“Why ever not?”
“I would rather surprise him, you see. I have been gone a long while, trying to make something of myself. When I departed Pemberley, he charged me to make your father proud, and I have striven to do so. I should like to surprise him when he arrives from London.”
Georgiana nodded. “Very well. I shall not say a word.”
This seemed to please him, and so when he had seen them safely home, he thanked her and again kissed her hand. His lips had barely brushed her gloves, but she could still feel the warmth of them even when they had gone inside and closed the door.
“What do you think of him?” Mrs Younge asked as they climbed the stairs to their rooms.
Georgiana was not sure what she meant. Perhaps Mrs Younge wished to know what Mr Wickham had been like as a boy, compared to the man he had become. “He is much taller now and carries himself with a confidence that he did not possess when he was younger.” She said nothing else on the subject as she entered her room, tempted to fall straight into bed from the exhaustion wrought by all the dancing she had done that evening. Despite her weariness, Georgiana was incandescently happy in thinking how different this assembly had been from her first. Only one thing was missing. How immeasurably greater would her happiness have been if only she could have shared it with the woman she had thought was her dearest friend?
Chapter 16
On a grey and chilly afternoon not many days later, Georgiana was seated in the drawing room and considering what to play on the pianoforte when Mrs Younge came in, waving a note in triumph. “He has accepted!” she announced.
Georgiana frowned in confusion. “Who, Mrs Younge?”
“Why, Mr Wickham, of course. I have asked him to supper, and he has just sent his reply. He says he would be most honoured to attend us this evening.” She approached the pianoforte and handed over the note. Georgiana looked at it curiously. Though politely and gracefully phased, it somehow struck her as odd. The note penned in a very neat hand, with lavish swirls. Almost as if a woman had penned it for him.
Georgiana put the thought from her mind and decided to think about the present. “That is good news. I shall have to make sure Cook has prepared a good supper for us tonight.” She stood and walked briskly towards the kitchen. A supper party, though with only one guest, would be a fine time to practise acting as a hostess. She must see to it that their guest received a proper reception.
∞∞∞
Wickham arrived a little early, knowing that Mrs Younge did not mind. Omitting only the obstacle of the militia’s late arrival, the scheme was working out exactly as they had hoped. Now, if Mr Darcy would stay away for a little while longer while he worked his powers on the gullible Georgiana, they would be on their way.
The maid let him in. Mrs Younge took him into the parlour, closing the doors behind them. “Miss Darcy is still getting ready. She is very intent on impressing you, you know.” He looked appreciatively at her. If Wickham were any judge of women, Georgiana was not the only one making a special effort to impress him that night. Mrs Younge’s smile had a particular note of heat to it, or his name was not George Wickham.
He offered her his best smile in return. “It seems I made an impression last night, then. Is that not what we want?”
“It is.”
“Then why do you seem upset by it?”
“I am not upset.”
Wickham had no intention of arguing with her. “I must say, it is remarkably pleasant, having access to the house of the woman I am trying to seduce. It makes things so much simpler!” He walked about the room, surveying it. “If only every time were so easy.”
Mrs Younge walked towards him with a distinct sway to her hips. She stopped directly in his path. Wickham’s lipstwitched. Though the temptation was nearly irresistible, any indiscretion would not be wise. He was playing for a fortune. Surely a little self-denial was nothing, when it might gain him Georgiana’s dowry.
The choice was not left to him. Mrs Younge came into his arms willingly, kissing him on the lips. At that, his control broke. Wickham kissed her back with all the pent-up fury of several weeks of restraint.
“Oh, George,” she whispered.
Her murmured words brought him back to the present. He set her aside and walked away, trying to regain his composure. “We cannot go any further, Mrs Younge.”
She uttered a short laugh. “Mrs Younge? Come now, George, we know each other better than that.” She joined him, running her fingers over his shoulders as she came around to face him. “Anne.”
“No. We cannot. What if we should slip while we are in Miss Darcy’s company?” he whispered. He glanced toward the door. Really, she should not have closed it. The servants might have wagging tongues, and then where would they be?
He strode to the door and opened it wide, careful to stay a safe distance from Mrs Younge. When he turned to look at her, he made a point of looking for all the telltale signs of age. Those grey hairs, grown increasingly many on her brow. The slight lines that showed she was no longer in the first flush of youth. When Wickham was rich, he would not have to seduce aging widows. Or pander gently to a young, inexperienced girl, applying kisses only to her gloved hand.
An image passed through his mind of a lively and spirited young woman. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, now there was a youngwoman worthy of his embrace. She was fresh and untouched, without guile or knowledge of how harsh the world could be. He would very much like to show her the ways of the world…
Mrs Younge laughed at him. “You have that look in your eyes. Looking forward to your wedding day?” she hissed. “Or rather, your wedding night?”
She passed him and went out into the foyer. He followed her, resolving to keep his mind to his business. He sobered quickly as Miss Darcy cleared her throat and began descending the stairs.
He made sure to smile widely and take her in with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Wickham let his mouth fall open just a little to add to the effect. He met her at the bottom of the stairs and took her gloved hand. “Miss Darcy, you are a vision.”
