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Oh yes! At that moment Elizabeth wanted nothing more than an afternoon in Mr. Darcy’s company. He had set aside any grievances and any resentment for the sake of her safety. No one, not even members of her family, had ever shown such concern for her. I will give him my afternoon. I will laugh at his jokes. I will let him kiss me if he asks. Although the thought was shocking, she found herself staring at his lips and wondering how they would feel pressed against hers.
The colonel cleared his throat, drawing Elizabeth’s attention with a stern expression. Naturally he did not find Mr. Darcy so charming; instead, he was concerned about the man’s effect on her mission. Reality crashed into her fantasy. I have a mission. I must remain in the house to await Mr. Wickham’s visit. “Miss Bennet has a previous engagement with Mr. Wickham,” the colonel informed Mr. Darcy frostily.
If only she could wipe away the crestfallen expression on Mr. Darcy’s face! “Not so much an engagement,” she clarified. “He merely said he might call…”
Dawkins appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Wickham, miss.”
Elizabeth suppressed an urge to sigh. The timing could not be more unfortunate. Mr. Wickham ambled into the room on the housekeeper’s heels and greeted the colonel. “Miss Elizabeth,” he then crooned, taking her hand and kissing it far longer than was proper. Straightening, he gave Mr. Darcy a baleful look. “Darcy.”
“Wickham.” The other man’s head barely moved.
The militia officer settled into the sofa, projecting ease and confidence. “I must beg your forgiveness for my tardiness. Just as I was preparing to depart the barracks, the lieutenant saw fit to send me on an errand.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth’s mind worked frantically, trying to find a way to smooth the awkwardness. I must fulfill my mission for the colonel, but Mr. Darcy…
When had Mr. Darcy’s happiness become such an important consideration to her?
Oblivious to Elizabeth’s consternation, Mr. Wickham gave her a lazy grin. “I have rented a rig for the day; the weather is lovely. I thought we might drive along the cliffs. Denny said
the view is magnificent.” As his eyes ranged over the drawing room, they rested for a brief, triumphant moment on his rival.
Mr. Darcy leaned forward in his chair. “Miss Elizabeth will accompany me on a drive. I have already invited her.”
The colonel cleared his throat. “Mr. Wickham said he would call today.” Elizabeth did not blame Mr. Darcy for scowling; that hardly constituted a prior engagement.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. Indeed, she would prefer to join Mr. Darcy, but she had not agreed to accompany him—and now he was speaking for her. He could be so high-handed!
Courtesy dictated that she should accept the first offer—Mr. Darcy’s. However, Mr. Wickham was observing his rival with a curled lip; he would not take kindly to losing this contest. If he perceived that Elizabeth had jilted him, she might lose his favor.
Both men regarded Elizabeth with barely suppressed agitation, awaiting her decision. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, reluctant to make the choice she knew she should.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps you and I may take a drive another time?” His lips parted slightly as if he could only just restrain himself from gaping in astonishment. Did the man believe he was irresistible? Then an expression of great pain drifted over his face—to be replaced almost immediately with a polite, distant expression. This mask slid into place so quickly Elizabeth was not certain she had glimpsed anything else.
“Mr. Wickham incurred the expense of hiring a rig,” she explained, projecting a gaiety she did not experience. “His efforts should not be in vain.”
Mr. Darcy gave a stiff nod. “Of course. Tomorrow, perhaps, if the weather continues fine?”
Why was the prospect so tempting? Mr. Darcy is often stiff and unpleasant, she reminded herself. Yet her heart leapt at the thought of a drive with him; perhaps it was simply that any man would be an improvement over Mr. Wickham. “Of course—if the weather is fine.”
“I await your pleasure.” His gaze met hers with such intensity that she feared she might burst into flames. Oh my.
She knew not how long they stared at each other, but finally Mr. Wickham cleared his throat rather forcefully, and the spell was broken. Mr. Darcy stood, placed his hat on his head, and nodded to everyone in the room. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Elizabeth sighed with relief when the door closed behind him.
***
Stepping onto the street, Darcy reassured himself that he only felt as if Elizabeth had stabbed him in the chest and torn a jagged rip in his heart. His chest ached as if she had, but any wounds were symbolic. Get a hold of yourself, Darcy. You are being overly dramatic.
He walked unsteadily toward his curricle, untied the horses, climbed in, and took the reins to set the carriage in motion, unconcerned about the direction. Georgiana teased him about being too dour: “Always search for the bright side, Will.” Was there a bright side despite Elizabeth’s rejection? Was there some glimmer of hope? Darcy’s mind worked furiously to find one. She did not accept a proposal of marriage from Wickham. He did not declare his undying love. They did not kiss.
“Bah!” Darcy chastised himself. “I am grasping at straws.” Elizabeth might not have declared her devotion to Wickham, but her decision was tantamount to it. Darcy had arrived first. Darcy had been the first to offer an outing. Darcy had had the stable hands polish the carriage and brush the horses until they shone. As he had staggered from the colonel’s house, Darcy had spied the rig Wickham had rented; such paltry nags could not compare to Darcy’s matched bays.
But none of these considerations had swayed Elizabeth.
His hands squeezed the reins until his knuckles turned white. The obvious reason was that she truly loved Wickham. Darcy found this difficult to accept, but perhaps his own wishful thinking prevented him from perceiving her dispassionately.
I have so much to offer her! Darcy could not help recalling all the women he had encountered through the years—beautiful, accomplished ladies who wore the latest fashions and the finest jewels. Not one of them made his heart race as Elizabeth did. Her smile, her wit, her conversation… He had never known a woman who was her equal. It did not signify that she lacked the latest fashions or the finest jewels…or the matched bays.
