She had spoken in haste and wished the words unsaid but it was too late. She saw a haughty expression cross his face and he said, ‘I thought you had accepted my apology but I see I was wrong. Perhaps it is as well we cannot spend any more time together.’
The final chords of the dance sounded and he escorted her to the side of the room in stony silence.
Elizabeth did not know whether to be most vexed with him for attacking Mr Wickham, or most vexed with herself for reacting without thinking. Either way, she was feeling distinctly angry when she rejoined her aunt and uncle.
She did her best to hide it, however, and luckily they did not notice. They were busy talking to some old acquaintances they had run across by chance, and Elizabeth excused herself. She went to the ladies’ withdrawing room and dabbed her temples with lavender water.
By the time she returned to the ball, Mr Darcy had gone. But Mr Wickham was there. He was dancing with another young lady but as soon as she dance came to an end he joined her.
She could not help remembering Mr Darcy’s words: Do not let him impose on you. She wondered what they meant. But as the evening wore on, and Mr Wickham’s conversation was just as lively as ever, and his attention just as admiring, Elizabeth soon dismissed it as jealousy, as Mr Wickham had claimed.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth was up early the following morning. She was by nature an energetic young woman and she loved to walk, particularly when the weather was fine. Her aunt was not a great walker, but her aunt’s maid was luckily as energetic as Elizabeth, so they were used to going out together early in the morning.
The bright day beckoned Elizabeth outside and before long she was walking along the pavements, looking in shop windows and enjoying the morning air. She was just about to go into a haberdasher’s, for she wanted some new ribbon to trim her bonnet, when the peace was shattered by the sound of a wail and Elizabeth saw a little dog running away from its stately mistress. The poor woman tried to run after her dog, but she was not fleet of foot and her companion was no better. She almost tripped over the broken lead that was dangling from her hand.
‘Napoleon!’ she cried. ‘Napoleon!’
Elizabeth tried to catch the dog as it ran towards her, but it dodged her before running down a side alley. Elizabeth followed, calling to the dog, ‘Napoleon!’
The dog paused, its tongue hanging out, and Elizabeth approached in a friendly fashion. But then a large mutt appeared from nowhere and the smaller dog took fright. It bolted down another alley and Elizabeth followed again, holding her bonnet on with one hand as she clutched her skirt with another.
At last, she cornered the little dog as it stood, whimpering and exhausted, at the bottom of a flight of steps.
Elizabeth crouched down and called to the dog. It hesitated for a minute and then it decided to trust her. It walked forward and she was able to scoop it up in her arms.
She was just about to go back when the door at the top of the steps opened and a man stumbled out. He had evidently been drinking, and he turned back to embrace a woman in a nightgown. They indulged in a long embrace. To Elizabeth’s horror, she saw the man was George Wickham.
Mr Darcy’s words came back to her: Do not let him impose on you.
Now she knew what he meant.
She turned and hurried back to the main thoroughfare.
George Wickham, who had presented himself as a respectable gentleman about to take holy orders, was nothing but a drunk and a libertine.
Elizabeth looked about her for the dog’s owner. The lady caught sight of her and came hurrying up to her.
‘There you are, Napoleon! Bad boy!’ said the lady affectionately to her dog, taking him from Elizabeth. ‘You shouldn’t run off like that, bad boy!’
‘Naughty Napoleon, frightening Her Grace like that,’ said the companion.
The dog licked her face and wagged his tail.
The duchess – for such she must be, to be called ‘Your Grace’ - laughed and thanked Elizabeth for her help.
‘What is your name, my dear?’ she asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth told her.
‘Perhaps, one day, I can do you a good turn,’ said the Duchess.
‘There is no need. I was glad to help,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Yes. I could see that, my dear. Such generous people do not come along very often. But we all need a little help from time to time.’
And with that, she called to her companion and set off ‘to buy another lead for Napoleon,’ as she explained.
Elizabeth and her maid crossed the road to the haberdasher’s. Elizabeth was particularly looking for a length of coral pink ribbon, to match the small flowers on her new sprigged gown. There was just the colour she needed in the window. She went into the shop, setting the bell ringing: it was so arranged that every time the door opened and shut, it knocked the bell which hung above it and let the shopkeeper know he had customers.
She went over to the ribbon and examined it whilst the shopkeeper served the lady and gentleman in front of her.
‘I think I will buy some ribbon for my sisters as well,’ said Elizabeth to the maid.
The range of colours in Buxton was far superior to the range of colours in the Meryton shops.
At the sound of her voice, the gentleman turned round and she was horrified to see Mr Darcy!
They had parted on very bad terms, but she could not ignore him so she dropped a cool curtsey and he made her a slight bow.
There the matter would have ended, but the young lady with Mr Darcy said, ‘Oh, what a pretty ribbon. I do so love that colour. I saw a coral gown in the latest edition of La Belle Assemblée.’
La Belle Assemblée was a popular magazine, containing a number of fashion plates as well as poetry and fiction and Elizabeth saw the latest edition peeping out of the lady’s bag.
Mr Darcy looked displeased at the exchange, for he could no longer escape introductions, and Elizabeth learned that the young lady was his sister, Georgiana.
