“I am particularly worried about my sister, to whom I gave my word that I would return to London no later than today.”
“Oh dear! Can you not go to her and allow Mr Collins to take Miss de Bourgh back to Rosings when she is recovered?”
“Your cousin was obliged to return to Kent yesterday. He could stay away no longer this close to Christmas.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
She had a faint line between her brows that deepened when she frowned. Darcy had first noticed it when she nursed her sister in the autumn and ofttimes since. It appeared whenever she was concerned, a signifier of her compassion that augmented her beauty in a way handsome features alone never could. He was not able to enjoy it for long. It was snatched away from him when her attention went to the footman, who was ushering in another visitor. The servant faltered when he discovered his employer gone from the room, but at Elizabeth’s encouragement, he continued with the announcement.
“Mr Wickham, for Miss de Bourgh.”
Darcy could not contain the incredulous huff of air that escaped him. He would never cease to be amazed by the sheer audacity of the man he had once called a brother. It took him a moment to recognise his vague sense of nausea for what it was: a vast aversion to witnessing Elizabeth’s partiality for the reprobate. He clenched his teeth against the feeling.
Wickham waltzed in, every bit the cocksure dandy, and searched the room for his quarry. He seemed only vaguely surprised to see Elizabeth. He was significantly more perturbed to espy Darcy. The leer he had laid out for the former vanished, replaced by a nervous gulp and a countenance gone ashen.
“Darcy, what are you doing here?”
“Continuing to outmanoeuvre you.”
After a bit of awkward bluster and a brief glance at Elizabeth, Wickham affected a swagger he evidently did not feel. “Come now, that is no way to greet your father’s favourite.”
A muscle twitched in Darcy’s temple, but he held himself still. Evoking his father’s memory was reprehensible, yet he was acutely aware of the intensity with which Elizabeth was watching their exchange. Watchinghim. Never had he been confined with two people who provoked in him so intense a desire for physical action, though of wholly opposing kinds.
Wickham smirked at his silence. “Let us set our differences aside for today. ’Tis Christmas, after all, and Miss Bennet does not wish to see any unpleasantness.”
“There will be no unpleasantness, Wickham. You ought to know I shall make sure of that.”
“Upon my life, I forgot how peevish you can be. I came only to express my best wishes to Miss de Bourgh before she leaves Hertfordshire.”
To Wickham’s left, where he could not have seen her, but where Darcy clearly could, Elizabeth raised one eyebrow in a supremely disbelieving look. He hoped to God that meant she had Wickham’s measure.
“My cousin is not receiving callers,” he said flatly. “You have had a wasted trip.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Wickham conceded, in as much as he licked his lips and took a step backwards. Still, he parried on the retreat.
“I think not, Darcy.” Turning to Elizabeth, he said, “It seems the Lucases are all otherwise engaged, and Lord knows there is nothing else to entertain you here. May I have the honour of escorting you home?”
Darcy willed her to refuse, but before she could answer, they were joined by Miss Lucas and, to Darcy’s relief, Anne. His cousin was leaning heavily on her companion’s arm, her complexion the same pallid hue as usual, giving no indication as to the true state of her health.
“Miss de Bourgh, what a pleasure to see you looking so well,” said Wickham, moving towards her.
Whether he still believed he had a chance at Anne’s fortune or his design was purely to vexhim, Darcy had no patience for it. He stepped in front of him, quelling his schemes with a quick, dark look before turning to address his cousin.
“Has whatever was the matter ceased troubling you?”
“Hardly,” she replied.
“Good day, Mr Darcy, Mr Wickham, Eliza,” said Miss Lucas. “Mama said you were come, Eliza. I am very pleased you have. Miss de Bourgh has expressed a wish to speak to you.”
Apprehension splintered Darcy’s gut.
“Me?” Elizabeth enquired.
“Yes, I should like a word in private. Let us take a turn about the garden,” Anne said in a tone that could only have been learnt from her mother.
Everybody objected in unison, though Darcy’s protests were loudest of all. “Anne, I shall not have you do anything to prevent us leaving. That includes making yourself ill again with unnecessary midwinter rambles out of doors.”
“I should go,” Elizabeth said quietly.
