Chapter 11
The rest of the group was busy talking to Mr Bingley, but Elizabeth felt caught between the two men, the tension between them palpable. Mr Darcy’s expression showed surprise, disgust, and repressed anger, while Mr Wickham seemed anxious and restless.
Mr Darcy bowed his head to Elizabeth, while Mr Wickham did the same to Mr Darcy, but his courtesy was not returned.
“We are on our way to visit Colonel Forster, and we called at Longbourn briefly,” Mr Bingley explained. “Mrs Bennet informed us you were in Meryton, and how fortunate that we have met!”
“We visited Lucas Lodge and are just returning home now,” Jane answered, blushing most becomingly.
“Would you like us to escort you home?” Mr Bingley asked.
“No, that is not necessary,” Jane said, her voice trembling slightly. “Colonel Forster must be expecting you, and we already have our cousin with us, as well as Mr Denny, Mr Pratt, and Mr Wickham, who has just joined the regiment. Are you acquainted with him?”
“No, I am not,” Bingley responded in the same joyful manner, proving to Elizabeth that Mr Wickham and his past with Mr Darcy were completely unknown to Mr Bingley.
Jane was the one who performed the introductions, and all the time Mr Darcy remained on his horse, a short distance away, as if he was undecided whether to stay or leave.
“Mr Bingley, do you intend to host a ball, as you promised?” Lydia enquired abruptly.
“Yes, I shall, Miss Lydia! A promise is a promise. In fact, I shall speak to Colonel Forster about it today.”
“Will you? I knew you were a man of your word! I hope you will invite all the officers,” she continued, while Elizabeth could see Jane’s face colouring from embarrassment and assumed hers looked the same.
“Of course, Miss Lydia,” Mr Bingley said.
“Including Mr Denny, Mr Pratt, and Mr Wickham, yes?” Lydia insisted, turning her back to her eldest sisters in an obvious attempt to avoid their reproachful glares.
“Certainly, Miss Lydia.”
“Excellent. This is wonderful! But sir, please keep in mind that now you have promised, you cannot go back on your word, even if someone might be displeased with you inviting some of the officers,” Lydia concluded, and with horror, Elizabeth saw her sister glancing at Mr Darcy meaningfully.
“Lydia, enough!” Elizabeth interjected. “Mind your manners and your words, or I shall ask Papa not to allow you to attend the ball.”
Such a severe outburst in the middle of the street was so unexpected that the gentlemen seemed puzzled, and Lydia looked to be on the verge of tears.
“But Lizzy, why…?”
Mr Collins attempted to speak, but Jane ended any argument decidedly.
“Lydia, enough, please! We shall continue this conversation at Longbourn. Gentlemen, please forgive us. It is late, and we must hurry home.” With that, Jane curtseyed to Mr Bingley, then she grabbed Lydia and Kitty’s arms and started to walk.
“We shall escort you a little farther,” Mr Wickham said, and the party moved on.
Elizabeth turned her head, watching Mr Bingley standing by his horse, appearing disconcerted. Near him, still in the saddle, Mr Darcy gazed at her silently, then suddenly he turned his horse and urged him into a canter.
“Well, that was awkward,” Mr Wickham said.
“Uncomfortable indeed. Mr Darcy was surely surprised to see you.”
“I would say he was shocked,” Mr Wickham said. “He looked like he had seen a ghost.”
His tone — light and careless — irritated Elizabeth. “I would say you both looked uncomfortable. May I ask when you last met?”
“Um…a few years ago. As I mentioned, I have not been welcome at Pemberley since my godfather died.”
“You did mention it, but it would still have been possible for you to have met in other places.”
“I am not welcomed anywhere near Darcy,” Mr Wickham continued. “Not even by those members of the family with whom I was once friends.”
“What a pity… That means you have not seen Miss Darcy since she was a child?” Elizabeth asked. She remembered Georgiana claiming George Wickham was her only friend and worried how the poor girl had managed to balance her affection between her friend and her brother.
“Precisely…” Wickham replied after a brief hesitation. “She was a sweet child and very fond of me, but I have heard she has grown to be very much like Darcy in pride and arrogance.”
“Has she?” Elizabeth replied, gazing at him, intrigued and doubtful. Mr Wickham’s countenance changed again, and Elizabeth’s irritation increased. Was he so resentful towards Mr Darcy that his rage now encompassed his young sister?
