Chapter 12

Twelve

A flash of pain swept his expression. It was gone just as quickly, and he sighed heavily as he looped his horse's reins over a tree branch.

"I am pleased that your dislike of me is overridden by your scepticism of Wickham."

Elizabeth gave him a weak smile. "I have been in your company only a handful of times and have been anything but polite in my manners. I am known to be impertinent, but never have I been purposely discourteous, even when my intention was levity. Forgive me."

Mr Darcy held up a hand; his eyebrows furrowed as if to imbue his next words with sincerity. "There is nothing to forgive," he protested. "I have behaved little better. We have had an awkward beginning. I cannot say either would have acted more politely if the circumstance of your sister's engagement to Wickham were not the material point of our conversation, and of our entire acquaintance."

Then he smiled, and it transformed his face entirely. No longer did he gaze at her solemnly, but with a warmth that lit his eyes and displayed him as the handsomest man she had ever encountered. Albeit a little stunned, Elizabeth returned his smile. "My father enjoys a debate, my mother an argument. I shall refrain from their examples so that we may discuss that one subject each of us wishes to examine."

He nodded, which she surmised was an acceptance of her apology, and gestured to the path before them. As they began walking together, he said quietly, "First, I must apologise for questioning your sister's honour. You have been everything gracious, in spite of any disturbance you may feel over my questions and your sister's engagement. I take it you disapprove of her betrothment?"

"Disapprove? That is hardly a generous position, especially of a sister." She took a breath. "I admit I was bewildered by the swiftness of the connexion, and the topic of my sister's engagement, especially when raised by you, the man Mr Wickham so disparages, provoked me beyond measure."

"My portrait was painted and displayed without my input or approval, and it rendered me a most heinous character."

The small smile that accompanied his words prompted her to laugh. "Oh, broad, colourful paint strokes revealed a flaming character, produced in great detail but with sloppy execution."

His smile broadened briefly, then it disappeared; his expression grew serious. "You are right to distrust him."

There was too much to say here, and Elizabeth paused, wrinkling her nose as she formed her reply. "He swears love to my sister and promises marriage as soon as his business is completed, but he has scarcely been in her company to prove his worth while spending much of his visit to us defaming you as the cause of his past troubles." She sighed. "He is gone, and you arrive, clearly disapproving of the man and his promises but unwilling to say why."

Mr Darcy winced, but before he could speak, Elizabeth turned and grasped his sleeve. "Do you doubt his intention to marry Jane?"

"I doubt him in all things," he said, slowly lifting his gaze from where her hand lay on his arm. "Your sister is all that is admirable. I mean no insult to your family or home, but I know Wickham and the life he believes he deserves. He cannot be happy without wealth to give him standing in society and allow him leisure. Has your sister a large dowry, or is a fortune to be inherited with Longbourn?"

A tremor swept through Elizabeth; she was stunned as much by his directness as by the revelations about Mr Wickham. Unable to bear the look of concern on Mr Darcy's countenance, she stared down at the well-trodden path. "My father has invested poorly. My sisters and I bring little to a marriage beyond our wardrobes and a thousand pounds each. Longbourn is entailed, to a cousin we have yet to meet but whom my mother has assigned to Kitty or Mary as husband."

Frowning, she glanced at Mr Darcy, prepared to see his disgust. Instead, he seemed stricken. His step slowed, then stopped.

"Is Wickham aware of any of this?"

She was ashamed not to know the answer. "My father has been more than secretive about his conversations and correspondence with Mr Wickham. I would like to believe he would disclose such information to any suitor. Certainly, the entail is no secret. Everyone in Meryton is aware of it."

"If Wickham knows, and continues with the engagement, it might lend credence to his story of an estate and fortune, and sincere esteem for your sister. Or—" Mr Darcy looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his chin. Behind him, the sun outlined his form. Elizabeth could see traces of auburn and gold in the dark hair that curled below his ears. Her hand twitched as though wishing to touch and gauge its softness. Then his deep voice broke the spell.

"Miss Elizabeth, you are an intelligent and discerning lady with only the best interests of your sister at heart. Whether or not you believe Wickham to be genuine in his affections, I should like to investigate his claims, understand his intentions, and determine his suitability for the marriage. Would you—would your father—allow me to do so?"

"Neither my father nor I could refuse your help," she said, feeling as much foreboding as gratitude. "I do not know any man's heart nor his dealings. I beg you to tell me about Mr Wickham."

He looked relieved, and at her nod, they began again to walk together. Then he told a tale worse than she could have supposed. From childhood, Mr Wickham had preferred leisure to hard work. He was a clever but disinterested student, choosing to pursue fun with card games, parties, and wanton behaviour rather than take advantage of the gentleman's education provided him by the elder Mr Darcy.

"He has been reckless and lacked honour in his dealings with men and ladies alike."

Although Elizabeth believed she understood the delicate allusion made by Mr Darcy, she suspected he was leaving out details no gentleman would ever reveal to a lady. Forcing herself to be calm, she asked, "You did not deny him his inheritance nor a living?"

"Not at all. He came to me a year ago, demanding further recompense after having spent the funds I provided three years earlier when he turned down the living—one for which he was poorly suited." He kicked at a pebble on the path. "My father had wished him to go into the church, but I admit being relieved to hand him a cheque rather than the care of parishioners."

"Was it a considerable sum?"

"Three thousand pounds."

She nearly stumbled. "How is that possible, as a single man, to spend so much so quickly? Did he invest poorly?"

"I know only of a trail of debts left behind. I also know nothing of family in Norfolk or the inheritance of an estate, but that is easily discovered."

