Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 (4 page)

And yet he could not prevent his eyes from straying to her. And he could not stop himself wishing he was the one enjoying her company.

‘Well, Jane, Mr Bingley seemed very taken with you,’ said Mrs Bennet complacently as the Bennets returned home at the end of the assembly. The carriage bumped over the potholes but none of the ladies minded, for they had all enjoyed themselves. The carriage lamps shone out in the darkness, pools of light in the otherwise black night. ‘And Mr Wickham seemed very taken with you, Lizzy,’ added Mrs Bennet grudgingly.

Elizabeth was not her favourite daughter, but she was never slow to take a compliment to any of her girls and she knew how to value the attentions of a man such as Mr Wickham.

‘He danced with me, too,’ said Lydia.

‘But he danced twice with Elizabeth,’ said Mary in a moralising tone.

‘I wish he had danced with me,’ said Kitty. ‘He is vastly handsome.’

‘And wealthy, if appearances are anything to go by. What a thing it will be, to see my two eldest daughters married,’ said Mrs Bennet.

‘Mama, you go too fast,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Wickham danced with me, he did not propose.’

‘But he will, if you give him some encouragement,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘You must have a new dress, Lizzy. I am sure we will be seeing more of Mr Wickham at the local gatherings. Sir William Lucas is giving an evening party soon, we have already been invited. I am sure Mr Wickham will be there, for Sir William would like to catch him for Charlotte. But you are far prettier than she is, whatever Mr Darcy might say.’

Elizabeth laughed.

‘Mr Darcy was not very flattering, it is true.’

‘You need not worry about it. You do not need his good opinion. He is not half the man Mr Wickham is,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘Mrs Wickham! How well it sounds. I am sure you will be changing your name before long, Lizzy.’

Elizabeth did not want to encourage her mother, but nevertheless she was flattered by Mr Wickham’s attentions. He seemed a gentleman-like man and he had amused her. He had been far pleasanter than the odious Mr Darcy! But she did not know him very well and she was too intelligent to form an opinion of him on such a short acquaintance.

However, she found herself looking forward to Sir William Lucas’s party.

Mr Wickham went home from the assembly in a strange mood. A part of him was elated at having met Elizabeth. She was the most intelligent and humorous woman he had ever met. He loved the way her eyes sparkled with mischief. He loved her lithe figure and her beautiful face. He had heard it said that Jane Bennet was the beauty of the family, but he preferred Elizabeth. There was something about her that was out of the common way. He loved talking to her. Her voice was musical and the things she said were witty and interesting. Everything about her made him want to know her more. With some women, further knowledge only induced disgust, but with Elizabeth he was sure his admiration would deepen.

And that is why, alongside his elation, came dismay, for he was married. No matter how much he might come to like - and even love - Elizabeth, he could do nothing about it because he was already married.

He thought of his wife, the lovely but docile and boring Amelia. She was not the kind of woman who could hold his attention for more than a week or two. But Elizabeth . . .

He found himself wishing that he had met her before he married.

But then reality pulled him back down to earth. Elizabeth did not have any dowry to speak of. Denny knew all about the local neighbourhood young ladies and the Miss Bennets would have only a small competence when they married. And George Wickham was a man who needed money. Loved money. Worshipped money.

He shrugged his gloom aside. No one in Meryton knew that he was married. He was free to dance with Elizabeth, dine with her and flirt with her.

As he thought this, an image of Darcy rose before his eyes. Adding spice to his courtship of Elizabeth was the knowledge that it was annoying Darcy.

Wickham knew Darcy well. He had grown up with him, and he had seen something on Darcy’s face that he had recognised. It had driven Wickham on, even above and beyond his desire to get to now Elizabeth better. Because the look on Darcy’s face had been jealousy.

Wickham laughed as he went into his lodgings.

He had wanted his revenge on Darcy for having a great estate, a fortune and no need to work for the rest of his life. He had wanted those things for himself and he had suggested to Darcy, more than once in the past, that Darcy should give him an income. But Darcy had refused him. Even worse, Darcy had refused to give him the living that had been bequeathed to him.

Running away with Darcy’s sister would have been a good revenge. But now he had discovered, quite by chance, a better way. He would flirt with Elizabeth Bennet instead. He would win her affections and steal her from under Darcy’s nose.

