Page 78 of Knowing Mr. Darcy

They walked off into the darkness. It was dark at that point. He had left in the darkness with Jane Bennet, and now it was dark again.

Mr. Darcy had his hands in his pockets. He had never seemed hurt when they spoke after the incident with Georgiana. Darcy had seemed cold and disgusted. He’d washed his hands of him and told him,Because of the love I bore you when we were boys, I shall go easy on you.

He supposed, in the end, there had been little consequences, but the punishment had been the way Darcy had shuttered himself that way, cutting offeverythingbetween them.

“You just like them young, then,” was the first thing that Darcy said, his voice deadened and resigned.

“What?” said Wickham.

“It’s some perversion in you, liking barely grown girls,” said Mr. Darcy.

“Perversion? Men marry women that age all the time.”

Darcy snorted.

Wickham cringed. “In truth, Lydia was just the first of the Bennet girls I came across after I left London this morning.”

“What were you doing in London?”

“Attempting… I don’t know,” said Wickham. It didn’t even make sense, that was the thing. Why not marry Jane? Why try to simply bed her? How had he thought that was going to end up?

“You don’t know why you were in London?”

“I was there with Jane Bennet.”

“What?” Darcy rounded on him, his expression horrified and bewildered.

“I just… I decided I needed one of them and it didn’t matter which one.”

“What were you doing with Jane Bennet?”

“I…” He shifted on his feet. “Much the same thing as I am doing with this one, I suppose. I don’t know if, when we stopped in London, if I meant that I wasnevergoing to take her to Gretna Green, but I started second-guessing it, and she took that badly and ran off. I swear, I’ve firmed it all up now, and I shall see it through with this one.”

“Oh, Christ,” said Darcy. “You can’t marry both of them. What do we do about this?”

“Well, Jane doesn’t want to marry me—”

“She ran off, in London? What? On her own? What were you thinking, letting her do that? You have already shredded her reputation, you imbecile. You utterly shortsighted, cowardly blackguard!”

“Don’t hold back,” muttered Wickham.

And then there was nothing but the darkness and Darcy swearing incoherently under his breath.

“Fitzwilliam?” said Wickham eventually.

“What?”

“Do you remember the way your father could be?”

“What are you on about?”

“Those lectures he would give us both about how regard was never given, always earned, and how anyone could be cast out if they made a poor choice.”

“It’s surprisingyouremember that.”

“Did you ever wonder if he loved you?”

“What sort of question is that?”