Caroline wished she could forget the expression on Mr. Darcy’s face as he had gazed at Elizabeth Bennet the previous day. “I do not see the appeal,” she sneered. “But he appears to be in danger of falling under her spell.”
Wickham shrugged. “And how is this my concern?”
She glanced down at her gloves, soft and white, without a spot of dirt. “As I recall, in Hertfordshire, Eliza Bennet seemed to have some misguided fondness for you.” Caroline did not bother to hide her expression of disgust, but he did not react. “Have you continued the acquaintance here?”
“I have paid calls at her aunt and uncle’s house,” he allowed.
Excellent. Caroline’s plan might work. “I will pay you handsomely to ensure that she is no longer a suitable object for Mr. Darcy’s affections.”
The man stroked his chin, feigning perplexity. “And how should I accomplish that?”
“Propose marriage to her,” Caroline said promptly.
Wickham’s mouth turned down in disgust. “I do not wish to wed her!”
Caroline rolled her eyes. Must she do all the thinking? “You need not actually marry her. It is sufficient to make her an offer. Once she is engaged, Mr. Darcy’s interest will wane.”
“And might turn in another direction?” Wickham regarded her shrewdly from under his brows.
“That is not your concern,” Caroline informed him frostily. “I merely wish to have her removed from consideration temporarily.”
“I do not know…” Wickham examined his fingernails with studied indifference. “It seems a great deal of trouble for me….”
Caroline recognized her cue. She extracted a small pouch from her reticule and handed it to him. He opened it immediately—how gauche—and allowed the coins to spill out onto the palm of his hand.
“I trust that is sufficient incentive,” Caroline said.
Avarice glowed in his face. “Indeed. I believe I can feel my affection for Miss Bennet increasing by the second.”
“Excellent,” Caroline said. “I will leave the matter in your hands.”
Wickham smiled at her wolfishly. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
***
The knowledge that Elizabeth Bennet was in London had not allowed Darcy a moment’s rest that night. As he sat behind his desk that evening, he envisioned what she might be doing. Perhaps she was having dinner with her aunt and uncle. Now she might be sitting in the drawing room reading. Did they have children for her to play with? When would she retire for the night?
After brooding in his study until long after midnight, he had tossed and turned in his bed before falling into a fitful sleep in the early morning hours. A mere ten minutes in her presence, and he was in danger of becoming as obsessed with her as he ever was.
Upon awakening, his first thought was that he knew where Elizabeth stayed; he could call upon her and the Gardiners. Indeed, a visit was polite—nearly obligatory—given his acquaintance with her family. She had been gracious enough to call on the Bingleys despite knowing that she would receive a frosty welcome, but the Bingley sisters plainly would not return the call. If Darcy visited, at least Elizabeth would know that the entirety of the Netherfield party did not hold her in such low esteem. Also, she might have been brought low by the Bingley sisters’ insults; it was only right that Darcy visit and ensure that she was in good spirits.
Given new life by these thoughts, Darcy sprang from bed and addressed himself to his toilette with dispatch. In the midst of splashing water on his face, he had a new thought. If I visit the Gardiners’ house alone, will I appear to be courting Elizabeth? He had taken great pains in Hertfordshire to avoid the appearance of favoring her; he did not want to give rise to expectations he could not fulfill.
And yet his own reaction surprised him. The idea of creating such an expectation should fill him with dread, but instead a thrumming excitement surged through his veins. Suddenly light-headed, Darcy grabbed the edge of the washstand. Was there some part of him that wished Elizabeth to believe he was courting her? Or worse yet, wished to court her?
Darcy regarded his own rather pale face in the mirror. What could he do?
He pried his gaze from the mirror and stumbled to the closet in search of fresh clothing. I am being foolish. He was simply returning a social call for the sake of politeness. Elizabeth would understand that he only visited because of his connection with her family. He might happen to enjoy Elizabeth’s company…quite a bit…more than any other woman he had ever encountered…
But that was beside the point. His object was to help her feel welcome in London.
