“Of course, but not from ‘ladies.’ Not unless they mean something else by it.”
“Well, then! I shall take care not to offend you again.”
I cleared my throat. “I was not precisely offended.”
She smiled, and my heart was mush all over again. “Good. I would hate to run you off when you are such a useful fellow. Good night, Fitzwilliam.”
I stood... wobbled, actually... watching her leave. That was the moment I decided to look for ways to inspire her gratitude daily.
Nine
Idid not kisshim first.
For the record, my husband carelessly left his journal open on the writing desk in my bedroom. How was I to help seeing what he had written? I suppose I ought to have expected him to assert that outlandish claim on paper because he tries to hold it over me in our private moments as well. Here is how it truly took place.
I did happen to be passing by the drawing-room with a book from the library when he withdrew that night. And Iwaseternally grateful to him because Jane told me how Collins had cornered her, and she was in mortal fear of being compromised or simply losing her nerve and caving to his proposal. So yes, Icouldhave kissed almost anyone for stepping in as Fitzwilliam did.
I stopped him and said as much. I have mentioned one or two of his more unique expressions, and that night he used yet another of them on me. This is the one I call his “cat-got-into-the-cream” look, and he is unfairly good at it. I think he practices in his mirror. He let loose that smile and asked me what Iwould do to prove my gratitude, so I pecked him on the cheek like I used to do for Charles or my father, and went to bed. No more. That business about me pulling him by the cravat is pure masculine fantasy.
That fact settled for posterity, I must now detail something that I would rather not recall. Indeed, the beginning of November that year opened a season of all our lives that is still painful to all concerned, but without this bit of the narrative, Fitzwilliam and I never would have come to be.
Ah, yes, he claims otherwise. To hear him talk, he was smitten with me almost from the start, and I was head over ears for him even before that. But I was not naive to the ways of the world by that point. For all my teasing that he would eventually oblige me by marrying one of my sisters, I knew very well that the Darcys moved in different circles than the Bennets of Hertfordshire, or even the Bingleys, with their fashionable wealth. For him to truly permit himself to form an attachment to me, something drastic had to rattle his pride and upend all his expectations.
That something drastic arrived in Hertfordshire the first week of November 1811, wearing a lieutenant’s uniform and answering to the name of George Wickham.
The militia had come to Meryton for the winter, and apart from my concerns for Kitty and Lydia, they were generally received with welcome arms. Charles and Fitzwilliam even dined with the colonel twice. My aunt Philips, whom I have so far not mentioned, hosted a party one evening. Unbeknownst to be, the officers were all invited.
We attended, even Georgiana, who had gained precipitously in confidence since her arrival. Fitzwilliam was against it, but I, to my eternal regret, persuaded him to permit her to come. Though she was not out, as my sisters were, I thought it was little more than a gathering of neighbors. Practically family.
“If you mean to encourage her, let her have a bit of freedom. How is she ever to gain any confidence if she never meets anyone?” That was my argument. The house was too small to allow for more than cards, and she would be perfectly chaperoned. She had already been in company some little with her family, but this occasion was a step toward adulthood for her.
It was the wrong step.
I discovered this within moments of our arrival. Caroline might not have had the power in the household that she felt was her due, but she was capable, at least, of making us late. Therefore, by the time we came to the house, my younger sisters had already connected themselves to a group of officers, one of whom was unknown to us.
I met him first, as Lydia seized me by the hand to make the introduction. “Here she is!” she cried triumphantly. “Lieutenant Wickham, this is my sister Elizabeth Bingley who was married last year and is a widow now with a fortune to her name and still quite pretty enough to marry again.”
Lydia was never known for even the most basic manners, and I hushed her in mortification. The lieutenant, to his credit, only smiled and bowed as if she had spoken properly.
“Mrs. Bingley, I am enchanted.”
I curtsied, somewhat impatiently. “Likewise, Mr. Wickham.”
“The lieutenant has just joined the regiment, have you not, Wickham? Kitty and me met him yesterday in town and he had just got his uniform. He is great friends with Lieutenant Denny, and does he not look fine in his regimentals?”
“Miss Lydia, you do me too much credit,” he said with a chuckle. “I warrant you say that to all the officers.”
“Oh!” she giggled, fanning her hand coquettishly. “But you have not met the rest of her party. There is Mr. Bingley, her brother in law, just coming in now, and Miss Bingley—I do notthink she is particularly nice, but I suppose you shall have to be introduced to her all the same.” Lydia stood on her toes and brightened. “And there comes Mr. Darcy. Lizzy, how did you talk him into letting Miss Darcy come tonight?”
I was not looking directly at Mr. Wickham, but he gave such a great start that I could not help turning back to him. He had been sipping of his drink and began to cough and sputter. “Did you say Darcy?”
I blinked slowly, and it was one of those moments where everything coalesces at half the natural speed. A gleam such as I had never seen kindled in Mr. Wickham’s eye, but before I could wonder at it, a commotion arose from the doorway.
Georgiana had fainted. Fitzwilliam was still in the act of catching her, his features white with horror. And I saw the instant he locked eyes with Lieutenant Wickham.
It was only an instant, for, in the next heartbeat, he was glaring at me. The look in his eyes then, I shall never forget. It was fury and disgust, regret and anguish, but above all, it was a look of heart-wrenching betrayal.
We left at once, with Charles being the only one who seemed dismayed. Caroline was smirking, for she had been loath to come at all, but I think she never did quite understand why Georgiana was suddenly too indisposed to remain.
