Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The only good thing about public assemblies in Ramsgate was that they were short.
The twice-weekly balls began at eight and ended promptly at twelve, even if it was the middle of a dance.
Darcy did not mind that they were considered undress balls, but his sister lamented not being able to dress more finely for a four-hour evening where she was only going to sit and talk with her friends.
“Why cannot I dance?” Georgiana asked as they entered. Her tone said that she would have stamped her foot if they were not in public.
“Did you even want to?” he asked, surprised. She was so shy and hated to be introduced to strangers or even be much looked at.
“My father would let me dance, with a friend, if he were alive.”
He looked askance at her querulous attitude. It was out of character for her. “You may dance if your partner did not have to shave before he came out tonight. I see Mr Clifton with his mother. If he asks, you may dance with him.”
Georgiana wrinkled her nose. “He is shorter than I am.”
Darcy was about to admonish her, but he supposed Mr Clifton was so much shorter than his sister that it would make dancing uncomfortable for them both.
“We will have a charming time, Miss Darcy,” said Mrs Younge as she scanned the room. “Let us find your friends.”
Darcy passed his eye over the dancers and was alarmed to see Wickham in the middle of the set with Lydia Bennet.
Even at so great a distance, he could see she was proud to be his partner.
Wickham smiled and talked as he always did.
When he turned Lydia and looked over his shoulder, he noticed Darcy staring.
Contempt flooded his features, and Darcy was certain his own gaze held as much loathing.
“Good evening, Mr Darcy.”
He tore his gaze from the dancers to realise that his sister and Mrs Younge had led him to Elizabeth Bennet.
Her mother and other sister were a little apart, chatting with a large group of ladies.
He supposed Elizabeth had come away to talk with Georgiana so she did not have to bear the attention of everyone in their party.
He greeted her, and she and Georgiana admired each other’s finest day gowns and hair ornaments that they had likely seen a dozen times.
The first dance finished, and Lydia noisily joined the group to greet Georgiana—and Wickham had followed, smiling without a care in the world.
In the dim candlelight, he could not be certain if Wickham was covered in a rash or flushed from dancing.
It certainly was not from mortification at his past behaviour.
Darcy felt sick to his stomach at the sight of him.
After a moment of hesitation, Wickham nodded to him.
Darcy was about to ignore him, but he felt the eyes of everyone in their party.
To cut Wickham now would satisfy the anger in his chest, but it would lead to questions.
He gave the slightest incline of his head.
“Good evening,” Wickham said to Georgiana, who held out her hand. Wickham’s eye travelled over his sister, and he gave her the same ingratiating smile he always gave to women. But, far worse, his fifteen-year-old sister met this admiring look with something he had never seen in her face before.
Attraction.
Wickham was about to take her hand when Darcy reached out and gently pushed down her arm. To her credit, she instantly curtsied instead, and Wickham did nothing other than smirk at him.
He had thought that he could do this, keep his sister in the same circle as Wickham for her to learn how to dismiss such men and discern how they were wrong for her.
Mrs Younge might know everything about young girls and how they had to grow up in the wider world, but he knew Wickham’s vices.
If Wickham was back in Ramsgate, he would take Georgiana home after all.
“Perhaps you and Miss Lydia might like to talk to Miss Rexford?” said Mrs Younge to Georgiana when the silence stretched. “She looks lonesome.”
Lydia immediately agreed and left after giving Wickham a parting smile that he indulgently returned.
The Bennet girls were pleasant and kind; they were the sort of young ladies to be generally liked, although their agreeableness was not like those of some women with endowments of a higher stamp.
The eldest and the youngest had easy manners, excellent spirits, a large acquaintance, and a great deal to say. No wonder his timid sister loved them.
“How do you do, Darcy?” Wickham asked him.
He widened his eyes in reply. Why did he pretend they were acquaintances, as though they had anything to say to one another? He then realised that Elizabeth was still with them, but he was not in the mood to pretend even though she was present.
“You see that, Miss Bennet?” Wickham said, still looking at him. “He cannot bring himself to say one good thing to me, because my father worked for his.”
