They parted in the steps of the dance and then drew back together again.
‘Oh, no, not really, he is not worth thinking about,’ said Lizzy. ‘It is just that – well, you asked me why I was smiling earlier on . . . ’
‘Yes, indeed I did, and I hope you will tell me what was amusing you.’
‘It was Mr Darcy.’
‘Mr Darcy!’ exclaimed Mr Wickham in surprise.
‘Yes, the same.’
‘I don’t suppose there can be many people in the world who find him amusing,’ said Mr Wickham.
‘Do you know him?’ asked Lizzy in surprise.
‘A little. But go on. You were telling me how he amused you.’
Lizzy laughed.
‘Oh, I should not laugh, it was too bad of him, but when Mr Bingley suggested he dance with me, Mr Darcy looked at me as if I were a slug and said, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”.’
Mr Wickham, who had looked surprised and then angry, burst out laughing, too.
‘Then all I can say is that Darcy is blind,’ he said gallantly.
But as Lizzy looked at Mr Wickham, she realised there was more than gallantry behind his words. He meant them.
His admiration more than made up for Mr Darcy’s rudeness. Here was a handsome, charming and agreeable man who clearly admired her. What did she care for Mr Darcy?
The dance came to an end, but Mr Wickham immediately claimed Lizzy for the next dance.
Once again, their partnership was noticed, and another buzz of conversation went round the room. Elizabeth heard but did not care. She was doing nothing wrong by dancing with Mr Wickham twice. She could not dance with him a third time, but twice was acceptable.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Jane was dancing with Mr Bingley for a second time, too. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if . . . But she stopped her thoughts there. She had only just met Mr Wickham, and Jane had only just met Mr Bingley. Even so, they were the most interesting gentlemen in Meryton and Elizabeth was enjoying herself.
‘You said you knew Mr Darcy?’ she said, as the dropped a curtsey to Mr Wickham and he bowed to her.
‘A little,’ said Mr Wickham, as the dance began.
‘I hope I have not offended you by laughing at him.’
‘You may be easy on that score. But I believe your opinion of him would astonish his friends, and perhaps it would astonish your neighbours.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said Elizabeth, looking round her. ‘His manners might pass in a London ballroom, but here it is considered very rude not to dance if ladies are sitting down. I think you will find that my neighbours will not like his manners.’
‘Then Meryton is a place after my own heart, for the rest of the world is blinded by his fortune and consequence. But no matter. Let us not talk of Mr Darcy. He has not been a happy presence in my life and I would as soon forget him.’
Elizabeth immediately wondered what Mr Wickham meant, but as he changed the subject she did not feel she could ask. But she looked forward to knowing him better, so that she could find out what mystery lurked behind his words.
All too soon the dance came to an end. Mr Wickham escorted her back to the side of the room, where her mother was waiting.
‘Ah, Mr Wickham, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘You must come and dine with us next week. I depend upon it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Wickham, with a warm glance at Elizabeth. ‘I would like that very much.’
Mr Darcy, on the other side of the room, was not so pleased with the way the evening was going. No sooner had he told his friend Charles Bingley that Miss Elizabeth Bennet wasn’t handsome enough to tempt him than he regretted it. He had been in a bad temper because he did not like country assemblies, but there had been more to it than that. He had seen Bingley enjoying himself and he had felt envious because he knew that Bingley had something he lacked, an ability to make himself instantly agreeable, and an ability to enjoy himself.
Mr Darcy cursed himself for it, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was not comfortable with people he did not know. He could not start a conversation with them because he didn’t know what to say. Oh, he could talk about the weather, of course, but what was the use in that? Everyone knew what the weather was like. And that was the problem: Bingley could talk about trivial subjects because he did not despise them, but Mr Darcy found them boring. And yet, what else could he talk about when he found himself with people he didn’t know? He could not ask after their families, for he did not know their families. He could not talk about shared acquaintance because there were no shared acquaintances. And so he stood there, at a loss, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and because of this he grew angry – angry with himself, for not being able to find something to say; and with life, for putting him in such an absurd position in the first place. He also grew frustrated, for he saw other, lesser men, conversing easily and appearing to great advantage, while he appeared proud and disagreeable.
Indeed, he had heard people calling him exactly those names after he had slighted Miss Elizabeth. And the worst of it was, there was some truth in the words. It had been rude of him and he was sorry for it. He had spoken in the heat of the moment, more to stop Bingley pestering him than anything else, and as soon as the words were spoken he thought them churlish. Even worse, he had a suspicion that the lady might have overheard him.
It would not have mattered, except that, as soon as he had said she was not handsome, he had discovered that in fact she had fine eyes, for as she walked past him she had turned them towards him for a moment. The light in those eyes had aroused an instinct in him he had not known he possessed. It had wakened a sleeping part of him and made him interested in life. And it had etched itself on his memory, so he knew he would not forget it.
He was almost tempted to change his mind and dance with her, but he was forestalled by another gentleman seeking her hand. George Wickham!
