by Beau North
“Wait up, Will!”
Darcy turned in his saddle to see his cousin Richard approaching on Cyrus. Auberon danced a little at the sight of Richard’s big bay, his blood still up from the ride.
“Steady, steady,” Darcy said soothingly. Auberon flicked his ears and snorted as if to say, “You be steady.”
“Morning, Richard.” Richard Fitzwilliam was older by three years but had many times been mistaken to be younger than Darcy. Richard was leaner, his profile finer, and his coloring fairer than Darcy’s. He was quicker with a smile and had a talent for socializing that both Darcy siblings had always envied. That morning, Richard’s clothes were wrinkled, and his sandy hair stuck out comically.
“Did you just roll out of bed?”
“I did at that,” Richard said with a grin. “I saw you and Auberon trying to outrun Old Man Splitfoot, and thought I’d join you.”
Darcy nodded and turned his attention back to the ride—or at least the part of his attention that wasn’t caught up remembering a certain country miss. And a certain kiss.
Richard prattled on in good humor. “Actually, I lied.” They were alike in many ways, but where Darcy was quiet and thoughtful, his cousin spoke often and with little restraint. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now, but you never seem to be around. If I were the suspicious type, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
“I’m here now,” Darcy said irritably.
“Just wanted to make sure all was well with you. You’ve been less talkative than usual since you got back from the wilds of Lesser Carolina.”
Darcy frowned. He was not ready to share Elizabeth with anyone. He had not even told Georgiana about her. It had been his hope that being back at Pemberley would help diminish his absurd infatuation with the girl, but the months away had given him little respite. He was still bitterly disappointed with the way events had unfolded that night on Bingley’s porch. “As far as I’m convinced, you’re the devil himself.” Her words still stung to his very core. Thinking over the way he behaved around her, going all the way back to the dance, he could well understand why she had thought so. Still, rejection was a new sensation for him, and he liked it not at all. He only hoped his letter had given her more insight into the man he really was beyond the face he wore in public.
“Hello, D? Did you hear a word I just said?”
Darcy shook his head. “Sorry, Richie. I guess I have been…out of sorts lately. What were you saying?”
“I’m assuming your business went smoothly?”
“As smoothly as these things can go, I suppose,” Darcy said, thinking of Elizabeth’s eyes throwing daggers at him.
“Then why so glum, chum?” Richard chuckled. Darcy smiled a little despite himself, glad that Richard seemed to be more his old self these days. Darcy could remember his cousin always getting into some trouble and always quick with a joke and a smile. That was before the war, before Richard had come back from Brittany with more than one kind of scar. While Darcy regretted that the running of his munitions factories had made him ineligible to fight for his country, he often felt a measure of relief that he had not had to endure the horrors of war like his cousin.
Darcy shook himself. “I’m fine, Richie. Or, I will be.”
“Oh hell.” Richard groaned from his saddle. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
“Never you mind, asshole,” Darcy said, forcing a crooked smile. He only hoped it looked natural enough. “You haven’t told me if you’re coming with me to Rosings this year.”
Richard winced. “Ah…about that.”
Darcy pulled Auberon’s reins, bringing the gray to a halt. “You’re not abandoning me to deal with Aunt Catherine by myself, Richard.”
Richard turned in Cyrus’s saddle but did not stop. “I’d already made plans to go up to Boston and see Adam Carter and a few of the other boys.”
Darcy nudged Auberon on; they caught up to Cyrus easily. “Convenient timing.”
Richard shrugged. “You’ll send my regrets, I’m sure. And my love to Anne.”
“You know I will.” Darcy sighed. “I suppose I could always bring Charles with me.”
“There you have it.” Richard smiled at him. “You and Beastly can squire Aunt Catherine all over Camden while she continues planning your wedding to Anne.” Richard used their private nickname for Bingley. The moniker had been bestowed after a night of too much gin when Bingley had decided to run through the Yale campus au naturel. Everyone had been stunned that good-natured, mild-mannered Charles Bingley was so famously well equipped.
