Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Darcy hardly knew what he was about, divulging such intimate, private matters to Elizabeth. Talking about his own past with Wickham was one thing. He had no qualms mentioning his difficult childhood with the son of his father's steward, how Wickham had wormed his way into his father's affections, how he had been offered so much more than a steward's son might expect, and how he had tossed it all away.

It was easy enough to talk about Wickham's dissipated habits at university, his gambling and spending, and his ungentlemanlike behaviour to young women. It was no hardship to relate Wickham's declared decision not to take orders as Darcy's father had hoped, and of his wish to study the law instead, and then, of his belated claim on the vacant living.

It was far more difficult to talk about Georgiana. How she had been taken out of school and established with a companion who had been prepared to sell her, for there was no other word for what Mrs Younge had done. How at Ramsgate, Wickham had come across them, supposedly by pure happenstance, and had wooed the fifteen-year-old heiress and arranged an elopement, all with the singular aim of acquiring her fortune .

How Georgiana, now, was still mending her broken heart, which was rent in two not only from discovering that her supposed lover cared nothing for her at all, but also from discovering that she was nothing but a means to an end, and would be seen as such by many in their exalted circles.

"Oh, the poor child!" Elizabeth breathed. "What she must have suffered! But can this be true? Can Mr Wickham really be so bad?"

"You need only ask my cousin. Other than you, he is the only one who knows the whole matter of it."

Elizabeth's face was white. "I am heartily ashamed, now, of having put so much faith in him. He fooled us."

Darcy leaned forward once more in his chair, close enough to place a gentle hand on Elizabeth's arm. She did not pull away.

"Do not punish yourself. He fooled us all. He has made a lifetime's study of it. He has the charm to convince the sternest soul of the rightness of his tale."

All traces of laughter had long since ended.

Elizabeth sat in silence, before shaking her head. "I fear I must take some time to think about all of this. It has quite changed everything I thought… about everybody." She looked directly at him, her dark, sparkling eyes now tinged with sympathy. "I assure you that I will keep your confidence regarding your sister. I am not insensible to the honour you have done me in telling me, and I will not betray your trust."

His hand, still on her arm, gave her the slightest squeeze. "I never had any doubts."

This was nice. It was comfortable. He felt, with her right now, the same sort of quiet companionship he had with his cousin, or with Bingley, when that man's dreadful sisters were not there to vex him. Did she feel the same way? He tried to examine her expression to determine her mood.

She did not look angry, or indignant, or antagonistic. If there was distress etched upon her features, it was surely because of what she had only now learned. Her concern for Georgiana had not been feigned, and she had just discovered something rather alarming about a man who had, until moments before, been a favourite. It reflected well on her that she was troubled. She had a good heart.

His hand was still on her arm, and she still made no attempts to push him away. Indeed, he almost believed she was moving closer to him. Could this be the moment he had been waiting for? Now, when her heart was open and her mind disabused of some matters about which she had been misled? Would this be the ideal moment to pour out his love for her, confess his utter failure at repressing his tender feelings, and offer himself to her?

Her demeanour was compassionate, almost kind. A soft glow lit her eyes; her lips took on a curve that was not quite a smile, but that invited confidences. Her shoulders had lost that stiffness that had greeted him when first he entered the room, and she still had not pushed his hand from her arm. Yes, this did seem the most opportune time. He recalled the words that had come to him only a few minutes before and prepared to speak.

"Miss Bennet, I beg you, you must allow me to tell you how much I?—"

At that moment, the door opened, and the young servant pushed in a cart laden with teacups and some small cakes.

"Pardon me, Miss, but we thought if you had company, you might like something to drink. Cook knows you favour these fruit biscuits. She made them special, and told me to bring them straight to you." She dropped her voice, as if about to divulge a great secret. "They're still warm!"

Elizabeth looked quite stunned for a second, before breaking into one of her heart-stopping smiles. "Thank you, Dorothy, it was very thoughtful, and I do love Cook's fruit biscuits. I am certain Mr Darcy will be more than pleased to sample her baking and enjoy a cup of tea. You may leave us now."

"Yes, yes. Of course, Miss." The girl bobbed a curtsey and disappeared through the doorway. The moment it closed, Elizabeth dissolved once more into a shower of tinkling laughter, and Darcy had never felt so frustrated in all his life.