Wickham did not look up until he had taken his shot. The brightly coloured balls clattered around the table before dropping into the pockets at the side and everyone around the table cheered. Money changed hands and Wickham put on his coat. Then he noticed the two newcomers.
‘Darcy! This is a surprise,’ he said. He gestured towards the billiard table. ‘Care for a game?’
‘No.’
‘Afraid you cannot beat me?’ asked Wickham with an irritating smirk.
The onlookers laughed.
Mr Darcy controlled his temper with difficulty.
‘I have not come here to quarrel with you, Wickham. If you care to join me in the private parlour you will hear something to your advantage.’
Mr Wickham looked alert. He picked up his drink and said, ‘Lead on.’
The three men went into the private parlour, where they would not be disturbed, and Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam told him what they were prepared to do for him.
Mr Wickham finished his brandy and said, ‘It is a tempting offer. But why are you doing this for me? I know you hate me, both of you.’
‘With reason,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
‘We are doing it because you seem to be making an effort to mend your ways,’ said Mr Darcy, who refused to be provoked. ‘You have found yourself a profession and you are paying court to a respectable young woman. This is your chance to change your life, and I want to help you.’
‘Ah, yes. Miss King,’ said Mr Wickham, naming the object of his attentions. ‘Tell me, Darcy, why are the rich women always ugly?’
‘That is no way to speak of your future wife,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam sharply. ‘Assuming your intentions are honourable,’ he added scathingly.
‘You are right,’ said Mr Wickham, and a curious expression crossed his face. ‘That is no way to speak of my future wife. I take it back. The future Mrs Wickham is beautiful, witty and charming.’ He turned towards the door and shouted, ‘Landlord!’
The landlord came hurrying in, wiping his hands on his apron.
‘Yes, gentlemen, what can I do for you?’ he asked ingratiatingly.
‘A bottle of your best brandy. We are celebrating,’ said Mr Wickham.
‘Thank you, but we will not be joining you,’ said Mr Darcy, as the landlord bowed himself out of the room.
‘I did not think you would, but there are other men here who will celebrate my good fortune with me,’ said Wickham.
‘No doubt,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘Are you not forgetting something?’ asked Mr Wickham.
Mr Darcy knew that Wickham wanted money and he was tempted to make a contemptuous reply. But he thought of Elizabeth and fought down his anger. He was not doing this for Wickham, he was doing it for Elizabeth.
As he thought of her sparkling eyes and the way a delicious smile played about her lips when she teased him; as he thought of her light step and her arch conversation and the way she held her head a little to on side when she was thoughtful; as he remembered her slender white arms and the smoothness of her skin, he could not help smiling.
Although she would never know it, he had taken her words to heart. He no longer stood in the way of her sister and Mr Bingley. And he was about to make George Wickham amends for depriving him of the living.
Perhaps, if Elizabeth heard of it, she would look more kindly on him.
At least, that was what he hoped.
He took a banknote out of his wallet and laid it on the table.
‘That should cover your celebration,’ he said.
Wickham took it and handed it to the innkeeper.
‘The best of everything!’ said Wickham to the innkeeper.
Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam then left Wickham to his celebration,
‘Thank Jove that is over,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he and Darcy left the tavern. ‘Every time I see Wickham I want to knock him down.’
‘You need never see him again. He has no more call on us,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘We have done our duty by him.’
And, to himself, he added, And now Elizabeth cannot blame me for ruining his prospects.
With her words attended to, Mr Darcy knew that he had done away much of Elizabeth’s ill feeling towards him.
But when all that ill feeling had been removed, what would remain?
Chapter Five
Mr Darcy spent the day with his sister before returning to Rosings Park in time for dinner. His aunt, Lady Catherine, did not keep country hours and she dined at eight. Colonel Fitzwilliam was also in the carriage as he had decided to pay his respects to Lady Catherine. Georgiana’s painting was neatly wrapped and it was tied to the seat.
The two gentlemen arrived safely and then joined Lady Catherine in the drawing-room, where Georgiana’s painting was much admired.
‘We are in need of a fourth for cards after dinner. Anne has a headache and will not play. We will send an invitation to the parsonage for Mr Collins. He will play and his wife and guest will be company for Anne.’
‘It is a fine evening. I will walk down to the parsonage and deliver the invitation myself,’ said Mr Darcy.
He was eager to see Elizabeth again, and perhaps he might find a way of letting her know what he had done.
He could not say this to his aunt, however, and so he said, ‘After spending much of the afternoon in the carriage I would like to stretch my legs.’
He put his greatcoat over his black tailcoat and cream breeches, and he set his hat on his head, then he walked down to the parsonage.
He was shown in by the maid and found Mr Collins in the small sitting-room.
‘Mr Darcy! To what do we owe this honour?’ asked Mr Collins, jumping up and bowing three times.
‘My aunt would like to invite you to dine at Rosings this evening,’ said Mr Darcy.
Mr Collins looked foolish, and Mr Darcy was surprised. Usually, any invitation to Rosings was greeted with smiles and bows. But now Mr Collins did not appear to know what to say.
