Mr Smith sighed in a long suffering manner, but did not dare argue further with his distinguished guest. When Darcy finally had a package under his arm, he went to find Georgiana. She was not keen on shopping either, but he was sure a visit in Bath would make all sorts of purchases necessary, things he would not have even considered.
It was another of those times when he felt himself a poor guardian of a young lady. She needed an older woman to guide her, someone she could confide in and ask all those questions Darcy could not answer. He promised himself that he would take advantage of their stay at Bath to find a companion for his sister.
And perhaps a companion could tell him exactly where his sister was. Darcy looked around in alarm. The shelves containing the ribbons were empty. He looked around, sure he would see her in some other part of the shop.
“Mr Smith,” he said, striding back down to the counter. “Have you seen my sister, Miss Darcy? She had been looking at ribbons, but now I cannot find her.”
“Miss Darcy,” Smith repeated slowly in a bewildered tone as if he had not encountered that name before. “I am afraid I did not see her, sir. I was attending to you if you recall. Watson,” he barked suddenly. Darcy winced at the loud noise. A pimply faced young man came out from the back room. He looked sulkily at his employer. “Watson, there was a young lady in here. Did you happen to see her?”
The young man glared at him balefully. “I was returning those boxes you asked me to,” he said. “I can’t be everywhere at once, you know. I can’t return boxes and keep an eye on customers at the same time. I only have two hands…”
“Watson,” snapped Smith, shooting Darcy a mortified look. He strode towards the young man and took him under the arm. “Save your injustices for later. I’ve told you countless times. Get back out there.” He returned to Darcy with an apologetic smile. “My nephew,” he said. “I am training him as a favour to me sister, and I don’t know why I…well, no more of that. Now, do you think there is a chance the young lady might have left by herself? Perhaps there is somewhere else she would meet you?”
“My sister would not leave by herself,” said Darcy impatiently. “You must come with me and help me find her. There are too many places in this damned store.”
Smith looked so stricken that Darcy almost felt sorry for him. “Forgive me, sir,” he said quickly. “We are so low on staff today, and…”
“It’s not your fault,” said Darcy, remorse making him gruff. “But please, you must help me search for her.”
“Search for who?” asked a light voice behind him. Darcy whirled around to see Georgiana, holding a spool of ribbons.
“Georgie. Where were you? I thought you had left.”
“Not at all.” She handed some of them to Smith, and instructed him as to what length she wished them cut. “Some of my favourite colours were on lower shelves, so perhaps I had bent down and you did not see me.”
Darcy sighed at his own idiocy. He had nearly started a search party and his sister was exactly where she had said she would be. “Perhaps,” he said. “Mr Smith, you must forgive me. It seems my sister was merely hiding on the floor.”
“No apology necessary, Mr Darcy,” said Smith. “The young ladies get so distracted by pretty things, do they not?”
Darcy declined to answer that. They paid up for their purchases and went back out onto the busy street.
“You must have hidden remarkably well, Georgiana,” said Darcy. “I did not see you at all. I could have sworn you left the shop.”
“There was no need to worry,” said Georgiana. “I was quite alright. Shall we go to the tea rooms now?”
Darcy nodded. He would need to appoint Georgiana a companion sooner rather than later. She must have someone better to accompany her than a brother ten years her senior, who almost caused a panic as soon as she disappeared from view. A young girl deserved better than that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The carriage rolled up to a large house on Rivers Street. Elizabeth leaned out the carriage to see it. “It is grand, is it not? I might purchase one of these houses myself when I have some money to spare.”
Lady Lacey laughed and tapped her gently with her fan. “I’d advice you not to make such a joke to the Westons. They would not be pleased by it. You look quite well, my dear. I should think you will make some conquests tonight.”
Elizabeth laughed, but she was more than happy with her appearance. Lady Lacey had insisted she wear a rich golden brown that brought out the gold in her hair and the warm tones of her skin, and although Elizabeth had been uncertain of the unusual choice, she had to admit, it became her remarkably well. She would surely stand out in a room of pastel pinks and greens.
