feeling again.
It would not be a placeholder for a future love.
It would mean a life as a governess or as a poor spinster, with nothing but the memory of him for company.