“Mama!” Elizabeth was pleased to hear Lydia’s voice cutting off their mother’s thought. Gratefully, she turned to face her sisters.
“Look, we found officers!” Lydia said with a shrill giggle, not even attempting to hide her excitement. Elizabeth was glad for the interruption, but she did wish Lydia would comport herself with a bit more dignity.
“So, you did,” Mrs. Bennet said with an equally silly giggle.
Elizabeth sighed and glanced at the two newcomers. Both, she supposed, were handsome. One had sandy blonde hair and glanced nervously at Mrs. Bennet. The other was slightly shorter, his dark hair pulled back into a tail. His face bore nothing but confidence, and she could tell he smiled easily. His eyes seemed to follow Mr. Darcy’s disappearing back. His gaze held familiarity, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder if he knew Mr. Darcy.
“Please, enlighten us as to the names of your new friends,” Elizabeth said over her family’s giggles. She felt annoyed that they had stood together so long without proper introductions, and glanced apologetically at the men in red coats.
“This is Lieutenant Denny and Lieutenant Wickham,” Lydia said with another giggle. “They’re in the militia!” She seemed quite taken with that idea.
Elizabeth sighed again and waited for the introductions to continue.
“Denny, Wickham,” Kitty picked up where Lydia had left off. “This is our mother, Mrs. Bennet, and our older sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Elizabeth bowed to both men in greeting. Denny—the blonde one—looked somewhat afraid, and jerkily bowed back without a word, his teeth bared in a nervous grin. He seemed quite overwhelmed by the youngest Bennet girls. Elizabeth, who knew her sisters’ energy all too well, almost felt sorry for the man. His companion, Wickham—the one who had been watching Darcy—however, gracefully bent at the waist and smiled up at Mrs. Bennet in a self-possessed manner. His face revealed nothing but cheer, his appealing smile full of charm.
“Mrs. Bennet,” he said smoothly. “I see where your daughters get their beauty.”
Mrs. Bennet preened under such a compliment and turned pink with pleasure. Elizabeth thought the comment was forward, but could immediately tell from his demeanour that Wickham was a likeable man who often got away with such things.
“Lieutenant Wickham, Lieutenant Denny,” Elizabeth said politely. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Tell me, how do you find Meryton?” She was determined to demonstrate that at least one of them knew how to hold a conversation.
“Quite well,” Denny answered nervously.
“I could not imagine a more pleasant posting,” Wickham added, all ease and confidence where Denny seemed to lack it. “Your town has welcomed us and with entertainment such as this, what more could a couple of poor soldiers ask for?” He smiled widely at Elizabeth, and despite her initial hesitancy, she felt herself warm under his gaze: the man was charming.
“We are quite glad to have you,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Indeed,” Lydia said. “For who would dance with us if there were no officers?”
Wickham and Denny laughed.
“I’m sure you have managed before,” Wickham said agreeably. “For who could deny dancing with ones such as you?”
“That’s how we met,” Kitty said to Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet. “Lydia stood up and said ‘who would ask us to dance’, and Wickham and Denny volunteered!”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the tale—such behaviour could hardly be called appropriate! She looked sharply at her mother, but saw that Mrs. Bennet was laughing along with everyone else.
“You mustn’t look so worried, Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham said. “It was not a shocking as the retelling says. Sir William Lucas introduced us, as is proper.”
Elizabeth felt a bit of relief as she learned this. She allowed her posture to relax once more.
“Oh, do not mind her,” Lydia said loftily. “Lizzy has no idea how to have fun!”
Elizabeth shot a warning glance at her sister, but Lydia did not seem to notice.
“I am certain there is no truth to that,” Wickham laughed. “I saw, for example, that you were dancing with a certain gentleman. I wonder, was that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?”
“I believe so,” Elizabeth answered, surprised. “His name is indeed Darcy, but he did not mention his home.” She had seen Wickham glance after Mr. Darcy in a curious manner, but she had not imagined the men were actually acquainted. If Mr. Darcy and Wickham knew each other, why had Mr. Darcy left in such a hurry? “Are you acquainted?”
