‘Very well.’ He still looked puzzled but he did not press her. ‘As I was saying . . .’
She paid attention to him and she was soon feeling herself again. She was not about to let Mr Darcy ruin her stay in Buxton, as he had ruined her stay in Lambton. She resumed her stroll, with Mr Wickham walking beside her. Behind her was her aunt’s maid to provide her with a chaperon, since Mrs Gardiner had a headache and Mr Gardiner had some business letters to write.
She was just admiring a particularly splendid tree when suddenly she beheld Mr Darcy entering the park. She stood as if rooted to the spot.
‘What is it?’ Mr Wickham asked again.
‘Nothing. Only I think I would like to go home.’
He followed her gaze and saw Mr Darcy, who was looking the other way.
‘Do you know that man?’ he asked.
‘I believe I will go home now,’ said Elizabeth, taking matters into her own hands.
She turned and walked decidedly towards the opposite park entrance.
Mr Wickham followed her and gave her his arm.
‘Has that gentleman done something to offend you?’ he asked.
‘I cannot think what you mean,’ she said with dignity.
‘If he has, you would not be the first. Mr Darcy makes a habit of offending people. He is above his company and he is frequently rude. Some people think him a great man, but I think him only arrogant.’
‘Do you know him?’ asked Elizabeth in surprise.
‘I do indeed. I grew up with him, on the Pemberley estate. We played together as boys, and at one time we were good friends, but as he grew older he grew more arrogant, until he refused to see me as an equal any more. He refused to have anything to do with me at university and mixed entirely with his own set.’
‘But how shocking!’ said Elizabeth.
‘You think so,’ he said with a warm smile. It said as plainly as words, But that is because you are such a generous creature. ‘But the rest of the world would probably agree with him. Distinctions of rank must be preserved!’ he said with a humorous smile, but there was a touch of sadness in it that Elizabeth did not miss.
She thought he had never looked more charming.
‘You do not seem bitter, at least,’ she said.
‘Bitterness hurts no one but the bitter,’ he said.
‘That is very true.’
All this time they had been walking towards the other entrance to the park and they now turned out on to the street. Once they had safely crossed the road, Elizabeth continued.
‘You say you grew up together. How so?’
‘My father worked on the Pemberley estate. Mr Darcy’s father was his friend and when my father retired, Mr Darcy’s father offered me the position.’
‘He is not proud like his son, then?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘He is proud, yes, but he is fair. He has been a good friend to me. He paid for my schooling, since my father could not do so, and he paid for me to attend university. I repaid him by working hard at my studies, and when I decided to take holy orders, he offered me a valuable living; in fact, the living you have seen. I know that, when other, better, livings become available, they will be offered to me.’
‘And yet his son treats you so badly!’ said Elizabeth.
Mr Wickham hesitated, as if he did not want to say any more, but Elizabeth was curious and at last he relented.
‘Mr Darcy’s father has always valued me,’ said Mr Wickham, ‘and Mr Darcy does not like it. He is jealous of his father’s affection for me. I, on the other hand, have always been grateful for it. I lost my mother early in life and my own father can do little to help me, so the generosity of Mr Darcy’s father is something I will never forget.’
‘Your sentiments do you credit,’ said Elizabeth.
Mr Wickham looked modest.
‘You say your father worked on the estate?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘What did he do?’
‘He was the steward,’ said Mr Wickham.
‘The steward!’ exclaimed Elizabeth.
‘Yes.’ Mr Wickham stopped walking and turned to look at her in surprise. ‘You sound surprised. Why?’
‘Not surprised,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I was just remembering . . . ’
‘You not need fear speaking to me,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘I promise you that anything you say will go no further.’
Elizabeth drew a deep breath.
‘When I met Mr Darcy, he claimed that he was the steward.’
Now it was Mr Wickham’s turn to be surprised.
‘What? But why?’
‘To make a fool of me,’ said Elizabeth.
‘No one could make a fool of you,’ said Mr Wickham, with a warm glance towards her.
His admiration did much to soften the blow she had felt when Mr Darcy had deceived her.
‘Nevertheless, that is what he did.’
‘I think there is more,’ said Mr Wickham quietly.
Elizabeth nodded.
‘Yes, there is,’ she said. ‘He paid . . . at least, I thought he was paying attention to me. Only later did I realise it was a game, played for his own amusement.’
Mr Wickham shook his head sorrowfully.
‘I wish I could say I was surprised, but there were similar incidents at university. He made himself agreeable to several respectable young ladies, merely to satisfy his vanity. He made them have feelings for him, simply in order to stroke his own conceit.’
‘It is shocking that any young man – any gentleman – should do such a thing,’ said Elizabeth.
‘No gentleman would,’ said Mr Wickham. He laid great stress on the gentle part of the word.
‘And yet in other ways he seemed very much the gentleman,’ said Elizabeth.
She was a fair person and she felt compelled to point out that he had been polite and considerate to her aunt and uncle.
‘He can be most agreeable when he chooses,’ agreed Mr Wickham. ‘Alas! He does not choose to be so all the time. He is agreeable when it suits him and rude when it does not. He is a great man, after all, and we are expected to make allowances for greatness.’
