countenance a dalliance between him and one of Pemberley’s servants.
Wickham chuckled again. “You frightened the poor girl half to death. We were only talking. I am wed to your wife’s sister now, after all.”
“I hardly need reminding of that unfortunate fact.”
“Come, now. You cannot grudge me the connection you yourself went to such trouble to bring off.”
Darcy reviled George Wickham. The scoundrel tarnished everything he touched, and had any other method existed by which he could have saved Elizabeth’s foolish sister from utter ruin, he would have seized upon it. When he had found Wickham and Lydia unwed and cohabitating in London, he knew that by enforcing the promises of marriage through which Wickham had persuaded Lydia to run away, he was not securing permanent happiness for the bride. He had acted to rescue Lydia from social disgrace and from the danger that would have followed when Wickham eventually tired of her and moved on to his next conquest. Once fallen, she would have spent the rest of her life as the chattel of one rapacious man after another.
He had intervened not for Lydia’s sake, but for Elizabeth’s. At the time, Darcy had possessed no connection to Lydia; he and Elizabeth had not been engaged, nor anywhere close to an understanding. But he had wanted to spare Elizabeth the pain of having a sister so debased, and to salvage her own respectability from the ignominy into which it must necessarily have descended as a result of Lydia’s degradation. One fallen sister would have precluded all the rest from ever marrying well, if at all.
“Sometimes one must tolerate a parasite so as not to kill its host.”
At this, Wickham laughed openly. “Is that what I am? My dear Fitz, I regard myself more as your errant brother.”
“You are far too familiar.”
“Am I? We did grow up together.” He gestured toward the window. “How many hours did we spend angling in that river? Coursing for hares? Shooting? Hawking?” A flash of resentment crossed his countenance. “But I was just a convenient companion, was I not? Someone for Master Darcy to play with when no boys of superior birth offered better company.”
“You have not come here to reminisce — with you, an ulterior motive always exists. What is it?”
“Indeed, brother, your cynicism wounds me. I merely brought my wife to visit her sister.”
“Even were that true, it does not explain your own presence in a house where you know you have no entree.” Nor how the rogue had gained admission in the first place. “Do not military duties summon you back to your regiment? I know that I, for one, rest easier at night in the knowledge that Mr. George Wickham defends England from invasion.”
“Duty indeed calls. I am afraid I must depart on Saturday.”
“You will depart
“But the day grows short.”
“Lambton is but five miles. Stay the night there or continue on; I do not care.”
“We have not ordered a carriage.”
“My driver will convey you to the inn.” The good of the Wickhams’ immediately quitting Pemberley would more than mitigate the evil of suffering them to use Darcy’s private coach.
“You are the soul of generosity.” Wickham bowed cockily. “Until we meet again, then — wherever that might be.”
Darcy vowed it would not be at Pemberley.
Within a quarter hour, Darcy watched with satisfaction as his coach carried the Wickhams through the gates and from the grounds of the estate. As he stood at the window, Georgiana came to him.
“I want to apologize, brother, for your finding them here.”
He turned and embraced her. “It is I who must apologize for failing to protect you from exposure to Mr. Wickham. What you must have suffered! How did he even come to gain entrance? Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Reynolds —”
“It is my own fault. Mrs. Wickham called first, anxious to see Elizabeth. It was most awkward, but I felt I could not turn away Elizabeth’s sister. I told her I expected you in a se’nnight and said she might stay. Before I realized what had happened, she had somehow construed my invitation to include Mr. Wickham, who happened to still be waiting in their hired carriage. When I saw him, I could not muster enough courage to ask him to leave.”
Darcy doubted Lydia’s interpretation had been a mistake at all. “My dear sister, I am sorry I was not here.”
“I tried to send word to you at Northanger Abbey, as you had written that you would stay there for a week after leaving Bath, but the letter came back.”
“Our plans altered unexpectedly. I had no opportunity to advise you of the change.”
“I should say so. I certainly did not anticipate you would return with our aunt.”
Until last night, neither had he. “Is Lady Catherine happily settled in her chamber?”
“As happy as she ever is. I heard more than enough, however, of her opinions regarding Mrs. Wickham. How long does our aunt intend to stay?”
Not wanting to alarm his younger sister, he, Elizabeth, and Lady Catherine had decided to keep the details of events in Gloucestershire from her — and everybody else in the family.
“Her plans are undetermined at present. Perhaps as long as spring.” He hoped the business of the diamonds would find resolution far sooner, but he thought it best to prepare Georgiana for the possibility of a protracted visit.
“That long? Has she come to help Elizabeth prepare for her confinement?”
No, to help them both avoid a different one — in prison. Georgiana’s innocent assumption reminded him of how closely the return of the assize judge to Gloucestershire would coincide with Elizabeth’s lying-in. She could not possibly leave Pemberley at that time to appear for trial. And how could he? They must settle this matter expediently. He grew even more anxious for Mr. Harper to appear without delay.
“Has our aunt finally accepted Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked hopefully.
“Not yet. But living in the same house, they no doubt will soon become bosom friends.”
“Pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked.”
“You served too many dishes with each course at dinner last night,” Lady Catherine declared. “Do you dine so elaborately every day?”
Elizabeth looked up from her letter but silently counted to ten before replying. She was grown quite used to counting. Ten usually proved sufficient, but sometimes her ladyship’s remarks required fifteen. Once she had reached one hundred ninety, but she had been counting by decades for variety.
“We do not; our family dinners are generally simpler. But as I have not yet learned all your ladyship’s preferences, I thought you might appreciate more selection.”
“Do not trouble yourself on my account. I am easily accommodated.”
To this statement, Elizabeth thought it best not to reply at all.
In the three days since their return to Pemberley, Lady Catherine had thoroughly dissected Elizabeth’s household management. Convinced that Elizabeth’s inexperience as mistress of a great house equaled incompetence and inelegance, she had embarked on a mission to save the venerable Darcy estate and family from the ravages of resourcefulness and ingenuity. No matter was too small to pass beneath Lady Catherine’s notice; Elizabeth wondered not whether her ladyship would demand to inspect the dairy and stillroom, but when.
She dipped her pen and went back to writing Jane. After breakfast, she had retreated to her morning room in hopes of gaining a brief respite from her houseguest, but Lady Catherine had followed her and made herself quite comfortable on the sofa. Her ladyship now performed a thorough visual assessment of the chamber.
