Chapter XII #2
“And yet, Miss Lucas would have him. Miss Lucas also has our esteem, for her father was once one of us, and we know her as a pragmatic sort. Yet, I cannot help but think it was not her wisest decision.”
Though Darcy agreed with the man in principle, he decided against saying as much. “Then I had best be about my business. If you catch sight of Wickham, send a runner to my cousin’s man. Hopefully, we will end his predations and ensure he pays for his crimes.”
“Aye, I hope so, Mr. Darcy. Good day to you. If you need to return to keep watch on the street, have no fear of the welcome you will receive.”
Darcy nodded, tipped his hat, and exited the shop.
A glance in either direction did not reveal any hint of his quarry, and Darcy strode away down the street, keeping to the side of the buildings as he walked.
Wickham knew him well enough to descry his form from a distance, and he would certainly be watchful enough to detect him.
But Darcy did not think he would be so brazen as to ride down Meryton’s thoroughfare, not with all those in the town who would like to lay hands on him.
While word had not made the rounds of the gossips, several of the town’s families had daughters with whom Wickham had been too free with his favors, and their angry fathers were eager for retribution.
It was always thus, Darcy indulged in a moment of disgust for his former friend.
At least there was nothing more—Wickham had left behind at least two natural children in Lambton, and perhaps more in the nearby communities.
In Meryton, there were, as near as they had determined, nothing more than broken hearts, girls he had wooed, yet had not wheedled his way into their beds, likely because he was focused on making his fortune and defrauding the merchants.
It could have been so much worse; Darcy was grateful for it, for he knew he would have felt awful if his negligence had caused greater injury among these people.
When he reached a certain building, Darcy let himself inside, noting the austerity, how it appeared all but abandoned. Darcy did not know what its purpose had been before, but recently it had been the headquarters of the regiment. Fitzwilliam had taken over its use for himself.
“Miss Lydia is in the village,” said Darcy as he entered the room to the side Fitzwilliam used to keep watch on the street outside the building. As it was on the edge of town, he would spot Wickham immediately if he passed by.
“And Wickham is on his way,” said Fitzwilliam.
He appeared full of energy and restlessness, no doubt because of the imminent arrival of Darcy’s nemesis. Fitzwilliam noted his look and chuckled.
“It is always thus, for the eve of action always unsettles me. I doubt Wickham will make his way down the street, but it is a possibility we cannot discount.”
Darcy nodded and took up position next to his cousin, his vigilance never waning. They waited there for perhaps ten minutes, the occasional word passing between them, the rest of their time spent in silence.
“Do you suppose he will evade your watchers?” asked Darcy after a time of this.
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “If he has become so familiar with the town as to know how to move unseen, it is possible. But he will not escape with Miss Lydia.”
Darcy fixed a sharp glare on his cousin. “If he attempts to abscond with her, that may affect her reputation.”
“Do not concern yourself, Darcy,” replied his cousin. “With her sisters close to hand, we can make it appear as if he put upon her improperly and she resisted him. Wickham’s reputation here is bad enough to do the rest.”
Though the wisdom of his cousin’s words was uncertain, Darcy allowed the matter to rest, intent upon hoping for the best. At that moment, one of Fitzwilliam’s men hurried into the room.
“Brady has seen Mr. Wickham, sir,” said he urgently. “He approached from the east and was seen entering an alley not far from here.”
“It is time,” said Fitzwilliam.
With a look at Darcy, he followed the man’s exit, hurrying toward the middle of the town. Anticipation burned in Darcy’s breast. It was time to pay Wickham back for all the misery he had caused.
––––––––
Thoughts whirled through Elizabeth’s head as she stepped from the shop, leaving Mr. Darcy behind.
Despite all that had happened between them, all the acrimony and accusations, the words spoken inelegantly or without thought, it appeared he still loved her.
And this when Elizabeth had been convinced he did not love her in the first place, that his affections were based on infatuation or base attraction!
There was no more chance of distrusting his feelings now, for he had proven them with no possibility of dissent.
As Elizabeth reached the street, she stopped to gather herself, wondering if everyone around her heard the thunderous racing of her heart.
Did they sense the turmoil, understand the indecision that now gripped her?
How Elizabeth could bear it she could not say, but she now understood that she had the greatest power over the gentleman, control that she could not use awry.
If she could not love him, she would need to let him know gently, and send him away with as much care as she could, for to act in any other way would be unthinkable.
Elizabeth glanced back at the door, only to see Mr. Darcy emerging from the shop.
He stopped and looked both ways down the street before he turned south toward the edge of town, disappearing into the building that had housed the regiment only weeks before.
Mr. Darcy had not noted her presence, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful, for she did not know how she could explain what she had been doing.
She had no ability to explain anything of consequence to him.
It was, she reflected, akin to the power Mr. Bingley had held over Jane—still held, if Elizabeth was any judge of the matter.
Seeing Jane’s reaction to Mr. Bingley’s apparent lack of concern for her feelings, could Elizabeth use that same sway over Mr. Darcy and cause him the same heartache that Jane had endured all these months?
It was unfathomable, even if Elizabeth’s opinion of the gentleman remained as it had before he had opened her eyes in Hunsford.
There was nothing to do but to accept his overtures, keeping an open mind to his suit, to view him with the same eyes as he saw her.
