Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE DAY THAT Elizabeth received the letter from Mr. Darcy was the day that Mr. George Wickham turned up in Pemberley.

She was surprised to see him, because she'd had news from home that the regiment—along with Mr. Wickham—had gone to Brighton, and that Lydia had gone along with them, a guest of Colonel and Mrs. Forrester. This news had been mixed in with information about Jane's impending nuptials, which were going to be soon.

Elizabeth had hoped to be able to attend her sister's wedding, but now it looked as if it would not be possible, for there was no time for preparation, not with her husband gone for another week and a half in London. She would have written to him to ask, but she was still not entirely comfortable with asking him for things. It seemed quite a lot of expense and to-do for her to travel back to Hertfordshire.

Instead, she sent a letter back to Jane offering her sincerest congratulations and sending all her regrets. She cried a bit, doing her best to make sure the tears did not land on the letter and smudge the ink.

So, she'd thought mostly of this, not of the news of Brighton or the regiment. But when she saw Mr. Wickham walking with his father outside the stables, there was no mistaking who it was, and no mistaking he was not, in fact, in Brighton.

He even raised his hand to give her a little wave, smiling at her with that smile of his that she used to think was so winning and charming.

Elizabeth had not been thinking overmuch about Mr. George Wickham. She'd understood, from the conversation she'd had with her husband about him that it was best if she didn't bring him up anymore, and she also knew that her husband was somewhat threatened by whatever had passed between herself and Mr. Wickham, though it was precious little, in the end.

However, she was still confused by Wickham's behavior. Why had Mr. Wickham lied to her? Why had he led her to believe that Mr. Darcy's character was so black and corrupt? She wanted answers, and she had not gotten them.

She spoke to Harmony about it later. They were not having formal dinners since Mr. Darcy was away, but Elizabeth did still go down for dinner. She didn't change or anything like that, however. Still, Harmony was wont to come to help her freshen up before the evening meal, sometimes even going so far as to rebraid Elizabeth's hair and pin it back up.

That was what was happening as Elizabeth casually brought the subject up. "I saw Mr. George Wickham with his father this morning."

"Oh, yes, I heard he was here," said Harmony. "I was not aware you knew him, ma'am."

"Yes, I made his acquaintance in Hertfordshire," said Elizabeth.

"Truly? How interesting."

"He was part of the regiment who was stationed there," said Elizabeth. "I know where the regiment is currently stationed, and so it's odd to me that he's here."

"Yes, likely he just ran off from whatever he was doing, I suppose," said Harmony. "He's not one for sticking with things, you know. He changed what he was studying at university at least seven times, or so I hear. Once, when he was home for the winter holidays, he was down in the kitchens, and I didn't work here yet, because I was too young, but I was here, because my older sister was a scullery maid before she got married. I was tagging along with her that day. Mrs. Reynolds let me so long as I didn't get into anything. Anyway, I was listening in, even though I wasn't really part of the conversation, and he said that it was how he was going to stay in school forever, because every time he changed what he was studying, he had to start over from the beginning and it tacked more and more years on. Everyone laughed, and so did he."

"He was taking advantage of the charity he was being given?" said Elizabeth, who had to admit that this didn't settle well with what she had thought about him. Perhaps Mr. Wickham was only made of trickery. Perhaps all he did was lie.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harmony. "But it didn't seem to work, I don't think. He left after the normal amount of years and was certified to be a lawyer, I understand."

"But how? If he didn't complete the studies?"

"I don't know," said Harmony.

"Could the late Mr. Darcy have interfered?" said Elizabeth. "Fixed it for him?"

"I don't know about that," said Harmony.

"Did he do such things for any other servants?" said Elizabeth. "Why Mr. Wickham?"

"I think because of how much he valued the steward, the elder Mr. Wickham," said Harmony.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "So, you don't know why the younger Mr. Wickham is back now?"

"I don't, ma'am," said Harmony. "Should I find out?"

"Oh, no," said Elizabeth, shaking her head. "No, no, don't worry about that."

And then the conversation ended, and Elizabeth went down to the dining room to dine by herself with a book, and she went to sleep early and got up in the morning to take the dogs out into the gardens.

Then, there he was, meeting her in the paths that cut into the gardens, kneeling down to pet the dogs, who all seemed to like him. It was easy to like him, wasn't it?

"I hear you're asking all about me," he said, on his knees, scratching Regina under her chin, looking up at her, grinning easily. "Curious, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Mr. Wickham, how good to see you again," she said. "Did you come from my sister in Brighton?"

"Oh, yes, I did," he said, getting to his feet. "She is in good health. Having the time of her life there, I think, with Mrs. Forster. They giggle rather all the time and drink far too much wine. And look at you, somehow married to Mr. Darcy. I never would have guessed that."

What are you doing here? she wanted to say. Why did you lie to me? What is the truth about you and Mr. Darcy? Why didn't you wish to be the parson here? Instead, she only inclined her head. "Well, so good to see you, sir. I hope you have a pleasant morning." And then she made to walk around him.

He stepped into her path. "Wait. You're not simply going to run away, are you?"

"It's not running away to continue the walk I have been planning to go on, is it? I walk in these gardens daily, in fact."

