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She trembled a little inside hearing his speech. “Once again, I must say you are very kind, sir. But I am afraid I must decline.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, his eyes so intense, she felt as though he had a window into her very soul.

Afraid—afraid of you, of us, of this! Elizabeth silently screamed. No reply was needed as mere moments later, Charles Bingley, Miss Darcy, and Jane emerged from the room, the ladies on either side of the gentleman.

Thank heavens, Elizabeth thought, even more grateful that she had not accepted Darcy’s offer of a glass of wine moments earlier.

Bingley said, “Darcy! Miss Elizabeth! How fortunate for the three of us that both of you are still here. Pray the two of you will join us for a walk about the park. It will be a most refreshing change of pace, do you not agree, Darcy?”

“Indeed, I believe a walk is precisely what is in order.”

Elizabeth, determined as ever to get as far away from the gentleman as soon as possible, said, “In such case as this, I say that the four of you should go. You would be charmingly grouped, just the four of you, and I fear the picturesque would be spoiled by admitting a fifth. Good day,” she stated, bowing. As soon as that she went on her way.

Rushing straight to her room, she did not look back to see what had become of her former companions. She suspected rather than knew that Fitzwilliam Darcy had taken his place by Jane’s side as he well ought to, but how could she really be certain without turning and looking? Perhaps, she simply did not wish to know. An all too familiar yearning deep inside her was all she could think about at the moment. Really all she wanted to think about.

Finding answers to her body’s questions in Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s arms.

She shook her head no, even as she had by now entered her apartment and locked the door behind her. I shall conquer this, she considered as she slowly and tentatively approached her bed. Standing there, she picked up a soft satin pillow and clutched it to her bosom. She affirmed once again, I shall conquer this. Stepping away from the bed and toward the window, her eyes were drawn to the party of three strolling along at leisure. Her sister, his sister, his friend. But not him.

Where is he? Elizabeth wondered, gazing over her shoulder in response to what she imagined was a light tap on her door. Her locked door. Did she dare respond? Far better to ignore whomever it was, if indeed there was anyone there at all. Far safer, to simply pretend. To simply imagine him there.

CHAPTER 16

HAPPILY DIVERTED

With Jane spending so much of her time happily diverted in the company of either Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr. Charles Bingley, or oftentimes both of the gentlemen, Elizabeth found herself with an abundance of leisure time.

Despite Jane’s repeated assurances that she would be even more pleased if Elizabeth would join her and her new friends, Elizabeth made whatever excuse she could think of to escape such a fate. This inexplicable attraction to her sister’s suitor was driving her to distraction.

Owing to his penchant to join her during her early morning walks, even that particular pleasure she had begun to forego. And during those times when she had no choice but to be in the gentleman’s company, she found herself hesitant to speak her mind. Too often she would say something or the other which would draw him out, and before either of them knew what they were about, all other members of their party melded into the background. To Elizabeth’s way of thinking, the manner in which she and the gentleman engaged with each other did not seem fair to Jane, although she was not at all displeased with the way Miss Bingley was affected.

Her father was contented to pass a great deal of his time in the library deeply immersed in his old friend Darcy’s extensive collection of books about taxidermy, as well as botany. As Mr. Bennet fancied himself an expert on such matters as these, he rarely looked up from his reading even when Elizabeth entered the room. Experience had taught her not to disturb him when he was in such an attitude. On a happier note, she was positively delighted to see her father being sociable with his old friend.

Elizabeth had not failed to notice the elder Mr. Darcy was becoming a bit of a recluse himself. When he did attend to those matters expected of the master of such a grand estate, he did so with less vigor than when they first arrived at Pemberley. She could not help wondering what that was about.

She liked Miss Georgiana Darcy very much and sometimes spent time with her. However, the young lady’s passion was her music. She spent hours a day practicing. There was no wonder she performed as brilliantly as she did.

What with the colonel gone away to London and even Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s leave-taking to visit her brother’s estate in Matlock, Elizabeth longed for diversion. Miss Anne de Bourgh remained at Pemberley, but Elizabeth certainly was not inclined to spend time alone with her. She likened it to cavorting with the enemy, what with that young lady’s fervent wish to marry her cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Mr. George Wickham’s arrival at Pemberley during the second month of her stay in Pemberley proved to be just the diversion Elizabeth sought. What a handsome man he was, blessed with all the best parts of beauty. Elizabeth would have been in some danger from the gentleman were it not for two very compelling factors. For one, Fitzwilliam Darcy really did not care for the gentleman at all. For another, the colonel had strongly advised her not to be taken in by Mr. Wickham’s charms.

As she was only looking to be diverted, so long as Mr. Wickham acted in accordance with the behavior typified by Fitzwilliam Darcy and the colonel, she saw no reason not to enjoy the handsome gentleman’s smiles and bask in his unabashed adoration. It was not as though she intended to form any serious designs on him.

She rather suspected the gentleman, if he were completely forthcoming, would confess that he was in want of a wife who possessed her own fortune. If this was the basis for the colonel’s ill opinion, then it was an insufficient one at best, for the colonel had openly confessed the same thing.

On the second day after his arrival, Wickham prevailed on her to walk about the park and assured she should rely upon her own opinion of the gentleman, Elizabeth gladly accepted his offer.

“Pray, tell me what you think of Pemberley, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Wickham as he and Elizabeth strolled along side by side.

“Pemberley is magnificent,” she replied.

“I agree. My friend Darcy is very fortunate indeed to one day find himself the master of all of this. I confess to envying him that.”

Slightly taken aback by his frankness, she cried, “But surely you would never wish upon him nor envy him the pain inherent in the bringing about of such an outcome.”

“Indeed, I would not. But what can be more natural than death? Is it not the way of things? However, my pain will be no less than Darcy’s pain when that certain event occurs. He is old Mr. Darcy’s son, but I am his godson. I dare say old Mr. Darcy loves me just as much—as though I were his own flesh and blood.”

“You are very fortunate to be held in such high esteem by such a great man as the elder Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully.