“Indeed, Miss Bennet,” Wickham replied, turning to her. “And I must say, I am already most impressed with the welcome I have received. The warmth of this town is unparalleled.”
“Oh, how charming!” Lydia exclaimed, stepping forward. “And will you be attending the next Assembly, Mr. Wickham? Surely you must come—it would be a crime for a new officer not to attend!”
“I would not dream of missing it,” Wickham said, his smile broadening. “Especially if all the young ladies of Meryton are as delightful as you, Miss Lydia.”
Lydia giggled, and Elizabeth bit back a smile of her own. There was something undeniably magnetic about Mr. Wickham, though she could not yet decide if it was genuine or merely polished. His manner was effortless, as though he had been born to charm, but there was nothing yet to suggest anything untoward. In fact, he seemed entirely agreeable.
“And what brings you to Meryton, Mr. Wickham?” she asked, curious to hear more.
“A change of scenery, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied. “The regiment offers an opportunity to serve and to explore new parts of the country. I find that variety is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”
“An admirable sentiment. I hope you find Meryton’s charms sufficiently varied.”
“I have no doubt,” he said with a slight bow, the twinkle in his eye suggesting he had already formed a favorable opinion of the town—and perhaps its inhabitants.
Lieutenant Denny clapped Wickham on the shoulder. “I told you, didn’t I? Meryton has the friendliest neighbors a man could hope for.”
“Indeed, you spoke the truth,” Wickham said, glancing between them, “But I am afraid, ladies, that we are keeping you from your morning errands. Lieutenant Denny and I have duties to attend to, but I hope to see you all again soon.”
“The pleasure was all ours, sir,” Elizabeth said.
Lieutenant Wickham tipped his hat, preparing to take his leave, when the sound of approaching footsteps shifted the mood entirely. Elizabeth turned her head just as Mr. Darcy stepped out of the stationer’s shop. His gaze swept over the group, halting briefly on Wickham.
Elizabeth expected the usual polite nod, but instead, Darcy’s expression froze, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
“Ah… Mr. Darcy,” Wickham said with a tight smile, his earlier ease visibly fraying. He hesitated, then offered a stiff bow. “A happy coincidence, I’m sure.”
Darcy did not return the gesture. “Mr. Wickham.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked between the two men. Darcy’s stance had stiffened slightly, his usual air of control edging into something more brittle, while Wickham stood as though rootedto the spot. For the first time since their introduction, Wickham appeared unsure of himself.
“You are acquainted, then?” Elizabeth asked.
Wickham hesitated again. “We are… familiar. A long time ago, Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s eyes locked on Wickham with the precision of a blade. “Not long enough.”
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken history. Wickham shifted his weight but made no attempt to meet Darcy’s gaze again. Instead, he turned to Elizabeth, his expression carefully composed.
“Meryton is fortunate to have such a lively community,” Wickham said, his voice lighter now, as if determined to reclaim the ease of their earlier conversation. “I am certain I shall enjoy my time here.”
Elizabeth nodded, her attention still divided. Darcy, for his part, seemed entirely uninterested in Wickham’s efforts to steer the conversation.
“Miss Bennet,” Darcy said abruptly, turning to her with a sharpness that felt deliberate. “I trust your family is well?”
Elizabeth blinked at the sudden change of focus. “Quite well, thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am glad to hear it.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment, then shifted to Collins beside her, who, for once, seemed flabbergasted into silence. “I believe I have an engagement to keep,” he said at last. “Good day.”
Without sparing Wickham another glance, Darcy turned on his heel and walked away, his retreat as abrupt as his arrival.
Elizabeth turned back to Wickham, who was now watching Darcy’s receding figure with an expression she couldn’t quite place—something between frustration and resignation.
“Well,” Wickham said lightly, watching him go. “It seems Mr. Darcy has not changed.”
Elizabeth’s curiosity burned brighter, but she merely tilted her head. “And what, Mr. Wickham, would you say Mr. Darcy was before?”
Wickham hesitated just long enough to be noticeable before smiling again. “A subject for another time, perhaps. I would not want to darken such a pleasant day.”
