Wickham shrugged. “Of course.” He turned to Georgiana. “How have you been, my dear?”

  Georgiana had clearly recovered from her infatuation with Wickham in the intervening time since he tried to sneak her away to elope. She appeared barely civil. “I am well, Mr. Wickham.” Pointedly, she did not ask about his state. Instead, she turned her attention to Lydia.

  Lizzy appreciated the attention others paid to her sister over the rest of dinner. Lydia looked pale and had barely touched her food. She seemed dreadfully unhappy, and Lizzy felt awful for her. Lydia’s foolishness had brought this on herself, but that didn’t mean she was undeserving of sympathy.

  Lizzy could understand how her sister had fallen for Wickham’s veneer of charm without seeing the brigand beneath it. She had nearly done so herself and had believed his wicked lies about Fitzwilliam for too long.

  Wickham left the table before dessert, clearing disliking the way he was ignored. Lady Catherine followed him shortly thereafter, as soon as it was polite to do so. Once they were gone, the atmosphere greatly improved as the ladies went the salon for tea while Fitzwilliam and Douglas Bennet retired to his study for a drink.

  Lizzy arranged deliberately to sit beside her sister, putting a gentle hand on Lydia’s. “How are you, sister?” She kept her voice low, trying to invite confidence.

  Lydia didn’t meet her gaze as she pulled away her hand. “I am quite all right, Eliza.” She sounded cold.

  Lizzy frowned. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  “Of course not, but I should find my husband.” With those words, Lydia stood up and adjusted her shawl.

  Lizzy gasped as she did so. The disruption of her movement bared a section of her shoulder to reveal a bruise there. She got to her feet without thought. “Did he do that to you?”

  Lydia looked over Lizzy’s shoulder, not at her. “Do not be daft, sister. I bumped into something.”

  Lizzy wanted to press the issue, but Lydia had swept away before she could. She turned to her mother and sisters before her gaze touched on Georgiana. “Pray, dear Georgiana, was Mr. Wickham ever violent with you?”

  Georgiana’s mouth dropped open. “Of course not…” She trailed off, looking uncertain. “Perhaps…”

  “Yes?” prodded Lizzy after a moment.

  “In the days leading up to Fitzwilliam catching us trying to elope, I was nervous and had second thoughts. The very day Fitzwilliam put a stop to it, I had told Wickham I thought it best to approach my brother to ask for my hand as was proper. He became angry and unsettled. I was afraid, but he turned and walked away. When he returned a short time later, he was as charming as ever and quickly persuaded me eloping was the only way.”

  “Why did you not say something to your brother sooner?” asked Fanny.

  “I had forgotten about it until now, Mrs. Bennet.” She pleated the skirt of her dress in a worried fashion. “Do you believe he is violent, Lizzy?”

  Lizzy hesitated. “I know not, but the bruise makes me suspicious.” She sighed and returned to her seat. “We can do nothing unless she takes us into her confidence, but I suggest we all watch his behavior while we have a chance. Surely, they will return to their London house after Christmas rather than going on to Longbourn for a longer visit.”

  “Men can be so temperamental.” Her mother sounded pragmatic. “I shall endeavor to advise Lydia to handle him more delicately.”

  She frowned at her mother. “You cannot think to blame Lydia for Wickham abusing her, if he is?”

  Fanny shrugged. “Some women speak out of turn or bring troubles upon themselves.”

  Lizzy barely held her tongue, wanting to point out that her mother’s silliness and argumentative nature, not to mention her nerves, would surely have made a lesser man than her father abusive.

  “I find it distasteful to assume she can change his behavior, Mother,” said Mary. “I recently read a treatise on the brains of men. They are hardwired for aggression and demand obedience. It is the nature of a man to be violent, and that is hardly Lydia’s fault.”

  “Then what you say supports my supposition, Mary.” Mrs. Bennet waved a hand. “If it is his nature, she must endeavor not to provoke his baser side.”

