Page 81 of A Quiet Affection

“Shot Mr. Wickham.”

“Jove! The way he acted—he was not quite sane, was he?”

“No, not for a long time. Perhaps he never was.”

“Why did you say that I was the one who shot him?”

The question rather surprised Darcy, as he had thought it would be obvious. “If you shot him, it was a duel. Juries almost never convict gentlemen for killing a man in a duel. If Clarke shot him, it was murder, and he might be hung for it. Never, never, never tell anyone what truly happened.”

“Oh—wouldn’t there be clemency though? Due to the circumstances?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Best not to test the matter.”

The two gentlemen continued up the path. As they exited the woods and now looked out onto Pemberley’s park, with the house sitting at the seat of its valley, the hill rising up behind it, and the stream in front, Bingley said, “I wish…I would like for Mrs. Wickham to know. But…no. One must not be selfish.”

Darcy thought about this. He wished to tell Lizzy. But also, a secret shared by many people was hardly a secret. “I think, so long as we tell very few people…Lizzy could tell her sister. I do not thinkyoushould ever be heard to suggest aloud that you were not the one to shoot Wickham. But the chief point is that should there ever be a prosecution for any reason, we will all swear that you were the one to shoot him.”

“This is unlike you, to insist on a lie, Darcy.” Bingley was quiet for a dozen steps. “It also is very much like you in essentials, to insist on that which will protect those who deserve to be protected.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was an anxious crowd who had assembled in Pemberley’s drawing room with the first light.

Perhaps because Elizabeth could only hear them—and smell them, the sweat had a sharper, different odor to it than usual—she could feel how tense everyone was. Very little was said, though the servants kept them all provided with tea, rolls, and platters of fruits.

Those tables were always placed in precisely the same location, with the food and plates arranged in the same manner, so that Elizabeth could more easily get anything which she wanted.

Bennet ran around the room, woken by the group moving around in front of the nursery, and he had insisted on coming down. Little Anne sat in Elizabeth’s arms, not wanting to be placed down amongst so many people. She had only begun to warm up to the Bingley party over the past day.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat near Elizabeth, occasionally talking to her, but mostly remaining quiet and apart from Bingley’s party. Their chief fear was for what Mr. Wickham might have done, or do in the future to Jane, rather than whether Mr. Bingley would be hurt in the duel.

There were little bits of conversation amongst everyone.

Georgiana played on the piano. Mr. Hurst was telling Miss Bingley that her brother had no choice, while Miss Bingley testily insisted that no one would have thought him a coward for refusing to fight the disgraced steward’s son. “It is all Mrs. Wickham’s fault! She should never have encouraged my brother to pay so much attention to her after she married!”

“That is not fair,” Elizabeth said to Miss Bingley, even though she should not argue with the anxious woman. “My sister never acted in an improper way. You’ve never seen her behave wrongly.”

“She should have honored her husband better by never speaking to any man at all! Not after she married such a man. Then my brother wouldn’t be in danger.”

Elizabeth sat back down, some distance away from Miss Bingley. A servant brought her an egg and some tea, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to eat anything.

She was scared for both her sister and Mr. Bingley.

At a certain point, Bennet let out a scream as he ran across the floor as fast as he could.

Miss Bingley exclaimed to Elizabeth, “Lord! Can you not send those children up? Why must you always engage in this pretense of perfect motherhood by keeping them always about you? For once, will you not pay attention to the comfort of your guests?”

In ordinary circumstances Elizabeth would have been deeply offended by that speech.

However, in ordinary circumstances, Miss Bingley was too well educated and self-controlled to make such a speech.

That her brother could very possibly be dead these ten minutes already was a strong excuse for ill temper, in Elizabeth’s view at least. She had one of the footmen collect Bennet and handed Anne to the nursemaid, and then she sat down to wait.

And wait.

Georgiana went over to Elizabeth and whispered into her ear, “I sometimes hate that woman! How dare she say that to you.”

Elizabeth took her sister-in-law’s hand. “My dear, the circumstance excuses her. But if she should make a habit of saying such things, when matters are more favorable, then you have my liberty to think very ill of her indeed.”