“Well,” Bingley said, settling back into his chair with obvious satisfaction, “that went rather well, did it not? Though I must say, you looked positively thunderous for most of the visit.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Bingley’s eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth. “Come now, Darcy, you cannot tell me you were unaware of your own expression. Every time Wickham launched into one of his tales about your boyhood mishaps, you looked as though you might challenge him to pistols at dawn.”
Heat flooded Darcy’s face despite his efforts at composure. “I simply did not appreciate someone sharing embarrassing stories with my employer’s daughter. It reflects poorly on my character and position.”
“Does it? Or were you perhaps more concerned about Wickham’s obvious attempts to charm said employer’s daughter?” Bingley leaned forward with the air of someone who had solved a particularly interesting puzzle. “The way you watched him lean towards Lady Elizabeth, the way your jaw tightened every time she smiled at his stories… If I did not know better, I would say you looked decidedly jealous.”
“Jealous?” Darcy’s voice cracked slightly on the word. “That is absurd. I was merely concerned about maintaining professional propriety.”
“Professional propriety,” Bingley repeated with obvious scepticism. “Is that what we’re calling it? Very well, I shall not press the matter. But Darcy—”
“Lady Elizabeth is far above my station,” Darcy said stiffly. “Any regard I might feel would be both inappropriate and impossible. As you well know, given your situation.”
“Inappropriate, perhaps,” Bingley agreed gently. “But impossible? I wonder. She seemed quite engaged by your presence today, despite Wickham’s best efforts to monopolise her attention.”
Before Darcy could formulate a response to this unsettling observation, Caroline’s voice rose from across the room, finally releasing Wickham from her conversational trap. The moment for private discussion had passed, leaving Darcy with Bingley’s words echoing uncomfortably in his mind.
***
The ride back to Netherfield began in tense silence, Darcy’s mood darkening with each clip of his horse’s hooves against the packed earth. Beside him, Wickham hummed tunelessly, his earlier triumph at the tea party evident in his relaxed posture and satisfied appearance.
“What a splendid afternoon,” Wickham remarked eventually, his tone carrying the same casual confidence that had so charmed the ladies. “Delightful company, charming conversation. I do believe I made quite a favourable impression.”
Darcy’s hands tightened on his reins. “Your behaviour was entirely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” Wickham’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “I was merely being entertaining. Surely there is no harm in sharing a few amusing childhood memories?”
“You deliberately embarrassed me in front of my employer’s family,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “Those stories served no purpose beyond your own amusement.”
“Come now, they were harmless tales. Everyone enjoyed them immensely—particularly Lady Elizabeth. She has such a delightful laugh, does she not?” Wickham’s smile turned knowing. “I do believe she found me quite charming.”
The casual observation struck Darcy like a physical blow, though he fought to keep his mien neutral. “Your charm has always been considerable. The question is what purpose it serves.”
“Purpose?” Wickham guided his horse around a puddle with practiced ease. “Must charm always serve a purpose? Perhaps I simply enjoy pleasant company.”
“Yesterday you spoke quite clearly about your intentions regarding wealthy wives,” Darcy reminded him coldly. “Have you so quickly forgotten that conversation?”
Wickham’s laugh rang out across the countryside. “Ah, you do remember! How gratifying to know you pay such close attention to my words.” He paused, studying Darcy’s rigid profile. “And what if I have given the matter further consideration? What harm could there be in that?”
“What harm?” Darcy’s voice rose despite his efforts at control. “You speak of marrying for money as though it weresome grand adventure, rather than a mercenary pursuit that would destroy an innocent woman’s happiness.”
“Such dramatics! I had my eye on Lady Jane initially—a sweet creature, though perhaps a trifle dull. But it is quite clear she is utterly besotted with your friend Bingley, so that avenue is closed.” Wickham’s tone remained conversational, as though discussing the weather rather than calculated seduction. “Miss Caroline Bingley seemed promising at first glance—wealthy brother, and eager for a husband. But she is not even a gentleman’s daughter, merely trade dressed in fine silks.”
Darcy felt his stomach clench with growing dread. “And therefore?”
“Therefore, Lady Elizabeth presents the most promising opportunity. An earl’s daughter with a respectable dowry no doubt, and she seemed quite captivated by my sense of humour. Such a refreshing change from the usual simpering misses one encounters.” Wickham’s smile turned predatory.
“You will leave Lady Elizabeth alone,” Darcy said, his voice deadly quiet.
Wickham reined in his horse, forcing Darcy to do the same. “Will I? And what gives you the authority to make such demands?” His eyes narrowed with sudden sharpness. “Is there perhaps something between you and the lovely Lady Elizabeth? Some understanding I should be aware of?”
The question hung in the air between them, weighted with implications Darcy dared not acknowledge. To claim an attachment would be to admit feelings that had no place in his world, desires that could only lead to ruin for both himself and Elizabeth. Yet to deny them felt like betrayal of something precious and fragile.
“There is nothing between us,” he said finally.
“Nothing?” Wickham’s smile returned, sharp and satisfied. “How curious. I could have sworn I detected a certain tension. The way you watched us, the manner in which your jaw tightened every time she laughed at my stories.” He leaned forward in his saddle. “But if you assure me there is nothing, then surely you cannot object to my pursuit of future happiness?”
