Chapter 1 #2
“It certainly would be a different world if it were so,” Mr Wickham agreed. A look of plaintive regret crossed his face. He must certainly be thinking of Mr Darcy, and of how much he had lost to that gentleman’s caprice. Elizabeth was angry all over again to think of it.
“Just think if we could change the world to our liking,” Elizabeth suggested laughingly, wishing to cheer him.
“First, we shall arrange for all people to be honest and caring, of course, but then we may move on to more frivolous concerns. I think I shall order the weather to be fine whenever I wish to go walking, and for more and more flowers to bloom each spring.”
As she had hoped, Mr Wickham laughed at this. “I should like a world arranged by you more than any other, Miss Elizabeth.”
“No, no,” she protested. “I have seen very little of the world, and cannot be expected to have things all my own way. You must help me. What decrees shall you order, Mr Wickham?”
He tipped his chin up, putting one finger to it in a pose of mock gravity that made his face more handsome than ever. “Hmmm. First of all, I believe I shall make the stream that passes by our encampment run with the finest sherry.”
Elizabeth chuckled, though she could not help thinking that such a wish was not entirely in good taste.
All the same, she had put poor Mr Wickham on the spot, and it would not do to press him for an answer and then immediately disparage the answer he had given her.
“Such a change will be very popular with all the gentlemen of the militia, I am sure.”
“Indeed it would,” Mr Wickham agreed. “Though likely rather less so with all the innkeepers.”
“So it is in life,” Elizabeth said. “Any change comes with some gains and some losses, and we can only do our best to keep them in balance.” She bit her lip, thinking of Charlotte, and the choice to which Elizabeth could not reconcile herself.
Charlotte thought her gains would outweigh her losses.
Elizabeth could only hope her friend would not feel differently once she had Mr Collins for her companion all the days of her life.
Mr Wickham laid a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “You are suddenly very solemn.”
“It is nothing,” Elizabeth said. “I was only thinking of a friend who has lately become engaged.”
To her surprise, Mr Wickham did not remove his hand from her arm.
Elizabeth felt herself blushing. The contact was perfectly respectable and conducted in broad daylight.
She need not feel ashamed of it. Yet there was something strangely intimate in the touch of his hand, and how steadily he looked into her eyes.
“I know what I should really wish, if I could,” Mr Wickham said then.
“I should wish that marriage was simply a matter of following one’s inclinations, with all other considerations forgotten. ”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, looking up at him. “Indeed, that would be a better world.” How little he had said — and yet how much he seemed to mean!
It was odd that Mr Wickham still did not remove his hand from her arm.
He must know as well as she did that any romantic connection between them was quite impossible.
Her dowry was far too small to support a family, while Mr Wickham had nothing but his pay from the militia.
It would not be a kindness to either of them to dream of what could have been.
Indeed, she would do better to distance herself now, before they had a chance of developing the deeper friendship that alone could determine whether a true partiality might exist between them.
Even as Elizabeth was withdrawing her arm from Mr Wickham’s hand, she felt an odd shivering sensation, as of someone watching her.
Turning to look, all the improvement in her spirits was spoiled in an instant when she saw she was quite correct.
Someone was watching them with a look of stern judgement that amounted almost to disgust. Mr Darcy stood not twenty paces away, frowning intently.
He did not try to conceal his attention, but turned and strode away when he saw her gaze. The expression on his face before he turned away was thunderous.
“That is my fault, surely,” Mr Wickham said softly. “Mr Darcy’s jealous dislike of me has driven him to such a point that he hates to see me received by any persons of quality. I am sorry to poison his opinion of you.”
“No, you must not apologise,” Elizabeth protested. “You are not responsible for Mr Darcy’s poor behaviour, but more particularly, it is not true. Mr Darcy has disapproved of me ever since our first meeting, when I did not so much as know the name of Wickham.”
Mr Wickham gave her a charming smile. “I had always suspected Mr Darcy’s tastes to be the very reverse of my own. Now I know it to be true.”
At this, Elizabeth looked away, not knowing how to respond to something so very close to a declaration of partiality. She therefore did not reply to the compliment at all. “It has been very pleasant speaking to you, Mr Wickham, but I am afraid I ought to return home now.”
He gave her a graceful bow. “Then I shall simply have to hope we will meet again soon. Farewell, Miss Elizabeth.” And with that, he turned and strolled away, rejoining the other officers.
The road home from Meryton was not more cheerful than the road to it, but Elizabeth had at least the advantage of a fresh reason for her wrath.
She judged Mr Darcy in absentia all the way back to Longbourn.
The man seemed to live for judging those he considered beneath him.
Probably he was in Netherfield Park now, smugly thinking of his own superiority and thinking of new ways to persecute poor Mr Wickham.