He had teased her then, saying, "This is a very grave, philosophic comment from you, Emma."
On this occasion, however, with his deeper understanding of her situation, he sympathised with her apprehension and hastened to reassure her. "You will see me at my mother's house very often, Emma. I am hoping to transfer a lot of my routine legal work to my cousin, Hugh, who has recently joined the firm. That will leave me with more time for my Parliamentary work, and I shall certainly not be neglecting my family. Indeed, the way I see it, when Parliament is sitting, I may spend more time at the house, not less--Mayfair is a lot closer to Westminster."
Seeing the relief on her face, he continued, "Emma, you need never worry that I will not be there to help you. If David continues to harass you and you are unable to reach me, you must go to my mother and seek her protection. You are entitled, as her daughter-in-law, to do that. You cannot let him keep you like some latter day prisoner in the castle."
Emma laughed. They had all read the much talked of novel by one Currer Bell in which a young woman, Jane Eyre, discovers the dark secrets of Mr Rochester's life, locked away in a room at the top of the house. "I cannot believe that even David will attempt to lock me up, and fortunately, there are no Gothic castles in Mayfair," she said lightly, and he was happy to hear the laughter in her voice. Soon she was serious again as she thanked him for the opportunity he had afforded her to speak frankly of her situation. "It was very kind of you. I cannot tell you how good it feels to have spoken."
The arrival of Mrs Wilson, ready and eager to be gone, ended their conversation, and James assisted first his mother and then Emma into the carriage.
While there was little he could do that would materially change her circumstances, the very act of speaking openly with him and having his concern and sympathy had given her a good deal of comfort.
Elizabeth and Jenny were drawing up the lists that always preceded such occasions when Julian came in to announce that Jonathan had arrived. Elizabeth went out to greet her nephew and, thinking he was there to see her husband, informed him that Darcy was away on business in Liverpool with Mr Gardiner and was not expected back until that evening.
Jonathan expressed some regret at missing Mr Darcy, but he said, "I am really only here as a messenger, Aunt Lizzie. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline wondered if you and Mr Darcy would dine with them tomorrow. "
"Tomorrow? This is rather sudden, Jonathan." Elizabeth was puzzled and asked if he knew of any special reason for this invitation. "Are we celebrating anything?" she asked.
Jonathan looked a little uncomfortable. "I would not call it a celebration, but, yes, there is something particular happening. It concerns David Wilson, Emma's husband."
Surprise turned to astonishment at this news. "David Wilson? Is he invited too?"
"Oh no, he is not," said Jonathan quickly, looking more confused and awkward as he tried to fend off her inquiries.
Elizabeth, realising there was more to this visit than met the eye, decided it was time to ask some serious questions. "Jonathan, I think we need to have some tea," she said, and having rung the bell for a servant and ordered tea, she took Jonathan into the morning room.
Sitting him down, Elizabeth faced her nephew and said firmly, "Now Jonathan, tell me, what is this all about?"
After some initial reluctance, he told her of information he had recently received from a very reliable source. It concerned David Wilson and his activities.
"Do you mean his political activities?" asked Elizabeth.
"Yes, and also his ... I suppose you might call them his social activities," said Jonathan, more ill at ease than ever.
"And what were these activities?" asked Elizabeth.
Jonathan shook his head, "Oh Aunt Lizzie, I don't know how much I should tell you. You see, I have not said a word to Mama and Papa. I have spoken with Colonel Fitzwilliam because of his contacts in Westminster and Whitehall. I really did not know what else to do. It was Caroline's idea that we meet and discuss it with you and Mr Darcy before my parents are told."
Elizabeth was completely bewildered, "Jonathan, what is it you have heard about David Wilson that you cannot reveal to your mother and father? What has he done?"
Jonathan was silent for several minutes, during which time a servant brought in the tea, and Elizabeth rose and went over to the window, looking out on the west lawn.
There was some weak sunlight but very little warmth out there, and Elizabeth shivered involuntarily. Jonathan rose and followed her. "Aunt Lizzie, you must give me your word that nothing I say will reach my mother or Emma--at least not until we have decided on some plan," he said, and it seemed to her there was a new serious tone to his voice.
Elizabeth agreed, and they returned to their tea.
Jonathan related as briefly and precisely as possible a tale of deceit and betrayal that left Elizabeth incredulous. When she had urged her nephew to speak openly, she had certainly no expectation of hearing the kind of information that Jonathan was to place before her. First, regarding his brother-in-law's political activities, it seemed he had defected to the Conservatives and was now actively working against the Reformist cause. "When he did not contribute to the debates on Factory Inspections and the Ten-Hour Day, we had our suspicions. He had been remiss about certain votes in the House and was often seen fraternising with some of the old Tories," Jonathan explained.
"Is that unusual for him?" Elizabeth asked.
"No, no it is not, which is why I for one did not take the rumours seriously."
"What rumours?"
"The rumours that he was going over to the Tories," he replied.