As his valet entered the room, Darcy thrust such thoughts from his mind. Within minutes he was dressed and downstairs breaking his fast. Another half an hour saw him driving his curricle toward Gracechurch Street. The curricle was a bit of an indulgence; it would have been simpler to take a horse. But he had a vision of offering Elizabeth a chance to tour some of his favorite sights in London. It was a ridiculous thought, yet Darcy found he could not dismiss it from his mind.
Guiding the curricle through the streets of London, he even found himself humming a tune that Georgiana had played the day before. It was pleasant to have one of his Hertfordshire acquaintances in London. There was nothing remarkable if the anticipation of her company pleased him.
The Gardiners’ home was not large, but it was well kept and more fashionable than Darcy had expected. He had never ventured into Cheapside before and had been prepared for far less genteel surroundings. This appeared to be a quite respectable neighborhood.
Darcy was still humming as he approached the Gardiners’ door and knocked. Perhaps he should have purchased flowers. Women liked flowers, did they not? But flowers might suggest he was courting her, which he most definitely was not. They were simply friends.
A maid answered the door and took his coat. Darcy gave his card and inquired if Miss Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner were at home. The maid replied that they were in the drawing room with a male visitor whose name she had not caught.
Darcy’s interest was immediately piqued. He could not imagine Elizabeth had a large circle of acquaintances in London. Could she have acquired a suitor already? But the maid had not mentioned the age of the visitor. He might just as easily be some friend of her father’s or a business acquaintance of her uncle’s. Darcy frowned at the thought. A widower of that age might prefer a younger wife.
Or perhaps it was Bingley, visiting to apologize for his sisters’ behavior the previous day. Yes, Bingley would be quite acceptable.
Darcy followed the maid down the narrow hallway to the drawing room. She opened the door and announced, “Mr. Darcy, ma’am,” before withdrawing and allowing Darcy to enter the room.
His eyes immediately fell upon the male visitor, and he realized he had been far from imagining the worst.
Wickham.
His arrival had interrupted a scene of some mirth. Wickham was grinning while Elizabeth giggled, and Mrs. Gardiner had her hand over her mouth as if to suppress laughter. When Darcy stepped into the room, the merriment quickly died away.
The other man raised his eyes slowly to meet Darcy’s, a smirk forming on his lips. “Darcy,” he drawled.
“Wickham.” Darcy bit off the word.
Everyone stood to exchange an awkward series of bows and curtsies. Darcy seated himself in the closest available chair, which happened to be opposite Wickham’s. Unfortunately, the other man was also adjacent to the settee where Elizabeth and her aunt were situated. How did Wickham come to be in London? Why was he visiting Elizabeth? Was he actively courting her? Darcy’s breakfast sat like a lump of lead in his stomach.
He could not forget Elizabeth’s disappointment that Wickham had not attended the Netherfield Ball and her spirited defense of him during the dancing. The conversation had caused Darcy twinges of anxiety, but he had comforted himself that her meager dowry kept her safe from Wickham’s depredations. In perpetual want of money, the man would never pursue a poor woman.
And yet here he was.
“I was not aware you were in town,” Darcy said pointedly.
Wickham gave him a lazy smile. “I have a fortnight’s leave for Christmas and thought I would visit some friends here in London.” In other words, he was in town to gamble. “I would not have expected to see you in Gracechurch Street.”
Darcy stiffened. “I am on good terms with the Bennet family,” he said sharply. “And I made Mrs. Gardiner’s acquaintance yesterday.”
“This is my third visit,” Wickham smirked. “The Gardiners are most charming hosts.”
Three visits already? Perhaps he was courting Elizabeth. The room was too warm and too close. Sweat dampened the back of Darcy’s cravat, and he tugged to loosen it. It was unfair that providence had gifted Wickham with such pleasing manners and easy ways with people. He readily formed friendships while Darcy struggled simply to say appropriate words in social situations.
Mrs. Gardiner cleared her throat. “Mr. Wickham and I both spent our childhoods near Lambton, in Derbyshire.”
Darcy suppressed a desire to shout that he knew very well where Lambton was.