Darcy struggled to maintain an even temper. It was bad luck finding George here. They had been playmates as children, but George had grown up wild. He appeared to have come into money, and he looked like a gentleman, but that was only on the surface. Darcy suspected that Wickham would never change.
But Wickham’s dissipation did not appear on his face. Indeed, it was a handsome face. George was another one who found it easy to converse with strangers. But, unlike, Charles Bingley, George Wickham was not a good man at heart. He had been loved by Mr Darcy’s father, and spoilt by him, even though he was the steward’s son. He had been given every advantage – a good education and the promise of a valuable living, so that he could support himself comfortably when he became a man - but he had squandered those advantages.
And now he was dancing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the one woman in the room that Darcy wished to dance with.
Darcy felt the stirrings of jealousy and his eyes followed the couple as they went out on to the floor. Elizabeth moved with grace, her lithe figure being shown to great advantage in her simple muslin gown. Her dark hair was shining and it set off the white ribbon in her hair.
If only he had not been so uncomfortable in strange company, he could have been the one to win her hand. If only he had not spoken so sharply to Bingley . . . if only he had taken his friend’s offer of an introduction . . . then he could have been leading Miss Elizabeth on to the floor.
His jealousy intensified. There was something about her that provoked him and attracted him. But he had missed his chance, and Wickham had taken it.
He tried to calm his feelings by appealing to his pride. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet was nothing to him, he told himself. She was not an heiress, she did not come from an old family, she had no claim on his notice.
And yet he could not prevent his eyes from straying to her. And he could not stop himself wishing he was the one enjoying her company.
Chapter Four
‘Well, Jane, Mr Bingley seemed very taken with you,’ said M
rs Bennet complacently as the Bennets returned home at the end of the assembly. The carriage bumped over the potholes but none of the ladies minded, for they had all enjoyed themselves. The carriage lamps shone out in the darkness, pools of light in the otherwise black night. ‘And Mr Wickham seemed very taken with you, Lizzy,’ added Mrs Bennet grudgingly.
Elizabeth was not her favourite daughter, but she was never slow to take a compliment to any of her girls and she knew how to value the attentions of a man such as Mr Wickham.
‘He danced with me, too,’ said Lydia.
‘But he danced twice with Elizabeth,’ said Mary in a moralising tone.
‘I wish he had danced with me,’ said Kitty. ‘He is vastly handsome.’
‘And wealthy, if appearances are anything to go by. What a thing it will be, to see my two eldest daughters married,’ said Mrs Bennet.
‘Mama, you go too fast,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Wickham danced with me, he did not propose.’
‘But he will, if you give him some encouragement,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘You must have a new dress, Lizzy. I am sure we will be seeing more of Mr Wickham at the local gatherings. Sir William Lucas is giving an evening party soon, we have already been invited. I am sure Mr Wickham will be there, for Sir William would like to catch him for Charlotte. But you are far prettier than she is, whatever Mr Darcy might say.’
Elizabeth laughed.
‘Mr Darcy was not very flattering, it is true.’
‘You need not worry about it. You do not need his good opinion. He is not half the man Mr Wickham is,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘Mrs Wickham! How well it sounds. I am sure you will be changing your name before long, Lizzy.’
Elizabeth did not want to encourage her mother, but nevertheless she was flattered by Mr Wickham’s attentions. He seemed a gentleman-like man and he had amused her. He had been far pleasanter than the odious Mr Darcy! But she did not know him very well and she was too intelligent to form an opinion of him on such a short acquaintance.
However, she found herself looking forward to Sir William Lucas’s party.
Mr Wickham went home from the assembly in a strange mood. A part of him was elated at having met Elizabeth. She was the most intelligent and humorous woman he had ever met. He loved the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. He loved her lithe figure and her beautiful face. He had heard it said that Jane Bennet was the beauty of the family, but he preferred Elizabeth. There was something about her that was out of the common way. He loved talking to her. Her voice was musical and the things she said were witty and interesting. Everything about her made him want to know her more. With some women, further knowledge only induced disgust, but with Elizabeth he was sure his admiration would deepen.
And that is why, alongside his elation, came dismay, for he was married. No matter how much he might come to like - and even love - Elizabeth, he could do nothing about it because he was already married.
He thought of his wife, the lovely but docile and boring Amelia. She was not the kind of woman who could hold his attention for more than a week or two. But Elizabeth . . .
He found himself wishing that he had met her before he married.
But then reality pulled him back down to earth. Elizabeth did not have any dowry to speak of. Denny knew all about the local neighbourhood young ladies and the Miss Bennets would have only a small competence when they married. And George Wickham was a man who needed money. Loved money. Worshipped money.
He shrugged his gloom aside. No one in Meryton knew that he was married. He was free to dance with Elizabeth, dine with her and flirt with her.
As he thought this, an image of Darcy rose before his eyes. Adding spice to his courtship of Elizabeth was the knowledge that it was annoying Darcy.
Wickham knew Darcy well. He had grown up with him, and he had seen something on Darcy’s face that he had recognised. It had driven Wickham on, even above and beyond his desire to get to now Elizabeth better. Because the look on Darcy’s face had been jealousy.
