Page 11 of Missing

"No, she is a wonderful lady. But unfortunately, all is impossible between us." William explained everything, for he longed to share his feelings with someone and could not confide in his mother or Mr. Gardiner.

"I must say, you are very honourable, and you must be deeply in love with her.

I do not know if I should have the strength to renounce the woman I love for fear of her family's disapproval.

Yet if she loves you, I cannot think you should give such weight to social conventions valued only by the haughty. "

"I know, but I could never be happy knowing that the woman I love had been forced to forsake her family and her rightful place in society to be with me. That burden would be too heavy to bear."

"Perhaps you are right. Still, there is no better way to forget one woman than to spend a few hours with another. I know some very exclusive places where the company is sure to be agreeable."

"You mean a brothel?" William asked with a faint smile.

"Men of my class do not call it that, though in essence it is the same," Richard replied.

"I thank you for your invitation, but I have never visited such a place, and I never shall," William said firmly.

"I do not think you prudish, so I must assume you have strong reasons," Richard observed.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. My father always told me that many women who resort to such work do so out of necessity, and that paying for their services is a form of exploitation and slavery."

"This is the second time you have spoken so proudly of your father. It is plain to me he was a remarkable man."

"He was, and that is why I shall always honour his name and his teaching."

Yet William had another, more personal reason for avoiding women of low morals.

In that recurring nightmare, he always saw himself as a child thrown into the river by a woman who cried that she hated him.

He sometimes feared the woman was his mother, and that he had never had a father at all.

Perhaps she had wished to be rid of him.

Still, he had been blessed to find the best parents a child could ever wish for, while countless others roamed the streets unloved and unprotected.

He could never condemn a child to such a fate as his adoptive parents had saved him from.

"Dalton, I shall be away from London for a fortnight, but if you need to contact me, you may write to me at this address," Richard said, handing him a note.

"It was a pleasure to see you, and I sincerely hope your uncle recovers soon," William said warmly.

"I am sure he will feel better once the winter is past and he may return to Pemberley."

"Pemberley?"

"That is the name of my uncle's estate. Why do you ask?"

"I do not know. I thought I had heard the name before," William replied.

"It is a well-known place; you have probably heard it mentioned in business circles."

"That must be so."

Richard studied William for a moment and fancied he detected familiar features in his face, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

The two friends parted, each returning to his own life on opposite sides of the city.

◆◆◆

Elizabeth was to return to Hertfordshire the following day, and since that morning in the park, she had not spoken with William.

She had seen him only twice, and for only a few minutes.

He had greeted her politely, yet ignored her afterwards, without even meeting her gaze when he was obliged to address her.

First, it had been Jane who had set her aside, and now it was William.

Elizabeth longed to travel far away, to begin a new life where no one knew her.

She felt deeply disappointed and mistrusted everyone.

At least, in a few days, she would again have the company of her family, and Jane's wedding preparations would serve to distract her.

It was clear that all she had once dreamed might blossom between herself and William would never come to pass.

That afternoon, Elizabeth walked six blocks until she reached a street lined with shops. She wished to buy presents for her sisters, knowing Lydia and Kitty would give her no peace if she returned empty-handed. She purchased gloves for them and music sheets for Mary.

As she stepped out of the music shop, a familiar male voice addressed her.

"Miss Bennet, what a pleasure to see you again."

"Mr. Wickham, the surprise is all mine," Elizabeth replied.

Wickham had always admired Elizabeth. She was the only woman he had ever met who combined such beauty with intelligence. Had he been wealthy and respectable, he might have chosen her as his wife.

"Are you here visiting your uncle? Charles and your sister will soon be married, and I imagine you shall return home at once."

"Yes, I return tomorrow with my uncle and aunt. That is why I came to buy gifts for my sisters. These music sheets are for Mary; she enjoys playing the pianoforte. But I did not know you were so fond of music," Elizabeth remarked, glancing at the sheets Wickham held.

"They are not for me, Miss Bennet, but for a dear friend." Wickham had purchased them for Georgiana, hoping thereby to gain an excuse to approach her, for she had been avoiding him.

Mr. Wickham offered to accompany Elizabeth as she walked home, and she could not decline without seeming impolite.

He seized the opportunity to flirt, recounting all he had done since returning to London, while lamenting once again how unfairly the world treated him.

He boasted that most of his friends belonged to the first circles, and as the godson of one of the wealthiest men in England, he attended the most exclusive balls.

Elizabeth could not help comparing him to William, and she wondered how she could ever have thought Mr. Wickham a charming man worthy of admiration.

Now she saw plainly that he was frivolous, unwilling to accept his place in society, and ever eager to excuse his indolence and refusal to labour for a better life.

"Mr. Wickham, I do not wish you to walk any farther with me. We live in different parts of the city, and I would not have you go out of your way on my account. My uncle's house is but three blocks from here," Elizabeth said. She could not bear to listen to such superficial talk any longer.

But Mr. Wickham did not like being dismissed so coldly. She had always treated him kindly in Hertfordshire, and he was certain she had been in love with him.

"Please, do not worry for me, my dear Elizabeth. I delight in every moment of your company," Wickham replied in a honeyed tone, gazing directly into her eyes. He then seized her hand and attempted to kiss it, but she resisted.

"Mr. Wickham, I wish this conversation to end. I must return home at once, so if you will excuse me, I bid you good day."

"Why are you so evasive, my dear Lizzy?" Wickham pressed, gripping her hand and preventing her from moving away.

"Mr. Wickham, you are taking liberties I do not permit any gentleman…"

"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Do you require my assistance?" William's voice cut in, stern and indignant.

"And who is this man who dares interrupt our private conversation?" Wickham demanded angrily.

"My name is William Dalton, and I am Miss Bennet's friend," William replied in a menacing tone. He had no idea who the man was, but he sensed that, despite his fine clothing, he was nothing more than a scoundrel.