“We have many acquaintances in common,” she continued. Darcy no doubt had acquaintances in common with Mrs. Gardiner as well; unfortunately, they most likely took the form of having patronized the shops that members of her family operated. How have I arrived at this pass? His feelings for Elizabeth had brought him so low that he was beginning to regret his superior birth.
“I grew up at Pemberley,” Darcy said.
The older woman’s eyes grew wide. “Oh…Darcy! I should have realized—!” She turned to her niece. “You neglected to inform me that the Mr. Darcy of your acquaintance was Mr. Darcy of Pemberley!”
Elizabeth’s expression revealed no chagrin. “I did not realize you would know the name, Aunt.”
So she had rarely discussed Darcy with her aunt, and yet Wickham arrived for frequent visits. Darcy had the distinct impression he was losing a footrace he had not known he was running.
For the rest of the visit, Darcy remained an outsider. Elizabeth knew how Wickham liked his tea. Mrs. Gardiner inquired after his cousin’s health. Wickham referred to incidents which had occurred at Longbourn after Darcy had left for London.
Darcy made only occasional forays into the conversation, but his subjects were not taken up by the others. In desperation, he blurted out an invitation for Elizabeth to join him for a curricle ride through London.
She blinked at him, a faint line forming between her brows. “I thank you for your most generous offer, Mr. Darcy. But I fear I might be contracting a cold and do not believe it would be prudent for me to remain outside for great lengths of time.”
“Of course,” Darcy murmured while Wickham smirked. “Another time perhaps.”
Nevertheless, Darcy refused to quit the drawing room and leave Wickham in possession of the battlefield. To do so would not only admit defeat but would also leave Elizabeth unprotected from the other man’s whims. As a result, both men stayed quite a bit longer than was customary. Finally, Mrs. Gardiner announced she felt a headache developing; both Darcy and Wickham regarded that as an invitation to depart.
Darcy preceded Wickham out of the door but did not mount his curricle. Instead, as the other man exited the house, Darcy caught him by the elbow and hissed in his ear. “Lovely day for a walk. Shall we?” With a jerk of his arm, he forced Wickham along the footpath beside the road.
“Whatever is the matter, Darcy?” Wickham grinned lazily. “Are you feeling neglected?”
Darcy’s free hand curled into a fist, but he forced it to remain at his side. “What are you playing at with Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Playing at?” Wickham said with affected innocence. “I enjoy her company.”
“So you are courting her,” Darcy said from behind clenched teeth.
“What is it to you if I am?”
Stopping abruptly, Darcy spun the other man about to face him. “She has no dowry to speak of. You could not possibly be interested in more than a dalliance.”
Wickham put his hand to his heart. “Do you think me so mercenary as all that, Darcy? I am insulted, sir!”
Darcy’s patience had worn out. He held Wickham in place with a hand on his shoulder and stared fiercely into the other man’s eyes. “If you hurt her—or her family—in any way, I will make sure you suffer for it.”
“I have the greatest admiration for Miss Bennet and have no intention of harming her.” The sincerity of his words was belied by his noxious smirk.
Darcy shook the other man by the shoulder. “I am not making an idle threat.”
Wickham shrugged. “I have debts, Darcy. I may be forced to flee London. If I do so, I might prefer some company.” He winked.
Darcy’s fist raised, but he managed not to strike the other man. How can he think such despicable things about Elizabeth? How can he be so disgustingly cavalier about her virtue? “She would never join you,” he hissed.
Wickham eyed Darcy sardonically. “If you say so… Then you have no cause for anxiety.” He flung off Darcy’s arm. “I suppose time will tell.” After flashing Darcy a knowing grin, the other man hurried away. Darcy did not stop him.
He stood in the pathway, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to get his ragged breathing under control. Damnation! I have tipped my hand. Wickham is not stupid. The officer recognized Darcy’s interest in Elizabeth.
But Wickham’s presence at the Gardiners’ had taken Darcy by surprise. The officer was more than capable of continuing to pursue Elizabeth just to spite Darcy. Wickham had no true feelings for her, and he had no intention of proposing marriage, but his presence could impede Darcy’s plans with Elizabeth.