You won’t get her, Darcy
, thought Wickham, as he took off his coat.
But it will be amusing to watch you try
.

The night of Sir William’s party came at last. It was held at Lucas Lodge, the property Sir William had bought when he had been given a knighthood. All of Elizabeth’s neighbours were there. Charlotte was there, of course, being the daughter of the house. It was true that she was plain, but she was Elizabeth’s friend. The two women’s characters complemented each other. Charlotte was practical and down to earth. Lizzy was also sensible, but she was capable of being romantic and idealistic as well. She had decided long ago that only love would tempt her into marriage, but she knew that Charlotte would accept any eligible gentleman.

Jane was soon talking to Mr Bingley. Elizabeth was happy to see them together because it was clear to her they were falling in love.

‘They make a handsome couple,’ came a voice at her shoulder.

Turning round, she saw George Wickham. She blushed and smiled. He was looking very handsome in a blue coat and cream pantaloons.

Mr Wickham sat down beside her and entertained her with his amusing and lively conversation.

Elizabeth happened to glance up as Mr Wickham finished an anecdote and to her surprise she found that Mr Darcy was watching her. What could he mean by it? He had made his opinion of her perfectly clear, so why was he paying her attention?

Mr Wickham noticed her eyes and saw that she was looking at Mr Darcy.

‘Does my company bore you?’ he asked with a teasing smile.

‘Not at all,’ she assured him. ‘It is just that Mr Darcy is watching me. I cannot make him out.’

‘I should not try,’ said Mr Wickham. ‘He is not worth the trouble.’

‘You speak as if you have had trouble with him before,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Indeed I have. I would not have mentioned it if you had not guessed it for yourself, but Mr Darcy and I knew each other as children.’

Elizabeth was intrigued.

‘We grew up together. My father was his father’s steward. Old Mr Darcy liked me very much and left me a living in his will, but young Mr Darcy decided not to honour his father’s wishes and he refused to give it to me. If not for a great piece of good fortune, when I inherited from a great uncle, then I would have been destitute.’

‘But this is monstrous,’ said Elizabeth, shocked. ‘How could he do such a thing? And why?’

George Wickham shook his head sadly.

‘Because he is jealous of me. His father loved me best, you see. I was friendly and helpful. Darcy was not. He was cold and arrogant. He could not forgive me.’

Elizabeth looked at Mr Wickham and thought she could quite see why old Mr Darcy would prefer him. He was everything that was charming, whereas Mr Darcy was haughty and above his company. He was doing nothing to make himself agreeable. He was standing by himself, talking to no one.

He seemed to feel her watching him and he turned towards her. Just for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. But that was ridiculous. Why should he be jealous? Unless he was one of those men who did not want a woman himself, but did not want anyone else to have her.

She decided to ignore him and gave her attention back to Mr Wickham

Mr Darcy was feeling equally disturbed, for the more he saw of Elizabeth, the more he was attracted to her. Her eyes were uncommonly beautiful and her figure was light and pleasing. And he was caught by the easy playfulness of her manner.

Once again she was talking to George Wickham, and jealousy stirred in his breast.

He wanted to go on watching her, even though it was pleasure and torment in equal measure, but Sir William Lucas approached him and started to bore him with talk about St James’s. Mr Darcy paid no attention to him. Instead he watched Elizabeth, and his pulse began to beat faster when Lady Lucas took Wickham from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth went to speak to her sister, and as she did so she drew close to where he was standing.

‘My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?’ asked Sir William. ‘Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure —’

‘Indeed I cannot,’ said Mr Darcy, cutting Sir William off in his haste to dance with Elizabeth. He offered her his hand. ‘Miss Elizabeth?’

She was surprised and before she could think of an excuse, he had taken her on to the floor. Thank goodness he had spoken when he did, instead of allowing Sir William to finish one of his interminable speeches. Otherwise, Miss Elizabeth might have had the presence of mind to refuse.

He was aware of Bingley watching him with pleasure and Caroline watching him with a frown. The other guests were watching him with stupefaction! They had not expected Mr Darcy to dance with anyone, least of all Elizabeth, for his disparaging remarks about her beauty had spread like wildfire round the town.