“I hope the company is more enjoyable than last night,” she said in a low voice as they were handed out of the carriage. “I couldn’t take another Mr Price.”
“That was a small card party,” said Lady Lacey. She linked her arm through Elizabeth’s. They walked up the torch-lined steps into the enormous entrance hall. “There will be a far greater crowd at tonight’s ball. If someone is a crashing bore, you can move onto someone else. Do not allow anyone to take over your evening without conversing with them first. It is never a good idea to do so anyway. Gossip spreads faster in Bath than it does anywhere else in the kingdom, I am quite sure.”
Elizabeth had never seen such grandeur in all her life. The room was lit up by countless candles and an enormous chandelier hung over the room. Lady Lacey told her it had been the talk of Bath when the Westons had first bought it. Everyone had been in a rush to write to Penrose’s and order ones made for their own homes. Elizabeth had enjoyed the story, and was amused by how much wealth could be obtained by catering to vanity and foolishness.
Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen swirled around the room, laughing and at ease with one another. Elizabeth felt uncharacteristically nervous. She was usually fully at ease with herself, but she felt out of place here. She wished Jane were with her. At least they could laugh together and share the awkwardness of knowing no-one but their patroness.
“There is Mrs Weston,” said Lady Lacey. She led Elizabeth over to where their hosts greeted the new arrivals. Elizabeth was complimented on her gown and her hair, and Lady Lacey was consulted on what she thought of the crowds that year, and whether there was anyone worth knowing expected to arrive. Elizabeth stood a little away, trying to school her face into a more interested expression. As she did so, she noticed a young man in scarlet uniform watching her. Their eyes met and he gave her a small smile. He raised his glass to her and Elizabeth returned the smile. She felt a flutter of pleasure. He looked very handsome in his uniform. If Kitty and Lydia were here, they would go into paroxysms of delight.
“I am so sorry about that, Lizzy,” said Lady Lacey, when she finally broke free. “Mrs Weston is quite the talker. It can take some skill to get away from her. Now,” she said in a decided tone. “Who can I introduce you to? Ah, there is Mrs Forster. She is quite a chatterbox, but she is harmless and she can introduce you to many people. Her husband is an officer in the army, you know. I believe they are to settle near Meryton this winter, so it will be a nice friendship to have.”
Elizabeth had her doubts about that. For some twenty minutes, she sat beside Mrs Forster as the lady spoke of bonnets and her latest trimmings on her gown, her husband, and everything he had ever said or done. She was, as Lady Lacey said, a harmless thing, but Elizabeth could not get a sensible conversation from her. She privately thought that when the militia stationed in Meryton, Mrs Forster and Lydia would become very fast friends.
“Are there many fine book stores in Bath?” asked Elizabeth in a desperate attempt to end the conversation about the lace trimmings on Mrs Forster’s new pink ball gown. “I have heard there are a great many, but I have not had time to look at them yet.”
“Oh, you are interested in reading?” Mrs Forster exclaimed. “I do not think much of it myself, you know - I think there are far more enjoyable things to do at parti
es. But Wickham is a great reader, are you not, Wickham?”
Mrs Forster reached out to catch the sleeve of a young man who was passing nearby. He stopped at once, and turned with a gallant bow. Elizabeth recognised the young man she had seen when she first arrived. She wondered how he could be so polite in the face at such a rude interruption.
“Mrs Forster,” he said pleasantly. “How may I be of service to you?”
Mrs Forster quickly introduced the two of them with a careless wave of her hand. “It seems Miss Bennet is a great reader, and has lots of questions about the Bath book shops,” she said. As far as Elizabeth could recall, she’d only had one. “I am not a great reader, as you know. But I know you are, and felt sure you would be the person to help her.”
