Page 28

The party at the Philips’s was not to Fitzwilliam’s liking.

He had never been one to play cards or games at events.

His dislike of dancing was well-known, even though he had stood up with Elizabeth more than once now.

He would never miss an opportunity to have Elizabeth on his arm.

Dancing afforded him the opportunity to hold her hand and touch her in a gathering without censure. That made the diversion tolerable.

Tonight, he was thankful that he and Elizabeth had both managed to avoid playing whist or lottery tickets thus far and sat near the windows having their own private conversation. An ideal way to pass an evening.

“Mr. Wickham just entered,” said Elizabeth.

“You know that is not what I hoped to hear you say.” He spoke the words low before peering over his shoulder.

His gaze collided with Wickham’s and held for a moment before the man continued speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Philips.

Once he finished greeting the hosts, he moved further into the room and engaged a freckled young lady in conversation.

“That young lady is Mary King. Lydia claims she has a fortune of ten-thousand pounds, but I have never heard anyone speak of it but my sister.”

“She is just the kind of lady Wickham would single out. Do you know if her family has been warned?” Wickham would not require any sort of confirmation of such a rumour.

He would bewitch the poor girl simply in the hopes that the gossip was truth.

If this Miss King indeed had a fortune, he would then continue charming her until he could get his greedy hands on the funds.

If she had nothing, he would abandon her, likely with child. He was a revolting individual !

“As you know, Papa attempted to spread word, but I am unaware if her uncle was told.”

Fitzwilliam peered once more over his shoulder.

Miss King smiled and appeared enamoured of Wickham.

He would need to speak to the lady’s uncle as soon as possible.

Wickham’s pursuit of Miss King would mean that the Bennet girls were probably safe for the moment, but he could not sacrifice another to protect the woman who owned his heart or her family.

“At least Lydia has not noticed him yet. I crept into her bedchamber early this morning while she slept and ensured her ability was still bound.”

One of her hands rested upon the cushion in the window seat, and he covered it with his own. Someone would have to be standing directly before them to see their disregard for propriety. He would never willingly harm Elizabeth’s reputation.

“The solstice will be here soon. Do not risk everything.” He had bent forward so he held her gaze.

She needed to know he was sincere. He had not shared his feelings with her yet, so he had to convey all he felt in some manner.

His love for her would be revealed on their wedding night—on the full moon.

How he prayed she held some depth of feeling for him.

With the brevity of their acquaintance, he could not hold out hope for more.

Elizabeth turned over her hand to clasp his. “I understand, but if Papa will not check her, then someone must. Lydia sleeps like the dead, and since she was not awake, it is not as though I cannot ensure she sleeps through me touching her arm.”

Her powers would indeed allow for her to creep into her sister’s bedchamber undetected, yet it still did not mean he wanted her to risk herself so.

“Why, Mr. Darcy! I never expected you to attend such an inauspicious event. ”

At Caroline Bingley’s cloying voice, his hand twitched, but he did not remove it. Let Miss Bingley see that he truly cared for Elizabeth—that he would marry her. No one would stop him.

“Why would I avoid such a gathering? My betrothed is here, as is her family. I have every reason to attend.”

Miss Bingley sniffed. “I have met your cousin, Miss Elizabeth. Your mother has insisted you are to marry him and not Mr. Darcy.” The lady tittered. “I do wish you joy.”

His betrothed stiffened, so he stood to tower over his friend’s sister.

“Miss Bingley, though no one speaks of it because it is rude, everyone here knows Mrs. Bennet is ill. If you have not noticed, those around her do not argue because such an endeavour is fruitless. Instead, they pay her assertions little mind. Besides, she has no authority to marry off her daughters without her husband’s consent.

Have you heard Mr. Bennet speak of Miss Elizabeth marrying Mr. Collins?

I know for a fact that you would never hear him utter such words. ”

“Mr. Darcy—” Miss Bingley reached out as if she would take his arm. He batted her hand away.

“Do not test my patience. Your brother has said he will send you to Scarborough should you continue to make a pest of yourself. I shall speak to him on the morrow.” Thank heavens no one was close by to listen to their conversation.

