Rebellion at Longbourn

“Of course,” she replied finally. “There is a path from Market Street that follows along Dedham Stream which is quite pretty.”

“That sounds just the thing. I pray you, direct me where to go.” She paused a fraction of a second before pointing him in the right direction.

***

The first few moments passed in silence as they negotiated the steep and muddy descent to the path. Mr. Darcy was quite unnecessarily solicitous of Elizabeth’s well-being, taking her hand for every rough spot. Ordinarily she would protest; she had made the descent unaided a hundred times. But for a moment she enjoyed the sense that someone wanted to take care of her, however fleeting it might be.

Once they were at the base of the incline, the path was dry and level. The shallow, fast-running stream was framed on both banks by trees and undergrowth that was just now bursting into life. Everywhere, the world was clad in the bright yellowish-green of spring foliage.

“This is thoroughly delightful,” Mr. Darcy remarked, surveying the leafy streambed. “The forests of Canada are quite magnificent, but English woods have their own charms.”

“To be sure,” Elizabeth agreed. “I particularly treasure this walk at this time of year.”

Silence fell as they meandered along the path hugging the streambed. Mr. Darcy had made a point of seeking her company; surely he must have something specific to discuss. But long minutes passed where he only took pleasure in the scenery.

“So, tell me, Mr. Darcy,” she said finally. “What sort of business brings you to Meryton? It must be something particular to bring you to such a remote location so soon after returning from your voyage.”

His body stiffened slightly. She had broken the unwritten rule that a gentleman’s “business” must never be questioned. It was always a private affair that was rarely discussed, and then only at the gentleman’s instigation. Jane would have been horrified at Elizabeth’s ill manners, but her sister was not present to help rein in her more impertinent impulses.

“Indeed. It is something very particular.” Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “And it concerns you.”

Elizabeth could not conceal her shock. “Me?”

“Well, your family,” he corrected. “I wish to—I must—make amends…”

Had Mr. Darcy’s conversation always been so confounding? “I am not aware that you have done us any harm.”

His face was grim. “I have. You are simply unaware of my role. It is not my actions, but my inactions that did the damage.”

Elizabeth frowned at him, unable to imagine what he meant. Did he believe he could have somehow stopped her father from dying or prevented Collins from inheriting Longbourn?

“You are aware that Wickham was a childhood friend of mine?” Mr. Darcy asked.

She nodded, hating the sound of that man’s name, although she was under no illusions that Mr. Darcy remained ignorant of Lydia’s sad story. After Wickham led Lydia to ruin, Elizabeth had reconsidered all her interactions with the man. The process had uncovered many lies, and she assumed that much of what he had told her was untrue. This had deepened her negative opinion of Mr. Darcy, perhaps unfairly. It was only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt now.

The man’s face was so still it might have been etched in stone. “Wickham did my family several bad turns, the worst of which was seducing my sister and persuading her to elope with him.” Elizabeth gasped, but he continued his calm recitation. “Naturally, he did not love her but only pursued her dowry.”

“I did not realize it was a habit with him,” she said darkly.

Mr. Darcy grimaced. “Nor did I.”

Elizabeth was ashamed to realize that she had continued to believe the accusations against Mr. Darcy even after Mr. Wickham had proven himself to be a scoundrel and a liar. With every reason to distrust Mr. Wickham’s words, she had persisted in viewing him as a proud, difficult man who had cheated Mr. Wickham of his inheritance. She had done Mr. Darcy a disservice.

“I knew his untrustworthy nature when I arrived at Meryton,” Mr. Darcy continued. “But I believed it was beneath me to relate such stories. I did not want to gossip.” The expression on his face suggested disgust with his previous behavior. “I could have warned the good people of Meryton and alerted Wickham’s commanding officer. I could have relayed a word of caution to your father. But I did not.”

His expression was so dejected that Elizabeth was compelled to make an attempt to lighten his spirits. “You had no reason to believe he would be a danger to a girl with no fortune to speak of.”

He shook his head, staring at the stream. “If your father had been forewarned—or Colonel Forster…”

“I believe you take too much upon yourself, sir! Lydia made her own choices.”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “She was dealing with a master of deceit and immorality. She had no real chance of escaping his clutches.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “There are many things that might have altered the past. My father blamed himself for allowing Lydia to visit Brighton. I blamed myself for not arguing more forcefully against the trip. Even Jane regrets that she did not express her misgivings about Lydia’s behavior. I have come to the conclusion that in such situations a good memory is a hindrance to happiness.”

This drew a chuckle from him. “Perhaps.” His expression sobered. “But I have reason to believe that he singled out your family because of your association with me.”

Elizabeth stumbled over a rock in the path, and Mr. Darcy caught her arm, preventing her from falling. “Why would he think—? We are barely acquainted!”