Once he had her, however, he did not know what to say to her. Conversation did not come easily to him and even if it had, he would rather have watched her dancing than distract himself by speaking. She had a way of moving that entranced him, and the sparkle in her eyes made him want to take her in his arms.

He had never felt like that about any woman before and he did not know how to react.

‘Are you always so silent when dancing?’ asked Miss Elizabeth.

Her tone of voice was not friendly and he wondered what Wickham had been saying about him. Telling her lies, he supposed, or half truths, to make her hate him. It was Wickham’s way with women. He preyed upon their tender hearts like a proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Her next words proved how accurate his fears had been, for her remarks showed him that Wickham had told her about the living. What he had not told her was that his behaviour made him unsuited to the church as a profession. No one who had seen Wickham drinking and wenching at university, and afterwards, could have thought him a good candidate for a clergyman. But of course Wickham had not told her this, and Darcy did not feel he could talk of it to a lady.

He felt his dislike of Wickham growing.

They tried two or three subjects without success and their conversation came to an end. The dance, too, ended, and Elizabeth escaped with evident satisfaction, and joined Mr Wickham again.

Darcy longed for the evening to end. It was torture to watch her with Wickham, but somehow he could not look away.

As he watched them, he found himself wondering where Wickham had found the money to buy such an expensive suit of clothes.

The answer came the following day.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were to dine with Colonel Forster and some of the other officers. Mr Bingley’s sisters had invited Miss Bennet to join them in the gentlemen’s absence. Miss Bennet arrived before the gentlemen left. She apologised but said that she had been ready early and so she had set out, for it looked like rain. Her decision had been a good one, for the rain started shortly after she arrived and so she had escaped a wetting, which could easily have led to a bad cold.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley left Netherfield Park at five o’clock and joined the male group in Meryton shortly afterwards.

Colonel Forster was a sensible man who knew a great deal about the war against Napoleon, and as the gentlemen ate, they discussed the war. But after dinner, as they sat over their port, the conversation turned to more domestic matters.

‘I am glad you took Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley,’ said Colonel Forster. ‘It is good for us to have a noble house which is occupied in the neighbourhood. I hear you are thinking of holding a ball.’

‘I believe I will,’ said Mr Bingley.

‘I hope you will invite the officers?’

‘Of course, you will be very welcome. And, if rumour is correct, we will soon be welcoming a Mrs Forster in our midst.’

Colonel Forster smiled and sat back in his chair, his red coat and gold epaulettes glowing in the candlelight.

‘If the lady accepts my hand, then yes, you will. I only wish there was more company for her here. There are a lot of unmarried young ladies, but no newly married matrons with whom she might become friends. I am trying to persuade George Wickham to bring his wife to Meryton. He seems settled here for the time being, but he says that she does not like to travel and that she is settled at their home in the country.’

‘Wife?’ exploded Darcy.

‘Yes,’ said Colonel Forster, looking at him in surprise. ‘A most charming young woman. My intended went to the seminary with Mrs Wickham, which is how she learnt of the marriage. Surely you knew about it? I thought you and Wickham grew up together.’

Darcy had by this time mastered himself. The shock had been intense but he knew better than to let it show. There was some mystery here. If Wickham had married, why had he not said anything about it? Why had he come into the neighbourhood as if he were unattached – for, if the Colonel’s lady love had not happened to know Mrs Wickham, then the marriage would never have been discovered. And why had Wickham not brought his wife with him?

But it might not be the same Mr and Mrs Wickham, Darcy realised quickly. The name was not uncommon and perhaps that had led to some confusion. He must learn more before committing himself to any rash words or actions.

He could say no more at the moment, for he did not want to reveal that Wickham’s marriage was unknown to him – if indeed it turned out to be the same Mr and Mrs Wickham.

Luckily, one of the other officers asked when the Netherfield ball would take place and the conversation moved on.

But once Darcy and Bingley were alone, going home after the dinner, Bingley said, ‘Do you think Colonel Forster can be right about Wickham? Can he really be married?’

‘I don’t know,’ Darcy admitted.

‘If so, he shouldn’t be paying so much attention to Miss Elizabeth,’ said Bingley with a worried frown. ‘I hope he won’t hurt her feelings. Anything that hurts Miss Elizabeth will hurt Jane, and I could not bear for her to be unhappy.’

