“Yes, we know all of that. But do you like him?”
Jane stopped in the middle of the lane, growing more confused by the moment. “I esteem him highly. That is to say, I am appreciative of his friendship.”
“Esteem! Appreciative!” Elizabeth took her hand and tucked it into the crook of her arm. “There is nothing sinful about admitting feelings for the man. Everyone else can clearly see that he is in love with you. And I think, if you did some honest soul-searching, you would find that your feelings are growing as well.”
Jane shook her head, but not in argument. “You are right, of course. I somehow feel that if I allow myself to hope, it will be crushed. Mr Bingley is too far above me.”
“That is not true. Indeed, while it would be an excellent match with regard to fortune, one might say that your position in society is higher. He is the son of a merchant, after all, while you are a gentlewoman. More importantly, you are a good woman, Jane. He would be fortunate indeed to have you as his wife.” Elizabeth squeezed her hand.
Jane shook her head. “I thank you, but if he cares for me, why has he given no indication of it? It is most likely that he feels only friendship for me, nothing more.”
“That is not true, Jane. You do not give yourself anywhere near enough credit.” Elizabeth was unsure if she should disclose the conversation she had had with Mr Darcy. “I know you do not wish to seem prideful or conceited. No one who really knows you would ever accuse you of such things. But perhaps showing a bit more of how you feel will give him the encouragement he needs to speak?” she suggested.
Jane only shook her head, and out of compassion for her embarrassment, Elizabeth dropped the subject. They entered town and went to the market street, where Jane stepped in to the butcher shop to deliver their mother’s message. Elizabeth made her way slowly towards the milliner’s shop, happy to stop and speak with friends and acquaintances as she passed.
But Elizabeth’s contentment could not last. She was still half a street’s length away from the milliners when she was set upon by someone she had neither expected nor wanted to see.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how fortuitous that we have bumped into one another,” Mr Wickham said with a wide grin. Far from making him look charming, it reminded Elizabeth of a predator on the prowl.
“Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth said coldly, with the slightest nod she could give.
She continued walking, but Mr Wickham followed, falling into step with her. Though he might have intended the gesture as friendly, she was far from feeling anything akin to warmth for the man, especially after learning what he had tried to do to Georgiana Darcy.
“It seems like an eternity since we last met. I am sorry if I caused you any trouble with Mr Darcy the other day outside your gate. He is a very disagreeable man.” Mr Wickham clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head solemnly, though his features did not entirely seem to match his words. Quite the contrary. If Elizabeth were any judge, Mr Wickham seemed to welcome the chance to paint Mr Darcy in so dark a light.
Mr Wickham did not seem to notice her scepticism. He offered her a charming smile before going on. “I was sad that we did not see you at the assembly a few nights ago. I had hoped to trouble you for a dance.”
Insufferable man. Elizabeth gritted her teeth from barking every foul thing she thought of him right there in the middle of the bustling street. She took a deep breath and turned away. “We were invited to Netherfield for a small family party on the night of the assembly,” Elizabeth explained. She bowed and started to walk away. “Good day, Mr Wickham.”
Mr Wickham clicked his tongue in disapproval and followed right on her heels. “It is a pity — no, a shame — that you were forced to accept an engagement to Mr Darcy. I fear he might lock you up at Pemberley, as he has done with his poor sister. Really, the man is intolerable.” He fell into step beside her. “But perhaps there is a way to rescue you from such a fate.”
“I do not see how that is possible, sir,” Elizabeth replied coolly. Did she even want to be rescued? Though Elizabeth would never choose to discuss her doubts with Mr Wickham, she was growing increasingly unsure.
“It is a pity. I imagine you looked utterly ravishing the night of the Netherfield Ball. Perhaps Mr Darcy could not help himself. As I am sure no self-respecting, warm-blooded gentleman could.” His eyes held a wicked glow, as if he were coming in for the kill.
Elizabeth drew in a quick breath. Surely he would do nothing untoward in so public a place. And yet…something about Mr Wickham’s persistence left her feeling distinctly uneasy. She wished she had not left Jane’s side. It would not do to make a rash reply. Thankfully, she was nearly at the milliner’s shop. Elizabeth hurried the last few steps, though Mr Wickham followed her inside. She turned her back on him and shot an annoyed glance at Mrs Greene, the shopkeeper. Thankfully, Mrs Greene was a matron of great good sense, and far from mealy-mouthed. She gave Elizabeth a concerned look and stepped closer in case Elizabeth might need assistance in extricating herself from her unwanted follower.
Unfortunately, it seemed all too likely that such help might be required. Mr Wickham simply would not seem to take the hint that Elizabeth did not wish to speak to him. He leaned closer, watching over her shoulder as she picked up a bonnet without seeing it.
Mr Wickham cleared his throat and attempted another charming smile. “We seem to keep missing each other at the dances, I am afraid. It is a pity you had to dance the first set with Mr Collins at the Netherfield ball. What has happened to him? I have not seen him around the village since.” She hated the sensation that his eyes were roving over her person, studying each curve. She straightened and turned toward him.
“My cousin is gone. He left some weeks ago,” Elizabeth said briefly. Though the response had been reflexive, the least she could offer an acquaintance, her breath caught in her throat as the full meaning of Mr Wickham’s remark struck her.
How could Mr Wickham have known she had danced the first set with Mr Collins?
Unless, of course, he had been there?
She deftly shook her head and turned away once more, pretending to busy herself looking at the array of caps and bonnets on the shelf before her. Surely no one had spoken of her dance with Mr Collins, for everyone had been too enthralled with the compromise that had taken place in the library with Mr Darcy. They would not have thought to speak of such an uninteresting detail as who she had danced with before the infamous incident.
She glanced at Mr Wickham, trying to remain composed. “Mr Collins has returned to Kent, Mr Wickham. I am afraid he is not likely to return,” Elizabeth said. It was essential to say something, though she hardly knew what. She must do her best to conceal any surprise.
He gave her a wolfish smile. “Perhaps that is for the best, Miss Bennet. I should not wish for him to importune you by demanding any more dances from so fair a lady.” Odd indeed, that he would pursue the subject. Elizabeth glanced at Mr Wickham’s face, attempting to conceal any special interest. Was there not something duplicitous in his expression? The only way he could have known she had danced with Mr Collins was if he had been in attendance. But why would he have concealed himself throughout the evening? He had said he would be there when she had asked him. He had said that if Mr Darcy wished to avoid his company, it was he who would have to go. However, he had shown his true cowardly colours when he had not shown up at the ball that night. Or so Elizabeth had thought.
Elizabeth’s agitation was too great to conceal entirely. Mrs Greene must have perceived some of it, for she stepped forward. “Can I offer you any assistance, Miss Bennet?” she asked. The older woman raised her brows, making it clear that she was offering more than to bring another bonnet or show her a wider choice of ribbons. Elizabeth could only guess that she was asking if she needed to call the constable.
Elizabeth shook her head slightly. “No, I thank you, Mrs Greene. I shall look at this lovely bonnet a little longer.” And question Mr Wickham a little longer — but that, she could not say to the kindly Mrs Greene. Elizabeth quickly turned back to Mr Wickham. “Surely you agree, Mr Wickham, that it would have been rude to refuse Mr Collins? He is, after all, a close relation and had been a visitor in our house.”
Mr Wickham shrugged, then showed his most brilliant smile. “I suppose you are correct. You are too magnanimous, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He leaned in closer and spoke in an intimate undertone. “If I had been there, I do not think I would have been able to share you with anyone.”
