Chapter Eighteen
WICKHAM WAITED IN ONE OF THE OUTBUILDINGS BEHIND THE VILLAGE shops.
In the image of a new recruit, he had learned that Colonel Forster felt the deaths of Miss King and the tavern maid were the crimes of a drifter.
Wickham found such conjectures amusing. The average British citizen held no understanding of the evils of the world.
After determining his acquaintance James Denny was in Dublin, Wickham waited for one of the Bennet sisters to attend their aunt in Town, but although he watched the Philipses’ house for several hours, none of the Bennets showed.
At length, he spotted Miss Lucas and one of her sisters.
Assured of his appearance, Wickham approached.
“Mr. Denny,” Miss Lucas greeted him.
Wickham smiled. “It is pleasant to meet you today.” The woman was plain, but she could provide him information on the Bennets. Wickham bowed. “Miss Lucas,” he said, “you are looking well today.”
“Thank you, Sir. You are most kind.” The woman blushed.
“May I walk with you?” He offered an arm to both ladies, but he paid little attention to the younger sister. Although the girl was much more attractive than her older sibling, Charlotte Lucas had what he required: intimate details of Elizabeth Darcy’s life.
They walked the length of a street before Maria Lucas pleaded to be excused to the local mercantile.
Wickham hated niceties: Societal demands bored him, but he kept reminding himself that, to Charlotte Lucas, he was James Denny.
He waited with seeming patience while Miss Lucas excused Maria, and then Wickham began a seduction.
Today, he sought only information, nothing more.
Alone with the lady, he favored her with one of his best smiles.
“Have you had word from Miss Elizabeth?”
“Oh, yes, Lizzy wrote of her marriage plans. Obviously, I have had no news from her in several days, but that is to be expected.”
“Then you approve of Miss Elizabeth’s marriage?” He wished to claim the woman’s trust.
“Lizzy always said she would only marry for love, and although Mr. Darcy is quite wealthy, I must believe Elizabeth’s affections are engaged.”
Wickham held similar assumptions. From what he knew of the Darcys, they held each other in high regard. With fortune on his side, he hoped to place a wedge between the pair. “With such a fortuitous match, Mrs. Bennet must be beside herself with happiness.”
Charlotte laughed. “Mrs. Bennet is quite proud of Lizzy’s conquest.”
“It is a shame Mrs. Darcy’s family and friends were denied the pleasure of sharing her special day.”
“Miss Jane Bennet was with Lizzy, and her mother’s brother lives in London.
If Lizzy is happy, the neighborhood is satisfied.
I understand the roads to Derbyshire are often not passable this time of year.
I thought the speed of the arrangement could be termed ‘romantic.’ Such would offer the pair the forgiveness of many. ”
The retelling of the romance irritated Wickham.
Darcy had returned to Netherfield to thwart Wickham’s revenge.
He still had not solved the mystery of how Darcy learned of what occurred at the dower house.
Darcy married Elizabeth Bennet because her father found them together.
His enemy’s constant need to perform honorably sickened Wickham.
He said, “Mr. Darcy’s behavior surprises me.
I never suspected his preference for Miss Elizabeth. ”
“None of us did, but we share in their joy just the same.”
“Did Miss Bennet remain in London after the ceremony?” On his return to Meryton, Wickham worked out a detailed plan to claim one of Elizabeth Darcy’s sisters as a warning to the woman to withdraw her support for Darcy. He decided on Jane Bennet, who appeared to be Mrs. Darcy’s favorite sister.
“Mrs. Bennet reports Mr. Bingley returned to London. I am confident Mrs. Bennet would not permit her eldest daughter to leave Town if it meant a withdrawal from Mr. Bingley’s attentions.”
Although he took no interest in local gossip, Wickham chuckled. “I dare say, Mrs. Bennet is singular in her efforts.” They sat together on a public bench outside the village church. “I have not seen the Bennets in the village for nearly a week. Has there been a falling out with Mrs. Philips?”
Charlotte appeared amused. “You seem awfully interested in the Bennet family.”
Wickham shifted uncomfortably. He must not raise Miss Lucas’s suspicions.
Therefore, he provided her with the impression of his being perfectly at ease.
“They are lively girls and gentlemen admire such amiability, but my real concern comes from their sudden withdrawal from the company. You would tell me, Miss Lucas, if you knew of any offense I unknowingly offered the Bennets. I would beg their forgiveness if that be so.”
