As she came to the bridge, she saw Wickham. He leaned over the low stone wall, his hair falling forward, looking the perfect picture of handsome despair. Her heart had once raced at the sight of him. Now — well, she could not deny he was a handsome, charming man. But his qualities did not touch her as they once did. She could see him and acknowledge him as an attractive, engaging man, but give him no thought beyond that.
“Good morning, Mr Wickham,” she called.
Wickham started as if he’d been lost in thought. He smiled at her though his eyes were sad.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet. Forgive me, I was miles away. I hope you are well this morning?”
“Quite well. I came out for some fresh air.”
She came to stand beside him. He was throwing stones in the river, and he handed some to her. She threw hers to see if they would land further than his and cried out with triumph. When she looked at him again, Wickham still smiled as he watched her, but with a look as though he were in great pain.
“I trust you had a good time at the ball?” he asked. “It was a marvellous occasion. You looked lovely if I may say so.”
“Thank you, Mr Wickham. Yes, it was wonderful. I am surprised I am not more tired than I am.”
“I am surprised I am not exhausted,” muttered Wickham under his breath.
Elizabeth frowned. “Forgive me, Mr Wickham, but is all well with you? You look down-hearted.”
“I am, Miss Bennet.” He gave her a tender look. “But I would not trouble you with my little problems for the world. I have been merely thinking…“ He paused and idly picked at a tuft of green moss between the stones.
“Is that the end of that sentence?” she asked with a bemused smile.
Wickham laughed, giving her that special look he bestowed on ladies to make them think they were the only woman in the world for him. It worked. Elizabeth flinched and coloured and looked away under the intensity of his gaze.
“I have merely been dwelling on how strange life is,” he said. “I have recently come into some money. A relative I have not seen in years died and left me his fortune. It is larger than I expected. A small estate in Wiltshire and enough to live a comfortable life and support a family if I should wish it. I am thinking on how different life could have been if I received this news sooner.”
“Well. But that is fortunate. You can find a lady worthy of you and settle down as you desire.”
“Ah yes. But other matters might have favoured me. I do not wish to marry any woman. I wish I could be with a particular woman I admire and respect above all. But it is too late for that.”
Elizabeth looked at him. Wickham held her gaze steadily, waiting for her to blush and look away in confusion.
He had her. He almost had her in the palm of his hand. Surely she would move towards him, and he could drop more hints of his devotion to her. He had to tread carefully. Too much at once would overwhelm her. He needed to plant the seed and allow it to grow.
Come, Lizzy Bennet, he thought. Just a little closer. You are almost mine for the taking. The soulful, wounded look he gave her had never failed him before.
The look Elizabeth gave him in return was inscrutable. Wickham gazed at her eagerly, searching for some sign of what she felt. She glanced away from him, then moved away. She dropped him a curtsey.
“Well, I will congratulate you once again on your good fortune. I bid you good morning, Mr Wickham.”
Elizabeth turned and hurried back towards Longbourn, her mind churning with confusion and displeasure. Whatever Wickham had been about, she did not care for it. She was sorry if her betrothal to Darcy hurt him, but a gentleman should manage those feelings for himself instead of dumping them in the lady’s lap. What did he expect of her? That she would call off her engagement to Darcy and marry him instead? She flushed when she thought it was not so long ago when she might have longed to do just that. But something had changed since then.
Elizabeth hurried faster, hoping Darcy would be at Longbourn by the time she returned. It already felt like too long since she had seen him.
Darcy for his own part was having rather an odd morning. Miss Bingley came down for breakfast earlier than usual. She was dressed up and was brighter and sparklier than he had seen her ever since she learned of his engagement. He gave her a brief nod, then allowed his mind to wander back to more pleasant matters. Elizabeth’s smile. The increasing warmth between them. The possibility that she might grow to love him as much as he did her. He could not wait to see her later that morning. Only the possibility that she would sleep late after the ball kept him from walking over to Longbourn as soon as he was dressed.
“You are lost in thought, Mr Darcy. No doubt thinking of all that lies ahead of you,” said Miss Bingley with a bright smile.
“There is a lot to think of,” he said abruptly, his softened demeanour disappearing at once in the presence of the woman he found so tiresome.
“It was marvellous to see you and Miss Bennet as a couple last night. I enjoyed watching you dance together and seeing you dance with the other Miss Bennets. It was generous of you to do so.”
Darcy inclined his head and turned his attention back to his coffee.
“The younger girls can be demanding partners, can they not? I was not sure Lydia Bennet would allow you to escape her once she had you. What a spectacle she will be in London when they all come to stay with you.” Miss Bingley released a tinkling laugh. “And Miss Eliza Bennet will be a charming hostess. Why, while you danced with her sister, she took great pains to make herself agreeable to the guests.”
“Miss Bennet does not need to take pains to make herself agreeable,” said Darcy tersely. “She does it naturally.”