‘We have a visitor this evening,’ said Mrs Collins in her sensible manner.
‘Pray, do not let that inconvenience you,’ said a voice Mr Darcy recognised.
‘Wickham!’ he exclaimed.
From out of the shadows at the side of the room came Mr Wickham, smirking and holding out his hand for Mr Darcy to shake.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Mr Darcy.
‘I was passing Rosings and I stopped at the inn for a bite to eat. I heard that Miss Elizabeth was staying at the parsonage and so I came to pay my respects, and to assure her that her family were well when I saw them a few days ago.’
Mr Darcy had a horrible presentiment about Wickham’s real reason for his visit. Surely he could not be meaning to resume his attentions to Elizabeth?
‘I hope Miss King is well?’ he said pointedly.
Wickham shook his head ruefully.
‘I see that a scurrilous rumour has reached you. I have never paid any attention to Miss King and I am sorry to say it was a rumour put about by Miss King herself,’ said Mr Wickham, sounding as regretful as if he were an honest man. ‘She hoped to trap me into marriage, but I had no desire to marry her, and as soon as I learnt what she was about I removed myself from the neighbourhood. My inclinations lie in a completely different direction.’
Here he directed a look towards Elizabeth, who had just at that moment entered the room.
She was saying, ‘Here it is. I know my aunt will be pleased to hear you remember her.’
A letter in her hand showed that she had just gone to fetch it, and Mr Darcy caught sight of the name Gardiner. No doubt she had been intending to share some news of her aunt and uncle in London, since her aunt had lived in Mr Wickham’s neighbourhood at one time.
She stopped on seeing Mr Darcy and looked surprised. Then she glanced at Mr Wickham.
Mr Darcy, too, looked at George Wickham. One sight of that smirking face told him that his worst fears were realised. George Wickham’s new-found commission had gi
ven him prospects and so he no longer needed to marry an heiress.
He means to propose to Elizabeth! thought Mr Darcy in horror.
Wickham looked at him insolently, and he knew it to be true.
Does she love him? thought Mr Darcy in anguish.
He was unable to keep his gaze from moving to Elizabeth.
He read admiration in her eyes, but he thought he could not detect any love, for which he was grateful. But if Wickham remained in the area – and there was nothing to prevent him from staying at the inn – then things might soon develop.
I cannot bear it, thought Mr Darcy in pain.
‘Mr Wickham has told us how you helped him to a commission. It was generous of you,’ said Elizabeth.
Her words fell like balm into his wounded spirit, and he treasured them. Her soft tone of voice and her bright eyes were ample reward for the trouble he had taken.
But they could not compensate him for the knowledge that he had provided George Wickham with the means to marry her. Such a hideous possibility had never occurred to him and he felt himself to be in the grip of another nightmare.
‘I have been made very welcome here,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘I am planning to stay in the neighbourhood.’
Even though Mr Darcy had feared it, he could not help saying, ‘No. This cannot be.’
Mrs Collins looked at him strangely but it was too late for him to recall the words. He realised he must not let the depths of his feelings show. So he pretended that he was shocked on Lady Catherine’s behalf and said, ‘Lady Catherine will not be pleased if she cannot make up a table for whist.’
‘We must not disappoint Lady Catherine,’ said Elizabeth humorously. ‘Mr Collins, I beg you will attend her ladyship. Mrs Collins can chaperon me and we will entertain Mr Wickham.’
And so, to Mr Darcy’s devastation, it was arranged.
Mr Wickham said, ‘I will show Mr Darcy out.’
He sounded politeness itself, and only the most cynical person would have suspected another motive for his actions. He swaggered after Mr Darcy as the two men left the room and went into the hall.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ demanded Mr Darcy, as soon as they were out of hearing of the rest of the party.
‘Marrying the woman I want,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘It will not take long for me to win her hand, and it is you I have to thank for making it all possible.’
‘Is that your only reason for pursuing her?’ demanded Mr Darcy.
‘What other reason could I have? You surely do not think I would do it just to spite you, since you want Elizabeth for yourself?’ asked Wickham mockingly.
His tone of voice made it clear that that was indeed what he was doing.
Mr Darcy was sorely tempted to knock him down, but Wickham only laughed.
‘The best of it is, you cannot do anything about it!’ said George Wickham with a hearty laugh. ‘You cannot take the commission from me without making yourself contemptible in Elizabeth’s eyes and so you will have to stand by and watch me as I make her fall in love with me. I have waited a long time for my revenge on you, Darcy, but now I have it and it tastes sweet indeed.’
Mr Darcy ground his teeth but he knew Wickham was right.
There was nothing he could do . . . except hope that Elizabeth would see through Wickham and not marry him after all.
He walked rapidly back to Rosings and changed for dinner, then he went into the library, where he found Colonel Fitzwilliam browsing the bookshelves.
It still wanted ten minutes before the dinner gong rang.
‘Cousin, I have had a shock,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Wickham is here and he is making love to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’
‘What! How? We must put a stop to it,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
But Mr Darcy had by now recovered some of his composure.
‘Yes, we must. We will do so tomorrow,’ said Mr Darcy. Adding, enigmatically, ‘If tomorrow ever comes.’