The two young ladies struck up a conversation about ribbons and together they chose several lengths to trim their bonnets.
Elizabeth was charmed with Georgiana. Although Georgiana was a wealthy heiress, she was natural and engaging. At last Georgiana had made her selection and she handed her ribbons to the shopkeeper. He congratulated her on her taste and showed her several other things which might interest her.
With Georgiana’s attention engaged elsewhere, and with her aunt’s maid examining a packet of sewing needles at the other side of the shop, Elizabeth took the opportunity of speaking to Mr Darcy.
‘I have just seen Mr Wickham,’ she said.
‘Indeed,’ he replied frostily.
‘I just wanted to thank you for putting me on my guard. I did not believe you at the time, but I have recently found out what you meant. I will not go into particulars. I will only say that my eyes have been opened and I am no longer deceived.’
He looked surprised, then his features softened.
‘I do not know whether to be glad or sorry,’ he said. ‘I am glad you are no longer duped by him, but I am sorry you have had another unpleasant experience.’
He did not need to say any more. Elizabeth knew only too well what he meant by ‘another unpleasant experience’.
Twice now she had been deceived by seemingly respectable gentlemen, first by Mr Darcy and then by Mr Wickham.
But her honesty forced her to admit there were very different reasons for the deception. Mr Darcy had been a victim of her own mistake, when she had told him he was the steward, and then he had been attracted by the idea of her liking him for himself instead of his position.
Mr Wickham, on the other hand, had deliberately set out to deceive her for reasons of his own. Since she was not wealthy and he had nothing to gain by deceiving her, she was forced to conclude that he had done it because he enjoyed her company. She had thought he was going to propose to her, but now she was not certain, for although he had given every indication
of being a man who was about to propose, he had perhaps been toying with her affections. For all she knew, he could have taken half a dozen other women to see his future residence, and made them all feel he was about to propose.
Whatever the case, all intimacy between her and Mr Wickham was now at an end. If he did propose, she would refuse him.
‘Miss Bennet, if . . . ’
He stopped. They both knew what he had been going to say. If he had a free choice in the matter he would propose to her. But he could not do it. He was engaged elsewhere, and his father would disapprove, and men in Mr Darcy’s position needed the approval of their fathers if they were not to be disinherited.
It was hopeless, and they both knew it.
They were interrupted at that moment by Georgiana, who said, ‘There! I am done! Thank you so much for bringing me here this morning, dear brother.’
The tender smile she bestowed on him showed Elizabeth that Mr Darcy was a good and generous brother. She was sure he would make a good and generous husband. But alas! It would not be to her.
‘Miss Bennet,’ said Georgiana, turning towards her. ‘I wonder if you would be so good as to take tea with me tomorrow afternoon. I know so few people in Buxton and I would consider it a very great favour if you would say yes.’
Georgiana was beloved by both her parents and her happy confidence shone out of her eyes. She was only sixteen, but she had delivered her invitation with grace and maturity.
‘Thank you,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I would be charmed.’
Georgiana gave Elizabeth the address, and the arrangement was made. Both ladies curtseyed, Mr Darcy bowed, and then the Darcys left the shop.
Elizabeth purchased her ribbon and then she returned home. She found her aunt and uncle sitting in the drawing-room, talking about their plans for the day. The afternoon was already arranged, since Mr Wickham had said he would call, but they were trying to decide whether to attend a concert or a firework display that evening.
Mrs Gardiner saw at once that something had happened and Elizabeth enlightened her aunt and uncle about Mr Wickham’s behaviour. They were shocked, but as her aunt said, it was better to find out sooner rather than later.
Mr Wickham was engaged to call on them that afternoon and Elizabeth welcomed the opportunity it would give her to let him know his attentions were no longer welcome. In the event, Mr Wickham did not arrive, and Elizabeth guessed he must have a sore head. He would be at the concert that evening, however, and so Elizabeth persuaded her aunt and uncle to go. She had always been a courageous young woman and she knew she must see Mr Wickham at some time, so she felt it was better to do so as quickly as possible. That way, she could greet him politely but remotely, and let him know that she had discovered his true nature. After that, she felt sure he would avoid her and so she would be able to finish her stay in Buxton without constantly thinking she might bump into him.
Chapter Eighteen
Sure enough, Mr Wickham was at the concert that evening. As soon as he saw her he walked towards her with a smile on his face.
‘I must apologise for my absence this afternoon,’ he said. ‘I am afraid I had —’
‘A sore head?’ asked Elizabeth.
He looked surprised, but he brazened it out.
‘Ah, you are teasing me,’ he said with a laugh.
He kissed her hand but she drew it away.
He looked a little uneasy but said, ‘Mr Walker was not well and I was called to see him. His servant thought it was very serious and I sent for the physician. I had to stay until he arrived and that is why I missed our appointment. I am afraid I had no one with me and so I could not send you a message. My friend’s health had to come first, as I am sure you will understand.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Elizabeth.
She did not for one moment believe him but she could not prove that he was lying and so she let it pass.
‘I hope your day was more agreeable,’ he said.
