“I have more obligations and invitations than I care to count. None, unfortunately, particularly appealing.”
She pursed her lips. “Then, have you no family with whom to pass the festive season?”
“A great deal too many of them, in fact.”
“And are they all in London?”
“For the moment, save for one aunt in Kent.”
“Kent? I would have thought you might have said Lancashire or Northumberland.”
His brow creased, and he looked at her questioningly.
“The way you speak,” she offered by way of explanation. “I assumed you hailed from one of those counties.”
He shook his head, still looking away as much as possible. “No, Miss Elizabeth. My family hails from Derbyshire.”
“Derbyshire,” Elizabeth repeated, trying to keep the conversation flowing. “It must be a beautiful place. Do you visit often?”
“Whenever I can.”
Gracious, but he was a reluctant conversationalist. Best to try a different approach. “Do you have any brothers or sisters, Mr Darcy?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “I have a younger sister, Georgiana.”
“Tell me about her,” she encouraged gently. “She must be a delightful young lady.”
Darcy hesitated, his gaze flickering towards Mr Wickham before he responded. “Georgiana is very dear to me,” he said, his voice low. “She is... an excellent musician and a kind soul.”
Elizabeth sensed there was more he wished to say but was holding back. “It sounds as though you are quite fond of her,” she prompted, hoping to draw him out further.
Darcy’s eyes darkened slightly as he glanced again at Wickham. “Indeed,” he replied, his tone now clipped. “But perhaps this is not the time for such discussions.”
Well. So much for drawing the man out. “Of course. Another time, perhaps.”
This was all blasteduncomfortable. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, Darcy was acutely aware of Elizabeth Bennet’s every movement and word. His head throbbed with a dull ache that seemed to grow sharper with each passing moment.
He knew it was unwise to engage with her—his interest would betray him in a moment, and that was precisely the last complication he required at present. Fitzwilliam Darcy smitten by a countrified bewilderment! But a tempting bewilderment she was, with eyes that crackled like a hearth flame and a smile that concealed far more than it divulged.
No, no, he must put her off, if for no other reason than she distracted him too much. His object in coming here was to learn more about George Wickham, dash it all, not one Elizabeth Bennet. And so, he attempted to keep his responses clipped and practical. But each attempt to avoid her left him feeling colder, more distant, and he worried she would think him rude. Why he ought to care was a mystery that would require some introspection, but care, he did.
His discomfort grew as the tables turned, and he was forced to watch Elizabeth’s easy conversation with Wickham. They spoke with such familiarity and warmth, a sharp contrast to his own stilted attempts to prevent any intimacy. He listened intently, catchingsnippets of their dialogue about Charlotte Lucas, though he was supposed to be conversing with Catherine Bennet. The girl was too intimidated to speak much, and he doubted she had any thoughts deeper than the flavour of the soup to share, anyway.
Wickham was fairly leaning over the table, all but pushing his elbows onto it in his interest in the lady. “Miss Elizabeth, I have by now had the pleasure of meeting several families in the area, but I realise my understanding of them is still quite limited. Could you perhaps provide me with some particulars?”
He could tell she was smiling by the sudden roundness of her cheek as she gazed back at the rogue. “Of course, Mr Wickham. Who would you like to know more about?”
Wickham appeared to consider, but that was probably an act. Wickham knew exactly what he was about. If only Darcy did, as well. “I have been introduced to Sir William and Lady Lucas. They seem quite agreeable.”
“Yes, they are,” Elizabeth replied. “Sir William is always ready with a kind word, and Lady Lucas is very…” She hesitated— “Practical.” Another bunching of her cheek into a smile, though this one flashed more briefly. “She is a devoted mother, always looking out for her family.”
“And the Gouldings?” Mr Wickham continued.
“Oh, I would advise you to caution there.”
Wickham affected a surprised grin. “Indeed?”
“Unless you wish to hear ‘facts’ about yourself repeated to the neighbourhood that are rather less than factual. They are well-meaning but rather prone to gossip. Mrs Goulding is particularly fond of sharing news, whether it is true or not.”