Darcy rolled his eyes. “God, I hope she’s not still going on about Anne. It was funny when we were younger but beyond ridiculous now.”
“I’ll say.” Richard agreed. “Marrying your first cousin is a little bit too old Dixie for me. Not to mention Anne would never have you in a million years. Even if you weren’t related.”
“Richard, please.”
Richard looked askance. Finally, he chuckled, shaking his head at him. “Whoever she is, she did a number on you. You’re all twisted up in your britches.”
Darcy said nothing but urged Auberon back into a run, leaving Richard laughing behind him.
***
On a particularly fine day in April, hundreds of people descended on Camden for the Carolina Cup Steeplechase, the second largest race in the South next to the Kentucky Derby. Elizabeth breathed deeply, savoring the smell of fresh hay, boiled peanuts, and horses. Every so often, Charlotte would point out someone they knew—or an especially nice hat.
“We’re here to watch the race,” said John Lucas. He’d brought the girls as a present for Charlotte’s twenty-sixth birthday. “Horses, not hats.”
“Now that is where you’re wrong,” Elizabeth said, borrowing her father’s favorite expression, “this is the real sport.”
“And here I thought the real sport was fighting my way out of the cheap seats to come and say hello,” said a man’s voice from behind them. Elizabeth turned, her jaw dropping at the newcomer.
“Mr. Wickham!”
She was completely caught off guard by his sudden appearance. She hadn’t given much thought to the handsome corporal since their initial meeting in Meryton except when reflecting on the sentiments that Will Darcy had tried to impart. And she found herself thinking about Will Darcy more often than she cared to admit.
“This is a lucky chance!” Wickham greeted her cheerfully. Elizabeth smiled back uncertainly until Charlotte’s nudge reminded her they weren’t alone.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Wickham, this is my dear friend Charlotte Lucas and her brother John. Charlotte, John, this is Corporal George Wickham.”
Wickham nodded and smiled, asking Charlotte whether all Meryton girls were as well-read as Elizabeth, eliciting a giggle from both ladies. John observed quietly for several minutes while the girls chatted with Wickham, laughing at his jokes and enjoying his charming company.
Before leaving them to return to his seat, Wickham leaned in close to speak in Elizabeth’s ear. She felt his breath on her neck and tried to lean away without being rude. His sudden closeness flustered her, and not in the way she’d expected.
“I hope I’ll see you again before the day is done,” he whispered. “Alone, maybe?”
Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. She looked sharply at him, and she could tell—from his cocky grin to the casual, self-assured way he raised his eyebrows in question—that he was without a single doubt of his success.
Trust your instincts. Darcy’s voice merely echoed her own thoughts.
“Best of luck today, Mr. Wickham,” she said as she turned away to look through her binoculars, dismissing him as discreetly as she could in mixed company.
“You watch out for that one, Lizzie,” John said to her after Wickham walked away. “He’s got the devil in his eye if I ever saw it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” After a moment, she lowered her binoculars and gave him a curious look. “How can you tell?”
John only laughed.
***
The Carolina Cup had brought another party to Camden that day. Darcy attended the race every year with his aunt Catherine and cousin Anne. He once again suspected that the timing of Richard’s trip had been a little too convenient. He would much rather have had Richard’s jovial company than endure Bingley’s brooding silence.
He asked Bingley to come in Richard’s stead, hoping the race would improve his friend’s spirits, but if anything the proximity to Meryton (less than twenty miles) had only seemed to make Bingley more downcast.
Worse, Bingley had been obligated to bring Caroline, who wasted no time in ingratiating herself to Darcy and his relatives.
“Wherever did you find her, Will?” Anne murmured under her breath. Caroline was asking Anne’s mother her opinion on the best upholstery shops. She was laying the southern charm on a little thick, Anne thought. The woman went from lemon juice to sweet tea the second Mother spoke to her.
