by Zoë Burton
Elizabeth shook her head. She had not asked enough questions of her father to know how Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham knew each other, but it had been apparent from their interaction on the streets of Meryton yesterday that they were acquainted, and that they did not care for each other.
“I have no facts,” she told herself, not worrying that someone might overhear. “All I know is that a gentleman I have just met has declared he will seduce me, and another gentleman, one who dislikes me, brought his friends to my home to warn my father about it. And, my father is unconcerned.”
That last was upsetting to Elizabeth. There had been many times in the past when she had wondered at her male parent’s reasoning. Her mother was flighty, to be sure, but Mr. Bennet was educated and intelligent. All Elizabeth could think this time is that her virtue was threatened, and it would be nice if her father were at least a little bit worried for her.
“I will have to be careful around Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth murmured to herself, stopping her forward motion to sway slightly, the toes of one foot dug deeply into the dirt to anchor her. She leaned her cheek against her right hand where it wrapped around the rope and stared at a tuft of grass a few feet away, her brow furrowed. “I do not know what he is capable of, and I would not wish to be caught unaware. My father is clearly unwilling to entertain the possibilities, but that does not mean that I must follow suit.”
A few more minutes of contemplation led Elizabeth around to the realization that it was Mr. Darcy who brought word of this threat to Longbourn. Why would he do that, she asked herself. He doesn’t like me. He refused to dance with me at the assembly and then stared at me in disgust the entire time I was at Netherfield with Jane. The more she thought about the gentleman, the more insistent the quiet little voice inside her became, and the more convinced Elizabeth was that she might have misread him. “Surely,” she said to the air, “a gentleman who disliked me as much as Mr. Darcy appeared to have would not concern himself with the reputation of a lady he found so disgusting, no matter how gallant the act might seem. Is it possible that he admires me well enough to be concerned about my well-being?” Her spirits rose and a smile formed as hope began to rise within her.
Chewing her lip, Elizabeth recalled his reaction at her refusal to dance with him that evening at Mr. Bingley’s home, and how surprised she had been then that he had not taken offense at her words. She was amazed now to understand that he reacted as he did because his feelings toward her were the opposite of what she had previously believed them to be. “Well, this puts everything in a new light!” Elizabeth rose and began to walk back toward the kitchen door, deciding not to count on her deductions being correct until she had proof. She vowed to observe Mr. Darcy more closely and speak to him more often, to see if she could determine the truth of her conjectures.
~~~***~~~
Later that evening, the Bennet family joined their neighbors at the home of Mrs. Bennet’s sister, Mrs. Phillips, for a dinner party. In attendance were many of the officers from the nearby camp, Mr. Wickham among them. The rooms were crowded, and Elizabeth hoped to remain at a distance from all of the officers, if at all possible. Unfortunately, before the night was out, she found herself approached by Mr. Wickham. Desperately, she searched the room with her eyes, looking for an escape. Finding none, she plastered an indifferent look on her face, and resigned herself to being in his company. At least the room is full of people. There is not much he could do to me here.
“Miss Elizabeth, how delightful to see you again!” Mr. Wickham’s greeting was all that was insincere in his hearer’s ears.
The corners of Elizabeth’s lips barely lifted in acknowledgement of his words. “You, as well.” She hated telling an untruth and it was all she could do to stay where she was, but the pressure of propriety and the niggling fear of provoking him kept her from saying what she really wished to. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Wickham apparently had no such constraints on his conversation, and proceeded to flatter and flirt and try to inflate Elizabeth’s sense of self-admiration. With great effort, she refrained from rolling her eyes at him.
“I have heard it bandied about Meryton that the Bennet ladies are all beautiful; I am delighted to discover the gossip to be true!”
“Thank you, sir, but Jane is the beauty of the family. The rest of us pale in comparison.” Elizabeth’s reply was almost a monotone, holding none of the archness she was noted for. She could hear the flatness of her answer but was unable to adjust it. She was too uncomfortable for that.
“You are too modest by half,” Wickham cried. “Miss Bennet has the classic looks of an English rose, but your appeal is just as powerful, I assure you.”
Giving her unwanted companion a weak smile, Elizabeth said nothing for a moment. Please, someone come rescue me from this rogue. Finally, feeling her internal temperature rise along with her discomfort, she swallowed her unease and said, “There are many beautiful ladies in Meryton. My friend Charlotte, for example.” Elizabeth gestured to the piano, where said friend was currently playing for the enjoyment of the guests. “She has the bluest eyes of anyone I have ever seen. Far superior to my own muddy brown ones. And her hair is a rich brown color, where mine is almost red, especially in the sun. I should not like you to focus on myself and my sisters when there is an entire town of beauty before you.”
“Ah,” Wickham replied, “you are generous, also. I fear I have embarrassed you with my effusions. Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed to her. “Allow me to change the subject.”
“Thank you, sir. That would be deeply appreciated.”
Wickham smiled again, then launched into another conversation that was doomed to make Elizabeth uncomfortable. “I see Mr. Darcy and his party are not in attendance this evening. Has he been long in Meryton?”
Instantly alert, Elizabeth replied, feeling a veil of caution descend upon her. “About a month.”
