by Jann Rowland
“Someday, Mr. Wickham, your patron will no longer protect you, for he will know you for what you are. But I care not. Do not importune my sisters, sir. I know what you are and will not allow you to attempt your wiles with them.”
“I have no interest in your insipid sisters.”
With that final snarl, Wickham turned and left, giving Thomas a wide berth for the rest of the day, such as it was. Thomas continued to watch him, noting Darcy did so as well. He had made an enemy that day. A truly dangerous man, indeed.
The warning Thomas Bennet had left ringing in his ears stayed with Darcy, whispering to him of where Wickham’s enmity might lead. Once Darcy might have dismissed his concerns as mere paranoia, for Wickham was a soft man, one who was too invested in his vices to summon the will to act with violent intent. What was more, he had always seemed something of a coward to Darcy, given the many instances he had run to Darcy’s father every time there was a disagreement. Now, he was not so sure.
Those fears which had heightened in the days following the shooting party burst into a certainty that Wickham had some devilry planned. And it occurred only two days after Bennet had warned him.
While his father had given his reluctant blessing to Darcy’s pursuit of Miss Elizabeth, he was not happy about it. Nor was he above attempting to change Darcy’s mind. It was not often much more than a little comment here, or an observation there, but it was clear to Darcy he was attempting to sow some uncertainty in the hope his son would reconsider. The effort was wasted, for Darcy knew what he wanted and had no intention of yielding. But the comments wore on him, driving him out of his father’s company on more than one occasion.
One such day, Darcy retreated to the stables, had his horse saddled, and rode out onto the estate. As the thought of his father’s stubbornness flew through his mind, Darcy did not pay attention to where he was going, allowing the horse his head to gallop as he pleased. Thus, he found himself not far from the western border of the estate, where he came across Wickham.
A scowl marred his features as he considered what he might be doing, astride one of his father’s horses so far distant from the house. Having no desire to exchange words with his father’s detested protégé, Darcy decided to leave without the argument which would inevitably erupt should he greet Wickham. Then his eyes followed Wickham’s and saw what he was looking at out on the neighboring estate.
Darcy saw red.
Without a second thought, Darcy wheeled his horse and charged forward. The beast’s hooves thundered against the turf, catching Wickham’s attention. The woman on the other side of the divide was far enough distant that she did not hear, for she did not glance in his direction. Then Darcy pulled his horse to a halt in front of his father’s favorite.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it seem like I am doing?” taunted Wickham. “Merely out for a morning exercise. Your father has given his permission to use his horses.”
“I do not doubt he has,” spat Darcy. “As always, you are more than willing to impose upon his generosity. But I was referring to your spying on the woman I am courting.”
Wickham laughed, a jeering sound. “So what if I was? Did I not already acknowledge she is a lovely woman? What man does not wish to watch a beautiful woman even if it must be from afar?”
“This will be the only warning you ever receive, cur, so I suggest you take it seriously. Do not stalk Miss Elizabeth’s footsteps. If I find you have been following her, even innocently, I will take it from your hide.”
“Charming, as always,” said Wickham. “There is no way you can believe I wish her harm, though I still think she would prefer me. As it is, you may have her. I have no doubt she has been poisoned against me, regardless.”
If Wickham had not spurred his horse into motion, Darcy might have finally planted that facer on his smirking countenance as he had longed to do for many years. As it was, while he thought of going after Wickham, Darcy thought better of it. There were other, more pressing matters to consider at present.
The fence between the two properties was surpassed with one great leap of his mount, allowing Darcy to set off in the direction he had last seen Miss Elizabeth walking. It was toward the manor house, unless he was mistaken, likely a mile or two distant. After a few minutes, he caught sight of her, proving luck was on his side that morning. The smile with which she greeted him was a common occurrence by now though a welcome one.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, leaping from his horse and bowing over her hand in one motion. “How fortunate I am to find you today, as even one day out of your company is difficult to bear.”
The clear, bell-like laughter she released was a balm to Darcy’s troubled soul, and he grinned along with her. “I dare say we, neither of us, will expire from longing should we not meet, sir.”
“Perchance not. But it certainly feels that way.”
“In that case, I shall allow you to escort me to Longbourn.”
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” said Darcy, extending his arm.
As they walked, Darcy found himself entranced by her enchanting voice while they spoke on many subjects. If he was truthful, Darcy would acknowledge that he did not add much to the conversation, though it had long been a pattern between them for her to speak more than he, which was nothing more than a function of their characters. For some time, he allowed her to speak of her doings, having no requirement to feign interest, content to listen to her voice. After some time, however, she made a comment with respect to that morning which drew Darcy’s interest and provided him a reminder of why he had sought her out.
“You are returning from a visit to one of the tenants?”
“Yes. The Campbells tend the land in the northeast of the estate, and Mrs. Campbell has recently given birth to her second daughter. I visited this morning with a basket of treats for her older children and a few items which will enhance their table.”
“That is good of you, Miss Elizabeth. Being engaged in the care of your tenants is a duty for every lady of an estate.”
