Elizabeth tried to broach the subject of Mr. Wickham with Jane a few times, but Jane didn’t seem to want to engage, saying that it didn’t matter, because there was little chance of anything developing between her and the man.
Except Elizabeth could detect a note of disappointment in her sister’s pronouncement, and she wasn’t sure what could be done about such a thing. She mentioned Bingley favorably several times, but Jane did not respond with enthusiasm.
Elizabeth understood. What was Mr. Bingley compared to the ostentatious charm of Mr. Wickham? What was Bingley to dimples? She had hardly noticed him herself, and she had even danced with him at the Meryton assembly. He was a very fine man, however, and she wished that Jane could see his virtues.
The following week, they were given news by their father. A Mr. William Collins was coming to visit. Mr. Collins was a clergyman at Rosings, and he was the man on whom their father’s estate was entailed. He would have Longbourn in the event of their father’s death.
No one was quite sure how to feel about Mr. Collins when he arrived.
Elizabeth herself found him insufferable. He was a heavy sort of man with a fringe of hair cut above his eyebrows. He spoke slowly and very formally. He was polite, but Elizabeth had the notion that he thought rather more of himself than was actually warranted.
He was also rather verbose. He spoke at length on a number of subjects, but his favorite seemed to be his patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of whom he could not seem to stop expounding on in most favorable tones. Clearly, his admiration for Lady Catherine was tremendous.
Elizabeth detested him. She was not sure exactly what had come over her as of late. She had not thought of herself as a person who could be jealous and petty and also so quick to judge a person. But she was no saint. And Mr. Collins was the sort of person who she simply could not bear. He set her teeth on edge.
Perhaps it was the way he spoke. Perhaps it was his obsequiousness toward Lady Catherine. Perhaps it was the way he smiled, which was unintentionally odious on account of his showing too much of his teeth.
Elizabeth could not be sure, but she knew that she wished to be out of his company as soon as possible.
When Kitty and Lydia suggested a walk to Meryton, she eagerly declared she would join them. Jane was interested in coming along as well, so it would be the four of them.
Unfortunately, Mr. Collins piped up just after she finished speaking, stating his intention to come as well.
Elizabeth thought of backing out again, but she could not come up with an excuse, so she was trapped on the walk with Mr. Collins and her sisters.
However, mercifully, Mr. Collins seemed quite taken with the scenery and did not say much at all on the trip to town, and Elizabeth was quite pleased.
All instead that Elizabeth heard on the walk was Lydia prattling on and on about Mr. Denny, who was an officer who was coming back from London at some point, hopefully today, and who Lydia seemed to admire rather a lot.
But when they arrived in Meryton, Mr. Denny was not alone. He was walking with another gentleman who none of them had seen before.
Lydia waved at Denny, bouncing on her toes, and called him over.
Mr. Denny crossed the street to meet their party, bringing his friend along with him.
“Well, well,” said Mr. Denny. “If it isn’t the lovely Miss Bennets, all of them.”
“Well, not Mary,” said Lydia. “It’s only the other four.”
“If I could present my companion,” said Mr. Denny. “This is Mr. Darcy.”
Lydia beamed at him. “Oh, how is it we have not come to know this Mr. Darcy?”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Denny. “This is Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Catherine, and Miss Lydia.”
Mr. Darcy was a tall man with dark hair and very dark eyes. He looked into each of their eyes as he was introduced and he was polite in his responses to them all. When his gaze settled on Elizabeth, she found that staring into his dark eyes was like falling into some depth of indescribable pain. And yet, she could not seem to wrench her gaze away.
She remembered talking at length with Mr. Wickham about Mr. Darcy. She supposed that living a life of debauchery as he did, he might indeed be in some misery.
“Mr. Darcy, you are a member of the regiment?” said Lydia.
Darcy inclined his head. “I am.”
“And yet we have not met you?” said Lydia. “I am sure we knew all of the officers.”