Wickham dipped his head. “I am certain you noticed our cold greeting this morning,” he half-asked and half-stated.
Elizabeth paused, uncertain how to respond. She could not deny it, however, and so she admitted that yes, she had noticed a lack of warmth between the two gentlemen.
Wickham then began a tale that Elizabeth was certain was designed to make Mr. Darcy look bad.
“Mr. Darcy’s father was my godfather. We grew up together, Darcy and I.”
Despite herself, Elizabeth was intrigued. To see the two gentlemen together this morning, one would not have gathered that their acquaintance was so close. She hesitated, still desiring him gone despite her interest in his story. “I am surprised. You and he did not greet each other as friends.”
Wickham pasted a sad look on his face. “We are not friends any longer.”
“Oh, I am sorry. I would not wish to pain you. We should find something else to discuss.”
“No, no, it is well. I have got over most of the painful feelings. I can tell the tale with nothing more than a bit of regret.”
Elizabeth continued to waver between her curiosity and her desire to be far away from this man. She bit her lip again, looking around once more, vainly searching for a sister or friend who needed her. Even her mother would do at this point, but Mrs. Bennet was well-occupied with Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding. Sighing at the distinct lack of a rescue, Elizabeth turned her eyes once more to Mr. Wickham. “I do not wish to be the cause of relived pain. I do not think we should speak of it.”
“I insist. It truly is no hardship.” Wickham’s words were kind, but his tone suddenly had an edge to it that increased his listener’s unease.
Elizabeth swallowed, not liking the sudden hardness that had overtaken her unwanted companion’s countenance. She instantly felt the danger of being near him more strongly as every muscle in her body stiffened and her heart began to pound. She wished to flee, but her strong sense of decorum kept her in place. She did not want to make a scene and give the neighbors reason to gossip about her. Since escape was not possibl
e, Elizabeth thought to use the situation to her advantage. She would listen to Wickham’s tale and at the least, have more evidence to present to her father that Mr. Darcy was correct. Keeping her mien as indifferent as she could manage, Elizabeth nodded once. “Very well, then.”
“As I said, Darcy and I grew up together. I was his father’s favorite, and Darcy did not like it. We were sent to university together, and I was given a living in the elder Darcy’s will. My godfather passed away four years ago, and his son refused to give me the living that was my due. I have been encouraged by friends to expose him to the world for the cheat he is, but out of respect for his father, I will not.” Wickham had reverted to his pleasant demeanour to tell his tale, and now Elizabeth could see that he watched her closely.
A crease appeared between her brows as she asked, “Did he have a reason for his interference in the wishes of his father?” Elizabeth could not imagine a loving son doing such a thing, but perhaps there was an underlying cause.
With Elizabeth’s question, Wickham appeared to relax. “He hates me. I told you, I was his father’s favorite.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, drawing the word out. “I see. He offered you no recompense for the position? Simply cut you out of it, so to speak?”
“No recompense was offered,” Wickham confirmed decisively. “He laughed at me and escorted me to the door.”
“I am sorry that happened to you. I have no idea what Mr. Darcy could have been thinking, to cut off the friendship of a lifetime because his father loved you as a son.”
Before Wickham could reply, Maria Lucas pulled Elizabeth away at Charlotte’s behest, to play a duet. Elizabeth had never been so glad to be interrupted in her life. She tucked away the things she had heard into the back of her mind, to be brought out in the quiet of her room and analyzed.
Chapter 3
Darcy was silent, and rigid with anger as he mounted his horse outside Longbourn and nudged it into motion, Bingley and Hurst following quickly behind. The ride back to Netherfield was quiet, and accomplished swiftly. Once in the house, the three gentlemen gathered in Bingley’s study, Darcy pacing to the window. He found the serenity of nature to be conducive to sorting out his thoughts. He heard Bingley behind him, calling for a tea tray. A minute later, he heard the squeak of leather as his friend joined Hurst in front of the fireplace.
“So, Bennet has chosen to ignore your warning.” Hurst’s voice clearly displayed his disgust.
Darcy sighed, shaking his head. “He has. I do not understand why. Why would he leave his daughters unprotected?”
“You do not think he will tell them of the threat?” Bingley’s voice indicated surprise.
Darcy turned as a maid entered with the tea service. He remained silent, as did they all, until the girl had curtseyed and departed. When the door clicked shut, he spoke. “No, I do not think he will. He does not see a threat, and it is likely that restricting his daughters will be more effort than he is willing to expend.”
“So the trip this morning was wasted?”
“No,” Darcy assured his friend, “I do not think so.”
“Bennet is now aware of the risk,” Hurst interjected. “If anything should happen, the responsibility rests on his shoulders.” He turned to Darcy. “What step do you intend to take now?”
“I must write to my cousin and see what he can do. I have doubts about that path; the militia is a separate entity from the regulars, and I do not think the two mingle. However, Richard has contacts everywhere, and if it is possible to remove Wickham from the militia and insert him into the regulars, he will make it happen.”