Miss Elizabeth flashed him a modest, yet pleased smile. “My sisters and I are all engaged in caring for the tenants, Mr. Darcy. Caroline is not yet well known to them all, but she is growing into her position. What I do is no great thing, nothing particularly laudatory at all.”
“In my opinion, Miss Elizabeth, any service undertaken for the betterment of another is something to applaud.”
Again, she was pleased, but Darcy, sensing the moment had come, halted and turned toward her, prompting her to startle. A smile reached his lips, telling her all was well, but it soon faded in favor of the serious matter he wished to discuss with her.
“Do you usually walk when you visit your tenants?”
Miss Elizabeth seemed surprised, but she recovered quickly. “At times I do. As you know, I do love to walk. But I will also ride at times when the fancy strikes me.”
“And you have no escort?”
“I have never needed one.”
The pointed comment informed Darcy she was beginning to wonder at his questioning. Darcy forced himself to come to the point, for he had belatedly realized he sounded as if he did not trust her.
“I apologize for my questions, Miss Elizabeth, but I am concerned. You see, I just came across Wickham watching you from the Netherfield side of the border between your estates.”
“Mr. Wickham?” asked Miss Elizabeth with a frown. “I do not know why he would be interested in my doings.”
“Nor do I,” replied Darcy. “Though I have never known him to be anything other than lazy and entitled, I am concerned. His hatred for me is to an extent that I cannot predict his actions with respect to you.”
Amid widening eyes, Miss Elizabeth gasped: “You believe he means me harm?”
“I cannot say,” said Darcy, grasping her hand in a gesture of comfort. “As I have said, I have never known him to possess violent tendencies, but I have also never seen him so
angry. The hatred he possesses for me has become all consuming, I believe, and I do not know what that will drive him to do. Your duties on the estate are of utmost importance, and I by no means ask you to suspend them. But I would be much more secure if you would take care. The escort of a footman would not go amiss.”
As independent as she was, Darcy was not sure she would agree to the restriction at all. But she proved her good sense by nodding to acknowledge his concerns.
“It has never been my practice to take an escort, but I see the sense in your suggestion. In the future, I will ensure I am escorted when I leave the house.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, raising her hand to his lips. “I believe that is the sensible decision.”
Soon the house rose before them, and Darcy farewelled her, content she would now be safe, though he stayed there until she reached the house, unable to depart without ensuring it himself. When she had disappeared into the manor, Darcy turned his mount and began to make his way back toward Netherfield. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of approaching his father, but Mr. Darcy had proven time and time again that he would not hear anything Darcy said which contradicted his view of Wickham. It would be better to continue to watch the man and take action when required. If Wickham attempted to harm a hair on Miss Elizabeth’s head, he would soon regret it.
“Ah, Wickham. There you are.”
The glower which had adorned Wickham’s countenance since the confrontation with Mr. Darcy’s son was instantly replaced, and he forced down the murderous anger. It was a habit with which Wickham was well acquainted. It would not do to allow a man as prudish as Mr. Darcy to see anything he did not like.
“I had just gone out for a ride, Mr. Darcy,” was Wickham’s smooth reply. “Is there something I can do to help you?”
Wickham did not quite like the look with which Mr. Darcy regarded him. It spoke to knowledge, or possibly understanding, though precisely what it might presage, Wickham could not say.
“Let us step into the library.”
Gritting his teeth, Wickham followed his benefactor, not liking the tone of command. Oh, to be free, to be independent and not beholden on anyone else! But even if he was to achieve his own freedom by way of his machinations, Wickham knew he would still be required to deal with Mr. Darcy. A man could dream, but reality must be acknowledged.
When they had reached the safety of the library, Wickham stood silently, waiting for Mr. Darcy to speak. Again, the feeling of being judged did not sit well with him. There was nothing to be done, however, so he ignored it.
“I have been thinking,” said Mr. Darcy at length. “Though I value your company and support, and especially your warning about Fitzwilliam’s intentions, I am concerned.”
“Of what, sir?’ asked Wickham. “The support I provide, I give eagerly.”
“That much is evident. But I have realized my selfishness in keeping you here. Naturally, you must wish to return to town to continue to pursue your profession, and I have been preventing you from doing that.”
“It is nothing,” attempted Wickham, a sudden panic rising within his breast, but Mr. Darcy was already shaking him off.
“Of course, it is. As always, you put your ties to my family over your own interests, and I do appreciate it. But the longer you stay here, the more delayed your own rise in the law profession. I do not wish to be the reason why you are not successful in your chosen field.”
Dismayed, Wickham could not even find the words to reply. Then the rage he had so recently suppressed returned, filling his ears with a roaring sound, occluding the edges of his vision as if fire was licking around the corners of his eyes. Darcy! He must have spoken to his father and complained! And Mr. Darcy had agreed to send him away, even though Wickham thought his influence with the old man far exceeded the son’s!
“To that end,” said Mr. Darcy, ignorant of the fury running through Wickham’s veins, “I have contacted a few acquaintances in town to begin the process of finding another position for you. If all goes well, I should hear back next week, and a position should result within the month.”
