Page 27

CHAPTER 27

Meeting Wickham

S hortly after breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Bennet declared that she required a particular item from the haberdasher’s and insisted that her four daughters go into the village to fetch it.

Elizabeth would have preferred to wait until the party from Netherfield arrived, so they might walk together, but her mother would brook no delay.

The resulting party consisted of the four Miss Bennets, their companion, and the two footmen Mr. Darcy had sent to Longbourn the previous evening.

Upon their arrival, Bennet had outfitted the men in plain livery, not wishing to invite questions as to why his daughters were accompanied by footmen in unfamiliar colours.

As the group went about their errand, they became aware of a marked increase in red coats among the villagers.

The militia had clearly begun arriving in earnest. Having been warned by their father to avoid too much familiarity with the officers, the young ladies made no effort to approach any of them and, indeed, took pains to keep their distance.

That proved more difficult than expected .

As they exited the haberdasher’s shop, they were met by none other than Sir William Lucas, who appeared to be introducing several militia officers to young men from the neighbourhood.

Upon spotting the Bennet sisters, his face lit up.

“Ah! Before you, gentlemen, are some of the jewels of our county,” he cried.

“Come, Miss Bennet, and allow me to present you and your sisters to these fine officers of His Majesty’s militia. You shall see much of them, I imagine—they are to be quartered here for the winter, and I am certain they will be attending many of our neighbourhood’s events.”

Reluctantly, the young ladies stepped forward, followed closely by their footmen whose watchful eyes did not waver from the officers.

Sir William beamed with importance as the young ladies approached.

“Ah, splendid timing, ladies! Gentlemen, may I present Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, and Miss Catherine Bennet—four of the loveliest young ladies in all Hertfordshire. They are accompanied by their companion, Mrs. Graham.”

He turned to the officers with a flourishing gesture.

“Ladies, this is Captain Richard Carter, and Lieutenants Jonathan Sanderson and George Wickham.”

Captain Carter and Lieutenant Sanderson bowed politely, murmuring appropriate pleasantries.

Lieutenant Wickham, however, took a step forward and offered Elizabeth a particularly warm smile as he singled her out for his attention.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his gaze lingering, “a pleasure.”

Elizabeth returned a restrained nod, her expression cool.

“Lieutenant,” she said evenly, her gaze flicking—just for a moment—towards the footman who had subtly stepped closer to her.

Sir William, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, continued speaking with cheerful enthusiasm .

Behind them, the two footmen remained alert, their postures deceptively relaxed but their eyes sharp—especially on the officer who had so quickly singled out one of their charges.

“Did Sir William say your name was George Wickham?” Elizabeth asked, her tone light but unmistakably wary.

Wickham turned to her with an easy, bright smile, his posture effortlessly graceful.

“Yes. Yes, he did.”

He studied her face with interest. “Have we met before? I feel certain I would remember such a lovely face if we had.”

Elizabeth’s smile was polite at the fulsome compliment but remained distant and unaffected by his flirtations.

“No, Lieutenant, I do not believe we have.”

“Ah,” he said, tilting his head.

“Then perhaps it is merely that I feel I know you already.”

Elizabeth arched her brow, unimpressed.

“I cannot imagine how that would be possible.”

Wickham let out a soft laugh as though she had said something delightfully clever.

“It is only that your reputation precedes you, Miss Elizabeth. Sir William spoke of your wit and fine eyes before you arrived—and I can now say he did not exaggerate on either account.”

Elizabeth did not acknowledge the compliment.

“So, you are newly committed to the militia,” she said instead, her tone returning to one of polite neutrality.

“How do you expect to enjoy serving your country?”

Wickham nodded, sensing the shift in her tone but undeterred by her apparent disinterest. That, he was confident, would not last, for he had won over even more difficult ladies before.

“Indeed. I have only just joined the regiment here—Meryton is a welcome change. I was not always intended for military life, you know. I was once meant for the church.” This he said as though inviting more questions, but when Elizabeth merely said nothing, he continued on with a light, self-deprecating laugh.

“However, things did not proceed as planned, and so—here I am. One learns to adjust and be happy in the face of difficulties.”

His gaze lingered on her as he added, looking at Elizabeth in what could nearly be described as a leer, “The air, the quiet…this part of the world certainly has its charms.”

Elizabeth’s expression remained composed, though she inwardly shivered at his tone.

“Are you already familiar with Hertfordshire, or is it all new to you?”

Wickham hesitated briefly, then shrugged, as if the matter were of little consequence.

“Not particularly. I grew up in the north, in the Peak District. My path led elsewhere.”

He cast a glance towards the horizon, his tone apparently reflective.

“Hertfordshire is quite unlike Derbyshire, but I find it agreeable. A fresh start, in a peaceful place—there are worse fortunes.”

