Page 79 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“I…I cannot tell you tonight. Tonight you must understand that Wickham⁠—”

“You are in no position to tell me what I must understand or do. You have not been a part of my life for years. Excuse me.”

She was going to leave!

“Miss Elizabeth, please. Mr. Wickham is not a man to be trusted. Please allow me to explain.”

“You will not explain your own actions, so why should I allow you to explain someone else’s? Good evening.”

She stepped around him and quickly moved toward a group of matrons. He continued to watch her, wondering what else he could say to get her to listen. He had thought of nothing more he could do that night before she and her aunt left the ball. Perhaps he would write her a letter. No, that would not do. How could he deliver it to her? He would have to trust in Bingley’s ability to get through to her. She no longer had any faith in Darcy.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The heavy January rain blocked her primary light source, but Elizabeth was still painting in her attic when she was informed she had a caller. Her first thought was that Mr. Wickham had come, but he had not indicated he would see her before going to Bath. She was frustrated that he had not allowed her to return the diamond comb. She was uncomfortable having it in her possession still.

Although early in the Season, she had seen a few friends at the ball the night before. She hoped she had not offended any of them or caused a scene by departing so early. Likely one or two of them wished to discuss the ball. She went to the basin to wash her hands. Removing her smock, she hastily dried her hands as she hung it on its hook. A quick look in the small mirror over the basin assured her she was presentable, so she proceeded to the drawing room.

Aside from wishing to be rid of the comb, she had not consciously given much thought to either Mr. Wickham’s or Mr. Darcy’s behavior at the ball the night before. She had pushed out thoughts as they tried to intrude. She was not yet ready to process anything beyond the excitement she had felt at Mr. Wickham’s touch to her hair and cheek and the confusion she had felt at finding Mr. Darcy so much more attractive than Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy had not even smiled last night, and Elizabeth did not remember him being so handsome when he wasn’t smiling. His dark hair was thicker, his eyes were more piercing, his broad shoulders fit his greater height.

Stop it, Lizzy!

She was being shallow. A man was more than his appearance. Elizabeth knew she was attracted to the man who had suddenly departed, not the man who had moments later appeared in front of her. She emptied her mind of both men before opening the door to the drawing room.

Perhaps she should not have been surprised to see Mr. Bingley had called for the first time that Jane was not in residence, but she was. She assumed Mr. Darcy had put him up to this. She had had quite enough of that hypocrite the night before. She crossed her arms and stood glaring at Mr. Bingley.

“Lizzy, are you well?”

Aunt Gardiner would not appreciate her being surly in her home.

“Perfectly.” She relaxed her stance and went to greet Mr. Bingley and sit by the chair he had selected.

“Um, good morning, Miss Elizabeth.” He sounded nervous. She had not made him particularly welcome.

“Shall I call for some refreshment?”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth got up to ring the bell, grateful for an excuse to move a bit more before regaining her seat.

“It is always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Bingley.”

“And you.” He cleared his throat. “You must know why I am here. It seems my sister and I do not know Mr. Wickham, Lizzy. Miss Elizabeth. My apologies.”

“Your sister introduced me to the man, and I am sure you introduced them.”

“Yes, but that was the only time Caro had met him, until you all met on Bond Street. I myself have seen him only a couple of times. I had thought he was Darcy’s friend, but he has not been for many years.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

Mr. Bingley nodded and swallowed.

“Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted with either money or…” He glanced at Aunt Gardiner, whose sewing sat untouched in her lap as she listened to the awkward conversation. “…money or…or women.”

“But he seemed so sincere and gentlemanly,” Aunt protested.

“Yes, well, I thought so, as well, but apparently he has high debts despite having received a large inheritance from his godfather.”

“He should have had a steady income afforded by a church living, Mr. Bingley. But your friend refused to give it to him.”