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She nodded slowly. “I will tell them what you have said.” Although they were no more likely to believe it than Elizabeth was.
Mr. Darcy’s entire body relaxed; no doubt he was relieved to be finished with an awkward conversation. “That is all I can ask, thank you.” They stared at the garden for a few uncomfortable seconds, then his countenance lightened. “Perhaps you would honor me with another—”
Elizabeth shivered violently. She could not dance with the man again. Although he was an excellent dancer, his company strained her nerves. What excuse could she use to decline his offer?
“Elizabeth!”
They both started at the sound of her Aunt Gardiner’s sharp voice. She regarded them with narrowed eyes and arms folded over her chest. “You should come inside. I would not want you to catch a cold.” She raked Mr. Darcy with a scathing look, demonstrating that she did not consider him to be an appropriate companion for her niece.
Mr. Darcy stepped away from Elizabeth sheepishly. “Indeed, you should go inside where it is warmer.”
“And where there are more people,” Aunt Gardiner snapped. Did she suspect Mr. Darcy of inappropriate motives? That was one thing Elizabeth did not have to fear from him. He would do anything to avoid being found in a compromising position with her.
“I beg you to excuse me.” With a nod to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy stalked toward the ballroom.
Aunt Gardiner gave Elizabeth a searching look, but she shrugged, having no desire to repeat Mr. Darcy’s words—which amounted to nothing more than an assertion of Mr. Wickham’s bad character without any form of proof.
When I return to Longbourn, I will share Mr. Darcy’s words with Jane, and we will puzzle out what to share with the family. Mr. Wickham would hardly be a danger to them while he remained in London.
The whole dispute was so strange. Obviously the two men had had some sort of disagreement, but why was Mr. Darcy so intent on blackening Mr. Wickham’s name? Was it possible he was jealous? No, that was silly; Mr. Darcy had wealth, power, and the regard of good society. What could possibly spur jealousy?
***
The moment Darcy crossed the threshold into the ballroom, Wickham accosted him and linked arms with him. As if they were two friends idly discussing the latest races or political developments, Wickham walked Darcy about the room. “What are you about??
?? Wickham murmured in low tones. “Are you whispering poisoned words in Elizabeth’s ear?”
“I have nothing to say to you.” Darcy tried to discreetly pull his arm from the other man’s grip, but Wickham would not release his hold.
Wickham tossed his head. “No matter. She shall not listen to your slanders of my good name. She knows how you malign me.”
The confidence in the other man’s voice spurred Darcy’s doubts. He still did not know what Wickham had told Elizabeth, and she had heard the account from him first. What if she believed him over Darcy?
“I only speak the truth,” Darcy said through gritted teeth.
Wickham gave him a rakish smile. “That must be quite galling. To speak the truth and not to be believed.”
Darcy fought a desire to strike the other man. Wickham could always provoke him, and he could always read him like a book. Darcy directed his anger toward himself for allowing the other man to notice his attraction to Elizabeth.
Wickham leaned toward Darcy, muttering into his ear. “She will always believe me instead of you, and do you know why?” Darcy said nothing. He did wish to know, but he would not give Wickham the satisfaction. “It is because she is attracted to me. She kissed me, you know…”
Darcy tore himself from Wickham’s grasp. “You lie!”
Wickham smirked. “Believe that if you wish. It was in her aunt and uncle’s garden…under the oak tree with the split trunk. Her aunt went inside for a moment to speak with the housekeeper…and it would have been more than one kiss if the old woman had not rejoined us so soon.”
Darcy’s hands twitched with the desire to strike that self-satisfied smile off Wickham’s face. He wanted to believe that Wickham lied, that Elizabeth would never permit such liberties. But he could not forget the way she had smiled at him in the Gardiners’ drawing room…. And Darcy knew that oak tree; it was visible from the drawing room window. The whole scenario was so sickeningly plausible that Darcy tasted bile.
She never kissed me.
Wickham’s smile turned wolfish. “Perhaps I can steal another kiss tonight…with all this mistletoe about…”
Would Elizabeth kiss a man to whom she was not engaged? Or perhaps Wickham had forced a kiss upon her. Cold shivers raced down Darcy’s spine, spurring a momentary desire to find Elizabeth and spend every moment protecting her from the other man’s advances.
Perhaps it would be simpler and more satisfying to throttle Wickham. If he were unconscious, he could not kiss Elizabeth.
The music had ceased. “Ah, it is time for me to claim my dance with Elizabeth,” Wickham said with a smirk.
Darcy considered how he could persuade Wickham to leave Elizabeth alone, but nothing occurred to him. Moving like a predatory animal, Wickham stalked away and was soon lost in the crowd.
