“You are perfectly suitable.” He purposely turned his gaze somewhere else.
“You are certain? You looked rather curious just now.”
He shook his head, wishing she would dismiss the matter.
“Was he a gentleman?”
“What?”
She looked down and straightened her skirts. “A gentleman. I could not be certain. Miss Darcy told me that Mr—that ‘Bernard’ was the son of your father’s steward, but that the elder Mr Darcy had taken great pains to secure a gentleman’s inheritance and education for him.”
“Do you particularly object to being the wealthy widow of a steward’s son?”
She blushed and turned her gaze away. “I am hardly wealthy.”
“You have an unencumbered estate to your name, and that is a handsome dowry, even if it is small.” He nodded towards the window as the carriage drew up before a familiar townhouse. “And to that end, there is someone I desire for you to meet.”
She looked sharply up and glanced outside. “Where are we?”
He did not answer but waited for the footman to place the block and then assisted her down. “We are already expected. Ah, there he is.”
Charles Bingley stood in the hall to greet them. “Darcy! About time, old friend. I missed you entirely when last you were in London.”
Mrs Wickham was tilting her head and scrutinising him curiously. Darcy gave each a tight smile. “Bingley, may I present Mrs Elizabeth Wickham. Mrs Wickham, this is my good friend Charles Bingley.”
“Delighted, madam,” Bingley greeted her.
Mrs Wickham’s brow creased, and then her eyes widened, and she turned an accusing glare… at Darcy.
“Charminggirl,Darcy.Whatdo you know of her?”
Bingley sipped lightly at the brandy, probably trying to give the impression that he was imbibing more than he truly was. Darcy was less circumspect. After four days of travel and another day of business in the same coach as Elizabeth Wickham, he needed a drink.
“Very little. Her father died two years ago, and the heir to the family estate assumed possession at once. Oddly, he had been Lady Catherine’s rector for some months before he inherited. I cannot confirm, but there were hints that he offered marriage to one or more of the daughters—possibly even our Mrs Wickham—but was soundly rejected.”
“Surely you know more of her by now. She has been Georgiana’s companion since November. Does she play or sing?”
Darcy frowned. “Yes, but I try to absent myself from those performances.”
“Whatever for? Is she that dreadful on the ear?”
Darcy swallowed another drink. “Quite the opposite.”
“Well, what of her family? You said she has four sisters and her mother with her?”
“One sister has not yet come. There is also an uncle in Meryton and another in London. I gather both had sheltered the family to the extent of their abilities. Tradesmen, both—she does not boast an unbroken pedigree.”
Bingley chuckled. “And what of my own lineage? You know that would not trouble a man of my station. But I am dreadfully curious about her marriage. Even with the house, how the devil did you persuade her to take that old reprobate?”
“I gave her no other choice. She still has not forgiven me entirely, but I hoped to do better by her this time.”
“This time? Oh, Darcy, you do not mean to force her to marry me, do you?”
“What—force? Many are they who would swoon at your feet simply to gain your notice. Mrs Wickham will count herself fortunate.”
“And certainly, I would count myself a fortunate man if we learned to like each other well enough, and you know I would always take your advice. If you told me I ought to marry her, I would do my best to win her affections, but the lady must agree.”
“It would suit both of you. She is like to have a dozen rascals sniffing about her skirts before her year of mourning is up. I would see you first in line.”
