She tucked her feet under her and rested her chin on her hand as she thought of the events of the evening. What did Mr Darcy mean by asking her to dance? He had made it plain from the start that he disliked the activity. He had even refused to dance with her the first night they met at the assembly in Meryton, telling Mr Bingley he considered her tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him. Mr Darcy had not danced with another person all evening though Miss Bingley had hovered about him, clearly angling for him to ask her to stand up with him. Why then should he seek Elizabeth out to dance with her of all people? Did he hope he might find something else in her to criticise? Perhaps he would store up any criticism he found so he might laugh at them later — difficult though it was for her to imagine Darcy laughing.
Or perhaps he simply wished to avoid Miss Bingley. When Elizabeth stayed at Netherfield Park, it had amused her to see how much Miss Bingley flaunted herself in front of Mr Darcy to win his attention. Mr Darcy treated her with the same indifference bordering on contempt he showed towards everyone and only endured her as his friend’s sister. But Miss Bingley, in her desperation to become Mrs Darcy, was not to be deterred. She persisted in pursuing him and forcing herself in front of him that he might notice her. It was probable that Mr Darcy only asked Elizabeth to dance to avoid having to ask Miss Bingley. After her stay at Netherfield, he was acquainted with her enough to make her the most convenient person to ask. Elizabeth was sure he knew she disliked him as much as he disliked her so he could be safe from her, knowing she had no designs on him.
Yes, that was the most likely explanation.
A noise outside the door interrupted her thoughts. Heavy footsteps and the sound of a man clearing his throat.
Mr Collins! He must have seen her leave and come looking for her. He could not find her here. If anyone should discover them together, their marriage would become a certainty and Elizabeth was not about to let that happen. The footsteps stopped at the door. Elizabeth jumped to her feet and looked about. In the dim candlelight, it was difficult to see the far corners of the room, but she had been sure there was another door here, leading on to a different room. She was sure it was there by the French windows — yes, there it was!
Elizabeth hurried toward the door. She paused for a moment to see if the footsteps would move on. A hand pressed to the handle of the door, and she heard the creak of it turning. She grabbed the handle of the door in front of her and slipped into the next room. The door clicked behind her just as she heard the other person enter the library. She leaned against the door for a moment, her heart pounding. Whoever was in the library seemed restless. She heard the leather creaking as they sat in a chair. A moment later, they stood up and began to pace the room. Perhaps it was not Mr Collins at all? He was more likely to call for her then leave at once. Whoever this person was, they sounded troubled. As their restless footsteps approached the door where Elizabeth leaned, she backed away from it. There was another door leading to a different room. On swift steps, she hurried across and slipped through to the next room.
Feeling satisfied she had moved far enough away to avoid detection, Elizabeth sank into a chair. No candles were burning in this room, but the French doors allowed enough moonlight in that she could easily see. She wondered how long she would have to stay there to avoid being discovered by the mysterious man prowling about the library. This room was unfamiliar to her, but if it came to it, she was confident she could find a way back to the ballroom without being discovered. In the meantime, she still had some time before they were called into supper. She could afford to enjoy the peace and silence of this beautiful, moonlit parlour without being disturbed.
Or perhaps not. In the opposite room from the one in which she had entered, Elizabeth heard the clear sound of movement. She jumped as something heavy fell to the ground. A man’s voice swore. Elizabeth froze as she listened.
That voice. She knew it. It was the voice she had longed to hear all evening. The one she had listened for as she walked about the ballroom.
Wickham. Unless she was very much mistaken, George Wickham was in the room next to her.
No, that was impossible. It must be a servant, perhaps one who had crashed into something in the dark. There was no reason for Wickham to be there. He would be in the ballroom, looking for her.
Elizabeth sat up in the chair, her ears straining to hear. Footsteps scuffed about the room, and she heard metal clanging. What on earth was going on?
“That is an excellent piece,” said the voice.
