“Then let us deal with George Wickham.”
WELCOME THOUGH THEunderstanding of her indifference to Mr. Wickham was, Elizabeth still considered him a genial man. There was no hesitation, for their discourse flowed with effortless ease, much as it ever had. But while it was interesting, she recognized a certain lack of substance that she had not seen before, something she hadattributed to being in his company only a few times since his arrival. Mr. Wickham was not so well informed as Colonel Fitzwilliam or even Mr. Darcy, and his manners, while pleasing, were no substitute for the kind of deep conversation she preferred.
Still, for meaningless banter, he was an exceptional substitute—Elizabeth was not unhappy with his company. Then another impression stole over her—one that filled her with disquiet.
“Do you suppose there will be dancing tonight, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Wickham grinned and arched his eyebrows. “After all, I missed the opportunity to dance with you at Netherfield—should I be afforded that honor tonight, it would please me to indulge.”
Elizabeth had forgotten about the ball and his failure to attend, though Lieutenant Denny’s comments on the subject were still clear in her memory. “You were obliged to go to London on a matter of business, as I recall.” Elizabeth laughed, then jested: “Tell me, Mr. Wickham—how much of your failure to attend was the desire to avoid provoking Mr. Darcy? Denny suggested as much when he informed us of your absence.”
A curious thing happened, for Mr. Wickham grew silent, a faint sense of outrage hovering about him. Whether it was the way she had phrased it, the complete truth, or a desire to avoid appearing unwilling to face his tormentor Elizabeth did not know; his denial struck her as more than a little strange.
“I told you once that I would not avoid Darcy,” asserted Mr. Wickham, a light shining in the depths of his eyes that she did not quite like as he regarded her. “The business that took me to town was legitimate—had it not arisen, I should have been happy to present myself at the ball and dare all Darcy’s displeasure.”
“That is understandable,” replied Elizabeth, “though perhaps it is well the occasion proved impossible. Mr. Bingley is an innocent in the matter—I would not have liked to see him made uncomfortable in his home.”
“Yes, you are correct.” Mr. Wickham’s gaze softened, and a faint sense of... Elizabeth could only call it satisfaction, hovered about him. “It would not give me a moment’s concern to see Darcy made uncomfortable, for the man goes about leaving others in distress. Yet, you are correct that such scenes as might have arisen would have done no one any credit.”
“It is good you see that,” said Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was certain from the way he looked at her that Mr. Wickham was waiting for her to say more—he appeared disappointedwhen she did not oblige.
“I understand that Darcy left soon after the ball.”
“A few days,” confirmed Elizabeth.
“That is no surprise.” Mr. Wickham appeared all too knowing. “A neighborhood such as this would never fit his sense of superiority—to own the truth, I am surprised that he stayed so long as he did.”
“Mr. Darcy was here at Mr. Bingley’s request. When Mr. Bingley returned to London, Mr. Darcy had no further need to stay.”
“I suspect it was much more than that, though you are correct.” Mr. Wickham paused to consider his next words. “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth—what do your neighbors think of Darcy now?”
“The same as they did when he was in residence, I should imagine,” replied Elizabeth, wondering why he would ask.
This time, the man’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable. “That is curious, for I might have thought his reputation would worsen, if nothing else, because of his sudden departure. Then there is the matter of his offenses against me—that would be enough to prejudice everyone in the neighborhood against him.”
Shocked, Elizabeth stared at him, wondering about his meaning. “Mr. Wickham, are you suggesting that you expected me to speak of Mr. Darcy’s offenses against you to my neighbors? You informed me in confidence—I would never gossip about such sensitive matters.”
Far from what Elizabeth expected—that he would deny it or hasten to assure her that he meant no such thing, Mr. Wickham appeared no less than disappointed. A moment later, he brightened.
“No, of course not, Miss Elizabeth. You are far too upright to act in such a manner. Now that he is gone, however, I suppose there is no reason to refrain. Should Darcy return, your neighbors should be armed against him—if I can assist in this small way, I shall not hesitate.”
The pious way he spoke and the insincere timbre in his voice added to the shocks of the past few moments. But Elizabeth had no opportunity to respond, for another voice interrupted their tête-à-tête a moment later, and he was not amused.
“It is no surprise you would act to sink Darcy’s character when he is no longer present to defend himself. The coward that you are, I know you would do nothing to provoke him when he is standing before you.”
Mr. Wickham stiffened at the sound of the voice, color draining from his face. As he turned, Elizabeth looked past him to see Colonel Fitzwilliam standing nearby, Jane on his arm, an expression ofthunderous anger and disgust clear for all the room to see. The murmur of conversation fell in their immediate vicinity as those in Sir William’s house noticed the confrontation and turned to gawk.
“F-Fitzwilliam!” stammered Mr. Wickham. “W-What a s-surprise it is to see you!”
The colonel showed him a grin that was all teeth, one that would have sent a feral dog scurrying for its life. With a quiet word, Jane disengaged from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm and moved around Mr. Wickham, setting herself by Elizabeth’s side, taking the position of a protector. Mr. Wickham did not notice—his full attention was on Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“A surprise it must be,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, nothing of his usual geniality in his voice. “If you knew anything of my presence, I am convinced you would have run and not stopped until you could not go any further. Tell me, Wickham—why are you here?”
Mr. Wickham’s spine stiffened for an instant, and Elizabeth saw his ugly sneer. “Is it not clear that I have joined the local regiment?”
“Yes, Wickham, I can see the red coat, disgraced though it is, upon your shoulders. What I cannot fathom is why you, a man who lives without restraint, would see fit to join the militia of all things. Only the army would be a poorer choice for one such as you.”
“You know nothing of me,” said Mr. Wickham, his anger rising. “Other than whatDarcyhas told you.”
