Wednesday 20th November

I rode out early this morning, without asking Bingley if he chose to go with me, for I wanted to be on my own.

George Wickham, in Meryton!

It has robbed my visit of its pleasure. Even worse, I am haunted by a glimpse of memory, something so slight I can hardly be sure if it is real. But it will not leave me, and fills my dreams. It is this: when I rode up to the ladies yesterday, I thought I saw an expression of admiration on Elizabeth’s face as she looked at Wickham.

Surely she cannot prefer him to me!

What am I saying? Her feelings for me are unimportant. As are her feelings for George Wickham. If she wishes to admire him, it is her concern.

I cannot believe she will still admire him when she finds him out, and find him out she will. He has not changed. He is still the wastrel he has always been, and she is too intelligent to be deceived for long.

And yet he has a handsome face. The ladies have always admired it. And he has an ease of manner and style of address which make him well liked amongst those who do not know him, whereas I…

I cannot believe I am comparing myself to George Wickham! I must be mad. And yet if Elizabeth…I must not think of her as Elizabeth.

If she chooses to compare us, then so be it. It will prove she is beneath my notice, and I will no longer be troubled by thoughts of her.


Thursday 21st November

Bingley declared his intention of going to Longbourn to give the Bennets an invitation to his ball. Caroline and Louisa eagerly agreed to go with him, but I declined, saying I had some letters to write. Caroline immediately declared that she had some letters to write, too, but Bingley told her they could wait until she returned. I was pleased. I did not want company today. I cannot keep my thoughts from George Wickham. From the local talk, I gather he is thinking of joining the regiment. No doubt he thinks he will look well in a scarlet coat.

Worse still, Bingley has included all the officers in his invitation to Netherfield, and I fear Wickham might join them. I have no wish to see him, and yet I will not avoid the ball. It is not up to me to avoid him. He is a scoundrel and a villain but I will not upset Bingley by refusing to attend his ball.


Friday 22nd November

A wet day. I was able to ride out with Bingley this morning, but then the rain poured down and we were obliged to stay indoors. We whiled away the time by talking of the estate and Bingley’s plans for it. His sisters gave us the benefit of their views on necessary alterations to the house and the time passed pleasantly enough, though I missed Elizabeth’s lively company.


Saturday 23rd November

Another wet day. Caroline was in a provoking mood. I am glad Elizabeth was not here, or she would have surely borne the brunt of Caroline’s ill-humour. Bingley and I retired to the billiard-room. It is a good thing the house possesses one, or I believe we should have been terribly bored.


Sunday 24th November

I received a letter from Georgiana this morning. She is doing well with her studies, and is happy. She is beginning a new concerto with her music master, a man who I am happy to say is almost in his dotage, and she is enjoying herself.

The rain continued. Caroline and Louisa amused themselves by deciding what they will wear for the ball, whilst Bingley and I discussed the war. I am beginning to find the country tiresome. At home, at Pemberley, I have plenty to occupy me, but here there is little to do beyond reading or playing billiards when the weather is poor.

I will be interested to see if this spell of wet weather dissuades Bingley from buying Netherfield. A country estate in the sunshine is a very different thing from a country estate in the rain.


Monday 25th November

I am glad of the ball. At least, if we have another wet day tomorrow, we will have something to occupy us.


Tuesday 26th November

The morning was wet, and I spent it writing letters. This afternoon, Bingley and his sisters were involved in final preparations for the ball. I had little to do and was vexed to find myself thinking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, so much so that when the party from Longbourn arrived this evening I found myself looking for her. I thought I had put her out of my mind, but I am not as impervious to her as I had supposed.

‘Jane looks charming,’ said Caroline, as her brother moved forward to greet Miss Bennet.

‘It is a pity the same cannot be said for her sister,’ said Louisa. ‘What is Miss Elizabeth Bennet wearing?’

Caroline regarded her with a droll eye.

‘Miss Eliza Bennet scorns fashion, and is wearing a dress that is three inches too long and uses a great deal too much lace. Do you not think so, Mr Darcy?’

