Page 126 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I might,” he admitted.

“Do the Godbeds know when we are coming to the farm?” Georgiana asked, seemingly satisfied to change the subject back to her puppy.

“I mean to send a groom as soon as we arrive at Netherfield.”

She grinned, hugging herself.

*

Wickham, sitting alone in the taproom of his inn, his hand around a tanker of ale, looked up and noticed an officer threading his way through the room. A colonel! He swiftly stood to attention, almost knocking over his chair. Then, he realized who stopped before him, appearing cold and stern—Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“So, it is you, is it?” Wickham asked carelessly, relaxing his stance.

“I outrank you, Lieutenant. Is this the way you address a senior officer?”

Wickham stiffened, unwilling to risk being cashiered out of the militia—which would mean losing his financial investment—for insubordination.

“Sir,” Wickham said smartly. He was keenly aware of the attention they garnered from the other customers. His stomach roiled at the awkwardness of the moment.

“I have written to your commanding officer,” Colonel Fitzwilliam stated coldly.

“If I may enquire—about what, sir?” Wickham asked.

“I am certain you know the reason, Lieutenant.” Fitzwilliam leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “You had best keep your attention on your assignment. Do you understand me?”

“Sir,” Wickham responded, looking straight ahead.

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned on his heel and left the taproom, looking neither left nor right.

Wickham relaxed his stance and sat to finish his drink. Being subject to senior officers annoyed him so much that he wondered why he had ever joined up. He had barely managed to scrape together the thousand pounds necessary to obtain his lieutenancy. As long as the war lasted—and no one knew how long that would be—he would receive an income from his position. He desperately needed that income. After the war ended, the militia would be disembodied and the thousand pounds would be his once more to invest in another venture.

Perhaps I should consider switching to the regular army. Then, I might be kept on…if I could bare it, after the war ends. Wickham shuddered at the thought that he might be sent abroad to fight Napoleon if he joined the regulars. I shall not join the regulars unless I am forced into it.

“Fitzwilliam,” he cursed beneath his breath.

I thought I saw him at Netherfield, searching the grounds for me. Humph, I slipped away safely and that must irk him enormously. Wickham rubbed his jaw, imagining a dust-up with the sanctimonious officer.

Elliot…what can I do about the valet? I only want a chance to speak with Georgiana. That will never happen if Elliot is trailing around behind her. Or can it? If I…hm…if I speak to her on the street, he will not dare to make a scene. I must make the acquaintance of the Bennet sisters that Denny talks about so much. I have seen Georgiana in the company of one of the sisters—Mary Bennet, I think. What could be more natural than two sisters and their escorts meeting one of their sisters and her friend casually on the street?

Wickham tapped the table with one finger.

“But, how to arrange it?” he whispered, his lips barely moving.

*

Lizzy wandered around the side of the house, a flower basket over one arm, a large floppy sunbonnet on her head, to discover the Darcy carriage had arrived to pick up Mary. Mr. Darcy stood near it, holding the door as he assisted his sister out of it. Georgiana appeared excited, her expression wreathed in smiles.

Lizzy hesitated, thinking to turn about before anyone saw her. She watched Georgiana hurry to the doorway, which must be open by this time. Before Lizzy had a chance to leave, Harry bounded around the corner, spied Mr. Darcy, barked once, and gamboled up to him. Mr. Darcy, naturally, turned to greet Harry and spied Lizzy.

“If only the ground would swallow me up,” she whispered mournfully.

She curtsied politely and waited for him to bow, and then ignore her. Instead, to her horror, he left the carriage and strode across the grass toward her. I cannot escape! If only I could escape!

Mr. Darcy reached a point only two paces away. He stopped and bowed. Lizzy resisted the impulse to curtsy again. I already did so. Calm yourself.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said gently.

Gently?