‘My uncle said something similar,’ remarked Elizabeth.
‘Your uncle is a very wise man.’
They had reached her lodgings.
‘Will you come in and take tea with us?’ she asked.
‘I am afraid I am engaged elsewhere. I have a matter of business to attend to. I would much rather spend time in your company, but I cannot neglect my duties.’
‘No, of course not, nor would I wish you to,’ she said.
He bowed and kissed her hand. Then, with a last charming smile, he set off down the road.
Elizabeth went into the house, where she related the news of everything that had happened to her aunt and uncle.
Alone in her room some time later, however, she could not help thinking about Mr Darcy. His behaviour had been so perfect to begin with, and then so monstrous, that she could not believe one man could have two such different personalities. She began to wonder if there could have been some mistake.
Despite his dreadful behaviour, she still remembered him warmly whenever she remembered dancing with him at the ball or speaking with him on their idyllic stroll through the bluebell woods.
But then she chided herself for wishful thinking. She was just making excuses for him and that would never do. He was obviously capricious and she must recognise that fact. For if he was in Buxton she needed to be on her guard, lest he try to fool her again.
Chapter Sixteen
Mr Darcy looked for Elizabeth in vain. He strode through the park, walking down each path in the hope of seeing her, but she was nowhere to be found.
Instead, he found the Bents. They were also in Buxton; indeed, his father had suggested it. And so instead of having a chance to apologise to Elizabeth and explain to her, he found himself escorting Miss Bent.
Before the walk was over, they had ascertained that he would be at the assembly ball on the morrow, and they left ea
ch other with an expectation of meeting again very soon.
He returned to the house feeling despondent.
‘Did you not see her?’ asked Georgiana, when he went into the drawing-room.
They were alone, for Mr Darcy’s father was resting and his mother was overseeing the servants as they arranged the house to her liking.
‘Who?’ asked Mr Darcy.
‘Your princess,’ said Georgiana.
Mr Darcy raised his eyebrows.
Georgiana chuckled.
‘I only mean that she reminded me of a princess in the fairy tale of Cinderella, because she ran away from the prince at the ball.’
‘Cinderella was not a princess,’ he said, sitting down on the sofa.
‘No. But she married the prince anyway,’ said Georgiana.
‘I am not a prince,’ he said.
‘You are as good as a prince at Pemberley,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you will find your princess yet.’
‘If only it were that simple,’ he said.
He sat back with a tired air.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Georgiana sympathetically. She slipped off the piano stool and went over to the sofa, where she sat beside him. ‘You have seemed distracted ever since the ball. Do you really miss her so much?’
He could not tell her that he was concerned for their father, but he did not want her to think that he was obsessed with Elizabeth, and so he said it was just a few business matters that were giving him cause for concern.
’I wish I could go to the assembly ball,’ said Georgiana.
Mr Darcy smiled.
‘Now who is Cinderella?’ he asked.
‘Cinderella had a fairy godmother,’ said Georgiana. ‘I wish I had someone to wave a magic wand and make my wishes come true.’
Mr Darcy felt, at that moment, that he would like a fairy godmother himself.
But then he roused himself. If Elizabeth was in Buxton then in all likelihood she would be attending the assembly ball on the morrow, and if so he was determined to dance with her. She would not be able to run away or refuse to speak to him. She would be in public and she would have to listen to him. He could not undo the past, nor change the present, but he could at least explain to her and lessen the hurt of the woman who mattered more than anything else to him.
Elizabeth was excited as she dressed for the ball. Mr Wickham had called that morning, and once again they had gone out walking together. She liked him more and more every time she saw him. Not only did she like him for himself, but for what he had endured at the hands of Mr Darcy.
She was not worried about seeing that gentleman at the assembly, for she had heard that the proud Darcys did not attend the public balls. So it came as a shock to her when she walked into the assembly room, clad in a delightful blue silk gown, only to see him at the far side of the room.
She looked for Mr Wickham but she looked in vain. It was early, and he had not yet arrived. If he had been in the room, she knew he would have been at her side, making it impossible for Mr Darcy to approach, but without him she felt vulnerable.
She stayed close to her aunt and uncle, and spoke to their numerous acquaintance, for the Gardiners were popular people.
But it did not good. Mr Darcy detached himself from his group of friends and, together with the Master of Ceremonies, he approached her.
The Matser of Ceremonies performed the introductions in the most courteous manner. The gentlemen bowed, the ladies curtseyed.
Elizabeth felt her aunt’s eyes upon her, but there was nothing she could do. She could not cut Mr Darcy in a public place, and it was evident that he did not intend to cut her. Quite the opposite, he had deliberately sought her out.
‘Miss Bennet, might I have the honour of this dance?’ he asked.
She longed to say no, but it was quite impossible. She could do nothing but give him her hand and allow him to lead her out on to the floor.
They created quite a stir. Miss Bennet had been dancing with the eligible Mr Wickham, and now she had been sought by the even more eligible Mr Darcy. Buxton society was curious as to what the result would be.
