Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened for a moment in surprise, then his visage softened. “Far more than I even did in Kent, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth regarded him, wondering at this man’s apparent resilience. “Even after all I said to you in Mr. Collins’s parlor?”
“What did you say of me that was not true?” asked he. “If you intended to drive me away with such language, it was an abject failure. I informed you that I meant to return to see if I might alter your feelings, and I do not make such claims idly. If you decide irrevocably against me, I shall accept it with whatever grace I can muster. But I do not mean to be parted from you again unless you wish it.”
“I do not know what to say,” blurted Elizabeth.
“At present,” replied Mr. Darcy, “you need say nothing, for I do not require an answer, and more important events are afoot. Know, however, that I wish to understand if I can ever prevail upon you to reconsider your refusal.”
It was not a question; Mr. Darcy had made that perfectly clear. As she considered him, however, scenes of what might be, of a life with this man, of living in far off Derbyshire as his wife, the possibilities of all her tomorrows flashed before her eyes. She realized that somehow, her opinion of him had changed. She could not say whether her feelings were so flexible as to allow her to achieve affection or love for him when she had detested him only a short time before. For the first time, however, she felt it was possible.
“I might, Mr. Darcy. We shall need to see.”
Then feeling embarrassed, she excused herself and hurried out of the shop, feeling his eyes following her. It was not an unpleasant sensation—quite the contrary. At present, however, she did not wish to think of it, and she pushed such thoughts away in favor of the demands of the moment.
Darcy’s present circumstances were not high in his thoughts at that moment. How could they be? Miss Elizabeth’s astonishing reply drove any other considerations from Darcy’s mind as that most precious hope he had harbored in his heart the previous day, bloomed with sudden new growth, informing him not all was lost. The most generous of her sex, Miss Elizabeth had just given him a precious gift, the likes of which he could not have purchased with all the wealth in his possession. He had a chance to change her opinion of him. When he had left Kent only a few weeks before, he had never thought such an opportunity would come his way. Yet it had, and Darcy could not be more grateful.
“Excellent young ladies, the Bennet sisters.”
Darcy almost made a fool of himself at the sound of the voice close behind him. He avoided it by the barest of margins, turning to regard Mr. Copley, who had approached as pleasant thoughts of Miss Elizabeth distracted him.
“Miss Elizabeth and Miss Jane are the best of them,” continued the merchant, insensible to Darcy’s reaction. “There is no one nearby who will not give them an excellent name.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” replied Darcy. “You have known them long?”
“Since they were girls,” said Mr. Copley. “I remember when Miss Elizabeth was just a little sprite and would come here with her father. All the boys of the neighborhood loved her if only a little, despite her position high above them.” Mr. Copley grinned in remembrance. “My son, Peter, declared he would marry her one day.”
“So she has had proposals of marriage, has she?”
The merchant shook his head. “Only the rumored offer from Mr. Bennet’s cousin.” Mr. Copley shook his head in disgust. “I met the man only once, but a sillier sort I cannot imagine.”
“Believe me, Mr. Copley, I am well aware of Mr. Collins’s foibles,” said Darcy, thinking the man had merely confirmed his conjecture.
“And yet, Miss Lucas would have him. Miss Lucas also has our esteem, for her father was once one of us, and we know her as a pragmatic sort. Yet, I cannot help but think it was not her wisest decision.”
Though Darcy agreed with the man in principle, he decided against saying as much. “Then I had best be about my business. If you catch sight of Wickham, send a runner to my cousin’s man. Hopefully, we will end his predations and ensure he pays for his crimes.”
“Aye, I hope so, Mr. Darcy. Good day to you. If you need to return to keep watch on the street, have no fear of the welcome you will receive.”
Darcy nodded, tipped his hat, and exited the shop. A glance in either direction did not reveal any hint of his quarry, and Darcy strode away down the street, keeping to the side of the buildings as he walked. Wickham knew him well enough to descry his form from a distance, and he would certainly be watchful enough to detect him. But Darcy did not think he would be so brazen as to ride down Meryton’s thoroughfare, not with all those in the town who would like to lay hands on him. While word had not made the rounds of the gossips, several of the town’s families had daughters with whom Wickham had been too free with his favors, and their angry fathers were eager for retribution.
It was always thus, Darcy indulged in a moment of disgust for his former friend. At least there was nothing more—Wickham had left behind at least two natural children in Lambton, and perhaps more in the nearby communities. In Meryton, there were, as near as they had determined, nothing more than broken hearts, girls he had wooed, yet had not wheedled his way into their beds, likely because he was focused on making his fortune and defrauding the merchants. It could have been so much worse; Darcy was grateful for it, for he knew he would have felt awful if his negligence had caused greater injury among these people.
When he reached a certain building, Darcy let himself inside, noting the austerity, how it appeared all but abandoned. Darcy did not know what its purpose had been before, but recently it had been the headquarters of the regiment. Fitzwilliam had taken over its use for himself.
“Miss Lydia is in the village,” said Darcy as he entered the room to the side Fitzwilliam used to keep watch on the street outside the building. As it was on the edge of town, he would spot Wickham immediately if he passed by.
“And Wickham is on his way,” said Fitzwilliam.
He appeared full of energy and restlessness, no doubt because of the imminent arrival of Darcy’s nemesis. Fitzwilliam noted his look and chuckled.
“It is always thus, for the eve of action always unsettles me. I doubt Wickham will make his way down the street, but it is a possibility we cannot discount.”
Darcy nodded and took up position next to his cousin, his vigilance never waning. They waited there for perhaps ten minutes, the occasional word passing between them, the rest of their time spent in silence.
“Do you suppose he will evade your watchers?” asked Darcy after a time of this.
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “If he has become so familiar with the town as to know how to move unseen, it is possible. But he will not escape with Miss Lydia.”
