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“It was not just a friendship. I have been connected with his family since my infancy. We were once nearly as brothers,” Mr. Wickham said. “I see your look of astonishment, but it is true, and it pains me deeply to be at odds with him.”

“I hope that the breach may be mended now that you are in the same county,” she said sincerely.

“If only it might. You are kind to express such a wish, Miss Elizabeth, but Mr. Darcy has yet to allow me a moment of his time, despite my many entreaties.”

Elizabeth surveyed the man before her with concern, wondering what might have passed between the two men to cause such animosity. For a moment, she hesitated, her sense of propriety warring with a curiosity that proved too strong to resist. She ventured to ask for an explanation.

“I ought to remain silent, to leave the past to itself. Yet, I can see in you a curiosity that must be satisfied, and I know if I do remain silent that the narrative Mr. Darcy offers shall be the only one.” Mr. Wickham’s voice was low and his tone grave as he considered his reply. “The current Mr. Darcy’s father was my godfather, and he had great affection for me. Yes, the late Mr. Darcy was the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been... most unfortunate. But I verily believe I could forgive him any personal slight, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.”

“Is it so terrible as that? Mr. Darcy, while perhaps a little severe at times, seems honourable. Is there not some misunderstanding?”

“I am afraid not,” he answered, but could not go on, for they became conscious of a new tension in the room.

The tables nearby had likewise fallen silent, the players’ eyes fixed upon their cards with an unnatural intensity. Though their voices were not raised, the men’s tones held a sharp edge that cut through the parlour’s gentle hum. Mrs. Ellington’s cane tapped once, a sharp report against the floorboards, as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing at the disturbance.

Mr. Collins, with his usual lack of tact, had just expressed to Sir William, in a tone of great self-importance, his intention to “make amends to the family by seeking a nearer connection with the family, an act of justice considering the entailed nature of Longbourn.” In the next breath, he explained that he “hoped, perhaps, soon to wed, for if he were to take ownership of Longbourn, the estate would need a mistress. Lady Catherine, his esteemed patroness, considered that all clergymen must wed, to set a fine example for those in their flock.”

“You make plans, sir, despite Mr. Bennet’s fine health?” asked Mr. Lucas.

“Of course. I do not wish to be caught unprepared. Do not fret, sir. Your consideration for your neighbours does you credit. I will take on the burden of making provision for the Misses Bennet.”

“Sir, you mistake the matter entirely if you consider the Misses Bennet to be a burden,” Mr. Lucas answered, his jaw clenching slightly.

“I merely speak of their circumstances, sir,” Mr. Collins replied, taken aback by the other man’s tone. “The eldest three, certainly, have accomplishments to recommend them, though their portions may be less than one might wish.”

“Then you insult only the youngest two?” Mr. Lucas’s tone was dangerously quiet.

Mr. Collins began to stammer, unable to form a coherent reply under the younger man’s steady, furious gaze. Sir William shifted, his expression one of alarm, yet his son’s gaze remained fixed and unwavering.

Mr. Collins, unused to being held in such a direct and challenging gaze, was the first to look away.

Mr. Wickham rose and, with a few quiet words, placed himself between the gentlemen. Mrs. Ellington watched, wary. “I believe Mr. Collins only meant that custom dictates the elder sisters are settled before considering the younger, and that is his present concern.”

Mr. Lucas, still bristling, nodded curtly and stepped back, allowing Mr. Collins to respond.

“Indeed, Mr. Wickham has stated the matter correctly,” Mr. Collins said, regaining some composure. “It is the customary way, and I meant no disrespect to the younger Miss Bennets, whose charms and accomplishments are, no doubt, commendable in their own right.”

Mr. Lucas did not believe this explanation in the least, if Elizabeth was any judge of his manners; she felt a flash of surprised admiration for his spirited defence. Yet, he only gave Mr. Collins a stern look in reply, and a strained silence fell over their corner of the room. Elizabeth glanced about, seeing the other guests whispering behind their hands. She caught Mrs. Ellington’s eye, and the elder woman gave a subtle, weary nod towards the card table. Grateful for the refuge, Elizabeth accepted the silent invitation, though she knew the evening’s chief topic of conversation had just been set.

“A game of whist, I think, to steady our nerves,” Mrs. Ellington said, her voice dry and steady as she sat down at the table where Mr. Long and Mr. Field already sat.

Mr. Field, a reasonable man and the Meryton vicar, replied in a voice of concern, “An excellent suggestion, Mrs. Ellington. The air in the room has grown rather peculiar of late.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Long agreed, looking to where Mr. Collins was now engaged in conversation with Colonel Forster. Colonel Forster, who had initiated the conversation to separate Mr. Lucas and Mr. Collins, seemed to find little interest in it himself.

The gentlemen, wisely, said nothing further, and focused on the cards. Elizabeth welcomed the distraction, though whispers from the incident still rippled through the room. She could only be thankful that the Netherfield party had sent their regrets for the evening.

That thought led her to reflect upon a particular member of the Netherfield party and what had been said of him by Mr. Wickham. She regretted their interruption, wishing Mr. Wickham had been able to explain what had truly passed between the two men. To have been raised nearly as brothers, only to meet with such evident revulsion—what could have passed between them to inspire such a breach? Surely it must have been something beyond forgiveness. Yet, she found it difficult to imagine Mr. Darcy acting so dishonourably. And yet, the earnestness of Mr. Wickham’s manner, combined with the composure of his account, left Elizabeth unable to dismiss the possibility that he spoke some measure of truth. The particulars were wanting, but he had conveyed a pain so unfeigned that she could not believe it entirely an invention.

“Miss Elizabeth, it is your trick,” said Mr. Field, his kind voice interrupting Elizabeth’s thoughts. He gestured to the cards laid out on the table, which contained the queen she had laid down mere moments ago. The clergyman’s kind eyes seemed to measure her as she collected her cards; she supposed he attributed her distraction to the late unpleasantness with Mr. Collins.

Mr. Long, sitting opposite the vicar, gave a dry chuckle as he gathered the defeated cards. “I must say, Miss Elizabeth, it is a trifle demoralising to be beaten by a lady whose thoughts are so far away from her hand. If this is how you play when you are distracted, Mr. Field and I have little hope of victory this evening.”

“Indeed,” agreed Mr. Field. “I should lose every fish I have, unless we double the vigour of our play.”

Elizabeth began the next trick, attempting to focus more on the game, but a hand empty of face cards ensured her defeat. “I ought to go back to my thoughts,” she said, smiling at the gentlemen.

“Pray do not, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Long. “For your countenance was most uneasy. For your own comfort, I would advise you not to dwell on disagreeable matters: your neighbours are capable judges of character, and the truth will out.”