  “That is ridiculous. Anything might set him off, and how is she to know?” Lizzy turned to glare at Mary. “And I do not believe the treatise you read. Men have those tendencies, but they are not at the mercy of them. Many decent men control such urges seemingly without difficulty. I submit Papa as proof. Or Mr. Bingley. Or my own dear husband. Fitzwilliam is not a violent man, and Wickham does not have to be. He chooses to be.”

  “If he is being violent with her,” said Kitty. “Unless we find proof, or she admits to it, we are powerless to help her.”

  Lizzy opened her mouth to refute that but could find no rebuttal. It was a sad truth that her sister spoke. There were few grounds that would allow Lydia to escape the marriage even if she asked for help. She sighed, deflating as she rested her head against the sofa she had shared with Lydia.

  Before anyone could speak or make suggestions, the sound of a carriage and horses reached them in the drawing room. Lizzy got to her feet. “That must surely be Jane.”

  The women moved from the salon to stand near the front door as the butler opened it to welcome the Bingleys. It was raining hard, and her sister was soaked by the time they had entered. She rushed to her, as did her other sisters and their mother. “Jane, what has kept you?”

  “The carriage lost a wheel,” said Charles in answer. He was in a state of dishabille. “I had to assist the driver.” A chill made his frame quiver.

  “Oh, you poor dears.” Fanny tutted at them as Lizzy turned to the staff to direct them to see to the Bingleys at once.

  “We shall catch up later,” said Jane before following the butler and Charles up the stairs. Her visible baby bump was a startlingly sight, since Lizzy had not seen her since her wedding to Fitzwilliam months before. How had she allowed so much time to pass since seeing her sister?

  The evening drew to a natural conclusion a short time later when Papa and Fitzwilliam returned from Fitzwilliam’s study. Lizzy bade her family good evening and followed her husband up to their suite. She accepted his help removing the evening dress before turning to embrace him as she stood in her corset, chemise, and petticoat. “I have made an alarming discovery, Fitzwilliam.”

  He frowned down at her. “What vexes you?”

  Lizzy nibbled on her lower lip before taking a deep breath. “I fear George Wickham is a bigger scoundrel than we feared.”

  His dark brows drew together. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “There was a bruise on Lydia’s shoulder. She denies it was his doing, but…”

  Fitzwilliam stiffened and seemed on the edge of storming from their bedchamber. “That shall not stand, Lizzy.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew I could count on you, but we must get her to admit it first, or gather enough independent evidence to be certain of his guilt.”

  He paced. “Bloody hell, it is unwelcomed to be so ineffective in the situation.”

  Lizzy nodded. “I concur. We must endeavor to get Lydia to open up to us. In the meantime, perhaps you can observe Wickham?”

  “Or put some fear into him, just to be safe.” His voice gentled. “We shall look after your sister, Lizzy. It is my duty as your husband, but it is my pleasure as the man who loves you and is sickened by such actions in a so-called gentleman. He is a base swine.”

  She nodded her agreement as she slipped into a nightdress while Fitzwilliam began to disrobe. “We knew that already,” she said with a small laugh.

  “Yes, we did.” He looked grim for a moment, likely recalling how close Georgiana had come to Lydia’s fate. “It shall not stand,” he said again in a resolved voice.

  Lizzy felt immensely better. She had faith in her husband and knew they could find a solution working together.

  Chapter Three

  There was a lush tree awaiting decorating the next afternoon when they returned to the main house after a stroll through the snow-filled grounds. Lizzy had done her best to observe Lydia, but Wickham hadn’t come along, so it was difficult to discern anything besides her general state of unhappiness.

  It was a group affair as they set about decorating the tree with fragile ornaments Fitzwilliam’s mother had procured in France years before. They added candles and ribbons before declaring it finished hours after they had begun.

  The staff was as efficient as ever and had mulled wine waiting for them. It was the perfect end to the occasion, and Lizzy felt relaxed as she sat beside Jane, who had been much more spectator than participant during decorating. Lizzy eyed her belly with fascination as it moved. “Is that the baby?”

  “Mmhmm. He is active today.” Jane rubbed the spot where Lizzy had seen movement.

  “It could be a girl,” said Lizzy in a whisper.

