Mr. Darcy's Refuge by Abigail Reynolds Read Free Book Online

entire side of her body was pressed against him. It sent chills down her spine, just as it had when his lips had played along the back of her neck. She tried to pull herself upright and further away from him, but that did not help either.
     
    “You may find it easier if you lean against me. That is what my sister did.”
     
    What did it matter, anyway? Her position could not be any more improper than it already was. She tried following his advice, and it did make her feel more secure, even if the pounding of her heart threatened to drown out the rain. “I am sorry. I am not usually so Miss-ish .” She felt pleased that her voice sounded so even.
     
    “No, you are not,” he agreed. “I am sorry to have put you through all this trouble. I know you thought it unnecessary, and I should have told you then that I was not merely being arbitrary. I have been assisting my aunt’s steward in dealing with some lawless behavior on the part of a few of the men from Hunsford village. I could not have left you there safely.”
     
    “I see.” That was some consolation, especially since their little junket had turned out to be even more compromising than staying alone would have been. She should be grateful that the rain kept everyone indoors so there was no one to see them now. She closed her eyes again, this time appreciating the feeling of security in being held so carefully.
     
    They rode in silence for several minutes, then Darcy said, “Elizabeth, what did Wickham accuse me of doing?”
     
    She tensed, but realized he sounded more tired than annoyed. “He said that your father left him a living in his will, and that you did not honor the bequest.” At the moment, the story did not sound as sensible as it had in Meryton. After all, a will could not be ignored, could it?
     
    His chest moved in a sigh. “That again. I suppose he did not tell you the part where he informed me that he had resolved never to take orders and requested some sort of pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment. Nor, I imagine, did he tell you that I gave him three thousand pounds, in exchange for which he resigned all claim to assistance in the church.”
     
    Elizabeth bit her lip. “He said he asked you for the living and that you refused to give it to him.”
     
    “That is true as well, but it happened some three years later, after he had dissipated away the earlier sum I had given him. He said then that he was absolutely resolved on being ordained if I would present him the living in question, of which he trusted there could be little doubt. As he told you, I refused to comply with his request, for reasons which I hope you understand.”
     
    His explanation threw Elizabeth’s mind into turmoil. It fit with Mr. Wickham’s story in all but the one crucial detail. In truth, she knew nothing of Mr. Wickham’s past but what he had told her himself; she had never heard of him before his entrance into the militia. There was no particular instance of goodness on his part that she could recall, only that he had enjoyed the approbation of the neighborhood based on his countenance, voice and manner. He had not told his story to anyone but her until after Mr. Darcy left the area, when it became generally known. Could she have been so very wrong? The idea made her feel ill.
     
    When she did not reply, Darcy spoke again, this time with seeming reluctance. “Unfortunately, that was not the last of our dealings. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was taken from school last summer and given into the care of a Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were unfortunately quite deceived. She had a prior acquaintance with Wickham, and with her connivance, he was able to recommend himself to Georgiana. She recalled his kindness to her as a child, and was persuaded to believe herself in love with him, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, and unable to imagine that Wickham’s chief object was her fortune of thirty thousand