Elizabeth’s heart stopped. There was no doubt in her mind she heard Wickham’s voice. What on earth was he doing here? Why was he not in the ballroom with everyone else? Perhaps he had changed his mind about attending, but the sight of Darcy made him recoil after all. He might have done what she did; sought a quiet room to escape. But surely it would have made more sense for him to leave? He was not in her position; obliged to stay as long as her family did. He had no constraints. He could leave as soon as he liked. Elizabeth felt a pricking of unease. Something was wrong here, but she could not say what. But she knew she would rather take her chances with the stranger in the library than with a man she liked but who was behaving in a very unsettling manner.
Elizabeth rose from the chair, taking care not to make a sound. She stepped toward the door, and as she did so, the wood beneath her feet creaked. In the silence of the room, it cracked in her ear like a gunshot. Elizabeth froze, not even daring to breathe, as she kept her eyes fixed on the opposite door.
The sound in the other room stopped as well. The blood roared in Elizabeth’s ear as she watched the handle, feeling sure she was about to be discovered. But the sound of movement came again, and what sounded like porcelain being piled on top of one another. Elizabeth released a breath and started again toward the door, taking one step at a time to ensure she did not make any noise.
She was half-way there when she heard the sound she had dreaded.
“There might be something in here.”
The handle turned, and Wickham marched into the room. He stopped in shock at the sight of Elizabeth in the centre of the room, staring at him with wide eyes. For a moment, they looked at one another in silence. Wickham licked his lips and swallowed.
“Miss Bennet,” he said in a voice too high to sound cheerful. “What a surprise. I — I hoped I would see you —“
Elizabeth glanced down to see the large canvas bag clenched in his fist. It bulged with objects. She raised her eyes to meet his.
“What are you doing?” she asked though her mouth felt dry.
Wickham glanced down at the bag, then back at Elizabeth.
“Mr Bingley has asked me to take care of a small matter for him. I thought it would be easier to do it now while everyone was distracted by the ball, and —“
Elizabeth frowned.
“I did not realise you and Mr Bingley were acquainted. Why should he ask for your help, and why does it involve skulking about in the dark? I do not understand…”
Her voice trailed away as another figure emerged from the dark behind Wickham. The second man observed Elizabeth.
“Well, this is unfortunate,” he said in a deadpan tone.
“Shaw…” said Wickham in a nervous tone. “Please, allow me to take care of this.”
Elizabeth looked between the two of them, and her dread crept higher. Her hands felt clammy as she pressed them to the gown she had so carefully chosen to impress the man before her. She glanced toward the door and turned on her heel and leapt towards it. The man Wickham called Shaw was faster. He shoved Wickham to one side and grabbed her before she could reach the handle. Elizabeth shrieked and kicked as Wickham hurried toward him, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Let her go. Come now, we have enough. We can be away before she tells anyone. Tie her up if you need to. They will find her in the morning.”
Elizabeth tried to peel Shaw’s fingers away from her mouth, but they were like iron. She could not even get her own around th
em. She forced herself to stay calm as she tried to think about what she could do.
Shaw shook his head.
“We have to leave now. Someone will come looking for a girl like this. We don’t have all you need. I will hide her away, and they can find her in the morning. I will ensure she cannot make a sound.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. What did he mean by that? Wickham’s eyes were horrified.
“There is no need for that,” he said. “We need not add other crimes to the ones we already have on our list. We can take Miss Bennet with us and leave her somewhere far away. By the time she gets home, no one will find us. Come, it is the best option. She cannot raise the alarm until it is too late. She is a lady. Hurting her would be a severe crime.”
Elizabeth’s heart pounded as she waited for Shaw’s response. Wickham kept his eyes on Shaw’s face, not sparing a glance for Elizabeth.
Shaw swore. “Fine. We will bring her with us. If anything should happen to her, you will take the blame for it. I cannot guarantee the behaviour of the rest. And you still owe us.” He nodded toward the bag in Wickham’s hand. “Those few trifles are not nearly enough to clear your debt.”