‘Jane?’ queried Mr Darcy, with a lift of his eyebrows.

‘I mean Miss Bennet,’ said Mr Bingley hastily. Then, after a pause, he said, ‘What do you think of her, Darcy? Is she not an angel.’

‘She is certainly very beautiful,’ Darcy agreed.

‘She is more than beautiful. She is sweet and kind and quite the most wonderful woman I have ever met.’

‘I hope you will not raise expectations,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘It would be cruel to trifle with her affections.’

‘I have no intention of trifling with them!’ said Mr Bingley, affronted. ‘I am thinking of proposing.’

‘Bingley, you go too fast. You have only known her a few weeks, and in that time you have only seen her on a few occasions. It will take much longer before you can decide on such an important subject. But I would caution you not to try too hard to like her. Her family are beneath you, you know.’

‘I don’t care a fig for her family,’ said Bingley with unusual spirit.

‘Well, take my advice all the same and proceed with caution. You do not want to harm her reputation if you should find, after a few weeks more, that she is not the wife for you, after all.’

‘Oh, very well, I will do nothing to arouse any expectations.’

‘Good. That is all I ask,’ said Mr Darcy.

‘But what do you think about Wickham?’ asked Bingley, returning to their earlier topic of conversation. ‘Do you really think he is married?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘But I intend to find out. I will travel to London tomorrow and make enquiries. Why don’t you come with me? You can attend to any matters of business that you have outstanding, and some distance will help you to see your feelings for Miss Bennet in a clearer manner.’

‘I think you are right. Though I do not want to be away from her, perhaps it will be a good thing. If the separation makes my feelings stronger, than I truly believe I will speak to her.’

‘There is no need to think so far ahead,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Only come with me to London tomorrow and then see what you want to do next.’

‘There is the ball . . . ’ said Mr Bingley with a frown.

‘Your sisters can see to all the arrangements, and you will be back in time for the ball itself. As the invitations have not yet been sent, you can hold it a week later than you originally intended. By the time you return your feelings will be fixed one way or the other.’

Privately, Mr Darcy thought that his friend’s easy going temperament would allow him to forget Miss Bennet very quickly, once he was no longer in her company.

But Darcy knew he would not so easily forget Elizabeth.

Elizabeth! He had chastised Bingley for referring to Miss Bennet as Jane, and yet he himself thought of her sister as only Elizabeth, and not Miss Elizabeth.

He could feel his emotions deepening every day. She had bewitched him. He could not stop thinking about her. But now, to his jealousies and his anger with himself for speaking of her so slightingly to begin with, he had another anxiety to add.

What if George was truly married? In a way it would make things easier, because Elizabeth must surely be disgusted with George if she discovered the truth.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps she thought his attentions were merely a mild flirtation, acceptable even in a married man.

But what if she were falling in love with George?

The thought hit him hard in many different ways. If so, he would be devastated. He would also be jealous and angry with Wickham. But, more than that, if she was falling in love with Wickham then she would end up being hurt and that was the thing he could not forgive Wickham for, above all others.

He could not bear to see Elizabeth hurt.

‘Well, Lizzy, Mr Wickham paid you marked attention again at Sir William Lucas’s, and when he dined with us,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘I am sure he will make you an offer before long. And Mr Bingley will propose to Jane, too, I am sure.’

‘Mama, you must not let your imagination run away with you,’ said Elizabeth.

‘It is not my imagination. Everyone is talking about it.’ She became thoughtful. ‘Although, there were some people who thought Mr Darcy might be taking an interest in you.’

‘Mr Darcy has no interest in me, other than to criticise, you may depend upon it,’ said Elizabeth.

‘I am not so sure, Lizzy,’ said Charlotte Lucas, who was paying the Bennets a visit. ‘Mr Darcy danced with you at our house and he did not dance with anyone else.’

‘Only because your father asked him to!’ said Lizzy with a laugh.

But although she treated the matter lightly, she had felt humiliated when Sir William had all but begged Mr Darcy to dance with her. She had expected Mr Darcy to look down his nose at her and make some scathing comment, followed by a refusal, but he had surprised her by acceding to Sir William’s wishes.

She still did not know why. It was not as though he had any pleasure in her company. He had scarcely talked to her. But there had been something . . . . she tried to force the feeling down but it would not go away. She felt a sense of connection with him.

