Page 19 of Courting Elizabeth

His cheerfulness did not diminish my unease.

Two days later, Elizabeth asked me to walk with her. We were accompanied by Kitty and Lydia, but the young ladies soon spotted two officers on the Meryton road and hurried ahead without consulting us.

“Their notion of chaperoning lacks rigor,” Elizabeth observed.

“Should I call them back?”

“You can try. Lydia has developed a remarkable deafness whenever a uniform appears.”

We followed at a distance. The path crossed a small wood where new branches filtered the light to green. Elizabeth walked at a brisk pace. The hem of her dress brushed her boots, and the steady movement of her body drew my gaze more often than it should have.

“Mr Wickham has been avoiding Longbourn since your return,” she said.

I stiffened.

“That's preferable.”

“He claims your presence obliges him to forgo several invitations.”

“So he presents himself as a victim with his usual skill.”

“He told me a story that was hardly flattering to you.”

I stopped.

She took two more steps before turning.

Wickham's name, in her mouth, awakened an anger I knew was mixed with jealousy. I remembered too well their conversation at Meryton, her interest, the studied charm with which he had captured her attention.

“What did he tell you?”

“That your father intended a living for him that you refused to give. That out of resentment, you deprived him of the profession he had been promised.”

“And you believed him.”

“He gave me details. You gave me only contempt.”

I looked at the path ahead of us. Kitty and Lydia were far enough away not to hear us, but we could still see them between the trees.

Speaking of Georgiana was almost impossible for me. Her secret was not mine to share. Yet Elizabeth was going to become her sister. She had to know the man Wickham truly was, and perhaps I had to finally accept that silence, when it protected a guilty party, ceased to be honorable.

“My father offered him the opportunity to enter the church,” I said. “Wickham declared he had no such vocation and asked for a sum in exchange. I paid him three thousand pounds. He spent it. Several years later, he claimed the living that had become vacant. I refused.”

Elizabeth did not respond.

“There is more,” I continued. “But what I am about to confide must never be repeated without my consent. It concerns my sister.”

Her expression changed at once.

“You have my word.”

We resumed our walk, more slowly.

“Last summer, Georgiana was at Ramsgate with a companion. Wickham joined them there. He won my sister’s trust. She had just turned fifteen. She was still impressionable, isolated, and… deeply attached to our father’s memory. Wickham knew exactly how to exploit that attachment.”

I had to stop.

The rage had not diminished with time. It had only grown quieter.