“I am surprised to hear such a claim, sir. I mean, how can a girl as young as Lydia be as proud and arrogant as a gentleman of almost twice her age?” Her reproachful enquiry seemed to disquiet Mr Wickham, and he turned his gaze towards the rest of the group.
“I shall not deny that the claim might be exaggerated. Speaking of your sister Lydia, I must thank her for her brave intervention to assure my presence at the ball,” Mr Wickham said in a jesting tone. “It could be the only place Darcy and I might appear together in years.”
“Mr Wickham, please be so kind as to delay your thanks for another occasion. While we would be glad to see you and all the officers at the ball, I am not particularly happy with the way my sister tricked Mr Bingley, and I would not like to encourage such behaviour.”
“You are correct, of course, Miss Elizabeth. I selfishly thought only that your sister did me a great favour. Now Darcy has seen me, he will do anything to remove me from any list of guests. I might not be allowed to speak to you again if he has any influence over your father.”
“Mr Wickham, whatever past dealings you may have had with Mr Darcy, I assure you they will not affect me. I am curious though — why did you wish to have this conversation with me? Why are you providing me with details of your relationship with Mr Darcy? And may I ask, why would you care if we were not to speak again? We have only just become acquainted. My opinion cannot mean anything to you.”
“You are wrong, Miss Elizabeth. Your opinion is important to me. Even though we have only just met, I am impressed with your manners and your wit. And I know from Denny that your opinion does matter to the people of Meryton. Even Sir William admitted it.”
Elizabeth’s puzzlement only increased. She felt uncomfortable and nervous with the entire situation and longed for the solitude of her room to gather her thoughts.
“Sir William is a well-intentioned gentleman. However, he has a tendency to exaggerate. I assure you, there are few people to whom my opinion matters at all. I have already mentioned that I shall not judge your character based only on your past behaviour. If I was to do that, I would not be speaking to you at this moment.”
Longbourn was only just around the corner, and Elizabeth felt relieved that they would finally separate from the officers. The entire situation with Mr Wickham was too sudden, too confusing, and simply too much.
“What do you mean, Miss Elizabeth? You would not speak to me? I am puzzled, I confess,” Mr Wickham asked with apparent disquiet.
Elizabeth smiled. “Do not worry, sir. It is mostly a joke, which I have no time to elaborate on now. What I meant is that we met very recently, without being properly introduced and — obviously — without you recognising me.”
Mr Wickham’s frown affected his features, and his voice betrayed his worry.
“Are you speaking in earnest, Miss Elizabeth? Have we met before? On what occasion? It was related to Darcy, I assume?”
“No, not to Mr Darcy, but to his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
The statement, spoken in a light voice, seemed to alter Mr Wickham’s manner even more, and his gestures of nervousness became awkward.
For a moment, Elizabeth assumed that perhaps Mr Wickham acknowledged his faults and his betrayal of Georgiana’s trust and repented it.
He certainly deserved to be tormented by regrets, even after ten years.
“Miss Darcy? But where? When? I do not understand.”
“Mr Wickham, let us speak more another time. We have finally arrived home, and I am very tired. Good day, sir. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
With that, she stepped away from him and grabbed Lydia’s arm, ceasing any opportunity for further discussion.
Lydia even suggested the officers might enter, but Jane quickly repeated a farewell and Mr Collins, happy to escape from the male rivals, bowed formally and turned, leaving the men to watch their retreating backs.
While Kitty and Lydia started to chat with their mother, relating news that they called extraordinary, Elizabeth and Jane withdrew to their room.
“That was such a tiring day… Strange and tiring,” Jane whispered as they prepared for dinner.
“Strange and tiring indeed,” Elizabeth admitted.
“You spoke quite a lot to Mr Wickham, Lizzy. Was there something particular you spoke of? I do not wish to intrude, but I found it puzzling since you had only just met.”
“We mostly spoke of Mr Darcy. Why Mr Wickham was interested in any conversation with me puzzled me too at first. However, I then remembered that I had met him before.”
“Before? When?”
“Ten years ago,” Elizabeth replied, amused by her sister’s stunned expression. “I shall tell you more tonight before we sleep. We should make haste — dinner will be ready soon.”
***
In Colonel Forster’s drawing room, Darcy felt so restless and so irritated that he barely noticed what was happening around him.
He doubted his eyes and questioned his bad luck.