Not that I have any such plans, of course. I am simply being friendly.
Still, how could he protect Elizabeth from Wickham? Darcy envisioned various schemes involving bodyguards or Bow Street Runners watching the Gardiners’ house, but they were impractical and unlikely to succeed without Elizabeth’s cooperation.
There was nothing for it, he concluded reluctantly. He must tell Elizabeth why Wickham was unsuitable company. Hesitant to spread gossip and unaware of which lies Wickham had told Elizabeth, Darcy had refrained from speaking of the matter before. But now it appeared to be the only way to protect her.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes to scan the ballroom, wishing she were taller. The Marlowes’ ball was quite a crush, and it was difficult to discern individuals on the other side of the room. The ballroom itself was beautifully decorated, festooned with gold and deep red ribbons as well as swags of pine branches and holly. Mistletoe seemed to adorn every doorway and corner. She would have to be careful not to be caught under a bunch lest some man importune her for a kiss.
Frustrated with her inability to see, Elizabeth climbed up a few steps to a landing, which provided access to the French doors opening onto the terrace. Of course, it was December, so the doors were tightly closed. Aunt Gardiner followed her up the steps. “Perchance are you seeking a particular young officer?”
Elizabeth blushed and said nothing. She had been disappointed when Mr. Wickham had not attended the ball at Netherfield in November. However, he had told Elizabeth he was acquainted with the Marlowe family—who seemed to know everybody in London—so she had every reason to hope he would be present for this occasion. While Elizabeth was not like Kitty and Lydia, chasing after every man in a red coat, she would not mind seeing the dashing figure of Mr. Wickham in his regimentals, and it would not be a chore to stand up with him.
“He is an amiable, well-spoken young man,” Aunt Gardiner continued. “Your uncle and I quite enjoy his company.”
“It is pleasant to have an acquaintance from Meryton here in London,” Elizabeth replied. While she had not precisely been missing Hertfordshire, she had been somewhat overwhelmed by the constant stream of new acquaintances since arriving in town. She must have met everyone her aunt and uncle knew
in London, including the Marlowes, whose fortune derived from a firm that did business with her Uncle Gardiner.
Mr. Wickham was always a welcome sight. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was not. It was so unfortunate that he had arrived only a few minutes into Mr. Wickham’s visit yesterday. Elizabeth had been anticipating a pleasant conversation with Mr. Wickham—and perhaps a walk in the nearby park. But Mr. Darcy’s arrival had created a scene of great awkwardness.
Elizabeth had hoped Mr. Darcy’s antipathy for the other man would compel him to quit the Gardiners’ house quickly; instead he had remained, scowling and unpleasant, until Mr. Wickham took his leave. The man had already stolen the living bequeathed by Mr. Darcy’s father. Must he deprive the poor officer of good company as well? Mr. Wickham had borne it all with great equanimity, but Elizabeth had discerned signs of strain on his countenance.
Unfortunately, Mr. Darcy would be attending the Marlowes’ ball as well. When Elizabeth had arrived with the Gardiners, their hostess had been breathless with excitement over the news. “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley! He had initially informed us that he would not attend, but this morning we received a missive that his plans had been altered, and he would be able to grace us with his presence. Such a coup! It is well known he so rarely accepts invitations to any occasion. But perhaps”—Mrs. Marlowe had flicked open her fan and employed it vigorously—“he has heard tales about our fine balls. Everyone enjoys them. They are always much talked about! I would not be surprised….” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “To discover he altered his plans specifically so he would not miss it.”
“That must be the case, madam,” Elizabeth had responded. “He certainly is not attending so he can see me!” Mrs. Marlowe had laughed at her joke.
Elizabeth endeavored not to dwell on Mr. Darcy’s presence and consoled herself that he was unlikely to seek her out. He had performed his duty to their acquaintance by calling on the Gardiners—and plainly had little joy in it. No doubt he had many other friends he would prefer to see.
Christmas at Darcy House Page 2