“As always, I am undone by your generosity,” said Wickham, thinking furiously. “But I think it best that I stay with you and assist you in extracting your son from this predicament. It is in my mind that Miss Elizabeth is not all she seems—I would not wish to leave your son prey to such a woman as she.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Darcy, a frown descending.
“At present, I do not know,” said Wickham, as if reluctantly confessing to failure. “She appears to be everything lovely and amiable, but there is something about her . . . Well, I should not speak in such a way of a lady.”
“Please, Wickham. I value your opinion.”
The desire to smile at the man’s continued vulnerability to manipulation warred with his anger. As it was, Wickham was adept at showing what he wished, and he kept his countenance worried.
“You have noticed Miss Elizabeth is lively and open, have you not?” Mr. Darcy’s nod confirmed the obvious statement, but it was curt, unlike the man’s usual manner with him. “It seems to me,” continued Wickham, “the lady is a bit of a flirt, for she will bestow her attentions upon anyone who sees fit to give her any notice.”
Mr. Darcy frowned. “I have not noticed that.”
“Have you spoken much with her?”
“Have you?”
“More than you have, I would wager,” replied Wickham. “There may be nothing at all. Having said that, something about her strikes me as strange. I should like to observe her more, speak with her to learn what I can. You must acknowledge that I, being more of her age, am in a better position to determine anything untoward about her.”
“It is possible, I suppose,” said Mr. Darcy, with far less interest than Wickham might have expected. “That you consider my son’s wellbeing is surprising, considering his antipathy toward you.”
A false smile came easily over Wickham’s face. “The memory of our closeness when we were young has stayed with me. Though he has seen fit to disapprove of me, I cannot forget it.”
Mr. Darcy clasped his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Wickham. When in company, I will observe her for any hint of your suspicions. As to your future, I am determined to be of use. I will inform you should anything arise.”
With those final words, the man left the room, leaving Wickham fuming behind him. Wickham was well aware Mr. Darcy would find no great opinion of him among the law firms in London, as he had no doubt Patterson had been voluble in his condemnation. That sort of word tended to spread among the fraternity quickly. Should Mr. Darcy learn of his exploits in London, Wickham had little doubt it would not reflect well on him, even leading the gentleman to question him closely.
It was clear there was much work to be done and little time to do it. Wickham set his shoulders and departed from the library, determined to do what needed to be done.
Chapter XXIX
Elizabeth could not explain the happiness she felt as the Bennet family departed for Lucas Lodge. It was something freeing, something which allowed her emotions to soar with the knowledge she was loved by a good man. That she had not seen Charlotte in some time only added to the pleasure of an evening in the company of dear friends.
“Well, Lizzy,” greeted Charlotte when the Bennets were shown into Lucas Lodge. “I have always known you to be a cheerful sort of girl, but you positively glow tonight. Could your new sister have been correct in asserting Mr. Darcy’s interest?”
Flushing, Elizabeth fixed her friend with a hard stare, warning of retribution should she continue to tease. Charlotte, however, proved herself unintimidated when she laughed and embraced Elizabeth with affection.
“There is something about those who like to tease which does not allow them to be teased in return. It may be prudent for you to become accustomed to it, my dear Lizzy, for I cannot imagine you will escape.”
“If you choose to
provoke me, I shall have no recourse but to endure,” replied a laughing Elizabeth. “But do not expect to be unscathed in return.”
“I know of nothing for which you could laugh at me, Lizzy. Let me say, however, that it is about time you caught the eye of some man. Others, caught in your thrall, may finally have their own happiness as a result of your own.”
It was an odd statement, and Elizabeth could not quite make out her friend’s meaning. But Charlotte fixed Elizabeth with a grin and moved to greet the rest of the Bennet family, which included her brother and sisters, father, and Mr. Collins, who had attended with them. For a few moments, Elizabeth watched her friend, trying to puzzle out the meaning of her statement. As it was impossible, she shrugged it off, intending to speak to Charlotte at a later date.
The Bennet family was, as usual, among the first families to arrive, a custom begun by their mother, especially in the days after her daughters had begun to reach a marriageable age, in hopes of showing them off in order to marry them to eligible men. It was a habit they had kept, and particularly so in this instance because the Bennets were close friends with the Lucases. Sir William, the patriarch of the family, greeted Elizabeth with pleasure, to which Elizabeth responded. He was a jovial man, though a little simple, and while his tendency to be impressed with his knighthood could be a little tiresome, he was, in essentials, a good man.
When the party from Netherfield arrived, Elizabeth was aware of it instantly, and while she had known the Bingleys for all her life, she only had eyes for one member of the group. Watching as he greeted their hosts, Elizabeth waited patiently as Mr. Darcy made his way toward her, his purpose clear to anyone who cared to look. The indulgence of the company, the looks she received, even the way some few glared at her with envy, passed Elizabeth by with nary a second thought. And soon he was standing before her.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. How happy I am to see you tonight.”
“As am I to see you, sir.”