Page 32

Feigning a polite smile, she answered in the affirmative.

“No doubt, your visit could not have been without its inconveniences.”

“In what manner, sir?” Elizabeth asked, her brow arched.

“I am not unaware of your history with her husband.”

“Mr. Collins is, after all, my cousin, and thus there is no escaping spending time in his company. I do not need to remind you that one cannot always pick one’s relations.”

“True … true.” Wickham looked around again before continuing his unwelcome discourse. “No doubt, your time in that part of the country afforded ample opportunity for you to get acquainted with my old friend as well.”

“I take it that you are referring to Mr. Darcy.”

“Indeed,” he replied, biting his lips. “He has always been there for me during those times when I needed him most.”

“I did have the opportunity to make Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance, and not once did I get the impression that the two of you were friends.”

“I posit a friendship like ours—born out of years of living together and playing together for the better part of one’s life—does not fade regardless of the passage of time or whatever ill-will may have resulted upon the chance occasion or two. Indeed. I rely upon it.”

Wickham looked about to see who was standing in their general vicinity. Seeing that no one else was close by, he returned his eyes to Elizabeth. “Indeed, Darcy has been there at the times when I needed him most, especially of late, as he very well should have⁠—”

“—How do you suppose such a thing?” Elizabeth inquired with energy, thereby interrupting whatever falsehood he was about to put forth.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It is simple. If Darcy had not acted out of malice, dare I say jealousy, and denied me the living in Kympton that his late father intended for me I should never have required his assistance from the start.”

Elizabeth looked at Wickham incredulously. Does he blame Mr. Darcy for all his misfortunes? The audacity of this man!

No doubt reading the skepticism in her face, he leaned a bit closer. “When the two of you were in Kent, Darcy did tell you that I was old Mr. Darcy’s godson, did he not?”

“Indeed. He told me that you were his father’s godson. He told me a number of things pertaining to you, as did his aunt Lady Catherine and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Wickham huffed. “I can only imagine what his lofty relations may have said. My experience with the Fitzwilliam family is that they always tended to be of one mind, especially as regarded opposing those whom they deem beneath them in consequence.”

Elizabeth had been keeping an eye out for Mr. Darcy, hoping for a chance to speak with him privately after being denied any such opportunity since he bought her to Cheapside. She knew enough from Lydia to know the extent of his involvement in the latter’s return to the Gardiners’ home, but how much he was concerned in succeeding events she could not say. Her uncle had been particularly guarded as regarded such specifics, and Elizabeth, grateful for her uncle’s sacrifices, did not intend to press for details he made such an effort not to confide.

Wishing to escape her new brother’s company without being rude, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to wander to where she last espied Mr. Darcy speaking with her uncle. Mr. Gardiner was still standing there, but not Mr. Darcy. Her heart leapt from her chest. She looked throughout the room in search of him, but it was all in vain.

All thoughts of civility escaped her, and Elizabeth walked away from Wickham and hastened out of the church door and down the steps. It was no use. Mr. Darcy was gone.

A sinking feeling overcame her. Have I lost the good opinion of the one man whose opinion matters most to me—the one man who might have meant something to me?

Her happiest memories of being with Mr. Darcy flashed before her mind. She was certain that when they were together in Kent, he looked at her with the deepest of affection. Today, he barely looked at me at all.

Something deep inside urged her to scream aloud at the injustice of it all—that Lydia should be parading about inside the church professing herself the happiest and the luckiest woman in all of England after all the trouble she had caused. That I should be standing here alone and wondering if I shall ever see Mr. Darcy again.

Alone on the street, an overwhelming desire to get away from the turmoil of the past weeks swept over Elizabeth. I miss my dearest sister Jane. I long for the comfort of being at home, surrounded by my own things. I must return to Longbourn.

CHAPTER 20

THIS PARTICULAR MATTER

Darcy had just quit a shop on a crowded Mayfair street and was about to ascend his waiting carriage when the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He shook his head. Where have I seen that gentleman before? Then he remembered. This was the same gentleman he had seen at Mrs. Younge’s establishment some weeks ago. Then a more harrowing remembrance flashed in his mind.

That is the same gentleman I saw at Rosings!

At the time, he had thought it unfathomable that his aunt had condescended to admit such a person into her home. Upon his questioning her, she had responded, “Until you and Anne are united in holy matrimony, you must not concern yourself with the comings and goings in my home, Nephew.”

What were the odds that the same person who called on his aunt weeks ago was also one of Mrs. Younge’s patrons?