How was it possible that the scoundrel who had disturbed his tranquillity for so many years was there?
He had apparently joined the militia, and of all the regiments in the country, he happened to be in Meryton.
What puzzled Darcy more was that Wickham had looked surprised to see him, but not quite as stunned as such an encounter should provoke.
Had he already been aware they were both in the same place?
Even worse, what was he doing speaking privately to Miss Elizabeth?
They had been walking a few steps behind the others, so they must have had something of interest to discuss.
Could Miss Elizabeth be among those easily charmed by Wickham?
It was possible. After all, she was young enough, and likely she lacked experience.
When did she meet him? He was tempted to ask the colonel when Wickham had joined the regiment, but that would necessitate providing a reason for his interest, and he did not feel comfortable offering any.
He had agreed to accompany Bingley only to avoid remaining at Netherfield with just Miss Bingley and the Hursts. The two sisters appeared to have a favourite topic of conversation — criticising the Bennet family — and Darcy felt less and less able to remain polite in front of their rudeness.
He grew more annoyed with every passing minute and sought a way to speed their departure, but Bingley was deep in conversation. The subject of the ball was amply debated, but for Darcy, it held no interest since he did not expect to stay in Hertfordshire till then.
Eventually, Bingley seemed to notice his restlessness and bring the call to an end, but first, he introduced one more subject.
“We have just been introduced to one of your officers — Mr Wickham. I understand he has joined the militia recently.”
“Ah yes, Wickham. He is a friend of Denny and indeed only joined our regiment a few days ago. I hear he has already become a favourite with both his colleagues and the ladies,” the colonel said meaningfully.
“I have not yet discovered in him any skills necessary for an officer, though. Thank God there is no war in Meryton!”
“Wickham is gifted with such happy manners that help him make friends easily. That he is able to keep them is less certain,” Darcy interjected.
His statement startled both the colonel and his wife.
“Well, he has been a friend of Denny’s for a long time,” Mrs Forster said defensively.
“Have you a prior acquaintance with Wickham, Mr Darcy?”
“I have, Colonel.”
“I assume your opinion of him is not entirely good. May I ask why?”
“My reasons are too personal to be shared. I am sure you will watch him carefully and will examine his behaviour so you can form your own opinion. I would be relieved to hear it differed from mine.”
“I see… Well, as you said, it is my duty to watch over my officers closely and to judge their behaviour. So far, I have no reason to distrust Denny, so his recommendation was sufficient to accept Wickham under my command.”
“I am sure your trust in Mr Denny is justified, Colonel. As I said, I hope Wickham will prove worthy of your trust too. After all, men do change from time to time.”
With that, he and Bingley left, but Darcy did not miss Mrs Forster staring disapprovingly at him as he bowed.
During the short ride back to Netherfield, all kinds of thoughts stormed into Darcy’s head.
In a cunning display of artifice, Wickham had again been successful in his plan to trick people of good, upright character.
Clearly, Mrs Forster favoured him — like many other ladies — and the colonel himself did not disapprove of the scoundrel.
Such opinions were only too familiar to Darcy; all too often he had seen how easily Wickham could charm his way into society.
Within him, indignation raged, almost to the point of turning round his horse and hastening to meet the man. A strong determination to deliver a blow upon that cur’s countenance was growing inside him.
It was only the knowledge that doing so would expose him to ridicule and unwanted speculation about his motives that prevented him. In the delicate balance between triumph and defeat, Darcy was aware he would most certainly be on the side of the latter.
“What about Miss Bennet?” he found himself uttering almost against his will.
A sharp pain crossed his chest. Yes, he could tell Mr Bennet the truth about Wickham and ask him to keep the rascal away from his daughters.
But knowing Elizabeth liked him was painful to bear regardless.
The feeling was strong and disturbing, and he wondered about it, as he had never experienced it before.
Once at Netherfield, the gentlemen each hurried to their rooms to prepare for dinner.
Darcy could feel Bingley’s curiosity, and he expected some questions but was not prepared to answer yet.
He even contemplated not attending dinner, but that would not discourage his friend’s enquiries. Quite the opposite.
As soon as he entered his chamber, he noticed the letters on the table. There were three — one from his solicitor, one from his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, and finally the one he had waited for so eagerly from Georgiana.
That one he picked up and opened carefully, then poured himself a drink, put another log on the fire, lit another candle, and started to read.