Wickham laughed as he went into his lodgings.
He had wanted his revenge on Darcy for having a great estate, a fortune and no need to work for the rest of his life. He had wanted those things for himself and he had suggested to Darcy, more than once in the past, that Darcy should give him an income. But Darcy had refused him. Even worse, Darcy had refused to give him the living that had been bequeathed to him.
Running away with Darcy’s sister would have been a good revenge. But now he had discovered, quite by chance, a better way. He would flirt with Elizabeth Bennet instead. He would win her affections and steal her from under Darcy’s nose.
You won’t get her, Darcy, thought Wickham, as he took off his coat. But it will be amusing to watch you try.
Chapter Five
The night of Sir William’s party came at last. It was held at Lucas Lodge, the property Sir William had bought when he had been given a knighthood. All of Elizabeth’s neighbours were there. Charlotte was there, of course, being the daughter of the house. It was true that she was plain, but she was Elizabeth’s friend. The two women’s characters complemented each other. Charlotte was practical and down to earth. Lizzy was also sensible, but she was capable of being romantic and idealistic as well. She had decided long ago that only love would tempt her into marriage, but she knew that Charlotte would accept any eligible gentleman.
Jane was soon talking to Mr Bingley. Elizabeth was happy to see them together because it was clear to her they were falling in love.
‘They make a handsome couple,’ came a voice at her shoulder.
Turning round, she saw George Wickham. She blushed and smiled. He was looking very handsome in a blue coat and cream pantaloons.
Mr Wickham sat down beside her and entertained her with his amusing and lively conversation.
Elizabeth happened to glance up as Mr Wickham finished an anecdote and to her surprise she found that Mr Darcy was watching her. What could he mean by it? He had made his opinion of her perfectly clear, so why was he paying her attention?
Mr Wickham noticed her eyes and saw that she was looking at Mr Darcy.
‘Does my company bore you?’ he asked with a teasing smile.
‘Not at all,’ she assured him. ‘It is just that Mr Darcy is watching me. I cannot make him out.’
‘I should not try,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘He is not worth the trouble.’
‘You speak as if you have had trouble with him before,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Indeed I have. I would not have mentioned it if you had not guessed it for yourself, but Mr Darcy and I knew each other as children.’
Elizabeth was intrigued.
‘We grew up together. My father was his father’s steward. Old Mr Darcy liked me very much and left me a living in his will, but young Mr Darcy decided not to honour his father’s wishes and he refused to give it to me. If not for a great piece of good fortune, when I inherited from a great uncle, then I would have been destitute.’
‘But this is monstrous,’ said Elizabeth, shocked. ‘How could he do such a thing? And why?’
George Wickham shook his head sadly.
‘Because he is jealous of me. His father loved me best, you see. I was friendly and helpful. Darcy was not. He was cold and arrogant. He could not forgive me.’
Elizabeth looked at Mr Wickham and thought she could quite see why old Mr Darcy would prefer him. He was everything that was charming, whereas Mr Darcy was haughty and above his company. He was doing nothing to make himself agreeable. He was standing by himself, talking to no one.
He seemed to feel her watching him and he turned towards her. Just for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. But that was ridiculous. Why should he be jealous? Unless he was one of those men who did not want a woman himself, but did not want anyone else to have her.
She decided to ignore him and gave her attention back to Mr Wickham
Mr Darcy was feeling equally disturbed, for the more he saw of Elizabeth, the more he was attracted to he
r. Her eyes were uncommonly beautiful and her figure was light and pleasing. And he was caught by the easy playfulness of her manner.
Once again she was talking to George Wickham, and jealousy stirred in his breast.
He wanted to go on watching her, even though it was pleasure and torment in equal measure, but Sir William Lucas approached him and started to bore him with talk about St James’s. Mr Darcy paid no attention to him. Instead he watched Elizabeth, and his pulse began to beat faster when Lady Lucas took Wickham from Elizabeth.
Elizabeth went to speak to her sister, and as she did so she drew close to where he was standing.
‘My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?’ asked Sir William. ‘Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure —’
‘Indeed I cannot,’ said Mr Darcy, cutting Sir William off in his haste to dance with Elizabeth. He offered her his hand. ‘Miss Elizabeth?’
She was surprised and before she could think of an excuse, he had taken her on to the floor. Thank goodness he had spoken when he did, instead of allowing Sir William to finish one of his interminable speeches. Otherwise, Miss Elizabeth might have had the presence of mind to refuse.
He was aware of Bingley watching him with pleasure and Caroline watching him with a frown. The other guests were watching him with stupefaction! They had not expected Mr Darcy to dance with anyone, least of all Elizabeth, for his disparaging remarks about her beauty had spread like wildfire round the town.
Once he had her, however, he did not know what to say to her. Conversation did not come easily to him and even if it had, he would rather have watched her dancing than distract himself by speaking. She had a way of moving that entranced him, and the sparkle in her eyes made him want to take her in his arms.
He had never felt like that about any woman before and he did not know how to react.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 Page 3
