Then the interaction changed, though from what Darcy could see, Wickham saw nothing of it. That was one of Wickham’s flaws—he could spot danger, townsfolk turning on him, or merchants checking their records, from several counties away. But he had a peculiar talent for believing every woman on whom he turned his charm believed every word he said.
It started small, an expression of confusion or a slight hesitation in Miss Elizabeth’s response. Soon, she was watching him as if uncertain, though Darcy did not think she had begun to suspect him just yet. Once, Darcy caught her look in his direction—perhaps she was remembering the warning he had given her at the ball.
All about them, the sounds of a morning visit assaulted Darcy. The youngest girls giggled, Bingley and Miss Bennet whispered to each other, the officers flirted, and Mrs. Bennet plied Darcy’s sister with mothering comments designed to makeher feel welcome. Darcy saw nothing of it, for his attention was fixed upon Miss Elizabeth.
At length, Wickham excused himself, leaving Miss Elizabeth peering at his retreating form, contemplative and uncertain. For the briefest of moments, he caught Miss Elizabeth’s eye, but she looked away at once, following the retreating form of the libertine. Then Darcy realized that Wickham was passing close enough to speak.
“How wonderful it is to see you, Darcy,” sneered he. “Though Iamcurious. I might never have thought the great Fitzwilliam Darcy would slum at such a place as Longbourn. Is it not too low for your standards, or do you knock the dust of this place off your feet when you leave?”
“At least my welcome does not depend on others lacking information about my character.”
Wickham laughed, a harsh, grating bray akin to that of a donkey. From behind him, where Darcy could see but Wickham could not, he noticed Miss Elizabeth’s frown and nodded with grim satisfaction to himself. She was starting to understand.
“No, it does not,” said Wickham. “If you had them, perhaps you could attract people to you by releasing your charm and winsome manners.” Wickham smirked. “Since you possess none of those qualities, I suppose you must rely on your wealth to gain access.”
“The lies you have told yourself over the years are most amusing, Wickham. It is unfortunate for you that the moment others discover your character, their first thoughts are for pitchforks or the pillory.”
“And yet, I am untouched.”
Darcy bared his teeth. “That is entirely because I paid your debts in Lambton and Cambridge, and you run like a dog with your tail between your legs everywhere else.”
Wickham scowled—Darcy knew he considered himself justified and never liked to have his crimes pointed out to him. “We shall see who is running away from Meryton, Darcy.”
Then he turned away and joined the youngest Bennet sisters and his fellows. A moment later, he was engaged in their loud laughter, though Darcy noted Wickham’s frequent glances at Georgiana.
Matters remained this way for a time, Darcy watching Wickham carefully, Miss Elizabeth doing the same. Georgiana, he noticed, was composed, speaking with Mrs. Bennet with perfect civility, though perhaps not eagerness. Then matters changed again.
Georgiana rose, excused herself, then made her way toward Miss Elizabeth, who was still standing on the other side of the room, watching the scene. Wickham moved to intercept her, and Darcy was moving before he had taken two steps.
“Be silent, Mr. Wickham!” said Georgiana when the scoundrel drew close, her voice low and firm. “If you say one word to me, I shall call Cousin Anthony to Meryton to deal with you.”
Wickham’s eyes widened, and he halted in his tracks, shocked that Georgiana had spoken to him in such a tone. Then his lips firmed, and his jaw tightened. Before he could say anything, Darcy stepped forward to prevent it.
“I would advise against it, Wickham,” said Darcy. “Do not give me a reason to use the power I hold over you.”
“I fear nothing you can do,” said Wickham, though he became instantly wary.
“You should,” said Georgiana, her pitiless glare showing she was not intimidated by him anymore. “One word from my brother, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in the squalor of debtors’ prison.”
“Take care, little Georgiana,” spat Wickham. “Perhaps it would be wise to recall thatIhave information that will see you ruined in society forever.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Wickham. Tell your tales and see how much these people will believe. The moment you open your mouth, you will seal your fate.”
Though Wickham fixed her with an imperious glare, he said nothing more, returning to his fellows. Darcy, who had never had any trouble seeing through him, recognized Wickham’s consternation. The girl he remembered had never spoken in such a way so long as he had known her. Part of Georgiana’s maturity had come at great cost—Wickham had only himself to blame for stiffening her spine.
“Brother,” said Georgiana, “something must be done about him.”
Darcy turned back to his sister, noting a resolve he had never seen from her before. “Now is not the time to discuss Wickham.”
“Then we shall discuss him later.”
With that, Georgiana turned away, leaving Darcy standing by himself. Soon, she was next to Miss Elizabeth, and though Darcy did not know the content of their conversation, he did not think she was speaking of Wickham. That was for the best, though the reasons for Darcy’s caution were becoming less clear.
A short time later, the officers announced their intention to depart. Though the youngest Bennets did not appear pleased, the men said their farewells. Trust Wickham to make a scene when he should simply depart.
“How fortunate we are to have enjoyed your excellent hospitality, Mrs. Bennet,” said he in that charming manner he had cultivated. “I hope we will be allowed to return in the near future, for no house is so welcoming.”
Mrs. Bennet was pleased with Mr. Wickham’s flattery. “It is no trouble, Mr. Wickham. I dare say that you and the other officers are welcome to visit at any time convenient.”
