Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
“Miss Elizabeth, you are a most observant young lady, are you not?”
Elizabeth glanced over at her new acquaintance.
Admittedly, she had been pleased when Mr Wickham had sought her out and, smiling, joined her on the sofa in her aunt Philips’s drawing room.
He was handsome, amiable, and eager to converse with everyone in Meryton, yet she could not like the tone in his voice, one she felt should be reserved for more intimate friends.
It reminded Elizabeth of the fawning tone used by Miss Bingley when preparing to throw a barb at her or ingratiating herself into Mr Darcy’s company.
It had become far too familiar during those long days recently spent at Netherfield.
Since returning to Longbourn, her newly arrived cousin Mr Collins had ensured she received her daily dose of unctuousness.
“I should like to think so. I love to laugh, thus observing my neighbours has long been a favoured sport.”
He chuckled appreciatively before bending his head a bit closer to her. “I am certain you noted the expression of a certain gentleman when he saw me with your sisters in Meryton.”
Oh yes. She had seen Mr Darcy’s frown. Although Mr Wickham was pleasant to look at and speak with, it was only her curiosity about that ‘certain gentleman’ which had led her to smile at the lieutenant and encourage a tête-à-tête.
She did not much like cards, but she knew to handle them carefully in conversation with any man Lydia deemed ‘her favourite’.
“Yes, do you know him?”
His grin revealed such a dazzling display of good looks, she half expected to hear gasps and swoons behind her. “Oh,” came his reply, once he had schooled his features to some semblance of rueful solemnity. “I know Darcy quite well.”
Despite such intimacy, clearly things were not well between them, as he went on to recount a childhood spent at Pemberley, well-favoured by Mr Darcy’s sainted father and envied by the son, who revenged himself by revoking the living owed to Mr Wickham.
After a sigh clearly meant to inspire more sympathy than she was likely to share, he asked, “Are you well-acquainted with him?”
“Only a bit,” she allowed, wishing to disclose as little of her own interaction with Mr Darcy as she could. “He has been painted by his friend, Mr Bingley, as a man who knows all and everything.”
“Yes, from his privileged birth to his privileged education and such...” Mr Wickham’s hand rose, patting his chest. “Although I was brought up beside him, you will never see me affecting the need for the theatrics of a quizzing glass.”
Again with the quizzing glass! Elizabeth met the discourteous disclosure with some relief.
Three nights under Netherfield’s roof and half a dozen times in company elsewhere, and not only had she not seen Mr Darcy with a quizzing glass, but the gentleman had been nearly silent on the subject his friends freely discussed.
It seemed he had not brought it to Meryton, but Miss Bingley, and now this officer, was certainly eager to assert his reliance on the object.
He is the Great and Powerful Mr Darcy, after all. Or...
Mr Wickham gave her a piercing look. “Truly, have you not seen it? Everyone in town knows he relies on it to judge others, though he finds most uniformly inferior or lacking. Perhaps he feels no need for it here, amongst the fine people of Meryton. Or...” He tapped his chin and gave her a solemn look.
“Of course, it is a valuable piece, so perhaps Darcy felt it unsafe in a rented country estate.”
Tempted as Elizabeth was to defend Mr Bingley and those locals who worked at Netherfield, she refrained. “He does not rely on it to aid his eyesight?”
Her question was met by a chuckle. “Eyesight, no. His eyes are perfect—he is a Darcy. He relies on it for... insight, perhaps. When last I saw him in town, he had it at his eye, sneering at me and my chums whose births he clearly considers beneath his. The quizzing glass is merely another means to impress his rich friends and ensure people such as the two of us, of gentle birth and good manners, know we are beneath him.”
“So you would call it an affectation?”
“Dandy Darcy,” he chuckled. “It is an expensive bit of costume, ornate with its rubies and onyx.”
She nearly gasped aloud. Unlike Sir William, who enjoyed wearing the medal that came with his knighthood, and Mr Townes, known for his brightly coloured waistcoats, nothing in Mr Darcy’s manner or appearance seemed calculated to draw attention to himself.
He was anything but a dandy, and beyond a pair of fawn trousers he had worn one afternoon, she had seen him dressed in little but dark fabrics—very fine but rather plain.
“Do I shock you, Miss Elizabeth? The quizzing glass is quite an elaborate piece. Darcy’s father carried it occasionally as well, but likely not for the same purposes.
” Mr Wickham’s voice, low and sympathetic, purred next to her.
“Darcy is one of society’s most sought-after bachelors.
I am acquainted with more than one well-bred lady who enjoyed his notice until he raised the glass to his eye and found something to displease him.
Was it a spot, a crooked tooth? Some flaw no one else would discern nor give credence to when judging her worth?
” He shook his head sadly. “Oh yes, I can see it now, staring through that wretched yet beautiful glass, delivering his edict and ruining anyone who displeased him.”
Elizabeth’s mind was spinning. “Do you imply Mr Darcy uses the quizzing glass itself as a tool of cruelty?”
Mr Wickham’s voice grew more ingratiating as the heavy scent of his cologne swept over her. “Sir William has called you ‘the jewel of the county’, but please beware, Miss Elizabeth. When the glass is at Darcy’s eye, even you will feel his disdain.”
Her stomach roiled. Appalling as Mr Darcy’s conduct appeared in the tale, Mr Wickham’s telling of it was far more shocking. He has known me a minute, and here in a crowded gathering, takes joy in blackening the characters of Mr Darcy and his father.
“That is dreadful behaviour, indeed. But I promise you, sir, I have seen no sign of a quizzing glass or spectacles or any such affectation on Mr Darcy.” Even my feeble attempt to enquire about the strength of his eyesight distressed him, she thought, recalling how quickly he had fled her company in the library only days earlier.
Perhaps he has been teased too often about his dependence on such an ornate family heirloom.
Certainly, both Miss Bingley and Mr Wickham take an uncommon interest in it.
Mr Wickham looked as if he would press Elizabeth’s hand but instead relied on his words to reassure her.
“If I may be indelicate, Meryton is more rustic than Darcy is accustomed to, and he likely feels himself so far above the company found in your country neighbourhood that he has not bothered to use it.” Smiling, he added, “With ladies so tempting as you, Miss Elizabeth, and your sisters, why would he ever have need of it?”
Elizabeth was grateful when Mr Wickham was called away to join a card game; if he had not left, she would have abandoned his company.
Turning away to hide her expression from the room, she grimaced, thinking of Lydia and Kitty, who had behaved so poorly in Mr Darcy’s company.
Our neighbours think nothing of their behaviour, accustomed as they are to it.
But Mr Darcy is not so inured, nor would he or anyone from higher circles need spectacles or a quizzing glass to see their horrible manners.
She had seen the disgust in his expression when Lydia flounced about.
Tempting? Vulgar and ill-behaved is more like it.
Sighing as she heard herself beckoned by her mother, Elizabeth rose. I shall see how Mr Darcy looks at me at the ball.