It was a lie, of course, but he wanted to see how deep Miss Darcy’s sensibilities ran.
Miss Darcy nearly choked on her mouthful. “Mr Wickham! You cannot be serious.”
He chuckled. “Forgive my forwardness. I will strive to be more delicate.”
In truth, Wickham had tried his stunt of eloping with a maiden daughter of a lord from Edinburgh. However, it had failed most unpleasantly. He had not found it necessary to inform Mrs Younge of the misadventure, for the information would hardly have made her a more willing accomplice in catching Georgiana. It hardly mattered. This time, he would not fail.
After supper, they retired to the drawing room, where Miss Darcy regaled them with music. He encouraged her to play most of the evening. When she could not be prevailed upon to play any longer, they chatted around the fire. When Miss Darcypressed him to tell them more of himself, Wickham concealed a triumphant smile and pretended embarrassment before sharing an amusing tale of going on patrol one evening, only to mistake a stag for an intruder and alert the entire camp. Miss Darcy seemed thoroughly amused and quite sympathetic — perfect. He was not opposed to making himself out to be the fool if it gained him his ends.
At one point, Miss Darcy excused herself, no doubt to freshen her face. Mrs Younge turned to him when they were alone, a hungry fire burning in her eyes. “Will you come to me tonight after Miss Darcy has gone to bed?”
Wickham could not risk being caught with her. Not yet, that is. “As tempting an offer as that is, do you not think that would be unwise?”
Her face fell. “Are you certain I cannot persuade you?” she asked. The offer was not without its temptations. But he was not about to ruin all their hard work when he was so close to his goal.
“No, Mrs Younge. You shall just have to be patient.”
Mrs Younge did not look pleased, but by then Miss Darcy had returned and sat back down at the pianoforte for one last song, as he had made her promise.
The hour was already late when he was seen out by the ladies. His walk back to the barracks was peaceful, the moonlight shining overhead undisturbed by clouds. He took a deep breath, walking briskly. Mrs Younge had played her part beautifully, encouraging Miss Darcy’s affections for him. And he had charmed her until she was positively glowing.
He entered his shared tent and quickly stripped off his coat. Denny sat at the tiny writing desk near the front of the tent.A single candle burned, and he looked up at Wickham with a mixture of amusement and devilry. “How did your evening go?” he asked.
“Oh, very well. I think the young lady is half in love with me already.” Wickham sprawled out on his cot, bracing his hands behind his head.
“Will there be wedding bells in your future, my friend? We shall be leaving for Brighton come the winter.”
Wickham smiled wickedly. “Oh, I intend to wed her long before that.”
∞∞∞
Georgiana was not in love with Mr Wickham. Of that much, she was certain. Indeed, it was too soon for any emotion akin to love to be entering her head. All the same, Mr Wickham certainly was charming. He was much more charming than the boy she remembered growing up with. Of course, George and Fitzwilliam were quite a few years older than she. Perhaps she had simply been too childish to appreciate him. Even now, she had difficulty believing he was interested in her for any other reason than honouring the relationship he had shared with her late father. And yet…perhaps she was only being prideful, but several times during the evening, she had felt his eyes on her and felt that he thought her quite pretty.
“Well, my dear, I think that went well. Do you not?” Mrs Younge asked as Georgiana got ready for bed. The maid stood behind Georgiana, loosing her blonde waves from the elaborate hairstyle Mrs Younge had insisted she wear that evening. Itmade her look all the more grown up with just a touch of rouge on her cheeks. Her brother would have been scandalised if he had seen her that night.
Not that she had needed the rouge. She had felt her cheeks flush so often, that she was sure her face was too red to be found attractive. Next time, she would refuse to wear any at all. “I like him very much. He seems very happy in his new life, and I am glad of that. I know my father held a special place for Mr Wickham in his heart. It is a pity Papa was not able to see what a fine man he has become.”
“And do you think you could be happy with such a man, say, as your husband?”
Georgiana nearly fell off the vanity stool. “Husband? To me? Surely not,” she scoffed. “Mr Wickham is not interested in me in that way. I am like a younger sister to him.”
Mrs Younge laughed. “Georgiana, I am sorry, but sometimes you are altogether too innocent.” She came up behind her and shooed the maid away. Mrs Younge took over plaiting her long hair and then placed her hands on Georgiana’s shoulders. “I think he likes you very much, my dear. Take it from someone who has experience with love. He is very handsome, is he not?”
She felt her cheeks flushing again. Georgiana hardly knew what to say. “He is,” she answered at last. Still, she could not believe he was interested in her. She must still be a child in his eyes.
Mrs Younge followed her to the bedside and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I did not mean to upset you. I only want you to be aware of the effect you have on gentlemen. You are no longer a child, Miss Georgiana. Surely you can see that.” Shesighed heavily and helped her turn down the coverlet. Georgiana climbed into bed, feeling more like a child than ever, as Mrs Younge tucked her in. She brushed her fingers over Georgiana’s brow. Georgiana suppressed a frown. Odd, how she had come to dislike the gesture.
“You think I should encourage Mr Wickham, Mrs Younge?” she asked.
“I am saying you should follow your heart, Georgiana. What does it tell you?” Mrs Younge did not wait for her to answer. She took up the candle on her bedside table, dismissed the maid with a nod, and walked out.
With the room shrouded in darkness, Georgiana thought over everything that had happened that evening. Mr Wickham was handsome, charming, and attentive. But she was not sure what she felt about him. How was she to decipher her heart when she had never done so before? She had never been in such a position.
Turning over on her side, she propped her hands under her head and wished her brother were there to guide her. Fitzwilliamcouldbe rather stuffy at times, it was true. Mrs Younge had even said as much. All the same, Georgiana would have liked to talk to him. She never seemed to understand herself so well as when confiding in Fitzwilliam.
Chapter 17
The fine fall weather could not hold forever. A succession of storms rolled into Hertfordshire, leaving all grey and dreary in their wake. The lanes grew soggy and the Bennet sisters fretful with boredom from want of anything to do or anyone beyond their own family with whom to speak.
