Chapter XII
Only a few moments later, the three sisters entered the town.
As she looked about, Elizabeth noted nothing out of the ordinary.
It appeared to be a typical morning in Meryton, the townsfolk bustling about their business, while the dresses and suits rendered the gentlefolk present easily identifiable, some talking amongst themselves, while others patronized the small shops the town boasted.
There was no hint of anything amiss, and Elizabeth could see nothing of the men Colonel Fitzwilliam had promised he had stationed nearby.
If she saw no sign of them, Elizabeth knew Lydia would see nothing either, for her sister was not precisely observant.
Whether the tranquility of the scene would deceive Mr. Wickham Elizabeth could not say.
The man had concentrated on charming all and sundry, but he had never shown himself to be clever or perceptive.
As he must know what awaited him if he were discovered, the knowledge must make him cautious, and that would ensure he paid attention to his surroundings.
How much that would serve him, Elizabeth did not know.
The sisters met several acquaintances as they walked through the town, and they stopped for a word or two, a laugh or a jest between those acquainted for many years.
During those times, Lydia participated as much as her elder sisters, for she was irrepressible.
While Elizabeth looked for clues Lydia was eager to be elsewhere, her sister gave a sense of general complacency, and that was a bit of a departure, given her recent bitter recriminations.
Yet she did not urge them on, appearing in no hurry to move along.
As Lydia had mentioned a desire to go to the haberdashery, which was near the far end of the street, the sisters made their way there, wondering when she would make her move and attempt to separate herself from them.
As they walked, however, Elizabeth noted Mr. Darcy in the window of the general merchant, his beseeching expression suggesting he wished to speak to her.
“Jane, Lydia,” said she, halting her sisters’ progress, “I believe I will step into Mr. Copley’s establishment for a moment. I shall meet you in the haberdashery.”
Though Elizabeth felt Jane searching her for her reason, she quickly nodded her understanding and proceeded with Lydia, who said nothing.
Taking stock of the street and those who were on it—more importantly, seeing no sign of Mr. Wickham—Elizabeth stepped to the shop, trying not to hurry there.
Once inside, she noted that Mr. Darcy was standing near the door, yet out of sight, and that Mr. Copley knew of his presence and why he was there.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy with a bow as she stepped inside. “I suppose I should have assumed I would see you here.”
“If you suppose I shall wait at Longbourn for news of my sister’s fate, you are mistaken.”
The gentleman nodded, his manner turning grim. “Fitzwilliam received word this morning that Wickham has left London—his men located Wickham’s lair, but not until after he departed.”
“Then he must be on his way to Meryton,” said Elizabeth with a sigh.
She had hoped, though at this juncture all hope must be in vain, that they were mistaken.
It appeared there was little chance of that remaining, and somehow her sister had received word from Mr. Wickham and had been his confederate.
Whether Lydia still intended to proceed with her design to elope with him Elizabeth could not say, though she wished for the best.
“Do not concern yourself, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. “We shall not allow him to escape.”
“Indeed, we shall not,” said Mr. Copley. “Wickham owes me a pretty penny, and many of my fellows report the same. Should Mr. Darcy here require it, several stout lads would appreciate the opportunity to take their pound of flesh.”
“We shall hold him to account,” said Mr. Darcy, nodding to the merchant. “My cousin has enough men that your assistance should not be required, but we would appreciate your continued vigilance.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Copley with a firm nod of approval.
Then the shopkeeper moved further away into the building, leaving Elizabeth alone with Mr. Darcy. The gentleman returned his gaze to Elizabeth.
“Did your sister indicate what she is about this morning?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Lydia has never been adept at misdirection. I saw at once that she did not wish to come to town for the reasons she put forth but could make out nothing more. Our discussion while walking here implies she now has some reservations, but I cannot say whether she still means to go away with him.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, but at that moment, another patron entered the shop.
By design, they engaged themselves in perusing the various wares on display, trying to portray the coincidental nature of their presence in the shop together.
The patron, a man of the village, made a purchase and soon departed, leaving Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to their interrupted conversation.