“I would be honoured,” said Wickham, as Elizabeth began to protest that she did not wish him to go to any trouble. “I am always happy to meet a fellow reader. It is rare that I can indulge myself in a conversation about books. Do you know, Miss Bennet, how may times I have been gripped by a book, but had no-one to share the excitement with? How often I have longed to be able to say ‘Did you read such a scene? What did you think when they drew the curtain back? My hair stood up on end!’”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think you have a preference for reading gothic romances, Mr Wickham. Who would have thought it from a military man like you?”
Wickham laughed and came to sit beside her. Mrs Forster had already forgotten about them, and was now in deep conversation with her neighbour about the shocking price of shoes in Bath.
“I refuse to be ashamed of my indulgences, Miss Bennet. Are you a serious reader, then? No Miss Radcliffe’s for you?”
She gave him a look of mock indignation. “Certainly not. I read nothing but Fordyce’s sermons every day. It is most instructive for purifying the mind.”
Wickham looked so wrong footed that she burst out laughing.
“I may or may not have brought a copy of Miss Radcliffe’s book with me,” she said playfully. “Serious reading is all very well, but sometimes, I would rather be entertained than instructed.”
“Oh, thank goodness for that,” said Wickham. “I was afraid I was with someone who would scold me for reading Romance of the Forest. Not that I’m adverse to readings sermons intended for young ladies. As a fine young lady myself, it is important that I receive the proper instruction so that I am not led astray.”
Elizabeth opened her fan to hide her sudden burst of laughter. “And what a fine young lady you are, Mr Wickham. I am sure all the officers watch their manners around such a proper young miss.”
“They had better,” joked Wickham. “Or my Papa would call them out in a duel.”
The conversation was nonsensical, but Elizabeth was delighted with it. She dearly loved to laugh and it was a relief to have someone to be playful with, and who was not merely assessing her wealth and deciding whether or not she was worthy of notice.
“I understand your militia is to be stationed at Meryton for the winter,” she said. “That is where I live.”
“What a coincidence,” Wickham exclaimed in delight. “I hope we can continue to get to know one another during those months? Forgive me if I am being so bold, but I am enjoying talking with you very much. It is hard to find genuine conversation in Bath.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice confidentially. “Everyone here is after something, Miss Bennet. A husband, a wife, and advantageous connection. It is so hard to know who is sincere and who is not.”
“I quite agree,” said Elizabeth. It was a relief to have someone who found Bath as she did. “And I would be delighted to continue our acquaintance in Meryton. You will like it there, I think.”
Wickham beamed at her. “In that case,” he said. He rose from his chair and bowed to her, holding out his hand. “Will you honour me with a dance, Miss Bennet? To celebrate the start of our friendship.”
“I would be delighted, Mr Wickham.”
As they joined the set, Elizabeth saw Lady Lacey looking over. Elizabeth flashed her a grin, then turned back to her partner.
“I am very glad I met you, Miss Bennet,” said Wickham as he bowed to her. “I cannot tell you how pleasant it is to have someone to converse with. Are you fond of music?”
As the pair conversed at length about their favourite composers, Elizabeth noticed Wickham seemed a little distracted. He glanced over her head towards the door a few times, and sometimes scanned the crowd. He saw her looking, and started.
“What a dog I am,” he cried. “You must forgive me - dancing with a lady while looking about the room.”
The dance ended and he led her back to their seats. “I must explain myself, Miss Bennet, as I would hate for you to go away with an inaccurate picture of me.”
“You are being most mysterious, Mr Wickham,” said Elizabeth sceptically. She had little patience for such rudeness, but curiosity as to his reasons stayed her to listen.
“I am sorry. I would not have you think I am a secretive sort. It is my nature to be open and honest and in light of that, I will tell you why I was so inexcusably rude out there. Miss Bennet, have you ever been in a large gathering where you have feared who you may encounter there?”
Elizabeth thought about it. At best, she could only think of a few occasions where she did not wish to speak to someone, but it would be inaccurate to say she had been afraid to see them. She shook her head. Wickham sighed and ran his hand distractedly through his hair.
