Page 40 of Out of His Wits (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
Sniffling, Bet described how Wickham had first won her favour—flattery, small tokens, and tales that he was only claiming what was long denied him. That this fellow had stolen his due, and “it were high time someone brought him down. I didn’t see it for what it was, miss—not ‘til it were too late.”
Elizabeth’s voice was steady. “And Tibby?”
Bet looked stricken. “He said—he said to let it be thought Tibby gathered them. That it would draw attention from me. I never thought what would happen to her. Only wanted to please him.”
Elizabeth nodded to Mrs. Nicholls, who led the still-weeping Bet towards the door, speaking quietly to her about arrangements that would need to be made.
They reached the threshold just as Darcy returned.
He paused a moment, then addressed Mrs. Nicholls with quiet gravity.
“Mrs. Nicholls, if I may,” he said quietly.
“I have had occasion to address the consequences of Wickham’s behaviour before.
Should Bet require assistance beyond what her family can provide, I would be grateful if you would inform me.
I would be pleased to offer my assistance. ”
The housekeeper regarded him with an expression of relief. “That is most generous of you, sir. I fear the poor girl will indeed require help beyond what we can secure.”
“You need only send word.”
Mr. Darcy turned to her, his expression grave. “Is it as bad as I feared?”
Elizabeth looked away, struggling to compose herself. “It is in every way terrible. Poor Tibby. She may pay the price for a crime she did not even understand.”
“Not if I can prevent it,” Darcy said, his voice low. “Harding is unequal to this business—I mean to go above him and perhaps to Colonel Forster. The matter touches both civil and military concerns, and he may be persuaded to act where the magistrate will not.”
They were interrupted by a servant announcing that Mr. Darcy’s carriage had returned and awaited his pleasure. As she prepared to depart, Darcy hesitated, then turned to Elizabeth and spoke hesitantly.
“Miss Elizabeth, there are additional particulars about Wickham’s character that I believe you should know. However, they are of such a personal nature that I hesitate to burden you with them.”
“If they bear upon this matter, Mr. Darcy, I should be grateful to know them.”
“They do, indirectly. The matter is of a private nature.” He glanced towards the window where Sarah could be seen waiting by the carriage.
Elizabeth considered for a moment. Then she moved towards the French doors that led to the garden. “The day is close, but perhaps a brief turn about the garden would not be amiss? The air might help clear our thoughts after such distressing revelations.”
Darcy’s expression showed both gratitude and concern. “Will you be well, Miss Elizabeth? The heat is no trifling matter.”
“I assure you, sir, I shall not melt away in the sun.”
They stepped out into the garden, where the July sun was indeed intense enough to make Elizabeth lift a hand to shield her eyes.
The formal gardens of Netherfield, so pleasant in the full flush of summer, shimmered under the heat, their hedges crisp at the edges and blooms beginning to droop.
Still, they offered the privacy such a conversation required. .
“I hardly know how to begin,” Darcy said, pausing in the heavy stillness.. “What I am about to tell you concerns my sister, Georgiana, and it is information I have shared with none but my cousin, the colonel, her guardian with me.”
Elizabeth’s heart quickened that he would trust her with such confidence.
“You may depend upon my discretion,” she said softly.
Darcy glanced at her, a slight twist in his lips. “I am well aware, Miss Elizabeth, that I may rely upon your discretion.” A slight blush rose on her cheeks, as he reminded her of the precarious history they shared.
“Last summer, Georgiana was staying in Ramsgate for the benefit of sea air, accompanied by a woman I had hired as her companion—who came with excellent references but proved to be unreliable.” His voice grew tight with controlled emotion.
“Wickham somehow obtained an introduction to my sister and began paying her marked attention.”
The sun bore down, doing nothing to ease the sudden turn in her thoughts.
“Georgiana was then but fifteen, Miss Elizabeth. She had led a very sheltered life and was entirely unprepared for the attentions of a practised fortune hunter. Wickham convinced her that he was desperately in love with her, that only the cruelty of her elder brother stood between them and happiness.”
“He turned her against you?”
“He attempted it. He filled her head with tales of my pride and severity—claimed I had denied him his rightful inheritance out of jealousy and spite. Georgiana, being young and tender-hearted, and knowing so little of the world, was, unfortunately, easily persuaded.”
They had come upon a small arbour, its leave offering some respite from the sun. Darcy halted there and turned..
He paused for a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, uneven.
