Chapter 1 #2
Wickham frowned heavily as his thoughts wandered toward Pemberley, and both Mr. Darcys.
The elder Mr. Darcy had been a kindly, generous man who had graciously extended his patronage to his steward’s son.
Wickham had been raised as a gentleman and attended both Harrow and Cambridge under the auspices of the master of Pemberley.
It was entirely unfair that the current Mr. Darcy disdained his responsibility toward his father’s godson.
It was Darcy’s fault that Wickham was languishing in a desolate little town in the back end of nowhere instead of serving as a clergyman in Kympton, near Pemberley.
Wickham had been only two and twenty years of age when the elder Mr. Darcy had died, and far too young to realize that giving up a valuable living was an idiotic decision.
At the time, Wickham had thought he would enjoy studying law, only to quickly realize that the law was far too dull for a man of his talents and temperament.
The current Mr. Darcy had been all too ready to take advantage of him by offering a mere three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the living; it was entirely unfair!
Wickham slowed his pace slightly as the path entered a large stand of trees, which cut him off from the brisk wind.
It was, he mused resentfully, Darcy’s fault that he was freezing his ears off right now!
He had been eagerly welcomed in Meryton, of course; he was a charming, handsome gentleman, and set off the red coat of the militia exceedingly well.
It had been a horrible shock to discover that Darcy was currently living at nearby Netherfield Hall with his gregarious and cheerful friend, Mr. Charles Bingley.
Wickham considered fleeing when he first caught sight of his enemy’s tall form on an impressive black horse, only to discover, to his considerable relief, that Darcy’s haughty manners had alienated the local gentry.
Wickham was confident that he was safe enough so long as he did not openly confront the master of Pemberley.
Wickham had nearly succeeded in running off with Georgiana, Darcy’s much younger sister, only four months previously, and Darcy, while furious with him, would not move against him for fear that it would damage the reputation of his precious little sister.
All the same, Wickham had chosen to avoid the ball at Netherfield the previous night, where Darcy was bound to be very much in evidence. Instead, he had rushed off to London on the pretext of having urgent business there. Now he was weary and hungry, and his feet hurt.
The trees on the right suddenly opened and Wickham turned his head to look down a hill toward Longbourn, where Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their five daughters lived.
Wickham’s face flushed at the thought of the women; four of the five Miss Bennets were the acknowledged belles of the neighborhood, and their beauty drew many a militia officer like to a particularly bright flame.
It was a great pity that none of the women were well dowered, as Wickham would enjoy tying himself to a woman as beautiful and fascinating as the second Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth.
The girl was not quite as lovely as her more serene elder sister, but she was intelligent, passionate, and despised Fitzwilliam Darcy.
She was the perfect companion and would be an excellent wife if she were wealthy, but alas, the Longbourn estate was entailed away to a fool of a cousin, and the girls were, one and all, poor prospects for marriage.
The trees closed in again and Wickham found his mind wandering from Miss Elizabeth’s winsome face and enchanting banter to her thoroughly desirable body.
It had been too long since he had taken a woman to bed, and he had been disappointed when a female acquaintance in London had turned him away from her door only the night previously.
It was no great surprise that the woman had found a new paramour, but why could she not save some of her embraces for an old friend?
Miss Elizabeth was, he feared, too sensible to give up her virtue, but perhaps he could, at least, steal a kiss when the time was right? Or perhaps enjoy a close embrace?
The lady was an independent soul and often walked alone. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to find her at an opportune time...
He rounded a bend in the path and then stared in disbelief. It appeared that God himself was smiling down upon him as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a charming red walking dress, strode briskly toward him.
Her beautiful face lit up at the sight of him and she cried out happily, “Mr. Wickham!”
***
The black stallion, Phoenix, halted at a touch of the reins and whickered softly, his breath puffing tiny clouds from his mouth.
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked around as he leaned a little closer to the great beast’s neck for warmth.
Here at the highest point on the Netherfield estate, the cold wind penetrated his wool coat and buckskin breeches, and he shivered.
It was time to return to the warm mansion a mile away, where his valet had no doubt finished packing his clothing for the return to London.
Darcy sighed aloud and discovered, to his annoyance, that he had unconsciously turned Phoenix so that he could look upon Longbourn, the estate which lay along the eastern border of Netherfield.
Mr. Bennet was an intelligent and well-read man, but he was not a diligent husband, father, or master of his estate.
