Page 6

The time had come for Wickham to feed the waning flame of passion he had kindled in Mathilda Maxwell.

After all, he was not yet bored with her affections, and certainly not ready to give up the shower of gifts she bestowed on him.

Lately, from the corner of his eye, he caught her surveying one of the newer and younger members of the waitstaff at the Palm Court.

Recognizing her hungry look, he resolved to redirect it back to himself.

What better way to do it than to make her just the slightest bit jealous?

He settled himself between the two sisters, Elizabeth and Jane, as they walked arm in arm to the Underground and soon were within walking distance of their destination on the Strand.

Using his well-practiced charm, George attempted to draw Jane out.

She was relegated to the unenviable post of chaperone on this, George’s first outing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

“ So, your sister convinced you to seek your fortune in London.”

“ I could not let her travel here alone.”

“ You are a good and noble sister. I admire that.” Jane positively beamed. “There are not many who would uproot their lives for the sake of their sister’s dream. You are, indeed, a unique woman.”

“ I think you flatter me, Mr Wickham. Families do stick together, you know.”

He had no reply, and it was just as well. “Ah, ladies. We have arrived.”

And arrived they had. The house was whitewashed and lovely, across from a park, and even in these dreary winter months, looked enchanting due to the ancient oaks and manicured gardens.

“ My, this is posh. Are you sure you have the correct address, Mr Wickham?” Jane was looking about as if starstruck.

“ It belongs to a… friend of mine. She is hosting a tango tea this afternoon.”

“ What in the world is that?” Lizzy got no answer as they were already at the door and were admitted by a rather severe-looking butler.

“ The other guests are in the ballroom,” he said, looking down his nose. Wickham took no notice of the butler’s disdain as he clutched both women by the arm and propelled them up the staircase, laughing.

***

Lizzy had to admit she was impressed by Mr Wickham and his extraordinary circle of friends.

They were introduced to the lady of the house, a Mrs Matilda Maxwell.

She was very grand indeed. But where was Mr Maxwell and how did Mr Wickham, a waiter, know such a grand lady?

After divesting themselves of hats and wraps, they were seated with the other guests in a large circle of chairs that surrounded a foreign-looking couple, who stood holding hands.

Elizabeth didn’t know what to make of the scene.

“ Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the man began in an accent either Spanish or something South American.

He was extraordinary. His all-black attire included trousers that were very tight at the thigh yet flared slightly at the ankle.

His shirt was a shiny material, perhaps silk, over which he wore a short waistcoat that didn’t button at the front and didn’t reach his waist. The woman’s dress was orange, her hair done up tightly in a bun at the back of her head.

The skirt was scandalous: above her ankle and free flowing like a cape, slit from the bottom up to her thigh.

Even her shoes matched the bright orange of her dress and had a heel higher than anything Lizzy had ever seen.

“Tonight, we will all learn the tango. It is the dance of my country, The Argentine. Observe.”

The male dancer took the lady in his arms, bringing them impossibly close together.

In the corner sat a gramophone, and the lady of the house, Mrs Maxwell, waited for a nod from the speaker, then started the record.

The music had a distinctly Latin flavour, and the couple began to dance.

They promenaded about the room, very close together, the man’s knees between the woman’s, which caused a few gasps from Lizzy and Jane.

The woman held her elbow high and kept her hand behind the man’s shoulder, palm flat to the floor.

His hand was on her waist, their other hands touching.

The dance seemed complicated and needed lots of space in which to move.

It was also so much more sensuous than anything Lizzy had ever seen before.

“ Lizzy…”

“ Hmmm?”

“ Lizzy …” Jane stage-whispered from close by and it took a while for Lizzy to react. She tore her gaze away from the dancing duo and peered at her sister.

“ What?”

“ We should go,” she mouthed behind Mr Wickham’s back. Elizabeth shook her head, but Jane nodded hers.

Before their pantomime could advance any further, the music stopped.

“ All right. Gentlemen, please help us clear the floor. You stand on one side of the room. Ladies on the other, and we will begin.”

Wickham practically bounded out of his seat and offered a hand to Lizzy and then Jane. As they rose, he and the other gents quickly took their chairs and put them on the side of the ballroom.

“ I believe I shall go and sit over there and watch,” Jane said, and she followed the gents over to the side.

Lizzy watched her escape to the far end of the ballroom, then went over. “Oh, come along. As long as you are here, you might as well learn the steps.” She held out her hand.

