∞∞∞
Georgiana’s heart constricted as she watched Elizabeth scurry away. She had resolved to obey her brother and have nothing more to do with the Bennet family. But she still missed her friend. Soon, Mr Wickham returned with glasses of punch for each of them. They stood apart from the other attendees, talking on the dais as the musicians recovered for the next dance sets.
“You have grown up most beautifully, Miss Darcy. I do not know if you remember me from when we were children, but I used to take you up on my shoulders when you were little and run you about the garden.” Mr Wickham smiled at her with such ease and charm that she felt her heart flutter.
Heat touched her cheeks, and Georgiana knew she was blushing. She remembered little about Mr Wickham, only that he had left suddenly shortly after her father’s death. Fitzwilliam had never divulged the reason, but she assumed he had gone off to seek his fortune. Mr Wickham seemed pleased to be a lieutenant.
“Have you given thought to my request while I was away?”
Georgiana was unsure what to do. To dance with a man twice seemed so…familiar. But she was being silly. There was nothing really wrong with dancing together twice. It was not as though he was asking for a third dance, which would be as much as to say they were engaged. Surely it would not be inappropriate, seeing as he was a friend of the family. “Yes, I will dance a second set with you, Mr Wickham. Thank you,” she replied.
Mrs Younge seemed pleased. She sent them off with a smile, bidding them to enjoy themselves.
She did enjoy dancing with Mr Wickham. He was so attentive. Better still, Mr Wickham knew all the charms of Pemberley and Lambton. Mrs Younge did not much care to indulge her in conversation about her home. Having grown up there himself, Mr Wickham appreciated Pemberley as much as anybody could wish. He was very patient with her, though doubtless she was talking far too much and ought to ask him to speak more about himself instead.
“You father would be proud of the young woman you have grown into, if you do not mind me saying so,” Mr Wickham said as the dance got underway. “You are full of grace and good breeding. And you look just like your mother.”
“You knew my parents well, then?” Georgiana asked.
“I did. Your mother was always kind to me. I think you are much like her, one of the kindest and gentlest ladies I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And your father, well, he was the one who always believed in me, told me I could be anything I wished if I would only put my mind to it. He paid for my education, up until his passing.” Mr Wickham’s face fell. “I am only sorry I never lived up to his expectations.”
“Surely that is not true. I know my father held a special place in his heart for you, Mr Wickham. He would be proud of you as well.”
He gave a short laugh. “Me? A lowly lieutenant?”
“There is no shame in small beginnings, sir.” Georgiana only wished she could find better words of encouragement. Elizabeth would have known exactly what to say, but the best words she could find seemed flat and pale. “Many of our finest gentlemen were not always men of rank. Why, look at the navy. There is many a newly made fortune there. Who is to say you will not climb the ranks and distinguish yourself on the French front?”
Mr Wickham looked as if her words had truly touched him. It was very gratifying, even though she did not know why he should pay attention to her. She was the little girl who had always tottered along after him and Fitz, no doubt causing them annoyance at such a tag-along.
“I hope I may be worthy of your good opinion of me, Miss Darcy. Really, it is a relief to find I have a friend here in Meryton, one of such lovely face and figure, I might add.” He smiled, but even as she blushed, Georgiana wondered if his speech was entirely appropriate. She would have to ask Mrs Younge about it later. But likely young men often got carried away at functions such as these.
Georgiana forgot her worries in her enjoyment of the dance. Mr Wickham was an excellent partner and made each step with perfect grace. When he brought her back to Mrs Younge’s side, she was out of breath, but in remarkably good spirits. Georgiana did not know when she had ever felt more exhilarated.
Mr Wickham soon went off to dance with another young lady from Meryton. “It will not do for the inhabitants to think I play favourites, even though I wish I would never have cause to leave your side.” He kissed her hand lightly before he bounded away. Georgiana glanced at Mrs Younge, to see if he had overstepped the bounds. Mrs Younge gave her a nod of approval, silencing some of Georgiana’s anxiousness.
He was acting merely as an old friend. There was nothing more to it than that, and she ought not to imagine otherwise.
When the assembly ended, Mr Wickham appeared suddenly by her side. “Do you walk home tonight, Miss Darcy?”
“We do, Mr Wickham,” Georgiana said in surprise. She wondered how he could have known. They did indeed intend to walk. Though Fitzwilliam had, of course, provided a carriage for them, their lodgings were so near that Mrs Younge had judged it unnecessary that evening, saying that she could always send a servant to summon their coachman if the weather turned.
Mr Wickham insisted on accompanying them to their townhouse and added a flourish to his gallantry by offering his arm. She took it, and they began to walk. Georgiana looked up, marvelling at the night’s beauty. Clouds obscured the moonlight as they raced across the sky.
“It is a rarity to have such a temperate night. I hear this part of the country receives almost as much rain as the Peaks District,” Mr Wickham said amiably as they walked.
“Yes, I believe so,” Georgiana replied. “I am not the authority on the subject, however. Miss Elizabeth Ben—” She halted and glanced over her shoulder at Mrs Younge, who raised her eyebrow in disapproval at Georgiana having even uttered thename of her friend-turned-enemy. “That is, I would not know as some of the locals might.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I presume?” Mr Wickham asked. “I met her on the road a few days ago. She seems a charming enough person.”
Mrs Younge cleared her throat. Mr Wickham looked quickly back at her. “Are you quite well, Mrs Younge? Perhaps we should quicken our pace so you can avail yourself of a cup of tea?”
“I am not choking, Mr Wickham, thank you. It is just that we prefer not to speak of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I see. Well, you must forgive me, Miss Darcy. I was wrong to speak of another when I am in the presence of someone who is far above her in station, grace, and dare I say, beauty?”
Georgiana blushed. She was glad the darkness of the street obscured her face, for she hardly knew how to look. The compliment was so extravagant. “Come now, Mr Wickham. I shall have to tell my brother,” she teased. Expecting to hear his charming laugh, Georgiana was surprised when Mr Wickham was silent. Stranger still, his arm had tensed under hers.
“Perhaps it would be best for you not to mention me yet, Miss Darcy,” he said.
