That Mr. Bennet was watching Lydia as he spoke was no coincidence. Lydia seemed to feel it as she huffed with exasperation, though she did not try to persuade her father otherwise.
“Good,” said Mr. Bennet. “Darcy did not go into specifics, but what he told me is enough to make me wary of the man. He is a gamester, a debtor, and a spendthrift, and he considers nothing more than his own pleasure. Trust me, girls—Mr. Wickham will not think twice about ruining any of you should he have the chance. I require you to stay away from him.”
“Do we have anything other than Mr. Darcy’s word to inform us?”
As a protest, it was weak sauce—Lydia’s tone was sulky rather than skeptical. The response came from an unexpected corner.
“Do you forget his behavior toward your sister?” demanded Mrs. Bennet.
“Your mother is correct, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “Even if we needed further proof to be cautious—which we do not—the incident at Lucas Lodge all but proves Wickham’s worthlessness in my estimation.”
“I wish I could give you some more intelligence of the man,” interjected Mrs. Gardiner. “Mr. Darcy, I remember well, but I can recall nothing of Mr. Wickham. What Icansay is that Mr. Darcy has a reputation for being an upright man.”
“That is the truth,” said Mr. Gardiner, supporting his wife. “I have not had the pleasure of the man’s acquaintance before this morning, but I have enough contacts with the gentry to have heard something of him. Even those who do not call him a friend will give him a good name.”
“That is welcome intelligence,” agreed Mr. Bennet. “But the salient point is my instruction to you both. I am your father; until you are one and twenty, you are my responsibility and under my protection. Wickham is a bounder, and I will not have you ruined by him.”
Mr. Bennet paused and eyed them. “I think it is best to avoid being alone when you are out. I have no notion of what devilry the man is capable of, but I judge it is best to avoid giving him any opportunity. The season will curtail your activities and frequent walks to Meryton; but when youareout, you must stay together. Do I have your agreement?”
The girls nodded, and Mr. Bennet dropped the subject. It was not the cessation of the girls’ interest in the officers, but it was far more than Elizabeth had expected her father to exert himself. Soon after the conversation ended, Mr. Bennet returned to his study in Mr. Gardiner’s company, leaving the ladies to their own devices. Mrs. Gardiner excused herself to check on her children, and Mrs. Bennet returned to her room to rest. With Kitty and Lydia speaking together in hushed tones and Mary moving to the pianoforte, that left Elizabeth in Jane’s sole company.
“With any luck, Mr. Darcy will deal with Mr. Wickham, and the danger will subside.”
Elizabeth eyed her sister and offered a nod, though not in complete agreement. “The danger of Mr. Wickham may subside, but the problem of Kitty and Lydia in the officers’ company remains.”
Jane sighed but did not disagree. “You are correct, though I shall hope for the best.”
“Yes, let us all hope for the best. The regiment will depart for their summer quarters—until then, perhaps we can keep them from any overt harm.
“At present, however, I am more interested in this business of Mr. Bingley.”
“What, in particular?” asked Jane, though her expression was no less than knowing.
“Why, how soon you mean to take him to task for his abandonment. How soon you will require him to grovel for forgiveness.”
The sisters laughed together.
“Oh, Lizzy, I do not mean to make Mr. Bingley suffer for his actions.”
“But youdomean to ask him to account for them.”
The smile ran away from Jane’s face, and she nodded, though after a delay. Elizabeth understood her sister as well as Jane knew herself. Such firmness did not come easily to Jane, though she could summon it when required. With Mr. Bingley and the present circumstances, Elizabeth could not but suppose it was necessary, and she knew Jane would not shirk. Though they had covenanted with each other to marry only for the deepest love, they also understood their situation required a husband to respect them for what they could bring to a marriage. As they had none of the traditional virtues of fortune and standing, this understanding was not optional. Choosing awry might lead to alife of misery with a man who regretted his choice in the heat of passion.
“I shall ask for Mr. Bingley’s accounting, Lizzy,” said Jane. “It is still early, but I sense that Mr. Bingley has learned from this experience and will not trust his sister until she proves herself. Whether that translates to controlling her as he ought, I cannot say, but I am hopeful.”
“Then that is well, Jane,” said Elizabeth, squeezing her sister’s hand with affection. “Having witnessed your growing esteem for him, I hope he proves to be everything I believe he can be. If he does, you will be a fortunate woman.”
Chapter VIII
Truth sometimes shines as brightly as the midday sun—unassailable, uncompromising, and clear for anyone who cares to look. Anyone who knew what Darcy had endured the past two days might guess what truth burned the brightest in his breast, but Darcy was certain they would be wrong. Darcy was not considering the truth of Miss Elizabeth’s worthiness as a woman to be prized or his mistaken impression of the Gardiners—his thoughts were far more inward.
The truth was that Darcy’s parents had raised him with good principles, and somewhere along the way, he had forgotten them. Though he considered it at length, Darcy could not determine when he had begun to see the world through the lens of pride and conceit. Darcy could not be certain what his parents would think of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but they would not be pleased with him for looking down on his fellow man.
His friendship with Bingley was, Darcy thought, a circumstance that deserved praise—Darcy had never considered his friend inferior. Bingley was an excellent sort, and anyone who judged him lacking because of his descent was not worthy of being his friend. Yet Darcy had gained the uncomfortable awareness that he had judged the Gardiners without the benefit of an acquaintance.
The most jarring revelation, though, had been Hurst’s observation about Darcy’s wishes for a marriage partner and Miss Elizabeth. It was far beyond anything Darcy could understand about himself, but somehow he had fooled himself into dismissing Miss Elizabeth’s desirability as a wife because of her background and family, and even more baffling, he had expected her to accept him just because of his position in society. After his years in London society, looking for a woman he couldtolerate, avoiding the Miss Bingleys of society, he had expected her to accept him because of what he could offer her. How was such a thing to be understood at all?
That Miss Elizabeth had refused the proposal of the fool Collins was not a mark against her in Darcy’s estimation—quite the contrary. It was clear she had principles she would not set aside, and the courage and strength to withstand anyone who wished her to act otherwise. Darcy was now uncomfortably aware that he might have gone to Kent in the spring to visit his aunt and found Miss Elizabeth married to Mr. Collins. How he would have reacted to it, Darcy could not say, but he could not imagine the sight would have pleased him.
