Mr. Wickham gave her a knowing look. “I believe, Miss Elizabeth, that our opinions of the lady coincide with a fair degree of accuracy.”
Elizabeth nodded and sipped her tea.
“And did you chance to meet Darcy there, too?” Mr. Wickham affected mirth by adding: “It was my understanding he kept up yearly visits to Rosings Park about the time you were in residence at the parsonage.”
This was the crux of what Mr. Wickham wished to discuss, though Elizabeth could not understand why it would interest him. On a whim, she pushed him just a little to see if she might learn anything from his reaction.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy was there with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Are you acquainted with the colonel?”
A shadow crossed Mr. Wickham’s face, confirming Elizabeth’s conjecture; now he would wonder if she received intelligence of him from the colonel, who would not be nearly so reticent to speak of his cousin’s childhood friend.
“I was never nearly so friendly with the colonel,” said Mr. Wickham. “He is two years Darcy’s senior, three years mine. I cannot recall having much of his company when we were young.”
“And yet it seems the colonel and Mr. Darcy are the closest of cousins. Surely you must have seen him occasionally, for he spoke of their close companionship stemming from their childhoods.”
Mr. Wickham offered a sage nod. “That is correct. But Colonel Fitzwilliam is the son of an earl. You can hardly suppose he would pay much attention to the son of a steward.”
“By that same token, Mr. Darcy, as the nephew of an earl, might have been the same. Yet you have spoken of your closeness as children.”
“The son of an earl is worlds apart from a nephew.”
Elizabeth smiled to acknowledge his point and sipped from her cup.
“Were you much in company with Darcy?” asked Mr. Wickham, his manner seeming to suggest great interest in her response, though the reason eluded her.
“Rarely,” said Elizabeth, wishing to reveal as little as possible.
The officer snorted, the most open form of derision he had ever made toward Mr. Darcy in Elizabeth’s presence. “Ah, the infamous Darcy pride and reserve. No doubt he expected you to genuflect when faced with the honor of his deigning to pay a visit to your friend’s parlor.”
Now that Elizabeth knew more of the gentleman’s character, there was little enough reason to credit Mr. Wickham’s charge. Not long ago, she would have agreed with him. A hint of offense welled up within her breast at his scorn for Mr. Darcy, which she now knew he did not deserve.
“On the contrary,” replied Elizabeth, “in the company of those with whom he is comfortable, Mr. Darcy sheds something of his reserve. While I cannot claim a great interest or knowledge of his ways, I understand him a little better than I did before, which has improved my opinion of him.”
“Indeed?” asked Mr. Wickham. He feigned incredulity, but Elizabeth was certain she had told him exactly what he wished to hear. “Thatisa surprise, Miss Elizabeth. I could not have imagined Darcy condescending to pay the compliment of his attention toanyone. It appears he favors you exceedingly.”
Elizabeth regarded the man with asperity. “I am afraid I cannot divine your meaning.”
“Only that Darcy rarely pays attention toanyoneof the fairer sex.” Mr. Wickham released a caustic laugh. “Mixed with this news of his dancing only with you at Mr. Bingley’s ball, you must apprehend why I find your account to be most intriguing. Then again, given your feelings for him, I cannot help but imagine his attempts are all wasted.”
“I have already stated my improved opinion,” said Elizabeth testily.
“And yet he has failed to elicit your regard. Typical, for Darcy has always been inept with the ladies.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wickham, but you have inferred much where I have said little. Then again, given your behavior with Miss King, I suppose understanding is not your strength.”
“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he, “about certain matters, I amveryobservant. As for Miss King, the fact of the matter is that she did not suit me.”
“It is important to understand oneself well enough to know when another does not fit as a potential marriage partner,” said Elizabeth, injecting a hint of a mocking quality into her sage observation. “However, with Miss King, I suspect your failure was more than her lack of suitability. I suspect, however, her dowry suited you well, for it is a greater sum than, say, a mere four thousand pounds.”
Mr. Wickham started when she mentioned that figure. Elizabeth allowed him no time to regain his footing.
“If my sisters are to be believed, it appears Miss King’s guardians did not like what they saw in you. It is unfortunate foryou, but I feel thatshehas made a providential escape.”
Far from being offended, Mr. Wickham looked at her as if he had never been more diverted. For the first time, Elizabeth felt a little uneasy in his company. The man could do nothing in a crowded drawing room, leaving Elizabeth with a sense of security for the present. Were they alone, wondered what depravity he might contemplate.
“If I might proffer a bit of advice, Miss Bennet,” said he at length, still appearing darkly amused, “it would be to avoid believing everything you hear.”
“That is, perhaps, the most perspicacious statement you have ever made, Mr. Wickham,” retorted Elizabeth. “Our acquaintance has taught me to practice more circumspection, for I can never know when one with whom I possess no more than a slight acquaintance will attempt to mislead me.”