“Quite,” repeated Miss Bingley through gritted teeth. “I am sure she is a natural hostess. She went out of her way to make the officers comfortable, and you know they can have questionable connections. It was sweet of Miss Eliza to pay them so much attention so they might feel they belonged. I am sure George Wickham was delighted as the son of a steward to be on the receiving end of so much notice from the future mistress of Pemberley.”
Darcy tensed. He tried not to show it but Miss Bingley was so watchful of everything he did, she saw it with delight.
“Miss Bennet and Mr Wickham spoke together?” he asked.
“While you danced with Mary Bennet. That was kind of you, I’m sure. The poor girl has a total lack of suitors. I think she must feel the mortification of comparisons with her sisters very keenly.”
Darcy said nothing. He returned to the newspaper, but as his eyes were stuck on the same part of the same page for a full minute, Miss Bingley knew he did not take in a word.
“Mr Wickham and Miss Eliza have always been such good friends. I recall last winter how there was speculation the two would marry. Do you recall? Why every time we went into Meryton, there they both were, laughing like old friends. But I am sure it must have been nothing. After all, how could Wickham and Eliza marry if he was keen to marry Mary King, even if it all came to nothing in the end?”
Darcy frowned. “Wickham is no longer engaged?”
“Not at all. It happened only recently, just before we arrived here. Her uncle took her away and ended the engagement. It is extraordinary, is it not? His engagement ends, just as yours and Miss Eliza’s begins. Perhaps Eliza spoke to him because she had just learned the news and wished to console him.”
A jealous burning sensation rose in Darcy. That Elizabeth might prefer Wickham of all people was unendurable. Did she prefer him? Would Darcy hold her in his arms as his wife while she thought of that scoundrel? He could not bear it.
And yet…
An uncomfortable feeling squirmed in him. Elizabeth made it quite clear at least at the beginning of their engagement that she did not care for him. She assumed he returned those feelings. He knew she’d had a preference for George Wickham. Everyone had spoken of it, thinking the lively, charming pair would make an excellent match. And she returned engaged to a man sh
e did not care for to find the man she cared about no longer engaged to be married.
Did Elizabeth regret Darcy? Did she stare over his shoulder to the simpering smile of Wickham and wish she was on his arm instead?
Miss Bingley stared at him, requiring a response. Darcy shrugged and tried to look as unconcerned as possible.
“Wickham can win people easily enough. No doubt this Mary King was one. What he cannot do is keep them. Excuse me, Miss Bingley.”
He rose and left the room.
Chapter 26
Elizabeth waited impatiently for Darcy to come to her, but there was no sign of him. She walked about the garden, her eyes frequently turning towards the empty lane leading to Longbourn but no Darcy came towards her, his stern expression softening at the sight of her.
She heard the voices of her younger sisters as they came outside and she moved away to avoid their notice. Between her disappointment at not seeing Darcy, the sight of Jane’s tears and Wickham’s strange behaviour, she knew she would not endure their shrieks and laughter with good grace. When that same prattle grew louder and louder, she could not ignore it any longer. She looked up in resignation, and her frustration increased when she saw Lydia hurrying towards her, pulling Wickham by the arm.
“Lizzy,” she called. “Look who has come to see us. Come, speak with him and stop being so dull. She has been mooning around the garden all morning, Mr Wickham and I can not imagine what is wrong with her. But I can guess,” she added with a malicious grin that Elizabeth chose not to dwell on too deeply.
“Good morning again, Mr Wickham,” said Elizabeth. It took an effort to summon her manners. She cast another glance down the empty lane. Still no Darcy. Why did he not come? It was not like him to stay away so late.
“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Bennet,” Wickham said with a smile. “I came with Denny and Saunders to call on you all. I am afraid our noise drove your father mad, so we escaped to the garden. I had no notion of you being here until Lydia told me.”
“Oh, it is no intrusion,” she said. Lydia had run off, leaving the two of them together. She tried to hide her irritation. There was no way for her to avoid his company without being rude. “I am merely lost in thought. Come, shall we walk?”
She moved away before he could offer her his arm. He kept up by her side.
“Do you know, I have missed our conversations these past few months,” he said brightly. “There is no one I enjoy conversing with more than you. Come, I am sure you must have missed them too. Your change of circumstances has not changed your lively manner and your quick wit.”
“I should hope not,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “I do not see why marriage should change anyone’s nature unless for the better. I hear you are to travel on to Brighton in a few weeks?”
Wickham pulled a face. “I am not looking forward to it. The Prince Regent is to be there, and I despise the man. He will eat and drink and carouse with shameful women and not spare one thought for his unfortunate wife. Have you met him?”
Elizabeth shuddered. “No, and I have no desire to do so. How he treats his poor wife is beyond endurance.”
“I agree. It is what disgusts me most. No man should treat his wife in such a manner, but I suppose he considers her beneath him and thinks he may do what he pleases. She is married to him after all, so there is nothing she can do about it. She is trapped to a man who does not respect her as he ought.”
“Very true,” said Elizabeth. “I would feel for any woman married to such a man. But some good has come from the match. I have every confidence that Princess Charlotte will make an excellent queen. She is a charming girl, and the people love her. Why, she…”
Elizabeth spoke at length of her opinion of the princess while Wickham nodded impatiently and strove to return the conversation to the evils of unequal alliances. He recalled something Lydia had told him about when Darcy and Elizabeth first met. He grasped it.