‘I know nothing about ladies’ fashions,’ I said, ‘but she looks very well to me.’

Caroline was silenced, but only for a moment.

‘I wonder who she can be looking for. She is certainly looking for someone.’

‘She is probably looking for the officers,’ said Louisa.

‘Then she is not as quick as her sisters, for they have already found them,’ said Caroline.

The younger girls had run noisily across the ballroom, and were greeting the officers with laughs and squeals.

‘If they move any closer to Mr Denny, they will suffocate him!’ remarked Louisa.

‘You would not like to see your sister behaving in such a way with the officers, I am persuaded,’ said Caroline, turning to me.

She did not mean to wound me, and yet her remark could not have been less well chosen. It sent my thoughts to Georgiana, and from thence to Wickham, who was to don a red coat. No, I would not like to see it, but I was uncomfortably aware that if I had not arrived in Ramsgate without warning, it could almost have come to pass.

Caroline looked alarmed as my face went white, but I managed to reply coolly enough: ‘Are you comparing my sister to Lydia Bennet?’

‘They are the same age!’ said Louisa, with a trill of laughter.

‘No, of course not,’ said Caroline quickly, realizing she had made a mistake. ‘There can be no comparison. I meant only that the Bennet girls are allowed to run wild.’

I gave a cool nod and then moved away from her, hoping that Elizabeth’s glances round the room had been for me. As I drew close to the officers, I heard Denny saying to Miss Lydia Bennet that Wickham was not there as he had been forced to go out of town for a few days.

‘Oh!’ she said, her face dropping.

Elizabeth had joined them and she, too, looked disappointed. I remembered the look she had bestowed on Wickham in Meryton and I felt my hands clench as I realized with an unpleasant shock that when she had entered the ballroom she had been looking for Wickham, and not for me.

‘I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here,’ I overheard Mr Denny saying.

So he had turned coward, had he? I could not wonder at it. Courage was never a part of Wickham’s character. Imposing on the gullible, deceiving the innocent and seducing young girls, that was his strength.

But surely Elizabeth was not gullible? No. She was not to be so easily taken in. She might not have found him out yet, but I was confident she would do so. In the meantime, I did not want to miss the opportunity of speaking to her.

I continued walking towards her.

‘I am glad to see you here. I hope you had a pleasant journey?’ I asked. ‘This time, I hope you did not have to walk!’

‘No, I thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I came in the carriage.’

I wondered if I had offended her. Perhaps she felt I had meant my remark as a slight on her family’s inability to keep horses purely for their carriage. I tried to repair the damage of my first remark.

‘You are looking forward to the ball?’

She turned and looked at me directly.

‘It is the company that makes a ball, Mr Darcy. I enjoy any entertainment at which my friends are present.’

‘Then I am sure you will enjoy your evening here,’ I said.

She turned away with a degree of ill-humour that shocked me. She did not even manage to overcome it when speaking to Bingley, and I resolved I had done with her. Let her turn her shoulder when I spoke to her. Let her prefer Wickham to me. I wanted nothing more to do with her.

She left her sisters and crossed the room to speak to her friend, Miss Lucas, and then her hand was sought by the heavy young clergyman I had seen with her at Meryton. Despite my anger, I could not help but feel sorry for her. I had never seen a display of more mortifying dancing in my life. From her expression, I could tell she felt the same. He went left when he should have gone right.

He went back when he should have gone forward. And yet she danced as well as if she had had an expert partner.

When I saw her leaving the floor, I was moved to ask for the next dance. I was frustrated in this by her dancing with one of the officers, but then I moved forward and asked for the next dance. She looked surprised, and I felt it, for as soon as I had asked for her hand I wondered what I was about. Had I not decided to take no further notice of her? But it was done. I had spoken, and I could not unspeak my offer.

She accepted, though out of surprise more than anything else, I think. I could find nothing to say to her, and walked away, determined to spend my time with more rational people until it was time for the dance to begin.