“He convinced her to elope. Everything had been arranged. I arrived in Ramsgate unexpectedly—I had intended merely to surprise her with a brief visit.” His voice carried the weight of old anguish.
“I arrived to find her packing her belongings and preparing to leave with him that very evening.”
“Dear Heaven,” Elizabeth breathed. “How fortunate that you arrived when you did.”
A silence fell. His jaw worked as if the words resisted him.
“Indeed. The scene that followed was devastating for all concerned. Georgiana was heartbroken when she learned the truth about Wickham’s motivations—that his interest was entirely in her fortune of thirty thousand pounds.”
Indignation surged on behalf of his sister. “How could anyone treat a child so cruelly?”
“Wickham has no conscience where his own advantage is concerned,” Darcy said, his voice tight with restraint.
“He saw a vulnerable young woman with a substantial fortune and decided to claim both. The fact that she was barely more than a child, that she trusted him completely, meant nothing to him. I fear he prefers girls too young to know what he is about.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened. The slight tremor in his voice betrayed more than anger. It was guilt, though none could rightly attach to him.
“And your sister?” she asked. “How has she borne the shock of such a betrayal?”
Darcy hesitated. He turned his gaze away, and when he answered, it was with a quietness that carried more weight than any raised voice.
“She has recovered, in part. Georgiana is strong in her way, but the experience has left its mark. She is … wary now. Of society. Of herself.” His lips pressed together.
“She blames her own folly, her credulity. I have done what I can to assure her the fault was never hers, but—” He broke off, the words seeming to fail him.
Elizabeth’s heart ached at the effort required of him to speak so candidly. He stood so straight, so contained, and yet she sensed in him the fierce protectiveness of a brother who had nearly lost someone dear.
They stood in silence for a moment. A light breeze rustled through the branches overhead. Elizabeth imagined the scene Darcy had described—a fifteen-year-old girl, sheltered and innocent, falling prey to Wickham’s practised charm. She thought of her own young sisters.
“I tell you this, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, his voice quiet but resolute, “that you may better comprehend the nature of the man in question. His conduct has ever followed a pattern—seeking out the innocent and the unguarded and moulding their trust to his own advantage. Whether it be a young lady of fortune or a modest servant with a tender heart, he sees only an opportunity.”
He paused, his gaze fixed upon the ground. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and Elizabeth perceived in his countenance how greatly he fought to keep his voice calm.
“What he sought with my sister, he has now attempted with Bet. The particulars differ, but the design is much the same. He beguiles, manipulates, and discards—heedless of those who suffer the consequences of his schemes. His use of Bet to poison innocent people represents an expansion in his methods that I find particularly disturbing.”
A shiver passed through her, despite the close and still air of the day. “We must ensure he faces justice for all his crimes, Mr. Darcy. Both for Bet’s sake and for that of anyone else who might fall victim to his schemes.”
“Agreed. However, I warn you, Wickham is skilled at evading the consequences of his actions. We must be very careful in how we proceed.”
Darcy turned, the movement purposeful, shielding her from the sun—or perhaps from the weight of his disclosures.
As Elizabeth watched him, a hush seemed to fall within her—not from exertion, but from a strange ache of understanding. The severity she had once attributed to pride now seemed rather the burden of long-held sorrow, and heavy responsibilities borne alone, in silence.
When she found her voice, it came more gently than she expected. “It was no easy task, Mr. Darcy, to speak of these matters.”
He faced her but did not meet her eyes. “No. Yet it was necessary. I have lived with the knowledge of my failure to protect Georgiana for months now. To be able to share that burden, even partially, is—”
He trailed off, seeming to realise he had revealed more than he intended. Elizabeth’s heart warmed towards him in a way that surprised her with its intensity.
“You did not fail her, Mr. Darcy. You saved her from a fate far worse. She is fortunate to have a brother who cares so deeply for her welfare.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her then with a tender look that made her hold her breath for a moment.
Then they walked back to the drive. He helped her into the carriage, grasping her hand warmly and arranged the curtain to spare her the worst of the glare.
When he tapped the roof to signal readiness, Elizabeth felt the loss of his company acutely.
The carriage rolled down the smooth road from Netherfield, the pleasure grounds flanking it now thick with greenery, their borders overgrown and riotous with the untidy fullness of high summer.
Along the garden path, Elizabeth caught sight of a familiar portly figure trudging slowly forward, leaning heavily on a footman’s arm.