  Jane grinned. “Of course, it could. As a good wife, it’s my duty to hope for a son to carry on the Bingley line.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “As a future mother, I do hope the baby is a girl. Having four younger sisters has prepared me. What do I know of boys?”

  “You will sort it out regardless.” She squeezed Jane’s hand and gasped when the baby kicked her forearm. “Does it hurt?”

  “Upon occasion, but it is worth it.” Jane looked at Lizzy’s flat stomach pointedly. “What of you and Mr. Darcy? Will there be little Darcys soon?”

  Lizzy shrugged. “I cannot say when, but not too soon.” She briefly considered mentioning the fascinating device Fitzwilliam often wore when they were intimate as a barrier to conception. They did not always remember the condom, but Fitzwilliam wanted time with Lizzy before they had an heir, despite the expectations upon them. Lizzy was content to wait a time as well, to become fully acquainted with her husband before they transitioned to parents. “It will happen when it happens.”

  “Of course.” Jane sighed. “I confess I cannot wait for this to end. I am eager to meet my child, and I am exhausted from being pregnant.”

  “Really,” hissed their mother in their direction. “Your indiscreet conversation is audible several feet away. The men might hear if you do not find decorum.”

  Lizzy managed a smile. “Of course, Mother.” It was easier to agree than argue sometimes, but she doubted either Charles or Fitzwilliam would be all that shocked at the conversation. They surely knew from where babies came, but perhaps the topic was too shocking, especially with single women in the room.

  Dinner was another tense affair filled with Catherine’s disapproval and Wickham’s leering gaze on all the women at the table, save Lady Catherine and Fanny Bennet. Lizzy could sense Fitzwilliam’s growing restlessness, and Charles seemed to have acquired it as well. He tensed each time Wickham’s gaze moved in Jane’s direction.

  Afterward, before Wickham could escape, the men maneuvered him into joining them in the study. Lizzy and the ladies moved to the salon as they had the night before. This time, Catherine condescended to join them, much to Lizzy’s lack of joy.

  “What is this blend of tea?” Catherine sniffed and set aside the cup after a single sip. “Do you not have staff that can obtain a proper blend of Indian tea, Miss Bennet?”

  “Mrs. Darcy,” corrected Lizzy as politely as she could. “The staff orders the same varieties they always have. Mrs. Renk in the kitchens mentioned this was a particular favorite of yours. She is good at remembering details.”

  Catherine appeared to squirm for a moment before sniffing again. She didn’t reply.

  “That Mr. Wickham is most disagreeable,” announced Georgiana. Then she shot a look at Lydia and flinched. “I do apologize, Mrs. Wickham.”

  Lydia barely stirred and didn’t reply. She seemed lost in thought.

  “He does enjoy a good bit of staring, does he not?” Jane shuddered before opening her fan and starting to swish it near her face. She looked flushed.

  “Are you well, Jane?” asked Lizzy.

  Jane patted her stomach in response. “It is not unusual for me to feel overheated of late.”

  Recalling her mother’s squeamishness about such talk, Lizzy nodded her understanding and did her best to keep up with more benign discourse as the hour passed.

  When Wickham appeared in the doorway of the salon, he was scowling and looked pale. “Come, Lydia. It is bedtime.”

  Lydia hurried to comply, scurrying about as though she were a dog. With the way he’d spoken to her, he appeared to regard her as a pet, not an equal.

  Lizzy gritted her teeth and tried to hold her composure as her sister left. Catherine followed a few moments later, and Georgiana looked shaken. “Are you all right?”

  Georgiana nodded. “I suppose I just realized how lucky I was that my brother saved me.”

  “Saved you from what?” asked Fitzwilliam as he entered the salon with Douglas Bennet and Charles Bingley following behind.

  “A fate that befell Lizzy’s sister.” Georgiana looked down, clearly embarrassed.

  “Ah, yes. I am most grateful that you escaped that, but I fear poor Lydia has a miserable existence.” Fitzwilliam looked around as though considering whether to be blunt. “Perhaps we should retire? Tomorrow is a full day, with a party in the evening.”

  No one argued, and Lizzy kept her silence until they were in their bedchamber. “What happened with Wickham?”

