“I! Pursue Mrs Wickham? Impossible.”
“Why not? You told me once yourself that Georgiana is coming out next autumn and would do better with a sister-in-law than a companion. It seems to me you might have found both in the same woman.”
Darcy scowled at the simplistic notion. “Even if I did not find it distasteful to court a woman presently in my employ, there are other reasons.”
“Oh,” Bingley scoffed, “yes, yes, Pemberley’s future mistress must have connections nearly to the Prince himself and a fortune to rival Midas, and—”
“This is true,” Darcy interrupted. “Indeed, I wish it was not, but there it is. However, there is yet a more pressing reason I could never take her as my bride. The very reason I coaxed her to wed Bernard in the first place. No. Society’s expectations I could thwart if I chose to—heaven knows, my father did—but my honour I cannot sacrifice.”
Bingley looked disbelieving. “What honour would you be compromising?”
Darcy shook his head and forced a smile. “Never mind. It is enough to state that even if I desired it—and I do not, to be clear—I could never offer for Mrs Wickham. You, however—”
“Oh, Darcy, let it rest. If I chose Mrs Wickham as you desire, I would still need to wait another seven months before she can wed.”
“Six.”
“Six, rather. Has it been that long already? But in any case, I have plenty of time to know the whole family better. And what of you? You did not go to Rosings this spring with Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“No.”
Bingley watched him with a bemused smile and lifted a drink to his mouth. “That was a rather short answer,” he observed after a moment.
“A short answer for a clear solution. Lady Catherine threatened to sever ties if I did not take Anne back. As if I would have taken her in the first place! I am sorry for my cousin, but not that sorry.”
“A pity,” Bingley lamented with no hint of sincerity in his voice. “For if you had taken Anne, you would not now be tempted to press Mrs Wickham off on another before you succumbed to her charms yourself.”
Darcy shot his friend a caustic look. “Have you not a horse to ride or a lady to court?”
Bingley rose from his chair with a chortle. “Two ladies, it would seem—one to please myself and the other to please you. Do you know, I might just ignore your advice when the time comes. I daresay that would be a first.” He left his glass on a side table and paused before going.
“Darcy, I know you have never taken my advice—as if I had any words of wisdom to offer you! But consider—a man is bound to his wife for a very long time. Would it not be preferable to choose a lady in whose company you can delight for the rest of your years?” He gave a strange little smile, then left Darcy alone.
A lady in whose company he could delight.
Yes, that would be ideal. Darcy wandered to the window and pressed his forearm against the glass, gazing out. Summer was in full bloom now, with the grass thick and tall over the distant meadow and the heady fragrance from the gardens tempting him each time he stepped out of doors. And the flowers were not the only thing tempting him.
There she was, coming up the garden walk, prompt and faithful after her promised two days away. There was something in her he could not resist. He owned it fully. A sharpness, a high and fine edge he found exhilarating to walk. And yet, if a man slipped from the precipice, he could be assured of a gentle landing place. Darcy sighed and felt a small ache rip into the fabric of his heart.
Six months before she could marry again, and she would be beyond his reach. Six months of her continued presence in his home, her voice filling his ears and her intelligence to hone his.
They would be the longest six months in all his life.
“Goodafternoon,SisterElizabeth!”
Elizabeth raised her bonnet from the path. Another Sunday afternoon was gone, and she was setting out again for Miss Darcy’s company. Odd, how she dreaded the parting from her family’s embrace, but the moment her hand touched the gate latch, she felt only pleasure in returning to her friend.
This day, she had scarcely started up the lane when George Wickham appeared mounted to her right. He touched his hat at her recognition and swung to the ground with a wrapped parcel in his hand.
“Good afternoon to you, sir,” she greeted him. “We have not seen you in some weeks.”
“Unforgivable and, yet unavoidable,” he replied with a bow. “In penance, I bring you a gift from an old friend. You recall how I recommended Mrs Brown’s cooking to you, I hope? I was just coming from Lambton and happened upon her. When I told her I was riding this way in hopes of giving you my salutations, she pressed me to bring this. I trust it will not be unwelcome.” He presented his parcel and unwrapped it just enough to give Elizabeth a delicious whiff of the spiced rum cake.
“How very kind of her! I wish I had some prior acquaintance with her. You must give her our thanks.”
“I have already done so, for I knew you would wish me to. Shall we take it back to the house?” he asked with a tip of his head.
Elizabeth looked regretfully back. “I wish I could, but if I did, I should be late in returning to Miss Darcy.”