Bingley sipped his tea as he listened, then nodded his understanding. “And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, I should visit the local merchants. Wickham has not been here long enough to collect any debts, but he will. I will warn them.” Darcy took a sip out of his own cup. “If they also ignore me, I can always go back around and pay the debts and use that as incentive for Wickham to disappear.”
“Too bad there is not a more permanent solution.”
“I agree, Bingley, but I also refuse to break moral and civil laws to find one.”
“I know. I only wish for him to disappear, and be unable to hurt anyone else.”
“As do we all, my friend; as do we all.” Darcy’s mouth twisted into a grimace before he raised his cup to his lips one more time.
~~~***~~~
Darcy wasted no time in visiting the merchants of Meryton. Immediately after tea, he set out once more, this time alone. While he at first met with some resistance, in the end, all the merchants agreed be cautious with the amount of credit they extended to Wickham. Having discharged his duty, Darcy returned to Netherfield. He slipped quietly up the stairs, skipping the riser midway up that creaked, so he could avoid Bingley’s younger sister and her unwelcome attention to his every need, want, and desire.
Darcy was standing in front of the washstand, rinsing soap off his face and hands, when a knock sounded on his dressing room door. He could hear his valet, Smith, open the door and speak softly to someone before closing the door again and returning. Darcy wiped his face with the towel. “Yes?”
“Mr. Bingley is without, sir. He wishes to speak with you.”
Tossing the towel back onto the top of the stand, Darcy reached for his robe, pulling it on and tying it about his waist. “Call him in.”
Bingley entered cautiously, peeking around the side of the wardrobe that stood next to the door, and visibly relaxing to see Darcy dressed. He stepped fully into the room then, smiling ear to ear. “So, how did it go?”
Darcy’s lips curved up into a small answering smile. His friend was ever-eager; it is what endeared Bingley to him. “Have a seat in the chair. I am going to step behind the screen and change. I can tell you about it while I do.” With that, Darcy was soon out of sight of his friend. “I believe it went well. I have spoken to every merchant in the town.”
“Has Wickham very big bills?”
“Not yet. He has been in Meryton only a day or two.”
“Did the shopkeepers readily listen to you?”
Darcy sighed. “Some did, others did not. However, I refused to leave until I had said my piece, and I believe I was persuasive enough that they believed me. It is in their best interest to do so, and they know it.” He came around the screen once more to stand in front of the pier glass while Smith tied his cravat. He watched his friend in the glass’s reflection.
Bingley nodded, looking thoughtful, his gaze trained on the floor. “That is true. What next, then?” Bingley looked up, and Darcy caught his eye in the mirror.
“Nothing yet. I sent the letter to my cousin express. I hope to hear back in a few days, but until then, we must simply watch and wait.” Darcy held his arms straight down so Smith could slip his tailcoat over them.
“What about the Bennets?”
Darcy shrugged as he turned around, tugging his cuffs out from the sleeves. “We pray their father takes my warning seriously.”
Bingley shook his head. “I do not like it. I do not trust him to do what he should.”
Darcy’s head tilted as he examined his friend. “Why do you care so much?”
Bingley’s head shot up. “Do you not care?”
“Of course I do! I would not have warned Mr. Bennet if I did not.”
“Good. I was worried for a second there.” Bingley shook his head. “I have said nothing to my family, but … Miss Bennet attracts me. I can easily imagine growing old with her by my side.”
Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. “You can? Are you certain? You have fallen in love many times before.”
“Yes, that is correct; I have. However, no other lady has made me think of the future. I could not see past the next ball with them. Miss Bennet has me thinking about settlements and babies.”
Darcy whistled. “That is serious.” He paused. “I do not know the state of the lady’s heart, and I do not wish to discourage you, but promise me you will go slow
ly with this and be certain of her affections before you propose marriage or courtship or what have you.”
Bingley stood and held out his hand. “I will; I promise.”
~~~***~~~
Darcy would have an opportunity to speak to Elizabeth the very next day. Bingley and his sisters planned to have a ball, and they were to be out visiting neighbors and issuing invitations. Darcy invited himself along, riding his horse instead of sitting in the carriage, much to Bingley’s single sister’s chagrin.
Once ensconced in the Bennets’ drawing-room, Darcy accepted a cup of tea and silently watched the visit proceed. He thought he hid his discomfort well. Through it all, he was very much aware of Elizabeth, her location, and what she was doing. He thought her very pretty as she sat in the light of the window, and wished he could sit beside her.
Near the end of the visit, when the invitation had been issued and accepted, Darcy sidled up to Elizabeth, who was sitting alone at a side table, working on her stitching, and quietly asked her to walk in the gardens. She agreed with alacrity, smiling up at him before standing and inviting Jane to come along.
Bingley popped out of his chair. “Oh, yes! I meant to request just that. Caroline, I know you do not like rambling about; please do finish your conversation with Mrs. Bennet. We will not be long.” Bingley did not allow his sister to say a thing. He said his piece and was out the door with Jane before Caroline was able to form a response.
Darcy and Elizabeth followed the other couple out to the garden. They walked silently for a few minutes, but Darcy knew his time was limited and did not allow himself to fall into contemplation for too long. He cleared his throat, unaccountably nervous about talking to her. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Miss Elizabeth.”