“Heaven forbid, Mr. Denny! I hear nothing but praise on your behalf,” she protested.
Wickham assured her, “It pleases me to hear so. I would be chagrined to know otherwise.”
“I would say Mr. Bennet’s concern for his daughters’ safety outweighs Mrs. Bennet’s search for husbands.” Charlotte laughed, as if sharing a well-kept secret.
Glancing at his hands, Wickham’s heart pounded in panic.
The crown marking on the back of his hand was more noticeable.
It was his signal to withdraw. His ability to hold the image of James Denny was waning.
“Even that opinion gives me some comfort, Miss Lucas.” He smiled, although her close inspection made him uneasy.
Has the image faded? “Is something amiss, Miss Lucas?”
Charlotte flushed in embarrassment. “I know it to be a trick of the light. You possess brown eyes, but just now they appeared a storm-cloud grey.”
Wickham held her gaze. “The light washes them out? It must be the red of the jacket.”
“I suppose,” she mumbled, but did not look away.
Wickham removed the fob and glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, Miss Lucas, I must return to my duties. I hope you will pardon me.” He stood and offered her a bow. “I pray to see you at some of the entertainments in the coming weeks.”
“I would expect so, Mr. Denny.”
“Until then.” Wickham strode purposefully away. The spell he had spun slipped as he walked. He ducked into the stable. What occurred? Never had the image faded before he was prepared for it to do so. The woman had noted the difference in his eye color. His ability to shift was essential.
A few minutes later, from the protection of the corral, he watched Miss Lucas make her way to the village’s center.
The woman was sharp intellectually, but extremely common in her features.
He suspected, however, she would make someone a good wife.
The plain ones always did. Sometimes he regretted not having chosen a woman such as Miss Lucas, but he had fallen in love with Lady Ellender D’Arcy, a striking beauty like none other—a witty, sensual woman—indulged and pampered—elegant and arrogant.
He loved her still, but she had never returned his regard.
Seorais Winchcombe lacked the breeding—lacked the name.
Lady Ellender D’Arcy decided on Arawn Benning, a man with a title.
It still pained him to think upon how she had betrayed him.
Lady Ellender doomed him to a life of fiendish desires and ghoulish hunger.
With a nod of resignation, he set out for Longbourn. It was time to call on the Bennets.
Although he watched Longbourn for two days, the Bennet girls strayed no farther than the gravel walk that led to the copse.
During his vigil, he had decided on the youngest, Miss Lydia.
Although he found her continuous chatter and flirtations annoying, Miss Lydia would make an easy mark, for she was gullible, unsophisticated, and foolish.
He noted with approval that Miss Lydia was a friend to Colonel Forster’s new wife.
Earlier, disguised as a stray dog, he eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Good heavens! What is to become of us?” she exclaimed with girlish woe to Mrs. Forster.
“Whatever do you mean, my dear?”
Lydia whined, “My sisters still pursue the usual course of their employments, but I take no pleasure in such pursuits. I would prefer a ball every night for entertainment. Papa is so cruel!”
“Do not fret. If you wish, I will ask Colonel Foster to speak to Mr. Bennet. Surely my husband can convince your father to permit you to accompany me to the Christmas festivities. The colonel will vouch for your safety.”
Lydia said wistfully, “Oh, I do hope so!”
He withdrew before they spotted him. He held a means to claim Miss Lydia Bennet. He would pretend to be a gentleman caller, so he might learn the details of the military celebration. Only a few more days and the happy situation for the Darcys would change dramatically.
Elizabeth enjoyed the prospect from the dining room.
Every disposition of the ground was a delight, and she looked on the whole scene—the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it.
The rooms at Pemberley were lofty and handsome, and the furniture suitable to the fortune of its owner.
She noted, with admiration, that Mr. Darcy’s taste was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine.
There was more real elegance than she anticipated.
From behind, Darcy wrapped her in his arms. “Dare I ask your thoughts?” he inquired.
His voice—rumbling and masculine—stirred her.
Instinctively, Elizabeth sealed her spine to his front, enjoying his warmth along her back.
“Just taking in the view of your land and thinking of this place,” she spoke with disbelief, “of which I am to be mistress.” She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest. “At Darcy House, I stood a chance of being an acceptable wife, but how am I to be so here?”
He argued, “I am away from Pemberley for months at a time, but the estate continues to function without my presence.”