He took a calming breath and bit back all the reasons he had to dislike this poor excuse for a man.
Feeling Elizabeth’s curious gaze, he said, “I had the greatest respect for your father. Pemberley’s steward,” he said to Elizabeth, assuming Georgiana had spoken of her home.
“If I could always have a man as well qualified for my purposes as the late Mr Wickham, I should esteem myself fortunate.”
Wickham laughed. “That was nicely done. Who knew you had a way with words, after all? Is he not clever?” he asked Elizabeth. “He answers, and yet his disdain for me drips off his words.”
“I have reason to hold you in contempt,” he said tightly, “and some of those reasons are in your own handwriting.”
Wickham bit his lips and looked away. Elizabeth now looked as though she wished to be anywhere else.
The silence stretched, and he would have let it linger, but she tried to preserve them all in politeness.
“Mr Darcy, are your plans to stay in Ramsgate still fixed? Your sister has so enjoyed having you here.”
He gave Wickham a hard look. “My sister and I will be returning to Pemberley sooner than planned.”
“I will be sorry to see her go,” she said, sounding as though sincerely meaning it. “She is a sweet girl, and we all have come to love her.”
She repeated the same question about staying in Ramsgate to Wickham, but he was glancing over the room.
He started, then, affecting a pleasant manner, Wickham said to him, “I know my presence distresses you, Darcy, so I will leave once I part from my friends. Scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself if I stay.”
To his lasting shock, Wickham bowed and said to Elizabeth, “I will go since I did what I came here to do, although I regret missing our dance.”
Had Wickham come purely to attend Lydia Bennet in the first cotillion?
It seemed impossible that he could admire her.
If Wickham had settled on the eldest Bennet daughter, or rather, the eldest one in Ramsgate, it would have made sense to him.
She had remarkably pretty eyes, an attractive figure, and a playful manner, as well as a sense of decorum.
“I am amazed he came at all,” she murmured as Wickham walked away. “Do you think he came only to dance with Lydia, even if it meant facing you? He must be in love with her.”
“I do not believe it.” He bent down to look directly into her eyes. “He is the last man in the world any woman should marry. Do not let your sister trust him.”
His tone alarmed her; he could see it clear across her face. “Is he violent, Mr Darcy?”
That was the worst thing she could imagine, and he wished he could lie to her and agree. A violent temper would be reason enough, and far easier to explain than the truth. “No, he is never violent, but he is not…he is neither respectful nor cautious.”
He watched Wickham move about the room, and he felt those intelligent eyes of hers fix on him.
Mrs Younge and Georgiana were with some ladies on the other side of the dancers.
Wickham was now in earnest conversation with Lydia, whose mother seemed to pay no attention to what her daughters did.
They whispered and smiled for a long while, but Mrs Bennet took no notice.
Wickham left Lydia and went to another group, but stayed only a moment with them.
Darcy suspected Wickham would acknowledge his sister in his circle of the room, but so long as Wickham was leaving, he could tolerate it—scarcely.
But he did not like the admiring look his sister gave him.
He would talk with Mrs Younge tomorrow morning.
Regardless of Wickham’s notice of Lydia Bennet, he would remove Georgiana if Wickham remained in Ramsgate.
The fury at even having to speak to that man felt like it was clawing its way out of his chest.
“You must be averse to my falling in love in a watering place.”
Darcy whipped his head round to look at Elizabeth. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your scowling has frightened off at least two men who might have asked me to dance, and your quarrel with Wickham has also lost me a dance partner. At this rate, I will not find a husband by the end of the summer.”
He was about to argue before realising she was teasing him.
Was she trying to improve his mood? At the least, she wanted to distract him.
“I doubt anyone can fall in love on a seaside vacation, and I suspect that mere romantic notions are not enough for you to commit yourself. You seem too sensible for romance.”
Elizabeth looked a little hurt. “Well, I may not be like Lydia and Miss Darcy, but I have romantic notions along with the practical ones.”