Thirteen #2
"Are you acquainted with him?" Elizabeth kept her voice light, though something in his manner had sharpened her attention considerably. "You speak as though you recognise the name."
"We have known one another the whole of our lives, Miss Bennet.
Our fathers were closely connected. I confess I had no notion he was in this part of the country at all.
" He said it plainly enough, though a shadow passed over his features that had not been there a moment before, and Elizabeth, watching him, found herself curious what precisely had put it there.
"I am sorry to hear he slighted you. It is, I am afraid, entirely consistent with what I know of him. "
"You speak as though you have some particular history with the gentleman, sir." Elizabeth said it carefully, unwilling to appear as though she pressed for confidences he had not yet offered, though she found she wished for them regardless.
"I have a very particular history with him, Miss Bennet, though it is not one I generally care to trouble new acquaintances with, upon a first meeting and along a public road besides.
" Wickham's smile returned, though it carried less ease than it had a few minutes before.
"I will only say that Mr. Darcy's manner toward those he considers beneath his notice is a subject I understand rather better than most, and that I am sorry, though not at all surprised, to hear he extended you the same courtesy. "
Elizabeth did not answer at once. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Oakham Mount and to every quiet confidence Mr. Darcy had entrusted to her there. She had seen the burdens he carried and the care with which he spoke of them.
Yet Mr. Wickham's account did not sit easily beside what she knew. His sympathy appeared sincere, his manner free from bitterness, and still she could not reconcile his words with the gentleman she had come to know.
What history, she wondered, could exist between two men whose fathers had been so closely connected? Whatever had passed between them, it had left a wound that time had plainly failed to heal.
The sound of approaching horses reached them, and Elizabeth glanced towards the lane without particular expectation. The sight of the approaching riders sent an involuntary start through her.
It was Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.
Before she had recovered from her surprise, Darcy's eyes had found Mr. Wickham.
His whole frame seemed to stiffen. Though he did not check his horse, his gaze remained fixed upon Wickham as he rode past, his expression hardening into one she had not seen since the assembly.
Only for the briefest instant did his eyes pass over the rest of the party, touching upon Elizabeth before returning, cold and unwavering, to Wickham.
Mr. Bingley, riding a little behind him, drew rein with his usual easy good humour. Touching his hat to the ladies, he smiled.
"Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth. We have just come from Longbourn, though I understand we have missed you entirely."
He acknowledged the remainder of the party with equal civility, seeming to notice nothing remarkable in the meeting.
"We shall not detain you. Good day to you all."
With another courteous inclination of his head, he turned his horse and rode after his friend, who had already disappeared around the bend in the lane.
Wickham watched them go before turning to Elizabeth.
"Who was that gentleman?"
"Mr. Bingley," she replied. "Mr. Darcy's particular friend. He has taken Netherfield, which is not far from here."
"Mr. Bingley appears a very agreeable gentleman."
"He is."
"And a frequent visitor at Longbourn?"
"Yes. My eldest sister has seen a great deal of him since his arrival."
"Mr. Darcy accompanies him often?"
"No." She shook her head. "To my knowledge, he has never before called upon my father. I imagine Mr. Bingley persuaded him to accompany him today."
It was the only explanation that made sense.
She could not believe Mr. Darcy would have sought her out at Longbourn merely because she had failed to appear at Oakham Mount these past three days.
It was far more likely that Mr. Bingley had prevailed upon him to pay the visit, exactly as she had said.
Yet the thought did little to ease her disappointment. One glance, one smile of recognition, would have been enough.
"Ha." Wickham's laugh was short, and not entirely without an edge to it. "That is exactly like the man I know."
By this time they had nearly reached the place where the party must separate.
Lydia, as eager as ever to prolong so agreeable an acquaintance, announced that Mrs. Phillips was to have a small tea party the following afternoon.
As her aunt's house stood but a short distance from the militia quarters, the officers were frequent visitors there already.
"You must come, Mr. Denny," Lydia said. "And Mr. Wickham too, if you will."
"We shall be very happy to attend," Denny replied.
The party exchanged their farewells. Mr. Wickham bowed over Elizabeth's hand with the same easy grace that had distinguished him from the first, before he and Denny turned back towards Meryton, while the Bennets and Mr. Collins continued on their way to Longbourn.
Elizabeth was unusually quiet as they walked the remaining distance home.
The explanation she had given Mr. Wickham had seemed sensible enough at the time. Yet, the more she considered it, the less certain she became. Mr. Darcy's visit to Longbourn had been unexpected, and for reasons she could not explain, it lingered in her thoughts.
Mr. Wickham lingered there too. His manner had been too open, his temper too mild, to suggest a man eager to traduce another.
Whatever had passed between him and Mr. Darcy had plainly left its mark, yet he had spoken with more regret than resentment.
Elizabeth found herself wondering what history could have altered so easy a disposition.
Tomorrow was Sunday. Oakham Mount must wait until Monday. After church, however, there would be Mrs. Phillips's tea party. If Mr. Wickham accepted Lydia's invitation, perhaps she would at last discover what had passed between him and Mr. Darcy.