“We know one another,” Wickham said evenly. “But I would not have expected to find him here.”
“I am given to understand he is visiting a friend, lately of Netherfield Hall,” Elizabeth explained. “I believe that is what has brought him to Hertfordshire.”
“And quite a good thing he did come,” Mrs. Bennet said stoutly, despite her earlier disapproval of the man. “For what would have happened to my girls, had he not!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, waving her hand, not wanting to share the story. It felt like too serious a tale to share upon first meeting, but Mrs. Bennet ignored her.
“Highwaymen!” Mrs. Bennet said with a flourish, her eyes wide and her voice shrill as she threw her whole being into the one word.
“Highwaymen?” Denny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Bennet said. “Here, near Meryton!”
“How terrible!” Denny said in a shocked tone. “I shall speak with my superiors at once! To have such brigands on the King’s roads, with the militia so near. It is not to be tolerated!”
“So brave!” Kitty breathed, gazing at Denny with a new light in her eyes. She would have to be watched, Elizabeth thought sourly.
“Indeed!” Mrs. Bennet continued, clearly enjoying the attention the story was giving. “Here, where they haven’t been seen in years! Attacked my poor girls, but in came Mr. Darcy to save them both! I’m sure they had no idea the militia is present, though, or else they would not have dared to attack.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Wickham said in a questioning tone, latching onto the name. “Mr. Darcy saved you?”
“He managed to scatter the bandits,” Elizabeth allowed. “He was quite brave.”
“Hmm,” Wickham said, rubbing his chin with a frown. “And how do you find Mr. Darcy?”
“He has been very kind,” Elizabeth said, confused at Wickham’s attitude. “Forgive me, but is there something wrong?”
“No, no,” Wickham said, recovering himself and smiling once more. “I am glad you find him so. I just do not recognise the man you describe: It does not sound like the Darcy with whom I am acquainted.”
Elizabeth frowned; Wickham’s explanation did nothing to alleviate her confusion. On the contrary, she found herself even more confused. What sort of a man would have such an impact on another? However, Wickham did not seem inclined to elaborate.
Their mother continued the tale for a moment longer, but it was clear that Kitty and Lydia could hardly hear it anymore. As a new song started, Lydia seemed to decide it was her moment to take control of the situation once more.
“Are you going to dance?” Lydia asked Wickham, a whining tone to her voice. Elizabeth knew that she had no patience for conversation that was not centred upon her. She sighed: one day, Lydia would be in for a rude awakening. However, it seemed that this was not that night as Wickham responded to Lydia in just the manner she wanted. He bowed low to both the younger girls.
“I would be honoured if you would dance with me,” he said.
Lydia giggled and nodded, rushing past him towards the dance floor. Wickham bowed to Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet before following Lydia to where the couples were lining up for the start of the set.
“Miss Kitty?” Denny asked.
“We’d better hurry, or we’ll miss the start!” Kitty said with a laugh, and they too went to the dance floor.
Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Bennet, but her mother had se
en Lady Lucas nearby and was already hurrying away.
“Lady Lucas!” She called and bustled away without another word toward Elizabeth.
Suddenly alone, Elizabeth made her way toward the walls, away from the crowds. She looked for a friend, but was content to have the time alone to think.
The last few minutes had been quite odd. Mr. Darcy had left so suddenly, as if he were being chased away. Elizabeth had first blamed Mrs. Bennet, but perhaps he had another reason. The revelation of a connection to Mr. Wickham was certainly unexpected—perhaps that was the reason Mr. Darcy had left? But why would Mr. Darcy avoid a friend? Especially one found among strangers?
Elizabeth continued to walk slowly and think. Mr. Wickham had seemed to know something about Mr. Darcy, something secret. Mr. Darcy had already seemed quite mysterious, but Mr. Wickham’s comments only deepened the mystery. She could not chase the man from her thoughts.