Was it possible to return his love? Elizabeth could not say for certain.
Then the memory of his soft voice as he spoke to her, the way his eyes caressed her face, the way he watched her filled her senses, and she shivered despite the warmth of the day.
Knowing intellectually how he felt and understanding it now, understanding his scrutiny of her all those months had not been the product of disapproval caused a thrill to enter her heart.
Jane, she knew, would say that Elizabeth was daft if she could not even entertain the notion of allowing the gentleman to persuade her, and Elizabeth agreed her sister would not be incorrect in the assertion.
Where it might lead she could not say, and the notion of her mother’s interference, regardless of how she had taken to Georgiana, filled her with trepidation.
But she must attempt it, nonetheless. Anything else would be a betrayal of the constancy he had shown her.
Idly, Elizabeth wondered if they might go somewhere else.
She was to travel to the north and their destination was to be Derbyshire, where Elizabeth knew his estate would be nearby.
They would not be there long enough to make any conclusions, but perhaps they could meet there.
Would the picture of the gentleman at his estate not tell her more than she could learn of him in any other location?
Not wishing to appear forward—though she suspected Mr. Darcy would appreciate a little forwardness on her part at the moment—she filed the notion away for further contemplation later.
Perhaps if Mr. Bingley returned, they could meet often and come to know each other better, even if the circumstances would not be the best. Failing that, it seemed Derbyshire or even London would be the best opportunities.
For the moment, there were other matters to attend to, and Elizabeth knew she needed to fix her attention on them. Therefore, she straightened her spine and set off down the street, determined to find her sisters.
It was no surprise to find them in the milliners, Lydia having grown bored with the haberdasher. As she entered the shop, Elizabeth noticed Lydia inspecting a bonnet, speaking softly to Jane. When she approached, Lydia caught sight of her and beckoned her forward.
“What do you think of this bonnet, Lizzy? Is it not the prettiest piece you have ever seen?”
Elizabeth regarded the hat, noting it was much the same as many other such accoutrements, including those Lydia had worn herself. “It is pretty enough, I suppose. I do not think it much prettier than anything else, but I do not dislike it.”
With a nod, Lydia regarded it, distracted. “Had I money I might purchase it and see if I could make something better of it when I return home.” Lydia shrugged. “I left my purse at home, so I suppose there is no help for it.”
Jane directed an alarmed look at Elizabeth, who understood the meaning at once. “You left without your money? That is a surprise, Lydia, for your allowance rarely lasts until the end of the month.”
The girl gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. “I forgot it on my desk. It little signifies I suppose, as I see nothing I wish to purchase.” The girl directed a sly look at them. “Unless you wish to buy the bonnet for me. I shall pay you back when we return to Longbourn.”
“I think not, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, regarding her sister, wondering what she was about. “You have enough bonnets.”
“I care not,” said Lydia with a shrug.
They looked around the shop for a little longer before departing, their destination the dressmaker.
There, it had long been Lydia’s habit to peruse the owner’s fashion gazettes; she offered this little indulgence because of the substantial custom she received from the six Bennet ladies.
As they looked through bolts of fabric and accessories, however, Lydia appeared distracted, saying little and often not attending to anything her sisters said.
After a short time of this, Lydia made her move.
“I believe I have had enough of this shop. I shall go out into the town again.”
“Very well,” said Jane, apparently unwilling to allow her sister out of her sight. “We shall go with you.”
“Oh, there is no need,” replied Lydia. “When you have finished, you may find me outside.”
“That is fine, Lydia,” said Elizabeth before Jane spoke. “We shall join you directly.”
As Lydia left, Jane turned on Elizabeth and hissed: “What do you mean by allowing her to go alone, Lizzy?”
“Mr. Darcy informed me that they expect Mr. Wickham soon,” replied Elizabeth. “She will not escape.”
Though uncertain, Jane moved away to the front window, noting her sister’s progress up the street, drawing Elizabeth with her. Rather than meander as she suggested, Lydia went straight to the haberdashery and disappeared within.
“Why would she go there again?” asked Jane.
“I do not know, but I mean to find out.”
Elizabeth hurried out the door and onto the street, crossing the short distance to the haberdasher and letting herself in. There was no sign of anyone inside, as even the proprietor did not appear to be present.
“Where could she have gone?” fretted Jane.
With the thought they might have been mistaken, Elizabeth returned to the door and looked out, but nothing was amiss. Frowning, she looked back at the shop and noted the long corridor at the back right, leading deeper into the building.
“She must have gone out the back,” said Elizabeth, leading Jane to the hall, passing through it quickly, to emerge out the other side.
Just as they stepped out, Elizabeth noted the swirl of Lydia’s skirts disappearing down an alley some distance up the street.
“Lydia,” said Jane, having seen it too. “Do you suppose we should follow?”
Ignoring her sister’s uncertainty, Elizabeth stepped forward, unwilling to leave anything to chance. “Let us go, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I do not mean to sit idle while our sister ruins us.”
Jane nodded, and they hurried up the back street, intent upon the alley.
When they reached it, there was no one present, for Lydia had traversed it and departed in some other direction.
For a moment, Elizabeth was at a loss, not knowing what to do.
Then she heard voices from another alley. One of them was their sister.