Composing herself as best she could, she replied, “Of course, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Bennet,” he smiled amicably as he sat beside her, looking far more at home on her rock than Darcy had. “May I wish you every joy?”
“Your wishes would fall on deaf ears, I am afraid, Mr Wickham,” she retorted scornfully.
He arched his eyebrows in conciliatory surprise. “Really? Pray, tell me the matter. We are good friends, are we not? Are you not pleased with the engagement?”
She bit her lip. Caution whispered to her to keep her confidences close for the moment. Her situation at present was delicate, as Charlotte had so prudently reminded her. She found herself by all appearances betrothed to a man she did not like, an opinion shared by the gentleman before her. What did she dare relate to him?
She wished to openly confide in him, depending on his mutual disdain of Mr Darcy to ease her conscience for treating him so contemptibly. However, it would not do to fan the flames of the present situation, no matter how sympathetic the listener. There would be nothing that Wickham could realistically do to help her out of the predicament, and careless talk had done enough harm for one day. The less said, the better.
“Only that it has all come as something of a shock,” she supplied hesitantly.
“I can well believe it!” he laughed. “Imagine my surprise at hearing your news this morning! Why, only a few days ago, you abused Darcy rather roundly, did you not?” His eyes challenged her to agree with him. In fact, Wickham was quite delighted with this turn of events. He intended to prod her for weakness, wondering if his own circumstances stood to gain somehow.
“I… I believe Mr Darcy has his flaws,” she admitted carefully. “Do not most men?”
“Aye, that is true, but Mr Darcy has more than his share of pride! Along with it, though, he has ample blessings which could more than make up for lack of sterling character, does he not?”
Elizabeth bridled at his implication. “Do you mean to suggest, sir, that I would accept Mr Darcy merely for his wealth?” she snapped, with more irritation than she had expected. “That I would count a man’s character and address of no consequence and blindly accede to the unscrupulous quest for material possessions?”
“Well,” he nodded disarmingly, “did not you? And who can blame you? Darcy is favoured by the fortunes of birth, and why would any sensible woman not wish to ally herself with such a one? For where, Miss Bennet, does prudence end and avarice begin?”
She narrowed her eyes cautiously and considered her words. “I concede the point, Mr Wickham, that we do not all have the luxury of marrying without regard for fortune. Handsome or plain, it is true we all must have something to live on. I have, however, long believed that nothing but the deepest love could persuade me to matrimony.”
“Oh! Is that so? Well, then, Miss Bennet, I must beg your pardon. I had been under the impression you did not much like my old friend, but I see I was mistaken. I am glad you can love and still see a man's faults, for a blind love is a foolish one. You might do much good, you know, as Mistress of Pemberley. Perhaps you can alleviate the concerns of others that Darcy has neglected. I am not the only one with grievances, you must know.”
Elizabeth straightened, her gaze turning curiously upon her companion. What could he possibly mean? Wickham smiled genially and went on.
“Perhaps you may even help select a suitable husband for Georgiana. Mark my words, Miss Bennet, she will need a firm hand to make her a tolerable member of society, and Darcy spoils her, you know. He will consider none but the best connected, most fashionable young men for her. You ought already to be aware of the Darcy temperament, though, as it will take a lively, capable woman such as yourself to keep the old man in check. Take heart, Miss Bennet. I am sure the love of such a spirited woman as yourself will transform him into a most pleasing fellow indeed.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks tingling. What on earth was Wickham insinuating? The assumption that she was in love with Mr Darcy was humiliating enough, but to hear that others would assume she meant to manipulate him and that a domineering wife would perhaps even be necessary for such a man! Should she be frightened of Mr and Miss Darcy? Wickham painted them as an imposing pair, too fond of their own way to be amiable. Elizabeth didn’t know what to think, but she could not imagine being other than miserable in a marriage with a dictatorial spouse. She liked her autonomy far too well to yield easily.
Her tumbling thoughts were arrested by another voice calling her name. “Hullo? Miss Elizabeth? Ah, there you are. I thought I heard you.” Mr Jones rode around the corner of the house, near the stables. He dismounted his horse and began to rummage in his saddlebags.
Elizabeth was grateful for the interruption. She liked Mr Wickham, but she was not yet ready to talk to him—or anyone else, for that matter—about Mr Darcy. His suggestions had unnerved her, and she needed time to think. Rising and brushing off her skirts, she flicked her eyes to Wickham as he gallantly offered his arm. She took it, smiling rigidly, and began to make her way to Mr Jones.
“Miss Elizabeth, how does your father? Is there any change?”
“Not at present, thank you. I was sitting with him just above an hour ago. My sister Jane is with him now.”
Jones nodded and came forward, carrying a small jar with a wired lid. Elizabeth cocked her head, curiously. He noticed her look and held the jar up with a shy smile. “Leeches,” he informed them. “As near as we know, he has an ascendancy of blood to the head, so these ought to be of some help.”
Elizabeth shuddered. She hated looking at the vile creatures, but she trusted Mr Jones’s advice. Mr Jones also carried his familiar satchel, which she knew to contain any number of his mysterious concoctions. “May I offer you some tea before you go up?”
“No, thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I would like a private word with you, though, if it is not too much trouble.”
“Of course.” She smiled at Mr Wickham. “I thank you, sir, for your company. Do please call again soon? I am afraid I must see to my father.”
He nodded graciously. “Until tomorrow then, Miss Elizabeth.” He gave a deep bow and departed.
Chapter 6
ElizabethfollowedMrJonesinto the house then opened the door for him into her father’s library. “Can I help you, sir?”
He frowned uncomfortably. “Miss Elizabeth, I do not mean to intrude where I have no right, but I have just come from Meryton. There is... much talk this morning.” He paused, studying her reaction.
Elizabeth’s face fell. She knew exactly what sort of talk he must have heard, but she had hoped this conversation would have less to do with her and more to do with a treatment plan for her father. “Is there?” she asked nonchalantly, attempting to keep the edge from her voice.