Wickham’s shoulders sagged in relief.
“Give me your neckerchief,” said Shaw. Wickham untied it and tossed it across to him. Shaw only released Elizabeth’s mouth enough to tie the neckerchief around it before she cried out. Then, he took Elizabeth and threw her over his shoulder as though she was the bag Wickham held. Elizabeth struggled and struck at his shoulder, twisting and turning desperately.
“Be careful, Miss Bennet,” said Shaw. “Remember, it is only through Wickham’s goodwill I allow you to come with us. You would not like what I had in mind.”
“Please, Miss Bennet,” said Wickham. “This is the best way. Trust me.”
Trust him! Elizabeth would have laughed, were it not for her binds. Trust a man who was nothing more than a liar and a thief! Yet she had no choice. If she were to get out of this, she would have to think. She could only hope someone would see her as they ran away. Surely someone was in the grounds or looking out a window. She kept her head up as Wickham opened the French windows and they hurried across the lawn, Elizabeth bumping painfully against Shaw’s shoulder, her eyes casting about wildly for someone to catch sight of them. Surely someone would see them.
Chapter 5
The ball was every bit as insufferable as Darcy anticipated. He watched as the two youngest Bennet girls careened past, giggling loudly and not even noticing when they knocked glasses from a table. Women passed him by, swaying their hips and watching him from under their eyelashes, no doubt with thoughts of ten thousand pounds a year flashing through their minds. Miss Bingley was the worst. She hovered near him and tried to persuade him to join with her in making sport of their neighbours. Darcy was sometimes an enthusiastic participant in that game, but he could not bring himself to do so now. Not when so many of her barbs were aimed at Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Once again, Darcy found himself looking about the room for that bewitching woman. She was the only high point of his evening. He had walked about the room, watching her speak to others as he worked up the courage to approach her himself. Though he had little doubt she would accept his hand — what woman would not — he felt as thrilled as if he had been granted a kingdom. And when he led her to the floor, he was so overwhelmed with delight he struggled to speak, something he found difficult at the best of times.
It had been some time since he had seen Elizabeth. Darcy wondered if he might attend to her conversation with someone else as a step toward speaking more with her himself. Netherfield had not been the same since she had left, and it thrilled him more than he liked to have her under the same roof again.
No, this was ridiculous. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. What was he about, following a lady of no name and family about the room like a love-struck schoolboy? If he did not keep his distance from her, he would find himself in grave danger of being married to a woman who would bring him no wealth and connections. He was not about to make a fool of himself over a woman he could never have serious intentions towards.
“I should think Miss Eliza Bennet is rather disappointed in the evening,” said a voice by his side. Darcy kept his eyes fixed over the room as he felt Miss Bingley press against his arm as if by accident.
“Why should you think that?” he asked in a cold voice.
“The absence of George Wickham. She has been quite delighted with him. Did you not see she looked rather well this evening? Very different from her usually blowsy self. I think she had hopes for this evening. I, for one, am happy he stayed away. He is not the sort we want here.”
Darcy continued to watch the dancers as Miss Bingley’s words rang through his mind.
“Miss Bennet is interested in George Wickham?”
Miss Bingley’s laugh was too high to be genuine.
“Did you not hear about it? Her sisters have told everyone. I fear you have some competition, Mr Darcy. You might lose your lady love to the son of your father’s steward.”
“She is not my lady love,” said Darcy flatly. He paused for a moment. “And he is no competition. A woman as intelligent as Miss Bennet will not fall for his charms. Wickham can flatter and deceive in the short term, but he cannot maintain it for long. I need have no fear there.”
“I should have known not to make sport with a gentleman’s heart,” said Miss Bingley. “I am sure you have other things you’d like to do this evening. Such as dancing again with Miss Eliza. You should secure her at once. Her mother will be thrilled. She will have you wed before Christmas just like she has declared for Miss Jane Bennet and Charles. Oh, you should hear her telling everyone within earshot how Miss Bennet and Charles will be married before the end of the year. I am sure it would thrill her to speak of you and Miss Eliza in the same manner.”
