Page 21 of The Crown’s Gift

"I fear my meeting with Mr Darcy distressed you this morning," he said.

"It surprised me."

"His reaction was plain."

"So was yours."

Wickham looked down at the card in his hand. "I find deceit difficult, Miss Elizabeth, though truth may be imprudent."

Her father's voice rose in memory: Whenever a man tells you that honesty pains him, Lizzy, attend first to what the pain purchases.

Sir Thomas had given that advice after a distant cousin attempted to borrow money while praising his own reluctance.

"Then prudence may serve us both," she said. "We need not discuss Mr Darcy."

Wickham looked at her with new appraisal. "You are loyal to him?"

"I scarcely know him."

"Yet you defend him."

"I defend no one by declining to judge a private history from half its participants."

For the first time, Wickham's smile failed to reach his eyes. It returned almost at once.

"You are right to rebuke me. My circumstances have made me sensitive. The late Mr Darcy intended a valuable church living for me. His son denied it after his death. I was young, perhaps foolish, and without the means to contest a powerful man."

He spoke without melodrama. That made the story more persuasive.

"Was the intention written?" Elizabeth asked.

"It was known throughout the family."

Not an answer.

"And you wished to take orders?"

"At one time. Life altered my understanding of my own character."

"Before or after the living became available?"

Wickham's brows rose. Then he laughed, low and appreciative. "Sir Thomas has educated his daughters to cross-examine the world."

"Only when the world volunteers a case."

He leaned nearer, not enough to violate propriety but enough to create the appearance of confidence. "I accepted compensation in place of the living. It was spent unwisely. Later, when I saw my error and requested the position originally intended, Darcy used my former decision against me. That is the whole of it."

Elizabeth heard injury and self-knowledge in his voice. She also heard a gap wide enough to hold many facts.

"It sounds painful," she said.

"Your sympathy honors me."

"I offered understanding, not judgment."

His gaze sharpened. "There is a difference?"

"A considerable one."