“Crawled out of a swamp?” Darcy said quietly.
Anne’s lip curled slightly. “Think I’d prefer an alligator.”
“So would I. It might be tempted to eat that idiot.” Darcy nodded imperceptibly towards the sixth and most unwelcome member of their group, the Reverend Leland Collins.
“Yes, my mother would be lost without her little pet.”
Darcy thought pet was as an apt title. He noticed that, the moment his aunt Catherine was unoccupied, Collins all but perched on her shoulder but otherwise stood back from the group at large, observing them all. He still had no small amount of dislike for the pastor, remembering the possessive zeal in his eyes whenever he looked at his Bennet cousins.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Darcy said to Anne, who was getting progressively uneasy in the company of her mother, Collins, and Caroline.
“You read my mind.” Anne stood and put her arm through his.
Seeing Darcy and Anne leaving, Caroline attempted to disengage herself from Catherine and follow, only to find there was no polite way to do it. She’d ingratiated herself far too well, and she had to endure a lecture on her choice of furniture.
“Good heavens, Bakers? No, no, no, my dear. You have to go to Drayton’s. They’ve been making furniture for our family for over two hundred years now. Next time you’re in Charleston on Jackson Avenue, tell them I sent you, and you’ll be taken care of.”
Darcy had counted on his aunt for this, and she had accommodated beautifully. He felt a base satisfaction at the irritation on Caroline’s face. As they left, he could not resist looking back to throw her a knowing, arrogant smirk.
***
“Oh no!” Elizabeth gasped, making Charlotte and John stop and look around to see what suddenly upset her.
John groaned. “Oh swell, it’s that stick in the mud, Darcy. I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Let’s sneak away before he does.” He grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and put it playfully through his own.
Elizabeth was taken aback when Charlotte raised her arm in greeting. She called out to Mr. Darcy and his companion, a tall young woman in a very fine dress that was several seasons out of fashion.
“Mr. Darcy, hello!”
He looked over at the sound of his name. Elizabeth saw a look of alarm cross Darcy’s face that must have mirrored her own. Her stomach churned uneasily. After their last encounter, she could well imagine he’d turn and walk away without a word. She had struck him after all. Not that he didn’t deserve it. She felt a deep flush burning her face at the memory.
“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend,” Elizabeth hissed, stepping closer to John as a stunned-looking Darcy made his way over to them.
“Hello, Miss Lucas, John.” Darcy nodded to the Lucas siblings. John shook his hand as quickly as manners allowed.
“Hello, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said formally, frowning when he noticed Elizabeth’s arm looped through John’s. Her brow arched playfully at his displeasure.
“You cut your hair.” He said it as a statement rather than a question.
“I did at that,” she said, feeling very warm all of the sudden. “You’ve a keen eye, Mr. Darcy.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said before lapsing back into silence.
Feeling bold, Elizabeth turned to Darcy’s companion.
“How do you like that?” she said. “Mr. Darcy’s manners have not improved since we saw him last. And I had such high hopes. Honestly, how do you stand to take him out in public?”
“I—I’m afraid it runs in the family. We should all be locked away to protect the public at large.” Elizabeth beamed at her as though pleased with this answer.
“And on that note,” Darcy said, “let me introduce my cousin, Miss Anne DeBourgh. Cousin Anne, this is John Lucas, his sister Miss Charlotte Lucas, and this amusing young lady is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Very nice to meet you all,” Anne said quietly. Elizabeth felt herself fall under the scrutiny of Anne’s gaze. It reminded her very much of the way Darcy would stare at her sometimes. She pondered the possibility that his quiet gravity was something he’d inherited rather than acquired over time.
She toyed with the locket around her neck, giving him a nervous smile. “So now I’m an amusing young woman and not that girl with more sass than sense? I had no idea you were so fickle in your opinions.”
