January 1811 #2
Mr. Wickham was already waiting for her when she arrived at The Green Park on Thursday, and he helped her down from the carriage before Matthew could.
He pulled her arm through his and set off.
As the day was cold and a bit windy, she did not object to his shared warmth.
Elizabeth looked at his amiable face and did not give Matthew or Dinah another thought for several minutes.
If she had considered them, she would have known they followed at a discreet distance from which they would keep her safe.
They had not walked far when Mr. Wickham paused at the edge of the path and held her gloved hand in his. She was bemused at his behavior and felt a flutter of nervous discomfort until she realized he was inspecting her charm bracelet.
“I have not seen this before. Was it a Christmas gift?”
“It is fifteen years’ worth of birthday gifts, actually.
” She sighed as she looked at it. It held so many memories, which she had revisited when she had pulled it out of her small jewelry box the evening before.
“On my first birthday, my uncle gave me this diamond, because I was a precious gift to him after my parents died. On my second birthday, he gave me this tree, because even then, I loved to be outside close to the trees. He would take me for walks and show me all the trees at his estate.”
“This horse must symbolize your love for riding.” Mr. Wickham’s finger grazed her wrist at the edge of her glove as he found the horse charm, and Elizabeth gasped lightly and nodded.
He was not looking at her, though. He held the tiny diamond between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand still holding her hand up close to her eye level.
“This cut glass is a fine gift for a baby, but now you are a woman and deserve real diamonds.” He released her hand and looked into her eyes as he removed a small velvet pouch from his coat pocket.
From it, he withdrew a stunning silver hair comb encrusted with a row of diamonds.
She was too stunned to say anything before he had stepped even closer and was pushing back her bonnet and placing the comb in her hair.
The scent of cloves and a heavy musk engulfed her, and her nose twitched.
She took a step back as soon as he removed his hands from her hair.
“Mr. Wickham, I cannot accept such a fine gift from you.” She reached up to remove the comb, but he held her wrist before she could, so she lowered it and clasped her hands behind her back, remembering again Matthew’s caution about the man’s familiarity.
“We may not have courted for long, but you have already lodged yourself deeply into my heart. You were in my every thought while we were parted all those weeks. I will not propose yet, and I can see you need more time, but you must know of my feelings for you. You are everything I have always wished for in a wife.”
Elizabeth could think of nothing to say at such a bold declaration.
It was true they had a strong connection.
She had come to admire him as she had seen his passion for his horse breeding and his estate.
He had also told her about his father in a way that showed his deep honor for him, despite his low rank.
Mr. Wickham spoke of his mother with great love, as well.
He showed all the signs of being a good, hardworking man she could trust.
She gulped as she remembered he did not know all he should about her.
Before she could decide whether she was ready to tell him, he picked up her hand again, which had drifted to her side, placed a quick kiss on it, and pulled her close to him as he resumed their walk.
As earlier, she turned her head away from him as often as possible when she inhaled.
Would he choose a different scent if she asked?
“Please keep the comb for now. I wish to see it glint against your shining dark hair. Cherish it for as long as you like. If you ultimately decide against me…” Mr. Wickham blinked his eyes rapidly as though dealing with a deep emotion.
Elizabeth tentatively touched his arm for a moment with her free hand.
“You will keep the comb?” He asked with such hope that she could not refuse him.
“For now. It will give me great pleasure to wear it, and to look on such a lovely token when we are apart.”
“It is not so lovely as you, but it was the best I could manage to symbolize my growing regard for you.”
They frequently gazed at each other as they walked and talked until they made their way back to the carriage nearly an hour later. Elizabeth was too deep in thought to register Dinah’s worried look or Matthew’s apprehension until much later.
She played the pianoforte after dinner, her mind on Mr. Wickham instead of the notes.
Choosing pieces she knew well, she considered what had happened that day.
Dinah’s and Matthew’s looks came back to her, and she realized she should have been more wary of Mr. Wickham herself.
Elizabeth had never been so addled by a man before, and the more she considered it, she did not like it.