“That is just my problem,” he confessed. “I have heard reports that there is one here in town who I would not like to meet. It is a most painful and distressing situation.”
Elizabeth assumed at once he referred to a young lady he had courted, and briefly thought it proved his manners even worse to speak of such to another lady. Before she could say so, Wickham continued.
“The gentleman I am referring to is a man I was raised with, almost as a brother.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth in surprise. “You mean an old friend you have fallen out with?”
“I would say it was more than a falling out,” said Wickham sadly. “Say a severing instead. I fear our friendship will never be repaired. The gentleman in question is too proud, but he was not always so. His father, Miss Bennet was one of the best men who ever lived. My father was his steward and I believe I was a favourite of the old man. I was raised almost as one of his own children. The son and I played together every day. The old man intended me for the church and after my own father died, he promised me that he would provide me with a living once one became available. I was happy with the future intended for me, but I believe the son was jealous of his father’s favour to me. Maybe he believed the father loved me more. I do not know. But when the old man died, and the living became available, the son refused to honour the father’s wishes.”
Elizabeth gasped. “How wicked. How could he refuse his own father’s wishes, and betray someone who had been raised as his brother? I wonder you could be so calm about it. I could not.”
Wickham smiled and shrugged. “I was angry for a while,” he confessed. “But after some time, it did little good. I had to find my own way in the world and accept that the path I thought was mine was not meant to be. But it is not all bad, Miss Bennet. I love the life I lead. I have occupation and companionship and opportunities to advance. I am extremely content. So I forbid you to feel sorry for me.”
“I could learn much from you,” said Elizabeth. “Like how to be more forbearing. It is remarkable to me.”
“You are very kind,” said Wickham with a self-conscious smile. “But now you know who I have been looking out for as we danced. It was such a happy moment for me, Miss Bennet, that I started to fear something would come along to destroy it. I was horrified when I heard he was here in town. I fear he would not hesitate to spread rumours about me. But,” he slapped his hands on his knees in good spirits, “I do not see him anywhere. I believe I am safe.”
Elizabeth shook her head in wonder. “That is most dreadful,” she
said. “To be deprived of your rights and then to worry that the same man will not be satisfied with that and will attempt to take more from you. How can anyone - especially one to whom so much has been given - be so spiteful?”
“I suppose he is used to having his own way as so many of these fine men are,” said Wickham. “But we must not dwell on him. Look, he is not even here tonight and yet he has somehow managed to impose on our evening anyhow. We will not allow that, Miss Bennet. We shall dance again, you and I, and together, we will banish him back to the recesses of memory where he belongs.”
Wickham leaped to his feet and extended his hand to Elizabeth with an exaggerated bow. Elizabeth laughed in delight and placed her own hand in his. She did not dance with another partner all night and they only parted as the first light of dawn started to edge its way through the windows. Only then did they consent to part from one another, and Elizabeth went away with her head full of him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Darcy began to feel sorry he had gone to Dalrymple’s ball. He had exerted himself to invite young ladies to stand up with him, but found his usual reticence overcame him and he had little to say to any of then. And he was not blind to the whispers that floated around him as soon as he came into the room. Mamas and their daughters eyed him up and whispered together behind perfumed fans. He distinctly heard the words “£10000 a year” and “Pemberley” floating past him more than once.
He knew he was being ridiculous. Of course they would know his details, and of course they would play a large part in his attractiveness. He too was looking for a lady of wealth and fortune. He also hoped it would be a lady he could love and admire, but he was very aware of what was due to his family.
So, he bore Sophia Dalrymple’s hints about his townhouse in London with good grace as they crossed over and back in a reel. She was a clever, pretty girl, but her cleverness seemed to limit itself to working out exactly how much pin money a Mrs Darcy was likely to receive and how many gowns she could purchase a year. He led her back to her friends with little regret.
In Want of a Wife: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 4