“Mr. Darcy is not one for merriment,” said Denny. “He would rather spend all his time engaged in some sort of activity meant to expand his coffers. Why, he even instructs the officers in dancing for extra pay. I believe he is saving up his money to buy some girl an expensive present, though what woman would want a man so solemn, I could not say.” Denny winked.
“Yes, well, there is solemnity and then there is speaking at length about other’s finances to people he has just been introduced,” muttered Darcy.
“Oh, he is offended.” Denny laughed. “I cannot win with this man, I tell you.”
“I think it is admirable to be hard working,” Elizabeth said, and she was rewarded with Mr. Darcy’s swinging his gaze back to hers.
Yes, looking into his eyes was like drowning in sadness, but there was something else about looking at him, something almost pleasant.
But indeed, Elizabeth could not be thinking such thoughts about a man, especially not after her recent embarrassment involving Mr. Wickham. Why, she must swear off romance entirely for some time.
At any rate, there was no use in feeling romantic about someone like Mr. Darcy, who was a wretched gambler. He was as ruined as a man could be ruined, and Elizabeth must not allow herself to be dragged down by such as him.
“Do you indeed?” said Mr. Darcy.
He was speaking to her, Elizabeth realized. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Well, industriousness must be prized, mustn’t it? For if not, we should never have anything. Work is necessary for anything to get done.”
“Yes, perhaps that is the way it should be,” said Mr. Darcy. “If we lived in a pretty world of ideals, indeed, we might admire those who toiled. But amongst our society, those who work the hardest are of the lowest sort, are they not? And those who are of the highest esteem lead lives of leisure. Does it not follow, then, that hard work is not the least bit admirable?”
Elizabeth licked her lips. This was a change of pace from the typical conversation of the weather and the date of the next ball. She had not heard such thoughts from an officer in the regiment before. “Well, perhaps, sir, it is only that we are flawed vessels. Surely, we are taught that we will all be rewarded in the next life for our toils here. Men who live lives of leisure must work thrice as hard as those who are given to back-breaking occupations in order to reach that reward.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And do you find that to be the case amongst the gentlemen whose acquaintance you have made?”
“I could not say, sir. I do not know all that they do. I only meet them for dancing or for tea.” She gazed at him with a level gaze. “Would you say you work thrice as hard?”
“I would not say that at all,” said Mr. Darcy. “Nor would I say that I am admirable. It was you who implied that I might be. I shall now give you the chance to take back your sentiment.”
“Why, I feel that would be rude,” said Elizabeth. “I do not even know you, sir. Perhaps if I had the opportunity to know you better—”
“Not likely,” he cut her off.
And then, as if Elizabeth’s earlier thoughts had summoned him, there was Mr. Wickham. He and Mr. Bingley were coming down the street on horseback. When the two of them saw Mr. Darcy, they both stopped short.
Mr. Darcy emitted a low, sardonic chuckle. “Why, Wickham, it isn’t enough what you’ve done to me, you are also intent on stealing my school chums?”
Mr. Wickham leaped down off his horse. “I’ll thank you not to speak to me in that manner. I don’t supposed Bingley is interested in hearing anything you have
to say either.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t be, not after hearing the poison that flows so easily from your tongue,” said Mr. Darcy. “I can see utterly why anyone would be much happier to listen to what you say than what I say, dear Georgie. You’ve always been quite good at turning a pretty phrase.”
“Now, listen here, Darcy.” Wickham closed the distance between them and put a finger into the other man’s chest. “I’ve got half a mind to teach you a lesson right here and now.”
“Oh?” Darcy arched an eyebrow. “That I would be quite desirous to see, I must admit. You doing anything besides wagging your infernal tongue. It would be a sight to behold.”
“There are ladies present, so I shan’t,” said Wickham. “Besides, you are not worth my time.”
Darcy laughed again. “Not anymore, I suppose. Not when you’ve already wrung me dry.”