"And has he?" asked Elizabeth.
Jonathan nodded, "Yes, he has. He deliberately absented himself from the vital vote for the Ten-Hour Day and has declared that he will not support the Public Health Act."
Elizabeth was amazed but wondered at the level of Jonathan's outrage.
"Surely the government does not need his vote?"
"That, my dear aunt, is not the point at issue," he explained patiently. "Wilson has been nurtured and given his chance to enter Parliament by the Reform Group and the Whigs. To betray them now and remain in the Parliament is odious and totally dishonourable."
Elizabeth agreed. "Yes, but why must this information be kept from Bingley and Jane? I have no doubt your father would be outraged, but David Wilson would not be the first member to change sides and he certainly will not be the last," she said.
"There is more, Aunt Lizzie and I do not believe you will be as sanguine about the rest of it," said Jonathan, putting down his cup and rising as the servant returned to stoke up the fire.
It was clear to Elizabeth that Jonathan was seeking some privacy, and, waiting until the footman had left with the tea tray, she closed the door.
Her nephew had by now begun to look a good deal more serious. "The rest concerns David's private activities," he said and still seemed to speak reluctantly, when a carriage was heard coming up the drive.
Elizabeth went to the window and he followed her. The carriage belonged to the Gardiners, but the occupant was not one of them.
"Good God, it's Amelia-Jane," he exclaimed. "I thought she was with Aunt Gardiner," he said as they went out into the hall.
Amelia-Jane had alighted and was quickly ushered indoors. Seeing her husband with Elizabeth, she was clearly pleased. "Jonathan, I am so glad you are here. I've come directly from Matlock, where Becky Tate has told me all about David Wilson's disgraceful behaviour, and I was determined that Aunt Lizzie should know..."
She was hushed and almost dragged into the morning room by her husband, "Amelia, dearest, you must not talk about it so openly."
"Why ever not?" she asked, "I believe everyone in London knows about it except poor Emma."
Elizabeth had by now realised that something much worse than she had anticipated was about to be revealed, and she experienced a cold, unpleasant feeling totally unrelated to the wintry weather.
This time it was Amelia who related the story, in far more colourful terms than her husband would have used accompanied by a high degree of indignation.
Since his defection to the Tories, David Wilson had been the subject of investigation by two journalists employed by Anthony Tate's newspapers. Ordered to discover the motivation or at least the reason for his defection, they had spent a good deal of time in London and their inquiries had turned up some quite startling information. Amelia-Jane did not mince her words when she gave her aunt the news. "Aunt Lizzie, David Wilson has not only betrayed his colleagues in Parliament; he has consistently deceived his family and betrayed his wife," she went on.
As she related the information that she had gained from Rebecca Tate, who now managed the newspaper empire that her husband was building, Amelia-Jane added her own comments.
"I have never liked David Wilson; earlier in our acquaintance he did try to insinuate himself into the good graces of my family, and I would have none of it," she declared, having explained that the information uncovered by the Tate's investigators was sufficient to destroy the man's political career and his marriage. "He is not only a turncoat and an adulterer, but he has got himself so deep in debt through gambling and high living that he seems beholden to a group of villains who could ruin him if he does not do as they demand. He is corrupt and disreputable, Aunt Lizzie. Clearly, neither his mother nor Emma would be aware of his conduct or they would not tolerate him."
"I am astonished that his brother, James, who we met here a few weeks ago, has not discovered this," said Elizabeth, but Jonathan intervened to suggest that it was quite likely James, whose integrity and honour were unquestioned, may have been spared the knowledge because most of his colleagues were reluctant to embarrass him with gossip about his dissolute younger brother.
"I know of no one who has a bad word to say of James Wilson, and I would venture to suggest that most members would have deliberately avoided the subject of David's profligacy rather than cause him pain and embarrassment," he said.
Amelia agreed with her husband. "Becky tells me that the two men who investigated David's activities heard not a single accusation against his brother or any other member of the family. His father and uncle were highly respected, and it seems Mr James Wilson is not only well regarded at Westminster; he has, since taking over management of his father's affairs, acquired a reputation as a fair and decent businessman. I cannot believe that he will tolerate the type of impropriety and wild behaviour that David has indulged in, should he be told of it."
Elizabeth realised that they had now reached the very nub of the problem. "Is he to be told?" she asked. "Is this what the dinner at Fitzwilliams' is about?"
Jonathan and Amelia admitted that they needed Mr Darcy's advice. "Fitzwilliam will not move without consulting Mr Darcy--especially because of the particular closeness and affection that exists between him and my father," said Jonathan, adding, "I cannot imagine how they will take this news. Papa will be most upset--it was through his long association with the Wilson family that Emma came to know David Wilson. I know he will blame himself."
Elizabeth was outraged. "That would be utterly unfair," she protested. "Your father could never have imagined that David Wilson, the son of respectable parents, the brother of an honourable man, could turn out this way."
