The creature within him hungered for more than possession of his prize. To be truly satisfied, Elizabeth must desirehimin return. The sport was ever more engaging when he could wield the heart’s tenderest emotions against its owner—his prey. He would draw her in, win her affectionand regard, and then use both to shape and subdue her. And should she prove incapable of love? It mattered not. Fiennes always obtained what he desired.
The question, however, remained: what would he do when he had achieved his purpose? A wife was a permanent encumbrance, yet he had already resolved to make Elizabeth his own. Would his interest endure, or would it fade once victory was assured?
Elizabeth
Elizabeth shifted in her chair. Something in Mr Fiennes’s manner unsettled her—not unkind, yet too exact. Courtesy, when so deliberate, felt more like calculation than grace. She had endeavoured to sketch his character over the past several months of their acquaintance, but he seemed impossible to understand. His manner altered according to the person he addressed, so that each version of the man was quite different from the last.
There were some things she had discerned. Mr Fiennes possessed a talent for offering insults veiled as compliments. He had done so to her mother that very afternoon when welcomed to Longbourn. Though his words had seemed civil enough, they were edged with amusement that seemed unnoticed by everyone else. Her neighbours and family liked the man exceedingly well; why, then, did she find it so difficult to do the same?
Mr Fiennes eventually broke away from Mrs Bennet and turned his attention towards the young ladies. “Are you looking forward to the assembly next week?” He addressed them with apparent kindness.
Jane nodded, replying in Elizabeth’s stead. “We are indeed. It is Elizabeth’s first occasion in society to dance as much as she pleases. Will you be in attendance, sir?”
A curious look flickered across Mr Fiennes’s face before giving way to amiable composure. “I am afraid I have pressing business in town.” He looked down briefly, a gesture meant to convey regret, though Elizabeth suspected it was entirely assumed. “I must beg a set from each of you for the next assembly.”
Jane nodded agreeably, as she always did. Elizabeth, however, had learnt that she could not confide her feelings about her neighbours to her sister and expect to receive sound advice. Jane would invariably discover some excuse or another for the behaviour, determined to see the best in everyone and everything. It vexed Elizabeth, for in her study of character, she had learnt that to see only the best was to leave oneself open to the worst.
“Tell me, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Fiennes spoke to her directly, “is there a particular gentleman with whom you wish to dance?”
There it is—that discomfiting edge to his voice.She hardly knew what to make of it. Smiling stiffly, she shook her head. He too visibly relaxed, and she wondered, albeit briefly, whether he regardedherwith any particular esteem. The notion was dismissed almost at once, as she began to enumerate in her mind the many reasons it could not be so. He was five-and-thirty, for one, and he had never done anything to single her out, whether in company or when calling alone at Longbourn.
“None of the local gentlemen has caught your eye?” The words were framed as a jest, yet something in his delivery chilled her—hardly the sort of remark one expected in polite discourse.
“My sister is newly out, sir,” Jane interposed quietly. “I do not believe she has any inclination of that sort at present.”
For an instant, Elizabeth thought she saw displeasure in his eyes before he rose and turned towards Mrs Bennet. “Wilkens is waiting in my carriage,” he said. “I had best take my leave.”
And then he was gone. Mrs Bennet followed him out to speak with Hill, leaving the sisters alone.
“Does he make you uncomfortable, Lizzy?” Jane asked quietly.
Elizabeth drew a long breath and nodded. “I cannot name precisely what it is,” she confided. “’Tis as though there is an invisible aspect about him that warns of danger.” Indeed, the description was apt; whenever she spoke to him, some inward sense urged her to tread carefully and measure his every word. In truth, it was most perplexing, for he was a handsome, well-favoured man. His light-brown hair fell carelessly over his brow, and his dark eyes sparkled—though with good humour or some darker design, she could not tell.
“Danger seems a little strong, does it not?” Jane returned teasingly.
“It hardly seems strong enough! Jane, you always see the best in everyone, and I am trying my best to emulate you as I sketch the characters of our neighbours. Mr Fiennes appears perfectly kind and genteel, yet something within me recoils at his presence.” She released a breath of vexation. “Call it what you will—intuition, superstition, or suspicion—I do not care; only do not dismiss or make light of my feelings.”
Jane embraced her tightly. “I am sorry, dearest. Truly, I never meant to do so. I promise I shall do all in my power to act as a shield between you and Mr Fiennes.”
Shuddering, Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you.” She whispered against her sister’s shoulder. “Thank you, my dear Jane.”
Fiennes
He brooded in silence as his carriage bore him and Wilkens back to Netherfield. His assistant, well trained in his master’s moods, stayed wisely mute. His call at Longbourn had furnished his mind with new considerations—fresh obstacles to overcome.
Everyone in the neighbourhood regarded him as a gentleman, and since he owned an estate, the title suited him—up to a point. Why it had not occurred to him before, he could not say, but the mention of the assembly had reminded him of one critical deficiency in his education; he had never learned to dance. Not a single step. When indeed should he have done so? In London’s poorer districts there was little call for such refinements. Even as he had made connexions amongst the gentry, it had never occurred to him to study the pursuits of their order.
What did those entail? Dancing, fencing, perhaps pugilism, and certainly membership in one of London’s exclusive clubs. He had a few acquaintances at Boodle’s, a premier London establishment reserved for gentlemen of property and consequence. Ownership of an estate met the foremost criterion for admittance. Perhaps he could prevail upon one of those acquaintances for sponsorship.
He meant to travel to London during the assembly, and while there, to make enquiries after a dancing master—discreetly, of course. That element of his education could be remedied in no other way. In the meantime, hemust strive not to picture Elizabeth partnering in a dance with other men. She belonged tohim. When they were married, he would not allow her to dance with other men.
Fiennes’s thoughts darkened. His attempt at conversation with her that afternoon had been met with marked reserve. Why, he could not fathom. He was handsome enough and dressed with precision. Wilkens ensured his attire befitted a man of his position. Always useful, Wilkens was the second son of a second son with connexions amongst the gentry. Fiennes had first encountered him in a solicitor’s office and had offered him a far better situation. The man had accepted at once and had since proved his worth by never questioning his master’s affairs.
When the carriage drew up at Netherfield, the two men descended. “I am not to be disturbed,” Fiennes instructed. “See that one copy is filed, and the other locked in the safe.”
His plan well in motion, he retired to his study, craving solitude to consider the most effective means to win Elizabeth Bennet’s regard.
Chapter Five