“Come,” said Bingley, who didn’t seem to want to meet Darcy’s gaze. “Mr. Wickham, we don’t want any unpleasantness.” He cleared his throat. “Darcy, old boy, good to see you. I do hope you are able to reform yourself and make a go of things once you’ve done so.”
“Reform myself?” repeated Darcy wryly. “Yes, indeed.”
Bingley cleared his throat again.
Darcy made a little bow to Denny. “I rather think I’ve had enough merriment for one day, Mr. Denny. I had better take my leave. I seem to only bring unpleasantness wherever I go.” He tipped his hat and then was off down the street as quickly as he could go.
Denny looked after him, puzzled.
Wickham made his way over to Jane. “My dear Miss Bennet. I’m so sorry you had to see that. You must promise me you’ll stay clear of that man.”
“Oh, come now, Wickham,” said Bingley, now clearly annoyed. “There is no reason to vex Miss Bennet.”
“Am I vexing you?” said Wickham to Jane. “Do say so, if it is true. I could not bear to bring someone as lovely as you any measure of distress.”
Jane smiled shyly. “Oh, Mr. Wickham, of course you do not vex me.”
Of course not. Elizabeth glared at Wickham, narrowing her eyes. So, now that Jane was recovered, he was paying attention to her again?
“Mr. Bingley, how do you know Mr. Darcy?” spoke up Lydia.
“He was a friend,” said Mr. Bingley. “He’s fallen into bad habits, I’m afraid. Mr. Wickham is right. You ladies ought to stay clear of him.”
“Bad habits?” said Denny. “I say, are we speaking of the same man? The Darcy I know is a right stick in the mud, practically an ascetic. I can hardly picture him doing anything remotely interesting.”
Elizabeth turned to look after Mr. Darcy. She watched as he turned a corner, disappearing out of sight. What a puzzle that man was.
CHAPTER FIVE
The following night, the Bennet sisters were invited to a dinner at their aunt Mrs. Philips’s home in Meryton. Mr. Collins accompanied them, and he spent much of the dinner describing the home of Lady Catherine in great detail, much to the rapture of Mrs. Philips, who found all of it very intriguing.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was rather bored, and she found herself pleased when the evening turned to card games, whist in particular. This was not because Elizabeth had any real interest in whist itself. In fact, she was not the least bit fond of the game at all. But anything was preferable to listening to Mr. Collins speak.
Elizabeth was rather sure she had a headache that had originated entirely from the sound of his voice.
Several officers from the regiment were present to play cards, and Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr. Darcy there as well.
He was not partaking in the game, however, but standing in a corner with a glass of punch, looking dark and rather brooding.
By all rights, he should have been less attractive due to his dour countenance, but there was something about it that Elizabeth found rather exciting. She wanted to understand Mr. Darcy.
So, she excused herself from the table where she had been about to play with Lydia and Denny and crossed the room, heading towards Mr. Darcy.
On her way there, she realized she had no pretense for starting a conversation with the man. Indeed, he did not even look open to conversation. What was she doing? She was going to make a fool of herself.
She paused, stopping at a table near to where Mr. Darcy was standing. “Oh, is this table full?” she said rather loudly.
“I’m afraid so,” said her aunt, who was seated at the table. “I thought you were at a table with Lydia.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Elizabeth. She looked around and then fixed her gaze on Mr. Darcy. “You, sir. Mr. Darcy. You aren’t playing?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
She closed the distance between them. “You remember me.”
“But of course. I am not often introduced to well, anyone, let alone four sisters in the streets of Meryton.”
“Yes, indeed, but that is just the thing about it all. I do have a great many sisters. You remember all of our names?”
“Yes, of course,” he said.
Elizabeth felt a little sad that he hadn’t remembered her especially. Though she couldn’t imagine why he would have. And now she realized she had run out of things to say.
“If you’ve come to try to urge me to play at whist with your table, you may save your breath,” said Mr. Darcy. “I do not play cards.”
