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“Indeed. He has always taken such prodigious care of me and will continue to do so even after he is gone. You see, my godfather has assured me that I shall have the living at Kympton when it becomes available,” Wickham’s said. “I have no doubt that any woman would fancy herself fortunate indeed to share such an advantageous future life.”

Is such an assertion meant to satisfy me? Elizabeth wondered. I certainly hope not for should my sister and Mr. Darcy become man and wife, I have no intention of remaining in Derbyshire, despite any promises I may have made to the contrary.

I must put as much distance between Fitzwilliam Darcy and me as possible, for my own sake even if for no one else’s. He must never know the extent to which I am in his power and in a manner in which I may continue to suffer for the unforeseeable future, possibly the rest of my life. No! He must never know—never even suspect.

Indeed. No one must ever know. No one must even suspect.

CHAPTER 17

TRUTH ADMITTED FREELY

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, despite his intentions or lack thereof toward Miss Bennet, simply could not help but be distracted by her sister - the beguiling young beauty with dark eyes and more wit and charm in her little finger than any woman of his acquaintance.

How she tempts me like no one else before her, he silently opined whenever he thought of her which seemed to happen all the time, day and night, night and day.

It is more like how Miss Elizabeth Bennet has bewitched me as no woman ever has done before and likely ever will again.

He shook his head as if doing so would release the spell she held over him. Even if he wished it, nothing would ever come of his undeniable attraction to her. It was not so much that his father had all but promised her father that he would marry the eldest Bennet daughter, but rather he simply was not ready to settle down and choose a bride especially considering what he knew about his father’s failing health and the dire prognosis that was meant to be a secret.

I know my father does not wish to burden me. No doubt he trusts that I have attended his tutelage all these years most diligently, and I will execute my role as master of Pemberley as faithfully as did he and his father before him for more generations of Darcy men than I can presently recall. However, what a difference it would make to be able to share this burden with my father. Darcy supposed that was the greatest reason for his desiring to have the Bennets at Pemberley for the summer. He knew from his father that Mr. Thomas Bennet had long been one of his most trusted friends ever since their days at university, a bond so firmly established that even the vast disparity in their wealth did not impede it nor had Mr. Darcy’s choice of a bride from one of the wealthiest families in Derbyshire - a daughter of an earl, no less, and Mr. Bennet’s choice of a bride from a mere country attorney who not only boasted of no wealth, but also had the dubious distinction of bearing ties to trade.

Though such things made no difference to his father, Fitzwilliam Darcy could not exactly say he shared his father’s sentiments. This knowledge that the Bennets had no wealth and such low connections in comparison to his own had practically assured him that he was in no danger from the eldest Bennet daughter regardless of whatever beauty and charms she might possess that might negate her lack of fortune.

All this he managed to keep to himself, save the hints he had given his cousin the colonel. When the time came for the Bennets to return to Hertfordshire and the comforts of their own home, their own lives and most importantly their own sphere, no one would be the wiser that he never meant to marry at all, but rather meant to give his father some peace of mind that he had done his part by his old friend.

Not insensitive to Miss Bennet’s feelings in the least bit, he silently considered that even while attending her most diligently during her stay at Pemberley, he had done and said nothing that would increase her expectations. Here his thoughts tended to his friend Bingley.

Although I cannot say the same for my friend Charles Bingley. He ought not to be surprised.

When has Bingley ever met a fair headed angel who did not render him violently in love at first sight? The greatest risk that Miss Bennet might face regarding her heart lies with Bingley. Darcy prayed the young woman was too sensible to mistake his friend’s infatuation for ardent devotion. More than once he thought to speak with Bingley to advise him to temper his enthusiasm for the young lady’s company and her abundance of smiles, but he did not know that he could, not without embarking upon those matters that he wished not to discuss with anyone.

Then too, there is the matter of Miss Elizabeth, so charming, so witty, so lovely.

It bothered him more than a little that George Wickham had singled her out almost from the moment of his return to Pemberley - the prodigal godson as it were. Seeing Miss Elizabeth with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as often as he did had been one thing. At least, Darcy had no concern for her reputation and her safety when with his cousin. As for George Wickham, he could not say the same. A man of Wickham’s vile nature was not to be trusted with anyone. He took some comfort in knowing that Elizabeth had curtailed her propensity for solitary rambles almost completely even though it meant that he no longer had the opportunity to accompany her - alone just the two of them. Unwilling to take any chances, Darcy had informed a trusted servant to in effect be Elizabeth’s protector since it became increasingly obvious to him that Wickham admired her.

Not that he did not trust her to know what she was about because he strongly suspected based on what he had come to know about her that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He knew Wickham better. Wiser, more worldlier women than Miss Elizabeth had fallen prey to the gentleman’s charms. He was determined that Miss Elizabeth would not be yet another one of Wickham’s conquests. Never in a lifetime would he stand idly by and watch any woman who truly meant something to him be taken advantage of by the likes of George Wickham.

Darcy exhaled a deep sigh of relief. What a revelation this was - this admission that Miss Elizabeth Bennet truly meant something to him.

There it is—the truth admitted freely without reason, without explanation, without anything.

Not that it mattered at the end of the day, regardless of it being the truth, for he had no intention of acting upon it, at least not consciously.

What transpired between him and Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his wildest dreams was another matter altogether. How he cherished their intimate moments even though they were merely the products of his eager, yet most ardent, imagination.

CHAPTER 18

PROPER DECORUM

Elizabeth, still as determined as ever to avoid those situations that rendered her vulnerable to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, was finding that she liked the dashing Mr. Wickham more and more each day for it seemed they had a common adversary: Miss Bingley. The young woman did not have a kind word to say to the gentleman, and thus she said as little to him as proper decorum would allow. Likewise, Wickham had little, if anything, to say to her as well.

One evening when it had become exceedingly obvious that Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham did not care very much for each other, Elizabeth, who always fancied herself a studier of people’s character, sought to know the reason for their mutual dislike.

“You may or may not be aware, Miss Elizabeth, that although old Mr. Darcy is my excellent godfather, my late father - my father, who has passed on, was Mr. Darcy’s steward for some years. Indeed, Miss Bingley did not always suffer my company so poorly as she does now. Upon first making each other’s acquaintance, I would say that that young lady was one of my greatest admirers … that is to say, until she learned about my family.

“How convenient that in showing such undisguised disdain toward me, she has managed to forget that her own family’s wealth was amassed through trade. She is not even a full generation removed from such a supposedly wretched stain, and yet she looks down on those without the means to purchase their entrance into high society. Is there any wonder I find her equally, if not more, intolerable than she finds me? Women of her ilk are my abhorrence.

“You, on the other hand, are a gentleman’s daughter with every claim to all the rights and privileges such a distinction of birth entails, and yet you treat everyone with dignity and respect with no regard for the person’s lineage. Is there any wonder I find it such a pleasure spending time with you?”