Away from his presence, her mind cleared enough to think more rationally, and she was ashamed of herself for having accepted a gift from any man, even if it would be temporary.
In the carriage from the park, she had removed the comb from her hair and rubbed her thumb across the sparkling gems and smooth silver.
She had never held such a fine piece of jewelry.
Such a beautiful gift. She had known even then that she would need to return it the next day when he called.
She had placed it safely in her reticule, where it was now, in her bedchamber.
How did Mr. Wickham cause her to lose all sense?
She did not blame him at all. He could not know of the effect he was having on her.
His gift had been given out of kindness and honest feeling.
She could not decide about marriage so quickly, however.
She had been surprised when he had alluded to an impending proposal.
They had seen each other but four times.
Yesterday and today, they spent more than an hour together, but it was far too soon to know whether she wished to marry him.
Yes, he was handsome. Not as handsome as Mr. Darcy had been when he had laughed with her, but she had held a tendre for that man that shaded her view at the time. She had not thought him so handsome of late with his stern looks and glaring scowls.
She found nothing to color her opinion of Mr. Wickham except he perhaps was too forward, too quick in his affection toward her.
That, she knew, was what had unsettled her trusted protectors.
She remembered Mr. Cage had appeared lovesick at least as early in their acquaintance.
It had made her uncomfortable at the time because she was too young to think of marriage.
But Mr. Cage had restrained his attentions, though she could see it clearly in his eyes.
Mr. Wickham was more honest than Mr. Cage had been. He felt as deeply or perhaps even more deeply, and he was unafraid to tell her. He did not hide his affection behind propriety. She found it unsettling and refreshing at the same time. She wanted to know him better, she decided.
As she had thought when she first met him in December, Mr. Wickham was likely the exact sort of man to satisfy both Uncle Bennet and herself. Her uncle wanted her to wed a gentleman, and she wanted to have a husband who would not look down his nose at her.
She smiled as she remembered Mr. Wickham’s love for horses and his promise to take her riding soon. He said perhaps as soon as next week he would bring three horses. She had already spoken to Matthew and was glad he would join them. She would be far more comfortable with her footman’s presence.
On Friday morning when Mr. Wickham called, Aunt was occupied with the children, but Matthew stood guard as vigilantly as ever by the door, and Dinah sewed in the corner near him.
Her suitor almost immediately drew Elizabeth to the opposite end of the room to ask about a framed piece of embroidery.
It was one of Elizabeth’s pieces from her first months in London.
He admired the fine stitches and her choice of subject and color.
He continued to gaze at the fabric, but it seemed to Elizabeth he had stopped seeing it.
“Does something concern you?”
“Forgive me, my pet. I should not disturb you with my troubles.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warming at his term of endearment, and she scolded herself. She did not even think it a romantic appellation, yet everything said in his sultry tones took on new meaning.
“Come, let us sit here and you may unburden yourself. I should like to know your difficulties as well as your triumphs.”
“It is only…I know you are acquainted with the Bingleys, but I wonder, do you also know Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy?”
“Oh, yes. I believe Miss Bingley said it was on his estate that you grew up. Yes, I have met Mr. Darcy.”
“And do you count him a friend?”
“We have barely spoken in two years, so I can hardly claim that.”
“It has been even longer since I have spoken with him. We grew up together and were the best of friends as boys, so it was a blow when he turned against me suddenly for no apparent reason.”
Elizabeth felt an immediate sympathy with Mr. Wickham for their matching complaints against Mr. Darcy. She told him she had thought him her friend briefly but that he had been brash with her and lost her good opinion. Mr. Wickham’s trial at the man’s hand had been far worse.
“I do have my estate now, but it is only recently beginning to be profitable. For many years, I struggled, not knowing how I would support myself.”
He then told her his godfather, the father of Mr. Darcy, had promised Mr. Wickham a church living but that the son had refused to give it to him when the time came.
“The cruelty! Why would he deprive you of your means to earn a living?”