She caught the careful phrasing but did not press him.

As the rhythmic sound of approaching hooves grew louder, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley riding into the square.

Without hesitation, she stepped away, leaving Wickham without excusing herself, and moved directly into the path of the riders, forcing them to slow and dismount.

Darcy dismounted first and came to stand next to her.

“Mr. Darcy,” she hissed, “I must warn you; George Wickham is here and has joined the militia that will be encamped here in Meryton for the autumn and winter.”

Darcy stiffened at the mention of the name.

“He is here? In Meryton?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

“Did he speak to you? ”

“Only briefly,” Elizabeth replied.

“He made a few vague remarks about past misfortunes, but—” she hesitated, clearly reluctant to say more, yet compelled to add, “I believe he singled me out quite deliberately. If I am not mistaken, he was attempting to flirt with me, or at least to ingratiate himself with me by flattering me.”

Darcy’s eyes flashed with anger, though his reply was measured.

He gave a sharp nod.

“I must inform Richard.”

He turned—and at once caught sight of the remaining three Bennet sisters still engaged in conversation with Sir William where they were standing entirely too close to Wickham for his comfort.

From the expression on Wickham’s face, it was clear he had seen Darcy.

Judging by the smug curve of his smile, he had already guessed his presence would be unwelcome.

“Come,” Darcy said, his expression darkening.

“Let us see how he behaves now that he knows I am in the village. He will attempt to insinuate himself into others’ good graces while casting me as the villain. While he fears Richard, I am afraid he has always seen me differently—perhaps because I once gave him too much grace, owing to our shared childhood.”

He paused, his jaw tightening.

“After Ramsgate, I warned him—if he crossed me again, I would call in every debt he owes. I confess, I am curious to see what he intends now,” he added, his voice so low only Elizabeth could hear.

Offering his arm to her, he spoke with quiet urgency.

“Bingley and I will escort you and your sisters home. I was already on my way to Longbourn to speak with your father—and now I must inform him of this as well. The merchants should be warned, and any father with daughters.”

Glancing again towards Wickham, he murmured, “Richard can see to that. He is due to meet with the colonel of the regiment shortly. He did not accompany us this morning, but I must reach him before he encounters Wickham unprepared. It would be best if Wickham does not learn of his presence too soon.”

With that, Darcy guided Elizabeth back towards her sisters.

After exchanging a few quiet words with Bingley, he turned and began escorting the group in the direction of Longbourn.

One of the footmen took the reins of both horses and, at Darcy’s nod, mounted swiftly, riding ahead with Bingley’s horse following behind.

The rest of the party had been oblivious to the tension Elizabeth and Darcy felt upon leaving Meryton.

Only Mary noticed that her sister was uncomfortable in the presence of one of the officers, but she had not noted his name.

Jane and Catherine had been pleasantly conversing with Sir William and the other two gentlemen, while Mrs. Graham looked on.

They failed to observe how Lieutenant Wickham had singled out Elizabeth, though the footmen, who had been instructed to keep a particular watch on her, had done so and remained cautious.

Regardless, Jane had been pleased with Mr. Bingley joining their group, and neither she nor Catherine had thought anything of it when Mr. Bingley offered to escort them home.

As the group made their way back towards Meryton, no one noticed that Darcy and Elizabeth had fallen slightly behind the others—or that the second footman followed the couple at a respectful distance, his attention sharply fixed on his surroundings.

The man’s diligence allowed Darcy to relax somewhat, and despite the seriousness of their conversation, he found himself grateful for Elizabeth’s company.

“I should very much have liked to see your sister,” Elizabeth said softly, glancing ahead to ensure they would not be overheard, “but I am glad she did not accompany you today. It is better that she be forewarned about Mr. Wickham’s presence.”

Darcy exhaled heavily.

“Indeed. Her presence would have made the encounter far more difficult. I am relieved he did not approach me directly, but the mere fact that he now knows I am here is troubling.”

He paused, brow furrowed.

“If, as we suspect, he and Lord Matlock are in league, then his arrival may not be a coincidence. He could have been sent—deliberately—to pressure me, to remind me of what is expected. Now that he has seen us together, I have no doubt he will report it to my uncle.”

Blowing out a slow breath, Darcy took a moment to consider his words.

“Last night, Richard suggested that—were I already married—my uncle’s threats would carry far less weight. But as we are not yet engaged, and have only touched on the subject briefly, I find myself uncertain how best to proceed.”

He paused, then added in a rush, “I am not opposed to the idea—quite the opposite—but I would never wish to rush you or rob you of the sort of wedding you might have hoped for.”

Elizabeth had stopped short in the middle of the lane, staring at him as he once again stumbled over his words.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, utterly flummoxed by his statement.