Chapter 8
Darcy
Darcy made his way through the crowd, not caring if he knocked people aside in his haste to seek out Bingley. Wickham’s appearance had soured Darcy’s mood precipitously and he had no wish to remain at this inane event. In time, people moved out of Darcy’s way, for they saw the thunderous look on his face and had no wish to draw his ire. Darcy hardly noticed.
“Bingley,” he said in a low voice, finally coming upon his friend. Jane Bennet was still at his side, along with his sisters, and it seemed they were all making polite conversation. Upon seeing him, all four stopped talking at once.
“Darcy,” Bingley said, shock in his voice. “Whatever is the matter? You look haunted!”
“A headache,” Darcy lied, knowing well that a headache was a common excuse ladies used, not gentlemen, and he grimaced inward at his hasty lie. However, he had no wish to explain himself any further. “I apologise for what inconvenience this might cause, but I believe I will depart. At once.”
Bingley frowned, seemingly displeased with this sudden revelation.
“I hope my sister did not contribute to your sudden ailment,” Miss Bennet said, a worried look on her face.
Darcy frowned, distressed that she might assume the worst of Elizabeth.
“Not at all,” he assured her. “Miss Elizabeth was nothing but a delight.”
Miss Bennet smiled and Darcy felt himself blush—perhaps “delight” was a bit much to say, although it had been nothing but the truth.
“But you insist you must go?” Bingley asked. He was glancing at Miss Bennet and Darcy saw the interest in his friend’s eye. It seemed he was not the only one to find a Bennet sister a delight.
“I’m afraid so,” Darcy confirmed. He could feel the way his brows knit together upon his face. He knew he looked as if he were in pain, and he hoped that would be enough.
“Shall we all go with you?” Bingley looked torn between concern for Darcy and Miss Bennet.
Darcy shook his head. “I would not dream of taking you away, Bingley,” Darcy said. “For I know how much you enjoy yourself at these things. No, I shall go myself and have the carriage return for you.”
“A good idea,” Bingley agreed, looking relieved to find out he would not have to leave the party. He gave Miss Bennet a wide smile, and Darcy saw her cheeks flush pink.
Darcy watched the two with interest: Bingley was apt to make friends wherever he went, but Miss Bennet seemed a reserved sort of girl. However, the headache he falsely claimed felt like it may make a very real appearance and he rubbed his forehead.
“You poor man,” Caroline Bingley said with an overly pitying tone. “It is a good thing I, too, have wearied of this party. You can accompany me back to Netherfield and I shall make sure the housekeeper fixes you a proper remedy.”
Darcy felt his stomach drop. He had certainly not foreseen this happening.
Caroline Bingley was not a subtle woman and she had long since made her interest in Darcy known. Darcy, however, did not return the woman’s feelings. In fact, he only tolerated her for Bingley’s sake. The prospect of sharing a ride back to the estate with her, alone, in a darkened carriage, was not one he relished.
“Surely you wish to stay and meet the local society,” Darcy said, his discomfort plain in his voice.
“Society?” Caroline laughed. “Darcy, you are far too free with the word. It is a fine affair for what it is, I suppose, but it is a bit rustic for my taste.” She raised her eyebrows as if waiting for a reply. Mrs. Hurst provided one.
“You do have superior taste, my dear sister,” she said, waving a feathered fan. Neither sister seemed to notice Jane Bennet’s blush deepen into a crimson.
“Well, I am having a wonderful time,” Bingley said, for he did notice Miss Bennet’s face. “I have hardly had occasion where I have met finer or more friendly people. What the event lacks in polish is made up for in the kindness of the company. Nothing in London could compare.” He bowed his head to Miss Bennet, and she smiled gratefully in return.
“You have always had a soft soul, Charles,” Caroline sniffed. “Darcy, how about you? What is your assessment of the evening’s festivities?”
Darcy stiffened, having no desire to contribute to this line of conversation. Glancing at Miss Bennet, he again rubbed his forehead.
“As I said to Miss Bennet, I found the company to be quite pleasing.” For the most part, he added silently to himself. Wickham had a talent for ruining everything. “It is my malady that dampens my attitude, not the event.”