“The princess will be a fine queen. I just wish with all my heart she had parents who were happy that they might set her an example. It must pain her to see her father unable to respect her mother.” He sighed. “But it was thus from the start. On their first meeting, the Prince insulted his wife’s appearance and slighted her. I believe he refused to stand up with her at their wedding ball. Can you imagine a man doing such a thing? To speak so of a woman who is his bride? I do not know how she could endure it. I think Princess Caroline must lie awake at night wishing she had married another. I am sure there was some humble fellow in her own country who would have been hers in a heartbeat. Such marriages where one partner thinks little of the other and cannot respect them cannot be happy. The world would be a better place if they never happened.”
“You certainly have thought a lot on this subject, sir and speak passionately. Did this new insight come before or after your engagement to Mary King?”
“You must know I regret that with all my heart. It should never have happened, and I am relieved her uncle came to take her away. We should not have been happy together. No, you are right. The incident taught me to mull over what I want, and what I want is a lady I can esteem and admire. I could not love a lady without also respecting her.”
Elizabeth looked up at him. There was a strange light in her eyes, and she smiled. Wickham’s pulse pounded. What was she thinking? Was she dwelling on the certain evils her match with Darcy might make? Wickham had no intention of marrying a Bennet, even if he did succeed in coming between her and Darcy. Elizabeth was pretty and charming, but she had no fortune, so she was no use to him. But if he could persuade her to be in love with him and behave inappropriately, he would easily find a way to escape once her engagement to Darcy was at an end. If there was one thing Wickham knew how to do, it was to evade the clutches of a disappointed lady.
“Come, Mr Wickham. It is a beautiful summer’s day, and these topics are too mournful for them.”
Wickham laughed and shook his head. “You are right. I am being very tiresome, am I not? But I think these topics give one much to think about.”
She continued to look at him steadily.
“You are correct. They certainly do.” That smile again. He almost had her. But he must not press the issue now. Gently, gently does it.
A noise behind him caught his attention. He turned around and saw Miss Bingley standing there watching them. She smiled.
“She is here, Mr Darcy. Out in the garden as always.”
Mr Darcy came around the corner. His pace slowed when he saw Wickham and Elizabeth. His gaze fixed on Wickham as if he would cheerfully send him through the garden wall.
Elizabeth hurried towards him.
“There you are. I looked for you this morning.”
“You did?”
There was such hope in Darcy’s eyes that Wickham’s lip curled in disgust. God, the fellow was pathetic. To think of the great Darcy, mooning around like a puppy. The man was desperately in love, and the lady preferred Wickham. It was a heady sensation. As Darcy led Elizabeth away, he grinned and winked at Miss Bingley. It was all in hand.
Chapter 27
“Shall we walk in the woods?” Elizabeth asked when they were out of earshot of Wickham and Miss Bingley. Darcy nodded, but he was subdued. “Why have you come so late? I looked for you.”
“Did you really?” Darcy looked down at her. Elizabeth blushed and smiled.
“I should not admit it should I? I should pretend to be coy and demure and never allow you to discover I sat on the bench most of the morning pretending to read but really keeping an eye on the lane.”
“I should never like you to pretend to be something you are not,” said Darcy. “And I wished to allow your family time to rest if you slept late after the ball.”
His eyes were still lost in thought.
“How long was Wickham there?” he asked finally as they crossed the path into the woods. To Elizabeth’s surprise, he caught her in his arms and lifted her over a crumbling stone wall as if it took him no effort. She still felt ra
ther flustered when he put her down.
“About half an hour,” she said slightly breathlessly. “He came outside because the noise of the officers made my father irate.”
Darcy scoffed. “Wickham. Always so attentive to the needs of others.”
Elizabeth glanced up at his profile. His jaw was tight, and he did not look pleased. Not so long ago, Elizabeth would have leapt to Wickham’s defence with spirit and scolded Darcy for his lack of generosity. But she could not do so now. She felt too troubled by her recent encounters with Wickham.
“I know you dislike him,” she said carefully. Darcy tensed.
“That is putting it mildly,” he said in a tight voice. “To speak truthfully, Elizabeth, I despise the man. I will never think well of him.”
“Then, I think I must be honest with you about something,” Elizabeth began. “I am not sure how to say it…”
To her astonishment, Darcy inhaled sharply. He looked at her, his eyes tense, and he shook his head.
“I do not wish to hear it,” he said. “Do not say it out loud because once you do, I will not be able to unhear those words.”
“Darcy— “
Darcy stopped walking. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced back the way they had come. She thought she had seen him agitated before, but it was nothing to how he appeared now.
“We should go back. I should not have come here — let us go back. There is much I need to think on.”
He turned to leave, but Elizabeth caught his hand. He stopped at once and looked down where she touched him. Elizabeth could have blushed at her boldness, but there were more important matters to worry about right then.
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