“I do not see Miss Elizabeth,” was Darcy’s only response.
Miss Bingley tried to give him an arch look. “Are you searching for her? Well, Mrs Bennet will be pleased —“
Darcy turned to her with a brief bow. “Excuse me,” he said. He strode from the room, leaving Miss Bingley to stare after him in confusion and with the sinking sensation her teasing had not had the result she’d intended.
Darcy would have liked to dance with Elizabeth again, no matter how much he told himself he should not. The thrill of taking her hand in his and having her conversation to himself remained with him, causing his heart to pound when he thought of it. It was a struggle to keep the smile from growing. If he saw her again, he should be tempted to prevail on her to stand up with him once more.
That idiot of a clergyman, Mr Collins, shuffled up beside him with an oily smile on his face. Darcy stared at him in astonishment. They had not been introduced, thank goodness. Surely he was not about to speak with him? What on earth was wrong with this family? Elizabeth and Jane were the only ones who could conduct themselves with any decorum.
“Mr Darcy, I must beg your pardon for not speaking with you before,” said the man with a simpering smile. “But I have just been reliably informed you are the nephew of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. If I had known who you were before I should have made it my special business to wait on you. It is my honour to inform you that her ladyship was in excellent health when I left her just a few days ago.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Darcy coldly. Mr Collins beamed as though he had been bestowed with profound praise.
“She will be delighted when I tell her I have met you.”
“I am sure she will.” Darcy suppressed an irritated sigh.
“I will return by the end of the week. Perhaps I can carry a message to her?”
“I assure you there is no need. I prefer to write to my aunt myself.”
Mr Collins smile faltered, but it widened again a moment later.
“Lady Catherine will also be pleased to know you singled out my cousin, Elizabeth, for attention. I have no doubt she wil
l approve of her when she meets her but knowing she has your approval as well will delight her.”
Darcy looked down at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Why should my aunt meet Miss Elizabeth?” He felt a dart of alarm that expectations were spreading of a match between them. He knew he should not have danced with her. He should have fought the temptation. In a dull little place like this, it would take nothing at all for people to gossip and have young people married off if they so much as looked at one another.
“When we marry, of course.” Mr Collins affected to blush. “I came here with the express purpose of choosing a wife from among my Cousin Bennet’s daughters so they might remain at Longbourn once the sad day of his passing comes along. I am the heir to the estate, you know. It is nothing so very marvellous — nothing to Pemberley. But it is productive and should provide me with all I need.”
“And Miss Elizabeth is the lady you have chosen?”
“She is indeed. I think her liveliness and wit will please Lady Catherine.”
“And has Miss Elizabeth chosen you in return?”
“Oh, as to that—“ Mr Collins waved his hand as if Elizabeth’s agreement was a trifling matter. “Her parents already sanction the match. They are most eager for it. And Cousin Elizabeth has been most encouraging. She agreed to dance with me tonight. Though she is often modest and pretends to be oblivious to my marked attention, I know it is the usual way of young ladies to pretend they are unaware of a man’s intentions. I hope we shall be married before the end of the year.”
The thought of the lively, enchanting Elizabeth Bennet being married to this idiot was almost more than Darcy could bear. What; that a woman like that throw herself away on this fool and have to endure the interference of his domineering aunt? It did not bear thinking about. Elizabeth was spirited, and she would stand up for herself at first. But she would eventually grow tired of fighting all the time. Between them, Mr Collins and his aunt would drain away that captivating spirit and leave Elizabeth a shell of the woman she was. Darcy gritted his teeth at the unfairness of it all. Why could Elizabeth not have the right connections? If it were not for her foolish family and her connections to trade, he would seriously consider making her an offer. As it was, all he could do was listen in mortification as this fool took the most fascinating woman Darcy had ever seen for his own.
Follies and Vices Page 3