He returned her smile with a small one of his own. “Is it written somewhere that you can’t be both?”
Everyone around them laughed a little, surprised at his having made a joke. He leaned over and spoke to Elizabeth in a low voice.
“I’ve never managed to peg you quite right, have I?”
A blush crept across her face at his words and the intimacy of his low voice so close to her ear. She pulled back slightly to look at him. He still wore that small smile. She could hardly credit the little flutter she felt, and she smiled gamely at him.
“Progress is progress, Mr. Darcy.”
***
Caroline seethed as she peered through her binoculars at the scene below. Darcy and his cousin were easy enough to spot due to their height, but she was appalled to see that flouncy little trollop, Eliza Bennet, making eyes at her Mr. Darcy. She’d managed to extricate herself from Darcy’s horrid aunt, leaving the widow in the company of her oily minister.
If only he didn’t seem to enjoy it so much! Caroline thought bitterly. She had no doubt it was nothing more than a physical attraction on his part, and she told herself that he certainly wouldn’t consider actually marrying that brazen little piece. Caroline swallowed her bitter disappointment. What she needed was time. She’d thought leaving Meryton would have been enough.
“A pretty picture, isn’t it?” Caroline’s insides froze at the sound of that voice. She looked up at George Wickham with narrowed eyes.
“What do you want?”
“What? No kiss for an old friend?”
“There would be if I saw one!”
Wickham took the seat next to hers so that he could speak to her in a low voice.
“Don’t be like that, Carrie. That’s no way to act, especially after last summer! Your help was invaluable to me at the time.”
Caroline gave an unladylike little snort of laughter. “And look where it got me! You made a fine mess of everything with Georgiana!”
Wickham scowled and turned back to the crowd, his eyes finding Darcy again. “Couldn’t be helped. But it looks as if you’re still bound and determined to have your man.”
“What’s it to you?” she asked irritably.
“Do you know that girl he’s talking to?”
“Oh you cannot be serious. Don’t tell me you have stiff britches for Eliza Bennet, too!”
“Jealous, are we?” Wickham laughed then shook his head. “When have you ever known that to be my type? Young, perky, painfully naive?”
“You mean she hasn’t got any money,” Caroline said with a smirk.
“That too. Still…there must be something about her. Jus
t look at that ridiculous grin on Darcy’s face.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, George, but Eliza Bennet might not be the pauper you think she is. Darcy bought her family’s cotton operation this winter.”
Wickham considered the group again. “Is that a fact?”
He turned to Caroline, trailing a finger down her neck, shoulder, and arm. He lowered his voice and leaned close enough that his breath tickled her neck.
“We could help each other again, Carrie. You have to admit that, despite everything going off the rails last summer, we did have a good time.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, George.” Her warning made him grin.
“No, sweetheart. This time it’s going to be even easier than last year, don’t you see? If he really and truly cares about her, then won’t his heart be broken that much more easily? And what’s the best cure for a broken heart?”
Wickham crossed his arms and leaned close to Caroline, concealing his fingers as they reached out to caress the side of her breast.
“A distraction.”
***
“There you are, Darcy! I’ve been looking for you everywh—” the words fell dead in Bingley’s throat when he saw who Darcy and Anne were with.
“Miss…Miss Bennet! What a surprise to see you here!” Bingley thought surprise was putting it mildly.
He watched as Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged an unreadable look. She cleared her throat. “Hello, Mr. Bingley. You remember Charlotte and John?”
Bingley shook his head as if to clear it, his heart stuck in his throat. He wiped his hand, sticky with sweat and spilled beer, across his shirt before gripping John’s in a brief handshake.
“Is it…just the three of you, then?”
Elizabeth’s soft, sympathetic smile nearly made Bingley turn around and leave. He’d always been a congenial man who was slow to anger, but he’d found the one thing that he had no patience for was that look of pity. It’s why he’d been spending so much time with Caroline, who pitied no one.