His wife, Mrs. Bennet, the daughter of a solicitor, was a shrill, vulgar woman whose only attraction lay in her still considerable beauty.
The lady spent her life throwing her five daughters at gentlemen in the hopes of snaring wealthy husbands for them; indeed, if it were not for Mrs. Bennet, Darcy would probably not be leaving for London today.
His mind shifted back to the night before when his younger friend, Charles Bingley, the current lessee of Netherfield, had hosted a lavish ball for the neighborhood.
Bingley, a generous and charitable soul with an eye for handsome women, had spent much of the evening dancing with and hovering over the eldest Miss Bennet; a blonde, blue-eyed lady who was, even to Darcy’s critical eye, one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom.
Mrs. Bennet, eager for her daughter to wed Mr. Bingley, had loudly proclaimed to those in attendance that Jane Bennet would soon be mistress of Netherfield.
Darcy huffed in indignation and nudged his horse into a walk.
Phoenix was four years old, full of energy and vigor, and this would be the last country walk he would enjoy in some time.
It was a pity in some ways; Darcy far preferred the country to London, but as Bingley’s closest friend, he could not allow the younger man to tie himself to a vulgar family of poor connections and little wealth.
It was not as if Jane Bennet truly cared for his friend.
Unlike her mother, she was a charming, genteel young woman, but there was no true affection in those celestial eyes when they looked upon Charles Bingley.
Miss Bennet would certainly accept an offer of marriage from Bingley because her family’s estate was entailed away to a distant cousin, but his friend deserved better than to be tied for life to a woman who looked upon him with courteous indifference.
Only two hours previously, Darcy had risen early and met Bingley’s two sisters, also alarmed by their brother’s infatuation with Miss Bennet, at the breakfast table.
It had not taken long for the threesome to agree that Bingley must be separated immediately from Jane Bennet.
Bingley had left before dawn for London to visit his man of business, and Darcy, along with Bingley’s two sisters and brother by marriage, would journey to the City this afternoon to urge the man to stay away from Netherfield.
Darcy was not entirely certain that they would succeed – Bingley’s attachment to Miss Bennet was stronger than he had ever observed in his friend before – but he had to try, for the sake of their friendship. It was the right thing to do.
Phoenix neighed softly, and Darcy looked up in surprise. Without thinking about it, he had directed his horse on the path that led toward Longbourn, toward the second Bennet daughter, Miss Elizabeth.
Not for the first time, his heart beat faster at the thought of Miss Elizabeth, whom he found both intriguing and alluring.
It was not, of course, love. He could hardly be in love with a woman of poor connections and no fortune, even if her beauty was considerable.
It was merely that he was fascinated with her singular nature, surely.
The lady did not flutter her eyelashes or show off her décolletage, but rather debated his views with arch vigor, and disagreed with him for what seemed to be the sheer joy of being contrary.
No, that was not adoration fluttering in his breast. Absolutely not!
It was merely that he was so very tired of the typical women of the gentry, who boasted of their accomplishments and eyed him greedily, like matrimonial sharks in search of wealthy prey.
He had been pursued and hunted and annoyed for so many years now.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was different, that was all.
Her manners were unusual, as was her beauty and her intelligence and her wit and her boldness.
Only last night, when he had asked her to dance a set, Miss Elizabeth had berated him over his supposed mistreatment of the vile George Wickham!
Of course she was wrong about Wickham – the man was a consummate rogue, but Wickham was also charming and handsome and it was no great surprise that Miss Elizabeth had taken the poorer man’s side.
Darcy was not at ease with strangers, and he knew he was often abrupt and stiff in his conversation.
He did not blame Miss Elizabeth. Indeed, he rather admired her. Women never challenged him, never!
But she was not a worthy wife for a Darcy. Indeed, he must flee Hertfordshire now, while he still could, before her magical charm and saucy ways made him forget his duty to his family, his estate, and his name.
He sighed morosely and patted Phoenix’s neck.
“I am a fool, am I not?” he murmured. “Of all the women in the world to attract me, it would be Miss Elizabeth. Well, come along; I have no doubt that the ladies will take rather a long time to pack, but we do need to leave for London well before nightfall.”
The horse whinnied softly as if in response and shifted to the left, just as the sound of a feminine scream and a cry of “no!” impinged upon Darcy’s hearing. Unless his ears played a cruel trick, the voice was that of Miss Elizabeth!