“ No.” Jane smiled sweetly up at her.

“ I’m sure that this dance will be the next big thing. You don’t want to be left behind.” She tried every argument in her head, but Jane wasn’t having it and remained as immovable as a seated Buddha.

Lizzy stood still for a moment, not knowing what to do. To her surprise, the young man they had seen a week ago from Selfridges’ window was fast approaching. Jane’s face lit up before she promptly got to her feet. He bowed slightly to them both.

“ I do hope that I am not being too forward, but I would like to introduce myself. Charles Bingley.” He extended his hand to Jane first. She was blushing. “And you are?”

“ Jane Bennet, and this is my sister, Elizabeth.”

“ So pleased to meet you.” He shook Lizzy’s hand and then turned his attention once more to Jane.

Lizzy could see by the way they looked at one another that this was the perfect time to join the other ladies in the dance lesson.

She excused herself. As she walked away, she could hear Mr Bingley entreating Jane to be his partner.

Within a few minutes, Jane was on the ladies’ side of the ballroom, learning the steps to the tango.

“ All right, gentlemen, ladies, now take your partner and let us practice. Step, step, step and close. Step, step, step and close.” Wickham offered his hand to Lizzy.

She took it, ready to be swept into his arms. The lesson, however, began much more mildly.

They were instructed to face each other, only touching hands…

nothing so clutching and intimate as the couple had demonstrated.

Mr Wickham seemed a bit distracted and was watching Jane and Mr Bingley. He turned his attention back to Lizzy.

“ Who is that man dancing with your sister? His name wouldn’t by chance be Bingley?”

“ Yes, it is. Do you know him?”

A rueful smile crossed Mr Wickham’s face. “He is a friend of someone I knew long ago.” He then began to scan the ballroom and diverted his attention so much so that he trod on Elizabeth’s foot.

“ Oh, I am sorry. How clumsy of me. Are you all right?”

Lizzy winced and shook her foot slightly. “I do believe I’ll live. You seem a bit distracted.”

Wickham gave her one of those knowing smiles, almost a smirk. “No, no. I think all is well.”

By this time, the men were instructed to encircle the waists of their partners and, with pressure from the hand, pull the women close. Wickham’s smile evaporated, and Lizzy felt a heat rise between them.

By the time the afternoon was over, Lizzy was smitten with the tango. George was a superb dancer, and his smouldering looks and warm breath on her neck were exciting. As they jostled home on the Underground, she resolved to learn more about him.

“ You are an enigma, Mr Wickham. You are so well-spoken, as if you have been well-educated, and yet you work as a waiter. I am perplexed.”

He smiled. “As much as I would like to remain a mystery to you, Miss Bennet, since we are no longer strangers, I feel I can confide in you my whole, sad story.”

“ Is it so sad, Mr Wickham?”

“ Please, call me George. After all, we are friends now.” She nodded, and he continued.

“I was raised along with a gentleman’s son at a great house in the north called Pemberley.

My father managed the estate for the master of the house, and the son of the house and myself grew up almost as brothers.

The master was a kind man, one might even say egalitarian.

Upon his death, he had left instructions for me to obtain a good living for the rest of my days, but the son chose to ignore it. ”

“ What? How could he? You should find a good solicitor and fight him in court.”

“ I thought of that, but the bequest had only been a suggestion and not written in the will. By the time everything was settled, both our fathers were gone, and the son of the house made all the decisions.”

“ The man sounds like a bully and a blackguard. I would smear his name to anyone who would listen. Did you hear this, Jane?” Sat opposite, Jane looked up from her seat and leaned forward.

“ I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Never mind. I will tell you all when we get home. Just go back to your sweet dreams.” Lizzy knew exactly who she was dreaming of. Jane’s cheeks glowed.

“ I’m sorry, George…” She made a point to use his given name. “Do go on. As I said, I would spread this story all over London and show this man up as the scoundrel that he is.”

Wickham nodded sadly. “No, I honour the memory of his father too much to do any such thing. I am making my way in the world, and I believe I’m happy with my lot.”

Lizzy patted George’s hand. “I think you are quite an admirable fellow. I really do. By the way, what is this nasty fellow’s name? I’d like to know, just on the odd chance our paths ever cross.”

George looked off wistfully towards the darkened windows of the underground train. “His name is Darcy… Fitzwilliam Darcy.”