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The more she considered it, the more she knew that she might have done nothing to prevent it. Never once did she consider that someone as young and naïve as Lydia could have attracted the officer’s notice. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment as this, Lydia certainly had sufficient charms. Though Elizabeth did not suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her from becoming an easy prey.

Before leaving for Bosley, Elizabeth had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that Lydia had any partiality for Mr. Wickham, but she was convinced that Lydia wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody.

Sometimes one officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been fluctuating, but never without an object. Now the mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards such a girl by her parents had rendered them all unsuitable as wives of any decent gentleman. How acutely she had felt it as she had watched Mr. Darcy take his leave.

CHAPTER 15

STRONGER THAN VIRTUE

Over a week later, surrounded by filth, Darcy stood outside the door and pounded. His nemesis could be heard barking orders before the door slowly crept opened. “Well, well, what do we have here? The Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire. What on earth brings you to this part of Town?” He huffed. “No doubt it will take years for you to rid yourself of the stench.”

Pursuing his former friend had taken far longer than he would have wished: tiresome questioning of some of the town’s vilest creatures and even bribery, but he had finally done it. Now I find myself in the hallway of this filthy rat hole.

George Wickham’s hair was tussled, and his shirt hung loosely from his trousers. Heaven knows what Darcy had interrupted. Wickham stepped aside. “Well, do not just stand there. Come in and have a seat.” Directing Darcy to a cluttered wooden chair, Wickham swept his coat and other belongings to the floor. Waving his hand, he said, “Welcome to my humble abode—such that it is. I would offer you a drink,” he waved the half-empty decanter, “but I am rather low in spirits.”

Darcy clutched his hat tightly. “This is not a social call.”

“I do not suppose it is—especially in view of the way we parted in Ramsgate.” He took a swig from the bottle, and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “How is your lovely sister?”

“You reprobate! How dare you mention my sister?”

From the moment he had heard of the terrible fate visited upon Elizabeth’s family, this sorry state of affairs had caused Darcy to think about a circumstance that he wished to forget: his entire sordid history with Wickham and what it nearly had cost him.

Wickham was the son of a very respectable man, the elder Mr. Darcy’s steward. Owing to the elder Mr. Wickham’s good conduct in the discharge of his duties, the late Mr. Darcy liberally bestowed his kindness on George Wickham, who was his godson. He supported him at school and afterwards at Cambridge. He was not only fond of the young man, whose manner was always engaging, but he also had the highest opinion of him. Hoping the church would be his profession, the late Mr. Darcy intended to provide for him in that. Darcy, himself, thought of Wickham in a very different manner. The vicious propensities—the want of principle—which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his benefactor, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments.

The elder Mr. Darcy’s attachment to Mr. Wickham was so steady that in his will he particularly recommended to his son to promote Wickham’s advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow. If Wickham took orders, the late Mr. Darcy desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. Within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote and informed Darcy that he much preferred cash in lieu of the living. He had some intention of studying law, and the interest of one thousand pounds was insufficient to support his desired way of life.

Wishing more than believing him to be sincere, Darcy readily acceded to Wickham’s proposal. Knowing that Wickham ought not to be a clergyman, the business was therefore soon settled, and Wickham resigned all claim to assistance in the church were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it. He accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between the two seemed now dissolved, for Darcy thought too ill of Wickham to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in Town.

When the living became available, Wickham returned to see Darcy. He had found the law a most unprofitable study. He was subsequently resolved on being ordained if Darcy would present him to the living in question, just as the elder Mr. Darcy had intended. When Darcy refused to comply with this petition, Wickham’s resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances. He violently reproached Darcy and vowed his revenge.

Wickham smirked. “How did you find me?”

“I uncovered every rock I could until I finally sought your partner in the attempted ruin of my sister.”

Darcy did not need to be more specific, for Wickham could have suffered no doubt over whom Darcy was speaking. After their altercation at Pemberley, every appearance of acquaintance between the two men was dropped until last summer when he painfully obtruded on Darcy’s notice with Darcy’s young sister, Georgiana, in his sights. About a year prior, she had been taken from school and an establishment formed for her in London. Last summer she went with the lady, a Mrs. Younge, who presided over it, to Ramsgate. Thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design, for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character Darcy had been most unhappily deceived.

By her connivance and aid, Wickham was able to recommend himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child. He persuaded her to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse. Darcy joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to him. Wickham’s chief object was unquestionably young Miss Darcy’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds. Darcy always supposed that Wickham’s hope of retaliation was a strong inducement as well.

Had Darcy not thwarted Wickham’s scheme, the latter’s revenge would have been complete indeed.

“Come now, Darcy. You and I were the best of friends at one time.”

A young woman poked her head out the door of the adjacent room. “I shall be out to receive our guest as soon as can be.”

“Stay where you are, Lydia.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You little fool,” he mumbled. Aiming his ire straight back at Darcy, Wickham said, “My business does not concern you.”

Darcy shook his head. “That is where you are mistaken. My purpose in being here has everything to do with Miss Bennet.”

Still gripping his bottle in his hand, Wickham crossed one arm over the other. “Here you are again, riding in on your white horse to rescue another damsel in distress. It is a shame that you arrived in Ramsgate when you did. I might well have been your brother by now, and we surely would not be standing around in this wretched place.”

Lydia poked her head into the room again. “Whatever do you mean in saying you might have been his brother? Who is this tall, proud man? Whoever you are, sir, am I correct in hearing that your sister had designs on my Wickham? La! Is she prettier than I am?” She huffed. “Of course she could not possibly be, for my Wickham says that I am the loveliest woman in all of England.” She looked at him with her eyes full of lust. “Is that not what you whisper to me every time we—” Gasping, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Heavens, I ought not to have said a word about any of that.”

The look both men bestowed spoke louder than words and prompted Lydia to draw her head back in her room.

“I fail to comprehend what interest you might possibly hold in the likes of her? How are you even aware of whom she is?”

“I am under no obligation to divulge any of that information to you. Suffice it to say the young woman’s family is devastated.”