Abominable man! She did not want to feel a sense of connection with him. She wanted to think of Mr Wickham only. Mr Wickham was everything that was amiable.

‘Well, perhaps you are right,’ said Charlotte. ‘Great men like Mr Darcy often do things on a whim. Perhaps that is why he danced with you. Perhaps it was just a whim.’

‘I think it must have been,’ said Mary, Elizabeth’s moralising sister. ‘I went into town for some music this morning and I heard that Mr Bingley has left Netherfield and gone to London.’

‘What?’ demanded Mrs Bennet, rounding on Mary. ‘Why did you not say so at once?’

Elizabeth looked at Jane. She loved Jane dearly and she hoped Jane would not be too disappointed to learn that Mr Bingley had left.

‘He has probably gone to collect a party for the Netherfield ball,’ said Elizabeth, noticing that Jane’s eyes looked rather damp.

‘Oh, yes, of course, that will be it!’ said Mrs Bennet, her good humour restored. ‘He has gone to invite his friends to the ball. I hope he brings plenty of gentlemen. If there are too many ladies, then some of them will have to sit out again, and that is always vexing.’

‘Mr Darcy has gone to London, too,’ Mary remarked.

‘Good riddance!’ said Mrs Bennet, ‘ for never a prouder or more disagreeable man ever lived.’

The object of her scorn was at that minute visiting Somerset House, where a record of births, marriages and deaths was kept. He had made some discreet enquiries of his friends in London but no one had heard anything about Wickham marrying.

Darcy did not know whether he hoped it was a lie or not. If it was a lie, then Elizabeth would be spared humiliation, but there would be nothing to stop her marrying Mr Wickham then. The thought filled Mr Darcy with despair. He had tried to conquer his feelings for her but he had failed. She was the liveliest, wittiest, loveliest young woman he had ever met. Every time he saw her, he liked her more.

He wrestled with his feelings. Liking her, admiring her, being attracted to her – all these things were very well, but they could not lead anywhere. He could never marry a woman from such a low station in life, and he could never make her his mistress, either, for her station in life was too high for that. She was caught in the middle of the types of women he could have a relationship with: too good for a mistress but not good enough for a wife.

He turned his attention back to the task in hand. He made enquiries and by the end of the afternoon he had discovered that George Wickham was indeed married; that the marriage had taken place in the summer; and that his wife, an heiress, lived in the country and seldom ventured further than her local town.

Which meant that George Wickham had no business turning up in Meryton and behaving as a bachelor.

The more Mr Darcy thought about it, the more angry he became, until he felt he was ready to call Wickham out. Despite their childhood friendship, he could not abide the thought of Elizabeth being made unhappy. Only the knowledge that duelling was now illegal prevented him from calling on George and issuing a challenge.

But as he travelled back to his London home, where he was presently staying - and where he had invited Charles to stay - he was boiling over with anger and contempt.

The carriage rattled to a stop outside the imposing residence that was Mr Darcy’s London home. It was in a fashionable part of town, with a porticoed entrance and shining black railings. Stone steps led up to the door, which was as freshly painted as the railings, and a brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head was placed firmly in the centre of it.

The butler opened the door to admit his lord and master and Mr Darcy went in.

He glimpsed Mr Bingley through the open door of the library. Contrary to Mr Darcy’s expectations, Mr Bingley had not forgotten Miss Bennet and now, after spending a week in London, he was as much in love with her as ever. It was an unsuitable match, but Mr Darcy knew he could not excuse himself from a similar folly, because he was becoming increasingly aware that what he felt for Elizabeth was love. And he was afraid he would not be able to cure his affection, no matter how unsuitable it might be.

The sound of Georgiana’s pianoforte came from the drawing-room. Mr Darcy immediately felt his cares lessen as he thought of his sister. He went in. How fresh and pretty she was! His feelings regarding his sister, at least, were not in turmoil.

He had hoped that Mr Bingley would fall in love with her in time, but if Bingley was really set on Jane Bennet then it was not to be. But Mr Bingley was young yet. At the moment he was besotted with Jane Bennet, but Mr Darcy had not given up all hope that Mr Bingley might see the error of his ways and fall in love with Georgiana instead.