Page 195 of A Question of Character

The syllable rang through him with sickening force.

Georgiana in Ramsgate.

“Who?”

“W-w—”

Wycombe.

Not Wickham.

Wycombe.

Darcy’s hands went numb around the reins.

Wickham saw the change. “What?”

“My sister began the name,” Darcy said, each word difficult. “She said the first sound. I supplied yours.”

Wickham went still in the saddle. “Dear God.”

“She nodded.”

“Or could not deny you.”

Darcy could not bear the mercy of that phrasing.

“No. She let me believe it. She was ashamed and frightened, and I was so certain that I gave her no room to say otherwise.”

Wickham swore, then muttered an apology no lady was present to require.

“Wycombe,” Darcy repeated.

“If it is the same man, he would know enough of me to use the resemblance. He knew I had old connections to the Darcy family. He knew I had been meant for the church and had taken money instead. He knew I was no favorite of yours.”

“How would he know Georgiana?”

“I do not know.” Wickham’s face darkened. “Unless someone introduced them.”

“Mrs. Younge.”

The name came like a verdict.

“Her companion?” Wickham asked.

“Yes. Dismissed without a character after Ramsgate.”

“Could she be with him now?”

Darcy’s throat closed. “Possibly.”

Wickham leaned forward in the saddle. “Then we must assume they have assistance. A frightened young lady may hesitate. A companion can manage servants, lodgings, letters.”

“I trusted that woman with my sister.”

“You trusted what she showed you.”

Darcy gave him a bitter look. “That is a generous distinction.”