But Jonathan knew how hard his father would take the news of David Wilson's despicable behaviour--especially the effect it would have on Emma and her two daughters.
The dinner at Fitzwilliam's house was to provide an opportunity for them to discuss the situation and plan some action with the benefit of Mr Darcy's wise counsel. Darcy, more than any other member of the family, had become their source of reasoned and sensible advice. They looked to him whenever they were unsure of their own judgement.
Elizabeth agreed to acquaint him with the information they had given her and promised that, unless some more pressing problem emerged to demand their attention, they would meet at the Fitzwilliams' the following evening.
After they had gone, Elizabeth sat alone, unable to leave her chair for quite a while, so acutely painful were her reactions to the news she had received. She was grateful to Jane for having at least given her some hint of Emma's unhappiness, but nothing her sister had said could have prepared her for the appalling tale of betrayal that she had just heard. Jenny came in search of her mistress and was surprised to find her sitting before a dying fire. When she offered to bring her more tea and stoke up the fire, Elizabeth thanked her but preferred to retire upstairs.
Her depression worsened as she thought not only of Emma's situation, now made considerably worse by the new revelations, but of her sister and brother-in-law. Jane's tender heart would surely be devastated, and Bingley--whose devotion to his wife was matched only by his love of his daughters--how, she wondered, would he cope with Emma's sorrow as well as the public disgrace that must surely follow?
The fact that the investigation had been carried out by two journalists only served to increase the threat of exposure and added to her unease. Almost sick with worry, Elizabeth asked for a pot of tea to be brought up and stayed in her room, where Darcy, returning earlier than expected, found her in a state of some anxiety.
Aware that something was amiss, he was at her side instantly. "Elizabeth, what is it? Jenny says Jonathan and Amelia were here this morning. What did they want? Is someone ill?" He was most concerned to discover the cause of her distress.
Elizabeth would have liked to pour out the whole sorry story, but realising her husband was tired from his journey, she tried to reassure him and said it could wait until after dinner.
Only after Julian had gone to bed and they were alone did she tell him everything--including the early hints she had had from Jane.
Darcy listened like a man who had been turned to stone. Except to ask occasional questions, he let her tell the tale uninterrupted. Only the darkening expression on his face betrayed his feelings of consternation and outrage. Elizabeth was reminded of his reaction on hearing the awful news of Lydia's elopement with Wickham. She recalled his grim countenance as he had heard the wretched story.
For his part, Darcy had never felt really easy about David Wilson and, despite the obvious attractions of the match and the links it provided with an established, professional family, he had tried to warn Bingley when the news of Emma's engagement had taken them all by surprise.
His contacts in London had not given him very encouraging reports of young Wilson, though they had spoken very highly of his father and brother James. Stories of high living and big spending were legion, and no one would vouch for his credit. It had been all too reminiscent of another young man of his acquaintance, one whose handsome face and pleasing manner had helped him win the hearts and confidence of an inordinate number of people, resulting in much heartache and unpleasantness.
He had hoped that Bingley with his long association with the Wilsons would be better placed to counsel Emma against a hasty marriage. But Charles Bingley, it seemed, was not of a mind to cross his dearest daughter, who was very much in love. The marriage had gone ahead, and since he had heard nothing untoward from either his friend or his wife, Darcy had begun to hope that perhaps marriage to the beautiful Emma Bingley might have put an end to Mr Wilson's transgressions.
Elizabeth had expected him to be reluctant to believe the story she related, demanding evidence of the supposed misdemeanours. But in fact, it seemed almost as if he half expected it.
"Darcy, have you known of this?" she asked, wishing to discover the extent of his knowledge.
"No, I had no idea things were this bad, though I confess that before they were married, I did hear tales of gambling and high living, which concerned me sufficiently to warrant a word in Bingley's ear."
"And how did he respond? Was he concerned?" asked Elizabeth.
"Not as much as I had hoped he would be. He was unwilling to upset Emma, who you will recall was deeply in love at the time. It was generally regarded as an excellent match and with my previous experience in these matters, I don't think Bingley took me seriously," he replied, acknowledging his failure to influence his friend.
Elizabeth sighed, "Poor Emma. If only someone had warned her, it might have spared her a good deal of heartache."
Darcy disagreed, "Lizzie, is it likely that Emma, at nineteen, with her head full of dreams, would listen to some gossip about the man she was in love with? Quite obviously, her father did not think so. I offered him the names of my informants, but he would have no truck with them. He was not about to break his daughter's heart with some wild rumour."
"Was that why you did not tell me about your reservations?" she asked. "Did you fear that I would tell Jane, when you knew that Bingley had already dismissed them?"
He admitted that he had not thought it would do any good at all. "Besides, my dear," he explained, "You and I had rather more than we could cope with at the time. We had just returned from Italy with Emily still grieving for Paul; we were struggling to endure our own loss of William. It was no time to burden you with gossip that may or may not have been true."