Page 77 of Near Pemberley

Once or twice, he caught glimpses of the girl; she must have been in Hertfordshire before everything collapsed: vain, careless, lively, foolish.

And each time the thought returned, his anger towards Wickham deepened further.

***

Rain beat steadily against the windows, confining the household indoors the next day, while the drawing room glowed quietly beneath candlelight and fire. Georgiana sat near the hearth with her workbasket beside her, though she had spent more time listening than sewing. Lydia occupied the sofa opposite in one of Georgiana’s simpler gowns, still pale from recent distress and uncomfortable whenever silence lingered too long.

Mrs. Annesley attempted conversation now and then with gentle perseverance, but Lydia’s spirits remained uncertain and uneven. At times, she spoke almost like her former self; at others, she fell abruptly into shame or tears.

Darcy, who had entered originally only to enquire after Georgiana’s headache, found himself persuaded by Mrs. Annesley to remain.

Lydia had barely raised her eyes since his arrival.

After a long silence broken only by rain and the turning of pages from a neglected book beside Darcy’s chair, Lydia spoke. “I suppose everybody in Hertfordshire hates me now.”

Mrs. Annesley looked up at once. Georgiana’s work paused.

Darcy closed the book quietly without marking the page.

“No doubt they speak imprudently,” said Mrs. Annesley carefully. “People always do where scandal is concerned.”

Lydia twisted her handkerchief. “They will say I am wicked.”

Darcy regarded her for a moment before answering. “Some will.”

Lydia’s face crumpled at the honesty of the reply.

“But they will not all be right.”

She looked up uncertainly.

Darcy’s expression remained grave but not severe.

“I said it before: You have behaved foolishly,” he continued. “Very foolishly. But foolishness and deliberate corruption are not always the same thing.”

Lydia lowered her eyes again. “I ought to have known better.”

At this, Darcy was silent for several moments. Then he said calmly: “Yes. But Mr. Wickham ought to have known better, too.”

Something in the firmness of the statement caused both girls to look towards him.

Darcy rested one arm against the chair beside him; his gaze lowered briefly towards the fire.

“The advantage between you was never equal,” he said at last. “You were young, flattered, inexperienced, eager to be admired. He understood all that perfectly.”

Lydia blinked rapidly. “I thought he loved me.”

“Yes,” he said. “And he knew you would think so.”

A silence followed.

Georgiana spoke at last. “He always seemed very agreeable.”

Darcy looked towards his sister.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “That has always been one of Mr. Wickham’s greatest advantages.”

A shadow crossed his face.