“Of course, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth agreed, linking her arm with Jane’s. She noticed the way Bingley’s gaze lingered on her sister and smiled inwardly. “I trust you will find ours the most agreeable town this side of London. Tell me, Mr Bingley, do you expect your friend Mr Darcy may also return to Meryton?”
Mr Bingley began to answer, his expression cheerful. Before he could, Wickham’s brows shot up in surprise. “Darcy? Why, I had no idea you knew my old friend Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued. Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy also knew each other? How intriguing!
Bingley’s face brightened. “You know him as well? Darcy and I met at Cambridge. He is one of the finest men I know.”
Wickham’s smile broadened, a genuine warmth in his tone. “Indeed, I could not agree more. Darcy and I grew up together. We were practically inseparable as boys. He is the very best of men, as was his father—why, I was just telling Miss Elizabeth only a few days ago about the good and noble man who mentored me.”
“Ah, I have heard much good of him. Alas, I never met George Darcy, God rest his soul, but Fitzwilliam Darcy has always been generous,” Bingley said warmly. “He helped me settle in when I first arrived at Cambridge. His guidance was invaluable.”
Wickham nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “Yes, he has a way of looking out for those he cares about. Our history is a bit more... complicated, but there is no denying his loyalty. I trust he is well?”
“Oh, quite so. We intended a shooting party at Pemberley this autumn, but… well, circumstances being what they were…”
Mr Wickham shook his head and waved a hand. “Say no more. It seems I unwittingly ruined more than one plan of yours. And Darcy’s, from the way it sounds. What do you say we invite Darcy to Netherfield as well? It would be a pleasure to have him join us.”
“That is a capital idea! Absolutely. Darcy would enjoy the company, I am sure.”
Mr Wickham chuckled deeply. “Are you certain you are speaking of the same Darcy? I never saw him at a party but that he was looking for an excuse to leave early.”
“Well…” Bingley spread his hands in a self-deprecating gesture. “You are not wrong there, but I am sure he would welcome the chance to leave London.”
“Then it is settled! We shall write to him first thing in the morning. But I fear, Mr Bingley, we are boring the ladies. Miss Elizabeth?” He bowed deeply. “May I have the honour of this dance?”
“Mr Wickham, you arequite the dancer. Have you always been so light on your feet?”
“You flatter me, Miss Bennet. I only hope I do not disappoint.”
“Disappoint! Hardly. Why, I think nearly every lady in the room is jealous of me.”
Mr Wickham laughed as he extended his hand to her to lead her down the set. “There is one, at least, who is much better pleased with her present partner.” He nodded to his right,where Jane was blushing in Mr Bingley’s arms. “They make quite the picture together, do they not?”
“Mr Bingley seems completely enchanted,” Elizabeth observed. “He can hardly take his eyes off her.”
“And your sister? Do you think she is equally charmed?”
She watched for a moment. “Jane is reserved, but she would not be smiling like that if she were not enjoying his company.”
Wickham chuckled. “The beginnings of attraction are always fascinating, are they not? The stolen glances, the hesitant smiles.”
“Much like a play,” Elizabeth agreed. “You can almost see the thoughts racing through their minds. ‘Does he like me?’ ‘Does she find me interesting?’ It is all most diverting.”
“Quite so.” He pirouetted and offered her his other hand. “And what about you, Miss Elizabeth? Do you enjoy being an observer, or do you prefer to be in the midst of it all?”
“I suppose a bit of both. I think of myself as a student of characters—albeit an amateur one—and it is rather difficult to do that from the centre of the throng. But there are few things I love better than to laugh and dance.”
“Well, I must say,” Wickham said, a playful glint in his eye, “I find you quite captivating, whether you are observing or participating.”
Elizabeth felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “You are very kind, Mr Wickham.”
“Kind? Not a bit of it. I am fascinated, Miss Elizabeth, and I find myself eager to know more of you.”
“Flattery, Mr Wickham? What would you say if I told you that I am…” She stepped close in the dance. “… quite immune?”
“I would call you a liar, Miss Elizabeth. But a rather fetching one.”
“Well, then! I see I am had. Very well, Mr Wickham, what would you like to know?”