Miss Bingley looked down at Elizabeth who had never risen but watched with a slight curve to her lips. “I shall not live with my aunt.” She gritted the words out with a pinched expression.

“The decision is not mine to make,” said Elizabeth. “I do not know why you are now directing your statement to me.”

After a huff, Miss Bingley strode across the room to where Bingley chatted with Miss Bennet, allowing Fitzwilliam to sit once again .

“Despite my efforts to prove otherwise, Jane still believes Miss Bingley to be kind.”

“My friend and your sister make quite the pair. He is too amiable by far, and your sister believes everyone to be good. I do hope they never meet someone of Wickham’s ilk. They could lose everything.”

He looked about the room. “Would you like a cup of punch? You have not had anything to drink since our arrival.”

“Punch would be agreeable. Thank you.”

Elizabeth watched her betrothed walk across the room to the refreshment table.

Fitzwilliam was surely the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He was tall and broad shouldered but trim.

When he wore his buckskin breeches, which he was unfortunately not wearing this evening, his legs appeared muscled from his hours on horseback.

Her stomach always fluttered when he turned those clear blue eyes at her, particularly when he was attempting to convey his sincerity.

He would lean closer, his cedar scent tickling her nose, while he spoke in those low tones that rumbled through her.

What could she say? She was enamoured of her future husband.

He never disparaged her magic because she was a lady, and he seemed to take pride in her accomplishments.

How many gentlemen would have accepted her as she was?

They had yet to discover how people would respond to her position as the heir.

How unfortunate she could not inherit Longbourn to retain it with Bennet blood!

They may have been magical communities, but they were subject to the laws of the crown.

The monarchy had lost their belief and their magic after the last of the Tudor monarchs.

“You appear deep in thought, Miss Elizabeth. ”

Her attention jolted to Mr. Wickham who now sat beside her. When had he done so? She shifted as far to the edge of the window seat as possible. His mere proximity made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“I am merely waiting for Mr. Darcy to return with some punch. Are you enjoying my aunt’s card party?”

He smiled and glanced back at Miss King. “I have been made to feel welcome.”

“Then I am glad.” She kept her hands clasped in her lap and made an effort to keep her expression neutral. She would reveal naught if she could help it!

“Are you?” he asked. “Then you do not believe Darcy’s slander of me?”

“Slander?”

“Darcy has told lies of me since we were children. He could not bear that I was his father’s favourite and has exacted his revenge well.

I have lost friends and those I cared for like family.

Does that seem fair to you?” As he began to speak, a bitter taste formed at the tip of her tongue and began to spread.

“Mr. Wickham, the Darcy and Bennet families have been friends for generations. I first made your acquaintance yesterday, so I can hardly say I know you. In fact, your approaching me as such and speaking of your personal matters is hardly proper, particularly when you are speaking of my betrothed.”

“Why are you here, Wickham?”

At Fitzwilliam’s voice, she stood and accepted a glass of punch with one hand while the other slipped into the crook of his arm. “I am certain Mr. Wickham was invited as a member of the militia and nothing more, is that not correct, sir?”

The man rose, his smile slipping back into place in a manner that sent a shudder up Elizabeth’s spine and caused the bitter taste upon her tongue to become overpowering.

He had been attempting to poison her opinion of Fitzwilliam, but he had not used his full ability until now.

She had taken a draught that revealed a persuasive tongue before they departed for tonight’s party.

Her father had never attempted the mixture, but she could now attest the potion was successful.

The foul taste in her mouth was evidence of its efficacy.

She swallowed down a gag. “Mr. Darcy, if you would accompany me outside for a moment; I am a bit ill all of a sudden.”

Before she had finished the sentence, Fitzwilliam was hastening her towards the door. No sooner had they stepped outside than the cool air brought her some relief. One or two others milled about in the garden, likely seeking air as well.

She stepped over to an oak tree and leaned against the trunk in case she cast up her accounts.

Her betrothed took the cup of punch from her hand, but she snatched it back. “Wait! That may be of aid.” She took a sip and let the sweet liquid coat her tongue.

“If you are nauseous, the spirits in the punch are the last thing you should be drinking.”