‘Should you not be escorting your betrothed?’ asked Elizabeth pointedly as they faced each other, ready for the dance to begin.
‘I believe I am allowed to dance with other ladies,’ he remarked.
‘Indeed. You are Mr Darcy of Pemberley. You may do as you please,’ she said.
‘I have not asked you to dance so that I could fight with you,’ he said, as the music began.
‘Then why have you asked me to dance with you?’ she said.
‘So that I might apologise.’
She was startled.
‘Apologise?’ she said.
‘Yes. I hurt you and I am sorry. That was not my intention.’
His words almost reached her. They almost soothed her wounded spirit, but then she remembered that he had a capricious nature and no doubt he would be hurting her again tomorrow, if she let him.
‘Very well, now you have apologised we may dance in silence,’ she said.
‘No, we may not.’
He performed a complicated figure in the dance, passing behind her. But when he was once more facing her he said, ‘You do not believe me.’
‘No, I do not,’ she agreed.
She passed behind him, her every movement graceful and assured.
‘May I ask why not?’
‘You lied to me,’ she said. ‘What did you think would happen? Did you think it would not matter? Did you think I would overlook it as easily as you did?’
‘I never meant to lie,’ he said. ‘You mistook me for the steward and I was about to correct you when I realised how refreshing it was to talk to someone who did not know who I am. I am used to being courted wherever I go, but I am not liked for myself, I am liked for who I am. Young ladies simper and flirt. Their mothers are little better. But you did nothing of the kind. You treated me honestly and openly, and I was entranced.’
‘Entranced?’ said Elizabeth, despite herself.
‘Yes. Entranced,’ he said firmly.
They performed another figure of the dance and then resumed their conversation.
‘That is a strong word,’ she said.
‘It was a strong feeling,’ he replied.
She felt herself growing uncomfortable, for she knew she was in some danger from him. He was just as charming as before. Not with the easy, smooth surface charm of Mr Wickham, but with something deeper.
She startled herself by making the comparison, and making it in Mr Darcy’s favour. But although her reason protested, she could not deny her feelings. They definitely found Mr Darcy the better man, despite his faults.
‘And is that why you said nothing when you showed us around the grounds?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘You did not think it was wrong to deceive my aunt, my uncle and myself?’
He looked guilty and his steps faltered a little.
‘It was not planned,’ he said. ‘My steward was ill and so I was going to arrange for a message to be sent to you, saying the tour could not go ahead. Then I saw you and I could not resist spending more time with you.’
She raised her eyebrows as if in disbelief, but in reality there was a convincing note in his voice and she began to think that what he said was true.
As if sensing that she was relenting, he turned the tables on her and said, ‘Why did you pretend you were Miss Bent?’
‘I did nothing of the kind!’ she said indignantly.
‘When I called out to you by the lake, you answered to that name.’
‘Because it is so similar to my own,’ she replied.
‘But you knew I had taken you for one of the guests at the Pemberley ball,’ he remarked.
She felt uncomfortable, because she knew that what he said was true. She, too, had been guilty of deception.
‘I did not at first realise you had made the mistake, and then I wanted to tell you,’ she said. ‘I was going to tell y
ou at the ball. But you found me and asked me to dance with you, and the moment was so magical I could not resist.’
‘It was magical, was it not?’ he said softly.
He was passing behind her again as he said it, and she felt the soft whisper of his breath on her neck.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. Then she roused herself and said, ‘But you were engaged to be married. You should not have been saying such things to me.’
‘I was not engaged when I said them. My father took me by surprise at the ball. He announced my engagement without asking my permission, or even telling me what he was going to do. I never proposed to Miss Bent. I never asked her to be my wife. I would not have behaved towards you as I did if I had known what was about to happen.’
Elizabeth’s heart leapt.
‘Then you were not laughing at me?’ she asked.
‘No, I was not,’ he said emphatically. ‘What must you think of me, if you think me capable of such a thing.’
‘I hardly know you,’ she pointed out.
‘No, you do not.’
She could hear the regret in his voice.
‘And now, I do not suppose I ever will. You are engaged.’
There was a silence and then he said softly, ‘Yes. And there is nothing I can do about it. My father is ill and he wants to see me married before he dies. He is concerned about the estate and the Darcy family name. He wants to be sure it will carry on once he is gone.’
‘Oh, I am so sorry.’ Her words were heartfelt. She had not dreamed of such a thing. She could see what a difficult position it placed him in. ‘Mr Wickham will be sorry, too,’ she added, for she knew how fond Mr Wickham was of Mr Darcy’s father.
‘Wickham!’ His tone of voice had completely changed and she was surprised at the contempt in it. ‘Mr Wickham has never been sorry for anyone in his life, unless it is himself.’
‘I am astonished to hear you say so! He seems to be a charming gentleman,’ said Elizabeth defending her friend.
‘He is nothing of the kind. Do not let him impose on you,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘No,’ said Elizabeth hotly, for she was loyal by nature and she did not like to hear him attacking her friend. ‘I will not. After all, if I want anyone to impose on me, I can rely on you for that.’
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 17