‘It was certainly interesting. I went out early this morning to buy some ribbon for my bonnet.’
‘I look forward to seeing it,’ he said.
He gave a smile which Elizabeth would have taken for charming a day before, but now found ingratiating.
‘I do not believe that will be possible,’ she said. ‘You see, as I was about to enter the shop, a dog ran away from its mistress and I gave chase, since she and her companion were unable to catch it. The dog ran down some alleyways and I found myself in a less fashionable part of the town.’
She saw his expression waver for an instant, but then he plastered his smile back on his face.
‘I think you can guess what I saw, Mr Wickham.’
He looked rather ill now, but the smile was still on his face.
‘I saw a gentleman of my acquaintance,’ she continued. ‘He was emerging from a sick room, or so I imagine, since the woman who followed him was dressed only in her nightgown. It seems that this is a day for visiting the sick, is it not?’
Mr Wickham was by now looking very foolish.
‘Goodbye, Mr Wickham,’ she said with a note of finality.
He looked as if he might try to make some excuse, but Elizabeth’s face was determined. A look of resignation crossed his face, then he bowed and hurried away.
Elizabeth laughed to see him go.
‘Well done, my dear,’ said Mrs Gardiner, who joined Elizabeth when Mr Wickham left. ‘He will not be bothering you again. Now I think we had better take our places. The concert is about to begin.’
Elizabeth looked about her. The concert hall was filling up. Almost all the seats were taken. She had thought she might see Mr Darcy there, but he was not in attendance.
However, she saw a familiar face, that of the young woman she had comforted in the cloakroom some days before. The young woman looked up and smiled. Elizabeth was pleased. She thought the young lady might have been too embarrassed to speak to her after their earlier encounter. In Elizabeth’s experience, people did not always like to be reminded of their moments of weakness. But the young lady indicated that the seats next to her were available and so Elizabeth’s party settled themselves there.
Elizabeth did not have a programme so the young lady lent Elizabeth hers.
‘It is the least I can do, after you were so kind to me the other day,’ she said.
‘I was glad to help,’ said Elizabeth, taking the proffered programme.
‘It made all the difference,’ said the young lady. ‘You were right, all I needed was a friend and luckily I have found one. My friend and I spent this afternoon together and all my problems seem to be melting away. It has changed everything for me. It is wonderful to have someone who is interested in me and cares about me.’
‘I am very pleased to hear it,’ said Elizabeth sincerely.
She knew how important it was to have a confidante. She was lucky in that she had a sensible aunt she could talk to, and even more lucky that she had a most beloved sister. She could say many things to her aunt, but she could say absolutely anything to her sister. She knew what a relief it was to be able to unburden herself if she was worried about anything, and she knew what a joy it was to share good news and happiness. So she was very glad the young lady had found this at last.
A hush was starting to settle over the room. The audience had taken their places and the musicians were picking up their instruments.
‘Tomorrow you shall know all,’ whispered the young lady. ‘Thank you again, Miss —’
‘Bennet,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You are very welcome, Miss —’
‘Bent,’ said the young woman.
Elizabeth was startled. So this was Miss Bent, the woman who was betrothed to Mr Darcy.
How terrible it was that two people who did not love each other should be bound together. Mr Darcy did not wish it, Miss Bent did not wish it, but they were both forced to honour the arrangement because it had been made by their parents at the Pemberley ball.
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth spe
nt the following morning writing letters. She missed her family, particularly her father and her sister Jane, and she did not want to neglect them. She wrote one general letter for her whole family to read and another, more detailed letter, for Jane.
She told Jane all about Mr Darcy and Miss Bent, and she finished by saying, ‘How lucky we are, Jane, not to be burdened with a fortune, for it brings as many problems as it solves. I am looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you.’
She signed the letter with her love, then sanded it, folded it and addressed it.
She asked her aunt and uncle if they had any letters they wanted her to post and they each gave her several. Then she called for her aunt’s maid and she set out to post them.
She enjoyed the morning air, which was becoming warmer and warmer as the sun rose in the sky. There was a light breeze blowing, which fluttered the hem of her muslin gown, but it was not strong enough to make her hold her bonnet on with her hand. The new coral ribbons tying it beneath her chin were strong enough to keep it in place.
As she walked along, she became aware that a lot of people seemed to be out gossiping this morning. There was an unusual amount of activity, and people were talking together in small knots. When the knots broke up, each member hurried off to form another knot, and they were soon all huddled together and whispering.
‘Do you know what it is all about?’ asked Elizabeth.
Her aunt’s maid said, ‘Yes, Miss.’
She looked uncomfortable and did not say any more.
Elizabeth looked at her enquiringly.
‘It’s not for me to say, Miss,’ said the maid.
Elizabeth was surprised, for the maid was usually happy to talk. But one look at the maid’s face told her it was in some way connected with her.
‘I demand to know,’ said Elizabeth.
The maid looked uncomfortable but said, ‘They do say there’s been an elopement, Miss. They say Mr Wickham has run off with an heiress.’
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in surprise. How lucky it was that she had found him out before this moment, otherwise what a shock it would have been!’
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 18
