“I do,” agreed Darcy. “If we leave at eight o’clock, we can arrive by noon.”
“Very well,” said Bingley. “I shall arrive a half an hour early.”
“Do not bother, Bingley. I shall direct my coachman to call for you at your house at fifteen minutes before eight.”
“Thank you, Darcy. I will be waiting. No doubt Caroline will attempt to prevent me from going—or she may wish to accompany us.”
“That will not be possible, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “With Mrs. Annesley, we will be four travelers already.”
Bingley offered a broad, mischievous grin. “Excellent. I shall inform her that she is not welcome and forbid her from following me. With your indifference, perhaps she will finally understand that you have no interest in her. Perhaps she will even open herself to the possibility of another man paying court to her.”
With that, Bingley excused himself and departed. Georgiana proved no more surprised by Bingley’s sudden insistence on accompanying them, her wit flowing at Bingley’s impulsiveness. Darcy was pleased by the day’s events—perhaps he should not have waited as long as he did, but Bingley now knew and was determined to return to Hertfordshire. Both objectives were now within reach.
THE EVENING THAT THEDarcys were preparing to return to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth and her sisters boarded the Bennet carriage to go into Meryton to another of their aunt’s ubiquitous card parties. As Mrs. Philips loved company and appreciated the officers, her functions had increased in regularity. While Elizabeth loved her aunt, she could be a loud woman, her behavior not equal even to that of the most unrestrained of the genteel class, and her parties were frequented by the townsfolk rather than the other gentlefolk of the neighborhood. As the Bennet sisters were friendly with most of those in the town, mingling among them was an agreeable prospect.
“Well, Lizzy,” said Lydia as the carriage lurched into motion, “do you mean to continue your campaign to defame Mr. Wickham tonight? Or have you decided you have done enough damage to his reputation?”
“Neither,” replied Elizabeth, not rising to her sister’s bait. “I have said all I wish about Mr. Wickham; the man’s own behavior condemns him.”
Though Lydia huffed, she said nothing further, instead choosing to sit in petulant silence. Given her ability to annoy and the piercing quality of her voice, Elizabeth preferred a peevish Lydia to a screeching Lydia.
As had become the custom at these events, redcoats dotted the rooms of Aunt Philips’s house, laughter spilling out in waves, young ladies still fascinated with the men of the regiment, giggling behind hands or listening with rapt attention. Lydia, Elizabeth noted, was not the only one who behaved as she did, nor was she even the worst. The difference was that Lydia was a gentlewoman, which should have led her to behave as one rather than as a silly flirt just out of the schoolroom.
Though Elizabeth had not at first observed him, consumed with greeting her aunt and a few acquaintances, it was not long before she saw Mr. Wickham standing across the room. The force of his gaze told Elizabeth that he had learned of her actions since his return, the heat of his contempt scorching her where she stood. It appeared that the confrontation she had avoided was now upon her. With any luck, she could ensure that Mr. Wickham could not escape without answering for his deeds
Chapter VII
Avoidance was Elizabeth’s chosen strategy, at least for the first part of the evening. There were sufficient people in attendance to allow Elizabeth to remain aloof from Mr. Wickham so long as she kept her wits about her. The officer in question seemed to view this with a certain measure of sardonic amusement, but he allowed the distance between them, understanding that he could afford to be patient.
Mr. Wickham was a fascinating study. Elizabeth did not think that he had ever been challenged in a way that defied his preferred narrative. The way he watched her suggested he was trying to understand where he had gone wrong, or he may have been trying to determine how he could bring her under his influence. What he did not understand was that Elizabeth did not mean to allow him any control over her—then or ever. Perhaps he focused his attentions on silly young ladies of Lydia’s ilk, but Elizabeth had more than a bit of fluff in her head.
“If you will pardon my saying it,” said Mary, not long after the Bennet sisters had arrived, “I dislike Mr. Wickham’s looks tonight.”
Elizabeth was unsurprised that Mary had seen it too. Nor was she surprised when Kitty appeared to be watching Mr. Wickham as if he were a feral animal ready to strike at any moment. Even Jane, who was more willing to allow poor behavior in others, believing in their good intentions, noted something of Mr. Wickham’s malevolence.
“Lizzy, did you offend Mr. Wickham?”
“The offense is all on his side, Jane.” Elizabeth regarded her sister with no little affection. “He is not a good man.”
Jane’s expression turned stern. “I sense there is something you have not told me, Lizzy. Should I feel neglected?”
“Not at all, sister dearest,” said Elizabeth. “I told you some, but not all. Some of it includes confidences I cannot break.”
“Then you must tell me what you can,” said Jane, not offended in the least—Elizabeth had not expected it.
“Very well,” said Elizabeth. “But not here.”
After Elizabeth’s conversation with Jane, she took care to remain in the company of others, not giving Mr. Wickham the chance to approach her alone. Unfortunately, as she might have expected, Lydia also remained unhappy with her, and she expressed this displeasure by speaking with Mr. Wickham at every opportunity. From what Elizabeth could see, Lydia did not speak to him about the last few days or make any mention of her activities during that time. At least she was discrete enough to hold her peace on that score, not that Mr. Wickham needed any confirmation.
As was usual at her aunt’s parties, there were several tables set up for cards. On one side of the room, Mrs. Philips had set up two Whist tables, while several others played Casino, Quadrille, or Commerce. Since Elizabeth wished to avoid Mr. Wickham for a time, she obliged her aunt by partnering at Whist, which kept her away from Mr. Wickham, who appeared content to watch. In time, even Lydia’s attention on the officer waned in favor of the lure of the card tables. Casino was a special favorite of Lydia’s, and soon she was engrossed in a game. Knowing that Lydia was at least separate from Mr. Wickham for a time eased Elizabeth’s concerns and allowed her to focus on the game.
Unfortunate though it was, this state of affairs did not persist long. When Elizabeth grew tired of Whist, she rose from the table and looked out over the room. Mr. Wickham, she saw, was standing in a group of officers and some ladies of the town, though Elizabeth saw how he watched the room. For a momentafter she rose, Elizabeth thought he would approach her, but as she took her place near another group of local ladies, he again decided that discretion was the better part of valor. There was another, however, who had never practiced discretion.
“Are you happy?” spat Lydia, not caring to modulate her voice. “You have everyone speaking of Mr. Wickham as if he were naught but a criminal.”
Lydia did not remain long enough for Elizabeth to respond; instead, she flounced away in that stupid manner of hers that suggested she held the answers to all life’s questions. Elizabeth watched her go, not caring at all for the girl’s opinions. If she had stopped there, Elizabeth would have endured her disrespect. But Lydia did not understand the concept of prudence.
“I cannot understand why you would believe such a dour man as Mr. Darcy,” said Lydia a little later in the evening, then retreating at once as if knowing Elizabeth was on the verge of calling her to order.