At last Mr Darcy was alone. The evening had been dull but finally it had come to an end and now he was in his bedroom once again.
He went over to the china cupids on the mantelpiece.
‘Please do not fail me, little Cupids,’ he said to the little cherubs who hugged each other in delight.
Was it his imagination, or did he see one of the Cupids turn its head? The movement was so slight he could not be sure.
But in the morning he would know.
Chapter Six
What is the date? thought Mr Darcy, springing out of bed.
He went over to the newspaper which was ready for him on the dressing table and laughed aloud. February 13th! He had another chance to change things. And this time he knew what he must do. He must not waste his time with Bingley and Wickham. Those problems could be addressed later. Instead, he must focus on what he truly wanted, which was to make Elizabeth his wife. And so he must propose to her. But this time he must do it properly. Instead of insulting her, he must explain to her that she was very important to him. He must humble himself, and tell her how strong his feelings were for her. And he must offer her his hand in a gentlemanlike way.
He dressed with unusual care, making sure every fold of his cravat was in place and ordering his valet to brush his breeches and tailcoat once more before he put them on. He ate a hasty breakfast and then, putting on his hat and taking up his walking cane, he left the house. Elizabeth was an early riser and he wanted to meet her in the park.
He took her favourite route and he was soon rewarded with a glimpse of her. She had not yet seen him and she spun round in enjoyment of the fresh morning air and weak spring sunshine. There was a freedom about her movement that made his heart turn over in his chest. He loved to see her thus, for only Elizabeth could move with such unconscious grace and with no inhibitions. It was one of the things he loved about her, for it was so different from his own inhibited life. There were times when being Mr Darcy of Pemberley were wonderful, but there were other times when he wished he did not carry such a burden of responsibility.
The ribbons on her bonnet caught the wind and fluttered around her face, framing the sweet oval that he longed to kiss. Her long muslin skirt, too, fluttered in the wind, showing a tantalising glimpse of her shapely ankles. He saw her put her hand on her head as the wind gusted and she laughed as the wind then blew her across the lawn.
He stood still and watched her, feeling privileged to catch sight of her in such an exuberant mood. Her laughter carried towards him, its musical notes mingling with the wind.
Then the wind died down and she came to a halt. She set her bonnet more firmly on her head and retied the ribbons, then she straightened her skirt and smoothed the sleeves of her coat. She rearranged her reticule and walked demurely onwards, with a little skip now and again to show how happy she was to be alive.
How he longed to be the proud possessor of all that natural enjoyment, and how he wanted to see her running down the avenue at Pemberley, brightening his ancestral home with her presence. How she would bring the place to life! For there was no denying it had been sombre since his parents died. But with Elizabeth there as its mistress, Pemberley would live again.
And he? Oh, yes, he too would live again.
For too long he had lived for others, caring for his sister and looking after the needs of his tenants and nursing the estate. But now he wanted to live for himself, and the one thing he wanted above all others was to make Elizabeth Bennet fall in love with him.
She caught sight of him at last. Her step faltered for a moment again and then she continued to walk towards him, with her reticule swinging entrancingly from her slender wrist.
‘Miss Bennet,’ he said, making her a bow as they met each other.
‘Mr Darcy,’ she said, dropping him a curtsey. She managed to imbue it with a mixture of joy and grace that was her own.
‘Might I have the pleasure of escorting you?’ he asked.
She looked surprised, but dropped him another slight curtsey by way of saying he could, and he
offered her his arm.
‘I am glad to have fallen in with you,’ he said. ‘There is something particular I would like to say to you.’
‘Oh?’ she asked, turning up her face to his.
It was an enchanting face, lit by her own inimitable spirit. Her eyes were bright and her dark brows were finely arched above them. Her skin was creamy white but it had a healthy glow. There was colour in her cheeks, which were a charming shade of red. Her lips were red, too, and they were slightly parted, making his heart beat more quickly in his breast.
‘I took great pleasure in your company before Christmas, when we were all together in Meryton,’ he said.
‘Indeed?’ Elizabeth sounded very surprised.
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said.
‘How very odd. I had the distinct impression you were not impressed with my company at the Meryton assembly.’
A few days before, he would have bridled at that remark, but now he acknowledged that she had a right to say it. If the last few days had taught him anything, they had taught him patience and reason, for he knew that he would need both if he were to win Elizabeth.
‘You are right to challenge me,’ he said with a smile. ‘I was very rude on that occasion. In my own defence, I did not expect you to overhear my remark. I am right, am I not, in thinking that you did overhear it?’
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘It was not very gallant of you.’
‘No, it was not,’ he admitted.
‘Mr Darcy, are you admitting you are fallible?’ she asked him teasingly. She looked at him sideways from beneath her bonnet.
‘Do you know, Miss Elizabeth, I believe I am.’
‘I am beginning to think I am not walking with you at all, but with your hitherto unsuspected twin brother!’ she teased him. ‘For I am sure you boasted of your sound judgement at Netherfield Park. You would not, then, have admitted you could ever be wrong. You seem almost a different person this morning.’
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 5