He surveyed her. "Well, you two talked about me. Odd, that. I wouldn't have thought he cared." He stepped out of her path, gesturing for her to walk. "Go ahead. I'm sure his side of it makes me sound like some kind of devil."

"You have some other side of it?" She looked him over.

He cringed. "I don't know. Maybe not."

She walked past him.

He caught up with her, clearing his throat. "All right, here it is, you didn't like him. Deny that."

She glanced at him. "I suppose I didn't, but you lied about him."

"I…" He was chagrined. "All right, I left things out of the story I told you."

"That he'd given you a reciprocal financial amount of money in lieu of the living you were promised, for instance?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

He nodded. "Like that, indeed, definitely." He shrugged at her, looking helpless.

"Why?"

"I don't know." He made a face. "Everyone likes him. No one ever doesn't like him. It was such a novelty. I wanted to convince you that you were right not to like him, I suppose."

"Why?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Well, I suppose it made me look better, too. Not telling you how I then gambled away all that money and ruined myself and turned myself into a laughingstock. I wanted you to think well of me. I was rather dazzled by you, I have to say."

She stopped short, lips parting.

"Sorry, am I not meant to say that?" He spread his hands. "You knew. We both felt it. Obviously, this has happened, which…" He laughed. "If I wished to make you not like him, I failed, didn't I? You married him, for the sake of all that's holy. And it doesn't matter how I felt about you, then. You're his now. Stop looking so offended, truly, Mrs. Darcy. I am no threat to you, and I never have been."

She started walking again.

"You're angry with me for some reason," he said, catching up to her.

"For some reason," she repeated, shaking her head.

"Not denying you're angry, I see." He was amused.

"You lied to me."

"No," he said.

She glared at him.

"All right, sort of, maybe, in a way…" He turned away, groaning. "Yes, all right, lied. Yes. I did. I apologize."

"Do you lie often?" she said.

"No," he said with a chuckle.

"You'd say that regardless," she said. "If you were a liar, you'd hardly admit it. Liars aren't known for being truthful, after all."

He laughed. "I always enjoyed how clever you were, I must say. And you look positively stunning, you know. Pemberley agrees with you."

She shook her head at him. "I don't think you should… be here."

"Am I bothering you? Tell me how to alter my behavior, and I'll be happy to oblige."

"No, it's not that. It's just the principle of the thing, I suppose. My husband would not like this, and I know it."

"Oh, of course not. That's just like him. He's married you. You're his wife. And I, of course, am not allowed to walk near his things."

"I'm not a thing."

"You're his property, and I should keep my grubby hands to myself."

"You most certainly should not touch me."

"It was a figure of speech!"

"Was it?" She gave him a pointed look.

"Do you dislike me now? We had a lot of fun together, didn't we? Before? We can have fun now."

"Why are you here?" she said, finally, since the point in time for politeness had long passed. "Did you desert the regiment?"

"Of course not," he said. "Do I seem like a deserter to you?"

She clucked her tongue.

He laughed. "Oh, well, I see, then. You have got quite an impression of me. He probably told you about the thing in Ramsgate, then."

"No," she said. "He did not. What?"

"It all got misinterpreted," he said. "Really, Miss Darcy was only mistaken. I would never… of course he thought…"

She stopped walking again, folding her arms over her chest. She simply eyed him, blinking, waiting.

He sighed. "All right, I am a servant here, and yet I am above the other servants in certain ways. It's a strange sort of position to be in, you see? And the only person who really understood it to any degree was Mrs. Younge, who was Miss Darcy's governess. We became quite close. She was a widow, and she and I… look, the point is, I ended up showing up on one of their holidays—Mrs. Younge and Georgiana were together at Ramsgate. Miss Darcy saw things she shouldn't have seen, and she said, ‘Are you and Mrs. Younge going to get married?' and I said, jokingly, ‘No, no, Georgiana, I'm whisking you off to Scotland in the morning.' And so, she sent some letter off to Fitzwilliam, and he wouldn't listen to reason—to his mind, you see, if I elope with his baby sister, it's some way for me to get funds, and since I'm so terrible with money anyway—"

"Wait, what?" She shook her head, thoroughly confused. "What are you even saying?"

"He thinks I was trying to sneak her off and secretly marry her. Now, I ask you, Mrs. Darcy, if you were planning to secret someone off to Scotland off all places, would the place you take her to first be Ramsgate? I can't think of a part of the country much further from Gretna Green, truly. So, it entirely makes sense, doesn't it? Definitely a plan I made, of course. I seduced Mrs. Younge and she was in on it—because Darcy sacked her, you know, right after this, blaming Mrs. Younge for it also. Because as we all know, after you seduce a woman, she's very keen on helping you abduct a fifteen-year-old girl." Mr. Wickham grew bitingly more sarcastic as he went on.

Elizabeth's jaw worked.

Mr. Wickham sighed. "Never mind. You're right, I shouldn't talk to you. You're on his side. He hates me. Thinks me capable of nearly anything. And you're in love with him now, obviously. This is the world we live in." He threw up his hands, turned on his heel and walked off down the garden path.

Elizabeth gazed after him, reeling.

What was he even talking about?