  “He is a miserable beast, but he refused to admit anything. He parried our subtle threats with threats of his own to make Lydia suffer for every comment, so we had to drop the subject.” Fitzwilliam ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the black strands. “We are at an impasse until Lydia asks for help.”

  “I feared as much, and I fear she is too stubborn to do so. Lydia dislikes being called silly or flighty, and she likely fears she will never hear the end of her rash decision if she admits she made a mistake.” Lizzy shook her head. “I do not know what to do.”

  “Do as we have been and be there if she is ready to talk, love.” Fitzwilliam kissed her gently, which quickly turned to passion.

  When they were spent later, he held her close. “We mustn’t give up. We just have to find a different approach.”

  “I suppose you are right, dear husband.”

  “I usually am, Lizzy.”

  She giggled at his prideful boast, which made his lips twitch. “Of course you are, Mr. Darcy,” she said with too-sweet sincerity before laughing again. “You were certainly right to choose me as your wife.”

  Chapter Four

  Lizzy was coordinating with the staff to ensure everything was in order when she came across a distressing sight in the library. She heard a whimper from the hallway and opened the door to see Georgiana pressed against a shelf, clearly trying to keep herself aloof from Wickham. The man appeared more octopus than human as he tried to grab hold of Lizzy’s young sister-in-law.

  “What are you doing, Wickham?” she asked shrilly as she swept into the library. “Step back at once. You have already tried to ruin dear Georgiana once. You shan’t have the chance again.”

  Wickham gave her a nasty leer. “I was merely being sociable, Mrs. Darcy. After all, Georgiana and I go way back. I was her first…love.” He said that suggestively and winked at Georgiana.

  Georgiana’s face curled with disgust. “I never loved you, Wickham. You fooled me because I was young and naïve. Had I realized, I never…” She broke off, glancing at Lizzy. “Leave now, Wickham.”

  “Yes, leave,” said Lizzy, crossing her arms over her chest. “I suggest departing from Pemberley posthaste.”

  He paused near her, wearing a vicious expression. “If I leave, my wife will come with me. Surely you do not wish to cut short the visit just yet?”

  Her eyes narrowed. How she longed to send Wickham on his way, but she refused to let him take Lydia any sooner than planned. Her silence was her answer, and he shot her a mocking smile as he ambled past and out of the room.

  Lizzy closed the door to the library behind him and approached Georgiana, who was clearly distraught. “Are you unharmed?”

  She nodded. “He tried to kiss me but did not succeed. Unlike last time.” The young woman burst into tears. “I did such a horrible thing, Lizzy.”

  She embraced her sister by marriage and drew her over to a loveseat. They sat together, and she kept her arm around Georgiana’s shoulders. “I do not see how you could do anything horrible of your own volition. You are too sweet.”

  “I am ruined.” She almost wailed the confession. “I could not tell Fitzwilliam, but Wickham persuaded me to anticipate our wedding night. When I marry, my husband will know I have been sullied.”

  Lizzy blinked. Her first instinct was shock and outrage directed toward Wickham, but she tried to hide her reactions. She didn’t want Georgiana to regret confiding in her. “First and foremost, there was no child, so there is no proof.”

  Georgiana blinked, clearly surprised by that. “But physically…”

  Lizzy hesitated. “It is a delicate subject, but I the pain I anticipated was not that bad, though there was resistance. I do not believe it would be a difficult thing to feign when the time comes, especially since you have experienced it before.”

  “Is there not further proof required? Blood?” Georgiana was bright red.

  Lizzy paused. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Two of the grooms were discussing their brother’s recent marriage and his rage that his wife did not bleed. I was eavesdropping whilst pretending to prepare for my ride.” She blushed at the admission. “I was curious.”

  “Curiosity is normal. I am not well-versed in expectations, but there were only a couple of drops left on the sheet after my wedding night.” She titled her head, thinking quickly. “I do believe you could keep a hat pin nearby and poke your thigh after he is asleep to produce a few drops of blood.”

  Georgiana looked hopeful. “You believe I can hide my ruination? I did bleed after…with Wickham…but only sparsely.”

 

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