“Oh, no,” said Elizabeth. “No, I would not ask that of you. I suppose that would be a rather dreadful temptation for you.”
Darcy’s nostrils flared. Then his lips twisted into an ugly smile. “I see you’ve been speaking to Mr. Wickham.”
“Yes, actually,” she said, and she felt embarrassed about all of it now.
“I don’t supposed you’d believe me if I told you that Mr. Wickham is a rather ugly liar, and that I don’t play cards because I’m dreadful at them.”
She lifted her chin. “A liar, you say? The truth of the matter is, I don’t have the most favorable opinion of Mr. Wickham.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who does not have a favorable opinion of him,” said Darcy. “Why, my own father thinks the sun rises and sets with him.” His mouth twisted again. He glowered.
“If you’re dreadful at cards, how did you gamble away your mother’s estate?” She bit down on her lip. “Wait, is that why you lost your mother’s estate?”
Darcy’s features froze. “What do you know of that?”
“Nothing really. Only what Mr. Wickham said. If he really was lying—”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Mr. Darcy. “There is truth and there is the semblance of truth, and the unfortunate fact is that the latter is all that matters. I could tell you my tale, Miss Bennet, but it would be pointless and would only exhaust me. Besides, I am here to see a man about a horse.”
“A horse?”
“Yes, I do a bit of business for the officers in the regiment, taking care of things they’d rather not think about. I’m selling a horse for Mr. Denny, and he is paying me to do so. If you’ll excuse me, I think I see the man with whom I’m here to speak.”
“Certainly,” said Elizabeth.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I am truly sorry for the fact that I am not much of a polite conversationalist.”
And he was gone again, leaving Elizabeth gazing after him again, at the way his dark figure cut through the air.
* * *
“Listen, Lizzy, I can’t understand why you are so dismissive of Mr. Wickham now,” said Jane. She and Elizabeth were on a path outside Longbourn, taking a walk together after dinner. “You liked him very much when you met him.”
“I know, but it is as I told you. I found out that he is not a very good person.”
“But you won’t tell me why. You are keeping a confidence for someone.”
“Yes.”
“But who? Was it Miss B
ingley? Mrs. Hurst? One of the servants at Netherfield? I can’t fathom who you would have been talking to.”
“It wasn’t anyone you’ve met. She arrived at Netherfield to talk specifically to Mr. Wickham.”
“Oh? And about what?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Listen, Jane, I can’t be too specific, or you’ll figure out who it is. But Mr. Wickham has gotten a woman with child and refused to marry her.”
“What? Who?” Jane furrowed her brow. “That can’t be right.”
“I can’t tell you who. It’s a confidence I cannot betray, as we’ve established.”
“Lizzy, of all the things to concoct, this is really too much.”
“I’m not making it up.”
Jane sighed heavily. She turned and took both of Elizabeth’s hands. “You’ve been different ever since you met him. I understand, because I see what you see in him. He is very handsome and very good. He is kind to everyone. He never has a cruel word to say. I can see how it must have turned your head and made you desperate to have him at any cost.”
“I did have certain feelings about Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth. “But once I found out what sort of man he really is, they all went away. I couldn’t be drawn to him now, not after everything. He’s not what you think at all. He isn’t good, and he is cruel.”
“I can’t believe that,” said Jane.
“Oh, that is only because you refuse to see evil in anyone,” Elizabeth fumed.
“I think that he has turned your head and that you are waging some kind of battle against me, trying to make me reject him.”
“I would not do such a thing! Lord, Jane, you know me better than that. I think it is your head that has been turned. You are trusting him above me, and that is entirely unlike you.”
“It is only that you cannot deny you have been different since he arrived.”
“I am not at all drawn to Wickham. Indeed, if I fancied anyone, it would be Mr. Darcy.”
“Darcy? That bitter man who had such an ugly laugh? Why, you heard Mr. Wickham say we ought to steer clear of him.”
“Well, I don’t trust Mr. Wickham.”
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