“Well then,” Caroline said. “Let us depart. For I know how you suffer at these gatherings, and a pounding head is a most unjust punishment.”
“Mrs. Hurst shall come with us,” Darcy said firmly. He and Caroline Bingley were old family friends, and as such, it was conceivable that they could leave alone. However, he saw a disconcerting look in Caroline’s eye; one that said a third person would be prudent to keep unwanted conversation at bay.
Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but closed it without a word. It would be most improper to insist upon riding alone with Darcy. Instead, she turned to her sister and raised her eyebrows. Mrs. Hurst, for her part, glanced between Caroline and Darcy, as if trying to decide whose side to take.
“Yes, sister,” Bingley cut in. “You were saying how tired you were. This is a perfect opportunity.” Mrs. Hurst glanced at her brother and nodded her assent.
Darcy’s lips twitched into a smile: Bingley and Darcy may have been the closest of friends, but Bingley knew Darcy did not possess romantic feelings toward his sister. It had been disappointing for Bingley, at first, but the man soon realised that Caroline would make his friend miserable.
“I shall have the carriage brought around,” Darcy said. He bowed to Miss Bennet. “Miss Bennet, I am glad to see you well. Please make my excuses to your sister. I wish that circumstances had been different, and I could tell her myself.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said with a curtsy in return. “I am grieved to know that you are the one that is unwell. I hope retiring early will restore you to full health.”
“I am sure it will,” Darcy replied.
“We shall walk out to the carriage with you,” Caroline declared after whispering behind her hand with Mrs. Hurst. Darcy glanced at her and saw that any amusement she before possessed had been melted away. An icy frost replaced it. She inclined her head toward Miss Bennet. “Miss Bennet, it has been a pleasure.” Her smile did not quite reach her eyes.
“Indeed,” Miss Bennet replied, looking unsure of Caroline’s expression. She, too, inclined her head, though a bit more deeply than Caroline. “I hope we shall have occasion to see each other again.”
“Perhaps,” Caroline said, in a tone that promised nothing.
Darcy wanted to scream in frustration. Any moment, Wickham might make his way out of the crowd and find him. He did not know if he possessed the strength to walk away from the villain once more. He felt his fist clench with anger, and he longed to satisfy his fury with violence.
“We’d best go,�
� Darcy heard Mrs. Hurst say. Glancing about, he realised that his face must have betrayed his feelings, for his companions were looking at him in alarm.
“Yes,” Darcy said, forcing his fist to relax. “Please. If we could.”
This time, no one argued.
Several minutes later, Darcy, Caroline and Mrs. Hurst stood in the chilly night air, impatiently waiting for their carriage to be brought around. Men in red coats milled about, chatting with young women, laughing together, and generally enjoying themselves. Darcy felt his heart pounding in his chest as he examined each face in the dim light to see if it was Wickham.
He despised that the man had such an impact upon him. Despised the fact that he was chasing Darcy away. No, not chasing, Darcy thought savagely. He was simply refusing to remain in the company of a man bereft of morals and decency.
“I say, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline said, concern in her voice. “When first you claimed headache, I thought it was an excuse. But to see the face you now wear, I know your discomfort must be great indeed.”
“Yes,” Darcy agreed. “You are correct: I am in great discomfort and shall be glad to find my bed.”
Perhaps then he could release the anger still pulsing through him. But he did not have much confidence that would happen: too many questions flew through his mind, and he knew rest would be difficult to find until he had some answers.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth
Elizabeth yawned and stretched. The ball had been enjoyable—for the most part—but she was tired. She and Jane helped each other undress for bed, and Elizabeth noticed her sister was distracted. Though curious, she did not question Jane. Jane would tell her what was on her mind when she was ready.
Elizabeth pulled the pins from her hair, and scratched her head gratefully—the tight style had begun to give her a headache and it was a relief to be free of it. Taking up her brush, she began to brush her hair slowly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched Jane take down her hair as well. After a few moments, she was startled to hear Jane humming to herself. Jane did not seem to notice; on the contrary, Jane had also begun to smile. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless.
Rescued by Mr Darcy Page 5
