Kitty and Lydia tittered at this flattery, while Jane acknowledged it with gentle grace. Charlotte Lucas, ever sensible, offered a polite but reserved smile. It was Elizabeth’s reaction, however, that concerned Darcy most. She regarded Wickham with open curiosity, her expressive eyes assessing him with intelligence that seemed to pierce superficial appearances.
“Lieutenant Wickham,” Elizabeth said, her voice carrying the musical quality that had first caught Darcy’s attention. “You are new to the regiment, then? How do you find Meryton thus far?”
“I have been here but a few days, Miss Elizabeth, yet already I find it exceedingly pleasant.” Wickham’s smile was calculated to charm. “The landscape is picturesque, the society welcoming, and now I discover the inhabitants to be beyond compare in beauty and grace. I believe I shall be very happy here.”
Darcy observed with growing unease how Wickham emphasizedElizabeth’s name, how his gaze lingered on her face with particular interest.
“You are too kind, Lieutenant,” Elizabeth replied. “Though I suspect a military man might find our quiet neighborhood lacking in excitement after a time.”
“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth. I have found that true excitement often lies not in grand events but in the quality of one’s company.” Wickham’s gaze flickered briefly to Darcy before returning to Elizabeth. “And I confess myself quite delighted to make your acquaintance, particularly with my fondness for the name Elizabeth. There is a certain strength and dignity that suits a woman of intelligence and spirit.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by this direct compliment from a stranger, yet not displeased. “You form opinions about people based on their names, sir? That seems a rather unreliable method of judgment.”
“Perhaps, but it is my belief that names influence character, and your Christian name is the most musical of appellations. Something about the combination of syllables suggests strength and grace—qualities which, if I may be so bold, you appear to embody admirably.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth’s reaction to this flattery with dismay. After his slight at the assembly, Wickham’s smooth compliments would be all the more appealing. The thought of Elizabeth falling under his influence was almost unbearable.
Darcy could warn her of Wickham’s true character.
Not that such a warning was possible. To speak ill of Wickham would require explanation, and explanation would necessitate revealing Georgiana’s near-ruin—a confidence Darcy would protect at all costs. Even if he were willing to expose his sister’s pain, who would believe him? Wickham’s charm and apparent openness made him immediately likable, while Darcy’s reserve was often misinterpreted as arrogance.
He was trapped, and Wickham knew it.
CHAPTER FIVE
A ROSE REVEALED
Darcy groanedas Bingley’s carriage approached Lucas Lodge. It would have been a beautiful evening for sitting in front of a cozy fire with a book on his lap, but yet again, Charles Bingley had managed to persuade him to attend Sir William Lucas’s evening party.
“You appear positively funereal,” Bingley observed cheerfully. “I assure you, Darcy, an evening at Lucas Lodge will not prove fatal.”
“Your optimism is remarkable,” Darcy replied. “Though I believe the final judgment on mortality should be reserved until we have endured Sir William’s third retelling of his knighthood ceremony.”
Caroline Bingley laughed with more animation than the jest deserved. “How perfectly droll you are, Mr. Darcy. I confess I share your apprehension about tonight’s entertainment. The Lucas family is respectable enough, I suppose, but their connections are hardly stimulating.”
Darcy made a noncommittal sound. Caroline’s attempts to align herself with his opinions had grown increasingly transparent. It was so tedious that he was unable to summon even polite interest in her observations.
As it was often the case, his thoughts turned to Elizabeth Bennet.He wondered if her large and boisterous family would attend the party. Indeed, it was only that prospect that spurred him to tie his cravat and adjust his waistcoat for the evening outing.
He hadn’t even asked himself about the possibilities of the redcoat militia when the carriage turned up the drive to Lucas Lodge. The residence was too modest to hold many people, and Darcy sincerely hoped the attendance would be limited to the Lucas family and a few of the local gentry, like the Longs, Gouldings, and perhaps the Bennets.
Even though he wasn’t supposed to trust any Bennets, his father’s warnings most certainly did not include the younger generation. He reminded himself to dig into Mr. Bennet’s background, his associates, university education, if any, and forebears.
They were greeted by none other than Sir William himself.
“Mr. Darcy! How delighted we are to have you grace our humble home,” Sir William declared with the sort of effusive welcome typically reserved for visiting royalty. “And dear Mr. Bingley, naturally. I trust you will both find this evening’s entertainment agreeable.”
Darcy inclined his head with the minimum courtesy required. “Sir William. Your hospitality is, as always, remarkable.”
Entering the drawing room was like being thrown into the lion’s den. He spotted her immediately.
Elizabeth.
And him. Wickham in conversation with the Bennet sisters.
“I say, are those the Bennets?” Bingley asked, his voice brightening. “I had not expected—that is, I understood from Sir William that Mr. Bennet had declined the invitation.”
“The patriarch appears absent,” Darcy observed. “He is no doubt reposed in his library without the tedium of social obligations.”