“If your sister wishes to separate from you, I suggest you allow it,” said Mr. Darcy, turning back to her. “I would not wish you to suspect us of using her to catch Wickham, but it is the best chance to ensure he is no longer in a position to threaten your family.”
Elizabeth agreed. “We shall. But do not expect us to wait for long, Mr. Darcy. We will protect our sister to the best of our abilities if it comes to that.”
The gentleman seemed to understand there was nothing he could say to that. “We shall take care of Wickham, Miss Bennet.” Mr. Darcy paused, fixing her with a considering look. “It may not be possible, but if there is some way to contrive a confession in her presence, it would teach her a lesson.”
“I know not how it would be possible,” said Elizabeth. “But I agree.”
With a nod, Elizabeth turned to depart, when a thought struck her. She turned back to Mr. Darcy, wondering if she ought to say what she wished. The gentleman sensed this, his smile giving her the courage to speak.
“Is it true that you still admire me?”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened for a moment in surprise, then his visage softened. “Far more than I even did in Kent, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth regarded him, wondering at this man’s apparent resilience. “Even after all I said to you in Mr. Collins’s parlor?”
“What did you say of me that was not true?” asked he.
“If you intended to drive me away with such language, it was an abject failure. I informed you that I meant to return to see if I might alter your feelings, and I do not make such claims idly. If you decide irrevocably against me, I shall accept it with whatever grace I can muster. But I do not mean to be parted from you again unless you wish it.”
“I do not know what to say,” blurted Elizabeth.
“At present,” replied Mr. Darcy, “you need say nothing, for I do not require an answer, and more important events are afoot. Know, however, that I wish to understand if I can ever prevail upon you to reconsider your refusal.”
It was not a question; Mr. Darcy had made that perfectly clear.
As she considered him, however, scenes of what might be, of a life with this man, of living in far off Derbyshire as his wife, the possibilities of all her tomorrows flashed before her eyes.
She realized that somehow, her opinion of him had changed.
She could not say whether her feelings were so flexible as to allow her to achieve affection or love for him when she had detested him only a short time before.
For the first time, however, she felt it was possible.
“I might, Mr. Darcy. We shall need to see.”
Then feeling embarrassed, she excused herself and hurried out of the shop, feeling his eyes following her. It was not an unpleasant sensation—quite the contrary. At present, however, she did not wish to think of it, and she pushed such thoughts away in favor of the demands of the moment.
––––––––
Darcy’s present circumstances were not high in his thoughts at that moment.
How could they be? Miss Elizabeth’s astonishing reply drove any other considerations from Darcy’s mind as that most precious hope he had harbored in his heart the previous day, bloomed with sudden new growth, informing him not all was lost. The most generous of her sex, Miss Elizabeth had just given him a precious gift, the likes of which he could not have purchased with all the wealth in his possession.
He had a chance to change her opinion of him.
When he had left Kent only a few weeks before, he had never thought such an opportunity would come his way.
Yet it had, and Darcy could not be more grateful.
“Excellent young ladies, the Bennet sisters.”
Darcy almost made a fool of himself at the sound of the voice close behind him. He avoided it by the barest of margins, turning to regard Mr. Copley, who had approached as pleasant thoughts of Miss Elizabeth distracted him.
“Miss Elizabeth and Miss Jane are the best of them,” continued the merchant, insensible to Darcy’s reaction. “There is no one nearby who will not give them an excellent name.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” replied Darcy. “You have known them long?”
“Since they were girls,” said Mr. Copley.
“I remember when Miss Elizabeth was just a little sprite and would come here with her father. All the boys of the neighborhood loved her if only a little, despite her position high above them.” Mr. Copley grinned in remembrance.
“My son, Peter, declared he would marry her one day.”
“So she has had proposals of marriage, has she?”
The merchant shook his head. “Only the rumored offer from Mr. Bennet’s cousin.” Mr. Copley shook his head in disgust. “I met the man only once, but a sillier sort I cannot imagine.”
“Believe me, Mr. Copley, I am well aware of Mr. Collins’s foibles,” said Darcy, thinking the man had merely confirmed his conjecture.