Darcy briefly closed his eyes, feeling the heat rise at the back of his neck—no doubt turning his ears pink.

“Regardless of the contract our fathers signed, I am convinced that you are the only woman in the world who could truly induce me to marry. Others might serve as mistress of Pemberley, perhaps, but only with you can I imagine the joy, the partnership, the life I hoped marriage might bring.”

He drew a slow breath before continuing, more carefully.

“That said, I do not yet know what you feel. We have touched on the subject, but I had hoped to offer you the courtship you deserve—not one rushed, not one forced into secrecy. Certainly not a marriage we would be obliged to conceal.”

Elizabeth blinked, her brow furrowed.

“Why would we need to keep our marriage a secret? I do not understand your cousin’s reasoning,” she said.

His words pleased her—but she could not quite untangle their meaning.

“I am not entirely certain I understood Richard’s rationale for secrecy,” Darcy admitted.

“Perhaps he believed that if our marriage were not immediately known, we might observe the earl’s actions to discern his intentions more clearly—and use that knowledge to neutralise whatever threats he might attempt against me or my family.”

“Would not the announcement of our marriage be enough to stop his blustering?” Elizabeth asked.

“Did you not say the countess would act to silence any rumours about Georgiana if necessary?”

Darcy nodded distractedly, murmuring, “I am not certain,” before falling silent.

At last, he turned fully towards her and took both her hands gently in his.

“Please, end my misery, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low but fervent.

“This conversation has left me at sixes and sevens—we speak of marriage as if it is settled, yet as you rightly reminded me yesterday, you cannot answer until I have asked.”

He drew a breath.

“I am asking now—Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me? Be my wife, the mistress of my home and of my heart. I…I love you. And I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes bright as she gently squeezed his hands.

“You wonderful man,” she said, her voice warm with affection.

“Of course I will marry you. Not because of any contract our fathers signed—but because I love you, too, Fitzwilliam Darcy. ”

Darcy pulled Elizabeth into a brief embrace, right there in the middle of the lane—unseen by anyone save the footman, who glanced away with a knowing grin.

After a moment, Darcy stepped back, but did not release her.

Instead, he guided her hand to his arm and placed it gently at his elbow, covering it with his own.

Their fingers twined together with quiet certainty, neither of them inclined to let go.

Slowly, they resumed their walk towards Longbourn.

“My darling Elizabeth, you have made me the happiest man in all of England,” Darcy said quietly.

Elizabeth grinned up at him.

“So, how quickly ought we to wed?” she asked.

“If we marry by common license, we can marry next week, and if need be, we can keep the matter quiet until you and your cousin feel it can be revealed.”

Darcy shook his head.

“If we marry in that way, we will be forced to be separated until it can be revealed. I would prefer not to wait to have you always at my side once you are mine. We can obtain the license as soon as may be, but we can wait to use it until it is necessary or you can plan the wedding you desire.”

Laughing, Elizabeth stopped them again.

“Certainly you know me well enough now to know that the details of the wedding are of less concern to me than they will be to my mother, Mr. Darcy. She is the one who would prefer to delay the wedding to make it into the grandest the village has ever seen. For myself, a simple wedding would do, with just my family and friends in attendance. I would like my Gardiner relations to be able to attend, but other than that, I think that all of those we hold most dear are already here.”

Smiling broadly, Darcy gave Elizabeth’s hand a tender squeeze before guiding them forward once more.

“Yet another way you are ideally suited to me, dearest. However, I do have one small complaint to make. ”

He paused, waiting until she looked up at him again.

“My name is Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth—or William, if you prefer. My aunts call me Fitzwilliam, Georgiana calls me ‘Brother,’ and my male friends refer to me simply as Darcy. Only my mother ever called me William, and I think…I should very much like to hear that name from your lips.”

“William,” Elizabeth breathed, her voice soft as she tried out the new name.

Darcy drew in a sharp breath, as though the sound of it had struck him.

It had been more than twelve years since anyone had spoken that name with such affection.

Hearing it now, from her, was heady.

After a moment, he said quietly, “My only regret just now is that I proposed to you in the open where there is no place nearby for me to kiss you.”

He glanced down at her with mock solemnity.

“Perhaps your father might allow us the use of that little room beside his study once more. I would like to seal our promise in a far more agreeable way.”

Elizabeth laughed, the sound light and happy.

Darcy gave her a look of theatrical injury though his eyes danced.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he said again.

“Promise me that you will always laugh, no matter what befalls us. I know that I can be far too solemn at times, but your laughter always improves my mood.”

She smiled gently at him.

“You have had to carry much weight, particularly since your father died,” she said, seeing him nod in reply.

“I would be delighted to bring happiness into your life, as well as, I hope, take some of your burdens. For years, I have done that for my father, and now I will do that for you.”