Darcy did not have equal confidence in her sisters’ boundaries, particularly when they took every opportunity to flirt and carry on with the officers. The specter of Darcy’s previous thoughts rose in his mind, that Misses Kitty and Lydia Bennet were the natural prey of a man like George Wickham. Wickham would not even need to understand he had no chance with Miss Elizabeth to turn his attention to them—he was more than capable of pursuing all three at once, of boasting of his conquests should he succeed.
Therefore, that he appeared fixed on Miss Elizabeth at present did not matter so much as the pattern Darcy had observed through many years of acquaintance. The young woman he now courted for her fortune—Miss King—was another matter. The only question was what he should do.
Seeing Wickham alone a moment later presented an opportunity Darcy would not pass up. He moved without thinking. Wickham would not listen—he never did. But he would understand what awaited him if he stepped out of line.
THAT DARCY WOULD APPROACHhim was not a surprise to Wickham. The one thing he could count on was Darcy’s persistent determination to interfere with Wickham’s life, spouting pathetic morals and self-righteous judgments. For a man like Darcy, who could afford such liberties, it must be easy to hold to his prudish impulses. Wickham was not such a man.
“I see you are making yourself agreeable to the neighborhood, Wickham.”
Unable to resist tweaking Darcy’s nose, Wickham said: “It is a common affliction, Darcy. In polite society, it is customary to conduct oneself with civility, or even to express interest, feigned though it may be.”
“The trouble with you,” said Darcy, “is that your ‘civilities’ are never benign.”
Wickham shook his head. Even indulging in his favorite sport of baiting Darcy was not worth the effort—Wickham had more important matters to attend to. Thus, he confined himself to a simple question.
“What do you want, Darcy?”
“I want you to refrain from your usual behavior and act like a decent man. Since I doubt that is within your capabilities, I shall warn you against pursuing your usual activities.”
Wickham stared at him, unimpressed. “Leave me be, Darcy. I have done nothing wrong.”
“Is that so?” asked Darcy. “Then if I were to canvass the merchants I would find no debts? No investigation into your affairs would leave ruined ladies or blasted lives? Or have you not been in town long enough?”
Stiff with annoyance, Wickham refrained from reacting to Darcy’s charges. “I might wonder why you care. The illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy has never concerned himself with the doings of lesser people.”
“There you would be wrong,” replied Darcy. “These people are not less, and they do not deserve the treatment you mete out. Take heed, Wickham—if you act in the way you usually do, you will have me to contend with. Stay away from the ladies and do nothing to dishonor anyone in the neighborhood.”
Instinct came to Wickham’s defense—he understood Darcy’s reference at once, though he was amused by it. Approaching him after Wickham had spoken to Miss Elizabeth was as close to a declaration as Darcy would ever offer, not that he would ever succeed with her. Wickham had already poisoned that well. Knowing this, he could not resist tweaking Darcy’s nose.
“Then you may rest easy, Darcy, for I have no interest in the ladies here.” Wickham shot him a devilish grin and added: “Though if I wished for a little companionship, Miss Elizabethwouldbe an excellent choice. She is quite delectable, after all.”
With one final smirk, Wickham stalked away. Miss Elizabethwaseverything he said, and under other circumstances Wickham might pursue her. At the moment, however, he was focused on another goal—his situation was poor at present and would be greatly enhanced by the infusion of ten thousand pounds. It was only a third of what he might have had if his pursuit of Georgiana Darcy had been successful, but Wickham was a pragmatic man. Mary King was not especially handsome or interesting, but the money she possessed was worth far more to him than all Miss Elizabeth’s charms.
WICKHAM’S LAST COMMENTwas all the proof Darcy needed of his designs on Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The question was what to do about it. The answer was simple in concept, delicate in execution. George Wickham was not known for stability, and he had fled more than one place when his behavior caught up tohim. If Wickham saw any sign that the noose was closing around him, he would depart at the first opportunity.
Darcy considered this for some time, watching Wickham and Miss Elizabeth in equal measure. Wickham was his usual self, spreading his attentions liberally between Mary King and whatever other woman caught his fancy. By contrast, Miss Elizabeth displayed her usual vivacity, speaking with animation to her friends and family, drawing all to her as if she were a siren. More important to Darcy’s peace of mind, Wickham did not approach her again except in passing. That allowed Darcy to think without having to concern himself for whatever devilry Wickham was planning.
Late that evening, Miss Elizabeth approached him, which was something that struck Darcy harder than it ought. Though he had not considered it before, he could not recall many times whenshehad put herself in his company. Most of the previous occasions in which he had spoken to her had come from his initiative. What that meant, Darcy did not know—he pushed it aside for later contemplation.
“Mr. Darcy,” said she, the smile she offered him reserved, “I hope you are enjoying the gathering tonight.”
There was something in her comment that struck Darcy as odd, but he did not dwell on it. “As you are aware, I am not one for much society, Miss Elizabeth. But I am content tonight.”
She regarded him for several long moments before speaking. “Yes, I understood that much about your character. Tell me, Mr. Darcy—Mr. Bingley once suggested that you are more amiable among those with whom you claim an acquaintance. Did he speak the truth?”
Darcy offered her a lazy smile. “Are we not all more comfortable in such circumstances?”
“I suppose we are,” agreed Miss Elizabeth, but she said nothing more, waiting for him to respond.
“Bingley is correct—I am far more open when I am with friends of longstanding. I am careful about choosing my friends, for I am not eager to endure the company of objectionable persons.”
“That is another point that anyone might make,” said Miss Elizabeth.
“I cannot disagree,” replied Darcy. “Yet I am not a social man. Gatherings are fine, but I will own that I often find them tedious. That is one of the reasons I get on with Bingley so well—he is so engaging that anyone admitted to the pleasure of his company cannot but emulate him to some small degree.”
“That facet of Mr. Bingley’s character is not unknown to me.”
“Of course, it is not,” agreed Darcy, feeling more comfortable conversing with her than anyone else in the neighborhood. “You possess many of the same qualities yourself.”