"I would prefer to think him a reformed scoundrel, but if he has no means to provide for Jane, and-and…" Elizabeth looked up at Mr Darcy. He returned her gaze, concern clouding his expression, and led her to a small grove of trees, where he held her arm as she sat down on a well-worn stump. He leant against the tree opposite her.

"Do not give way to alarm," he advised her. "Although it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to count on it as certain."

"We must trust that he has reformed a lifetime of poor behaviour within the past year!" She could not keep the bitterness from her voice. "When has hope been so tainted by doubt? Poor Jane, to have her trust so abused! Mr Wickham has bewitched the kindest girl in the world, but to what end? What can he gain from it materially? He covets riches but is reckless with any money he receives. My father is a gentleman, but we have no fortune. He must know that—it is not a secret."

Elizabeth took a breath and looked up at the tall man whose gaze had not left her. "Jane sees only the good in people, and she could not doubt the man who adored her, but neither could she hate you. She believes you had some cause for whatever terrible things Mr Wickham claims you did."

Mr Darcy appeared startled. "And you?"

She shrugged—too intent on worry for Jane—and answered only half his question. "Mr Wickham is more in love with himself and his voice than he could ever be with a woman. I suspect, and you confirm, that all of his goodness is in his appearance rather than his heart."

"As my housekeeper said long ago."

Elizabeth stared off at the horizon, watching the lightest of clouds move across the newly blue sky. She loved the promise of the dawn; it allowed one to believe in all the possibilities of the day ahead, and all the happiness of those waking to it. This day, scarcely eight hours old, already felt dark and unpromising. She sensed Mr Darcy's scrutiny and smiled weakly.

"Much as it is a relief to have this knowledge about Mr Wickham, Jane's heartache will be painful, and it will be difficult for all my family. My mother is overjoyed to have her most beautiful daughter engaged, and Mr Wickham's glib charm has only ingratiated him with her. A handsome face, assurances of wealth, and a few compliments are all my mother requires in her daughters' suitors."

Elizabeth turned her face and wiped an angry tear. True as it was, it was an awful thing to say aloud to a gentleman, particularly to one clearly as honourable as Mr Darcy. Had her family not provided him with enough evidence of their foolishness?

"No mother wishes less for her daughter," he said, as if reassuring her. "Mrs Bennet will be displeased to learn Wickham is not all that he claims, but will she be accepting if none of it proves true, and he lacks fortune in addition to those traits lacking in his character?"

"Disappointment and fear of ruin. What does this say to Jane's reputation? She was wooed at fifteen by a man twice her age, and my father ran him off. He too spoke charming words—Papa called him ‘the anaemic poet'." The memory of it was no longer amusing, for it seemed Jane was easily bewitched by any man with a silver tongue. Elizabeth swiped at her eye, feeling all hope draining away. "Now she has betrothed herself to a man who is seemingly a charlatan!"

Mr Darcy bent before her and pressed his handkerchief into her hand. "There will be neither scandal nor ruin. Your sister is respected by her neighbours and has done nothing wrong. All will be well—I promise to ensure it."

As his deep voice swept over her, Elizabeth felt the power behind his words; she could believe him and trust whatever actions he may undertake. The resolve in his statement was matched by the sincerity in his voice. Deeply touched, her thoughts fell away from her sister's romantic woes, and she began a deeper consideration of the man only inches away from her. His eyes, usually guarded, held a soft warmth; she saw in them a flicker of curiosity, as if he were attempting to understand her thoughts. Suddenly, Mr Darcy seemed not merely less severe but sweet; the assumptions and anger that had stood between them seemed foolish with this new cordiality they had forged.

She inhaled his scent, felt his breath on her skin as he crouched near, and took comfort in his strength. A long moment passed without any sound beyond that of the wind stirring the trees and the birds calling out in the cool morning air. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself before again meeting Mr Darcy's gaze. His expression was tender; his eyes were searching hers. Suddenly, whatever ease she had felt in his presence fled as a frisson of fear rose. He was so close—so very close—she could discern a small scar on his chin. No matter the content of their conversation, this proximity was far too intimate. He must think all the Bennet sisters behaved familiarly with gentlemen they had known for a fortnight!

Mr Darcy appeared to recall himself, standing abruptly and stepping back from her. Relieved, Elizabeth drew her arms around herself and looked up—he was so tall!—to find him frowning.

"What is it?" Fearing he had a new consideration about the heinous Mr Wickham, she rose from the stump.

After a firm shake of his head, Mr Darcy cleared his throat. "I must speak to your father?—"

"He has done little to determine the worthiness of Mr Wickham." The resentment she felt over her father's lack of effort gave a bitter edge to her reply, which was obviously noticed by Mr Darcy.

"I have wondered. However, I have been presumptuous enough to have written to my cousin, who knows Wickham and is more familiar than I with some of his regular haunts." His expression turned sheepish. "After dining at Longbourn, I also wrote to my solicitor to investigate Wickham's claims regarding Norwich."

Elizabeth's quiet ‘thank you' felt like an inadequate expression of her gratitude.

"You owe me no thanks," he insisted. "Even on so short an acquaintance, you had the measure of the man. It is the details, and their veracity, we shall determine. If Wickham's claims prove true, and you believe his care for your sister is genuine, I shall withdraw and promise not to interfere."

She felt a gentle flutter in her chest as she recognised the decency and goodness of the gentleman she had met less than a fortnight earlier. Unfairly slandered by Mr Wickham and treated poorly by the Bennets, he was involving himself in their unhappy affairs not because he had to but because he wished to assure Jane's happiness.

The dawning realisation that he could play some part in her own happiness was one she would examine later.