The Gentleman & The Rake

A Man of Few Words: Chapter 9

Darcy Learns about Elizabeth's Troubles, and Goes Hunting for Wickham (but Doesn't Actually Kill Him) 

 The next morning, Darcy rode to Lambton, alone, to see Elizabeth. 

He'd spent the night considering all possible pathways to the future. He knew how obsessive he could get, pulling apart every choice, every possibility. He knew it was best not to look too far ahead. But he couldn't shut off his mind. 

Suppose she wanted him to offer again? Suppose she just wanted to repair the breach, to forget what happened at Rosings? Suppose she simply hoped to get her sister and Charles together? Suppose--

He'd slept less than an hour last night. 

Arriving at Lambton, he looped the horse's reins through the inn's hitching post and asked a servant to announce him. He followed close on the servant's heels and had to jerk to a halt when the servant suddenly stopped. The door to the parlor had opened; Elizabeth darted through. 

She was shaking. She saw the servant, then Darcy, and blurted, "I beg your pardon, but I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment. I have not an instant to lose." 

Darcy begged her to send the servant to search for her uncle, and she did, retreating into the parlor and collapsing onto a chair. She was white, breathing unsteadily. Darcy offered wine. She refused. "I've had dreadful news from home," she said and started to cry. 

Darcy stood over her, aghast. He forced himself to sit, clenching his hands on his knees. 

The news rushed out: Elizabeth's youngest sister, Lydia, had eloped with Mr. Wickham while she was visiting friends in Brighton. It was unlikely Wickham would marry her. "I might have prevented it!" Elizabeth cried. "I who knew what he was." 

Darcy flinched, but she was not accusing him. She was reproaching herself. 

"Is it absolutely certain?" Darcy said. 

"Yes!" Wickham and Lydia left Brighton together. They'd been traced to London, and her father had gone there to search for them. Her sister, Jane, had written for Mr. Gardiner's assistance in the search and Mrs. Gardiner's presence at Longbourn: their mother had collapsed. The Gardiners and Elizabeth would hopefully leave immediately for Hertfordshire. "I have not the smallest hope," Elizabeth said, and Darcy's insides twisted at the wretched unhappiness in her face and voice. 

He had never felt so powerless. He hated this feeling. With Georgiana, the danger had been immediate and easily dealt with. But this--this-- 

"My eyes were opened to his real character. But I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!" 

And still she did not reproach him, though her words could have been Darcy's own. He knew Wickham's character better than most, yet he had done nothing, said nothing, and now Elizabeth's sister was paying for Darcy's inaction. 

He realized he was pacing and stopped himself. He was useless here. He could not ameliorate Elizabeth's pain. In any case, this was a family matter; she would much prefer her uncle and aunt to Darcy's company. 

He made his excuses, saw her gather herself to respond courteously. She requested secrecy, and he gave it: she didn't need to ask. He looked at her carefully before he left; she was white and shaky, but she had herself in hand. The Gardiners would be back soon.

Darcy ran down the inn steps, unhitched the horse. 

This is the fruit of reticence. Darcy had let Wickham operate freely amongst reputable folk. What had he thought would happen?