It had been happening for many weeks now and, no matter how many times Darcy reminded himself of the unsuitability of her situation and the lowness of her connections, the lively intelligence, clever wit, and graceful yet unassuming manners of the lady never failed to impress upon him the very great danger he faced in spite of his disapprobation.

He had tried every method within his power to rid himself of his overwhelming—and rather disconcerting—feelings for her, but the bewitching Elizabeth Bennet would not grant him reprieve. When Darcy was awake, she invaded his thoughts constantly, and in the late hours of the night, she ruled his subconscious, leading him to forbidden imaginings of passionate splendor.

Darcy reined in his horse, his eyes fixed firmly upon Elizabeth. She was engaged in conversation with an unidentified gentleman who appeared to be paying her rapt attention. After a few moments, their conversation waned, and in the next instant, she looked up to see Darcy staring at her. She acknowledged him with a small, polite inclination of her head, which caused the gentleman she had been talking with to turn.

Immediately, Darcy felt the color drain from his face as his mind reeled with painful recollections of Ramsgate and his sister, Georgiana… and Wickham! Good God! What the devil is George Wickham doing here? Anger spread like wildfire through his entire body, leaving him fighting to master his emotions. It was not a feat easily accomplished in the midst of Meryton. He was seething as Wickham touched his fingertips to the brim of his hat, his mouth curling into a smirk as he acknowledged Darcy’s glare. Darcy forced himself to look away toward Bingley, who was shrouded in happy oblivion as he smiled down from his horse at Jane Bennet. He had clearly missed the exchange between the two men.

This was not the case with Elizabeth, who had been appraising their interaction with some degree of concern on her face. Her gaze darted from Darcy to Wickham and back again. Without meaning to, Darcy’s gaze came to rest upon her just as a particularly severe look of displeasure spread over his handsome features. Elizabeth started at this, and Darcy, instantly regretting it, softened his expression, perhaps more so than he would have wished, providing Wickham with a private bit of information—information Darcy would never have wanted him to have at his disposal. Turning from Darcy with a sneer, Wickham focused all his charm on Elizabeth and proceeded to engage her, once again, in conversation.

Darcy’s blood grew cold. The idea of George Wickham gaining Elizabeth’s good opinion was more than he could stomach, but what could he do about it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing without laying his personal business open for all the world to scorn. He could not bear to put Georgiana through such humiliation and censure. But what of countless other young ladies? What of their honor? What of their respectability? And what of his Elizabeth? Darcy suddenly felt all the frustration of his position anew as a familiar ache in his breast reminded him she was not rightfully his to protect.

Lydia Bennet’s wild laughter echoed through the street. Wickham’s easy manners and handsome countenance had most likely already recommended him to Elizabeth’s youngest sisters. Darcy watched with resentment and alarm as Wickham conversed easily with Elizabeth. After several agonizing moments, her eyes turned up to meet his own tortured ones, and in their depths, Darcy could easily discern surprise, confusion, and curiosity. Surely, the witty and intelligent Elizabeth Bennet would not be taken in by the likes of George Wickham!

But what if he was in error? Wickham was charismatic and dangerous. Yes, she had no fortune to tempt him, but knowing Wickham as intimately as he did, would her relative poverty be enough to ensure her safety? She was certainly one of the handsomest women of Darcy’s acquaintance, and she had a multitude of charms to recommend her to any man. Darcy was agonizingly aware of each of them. Another alarming thought occurred to him then—should Wickham happen to succeed in imposing upon Elizabeth, what slanderous falsehoods might he fill her head with about him?

Darcy’s relationship with Elizabeth had always held an underlying level of anxiety. Even now, after nearly six weeks of being acquainted, including living under the same roof at Netherfield while she nursed her sister, it seemed tenuous at best, but any lies Wickham might now see fit to tell her could very easily cause irreparable harm to his suit. But why? he demanded in exasperation. Why should that be of tantamount concern? As deep a desire as I feel for her, could I ever sanction myself to act upon those feelings? Could I ever truly allow myself to form any real design on her?

He fought to repress the attraction he had felt toward her since the very first moments of their acquaintance. It had been a constant struggle, one he knew he was losing. Bloody hell! It was simply no use! Even the merest possibility of Elizabeth Bennet thinking the worst of him—and at Wickham’s hands—made Darcy’s present agitation all the greater. He could not leave his desire for her esteem to chance, and with an impulsiveness few who knew him in Hertfordshire would recognize, he leapt from his horse.

This action finally succeeded in rousing Bingley from his unabashed admiration of Jane, and he followed Darcy’s lead with enthusiasm. Blissfully unaware of the hostility radiating from his friend, Bingley greeted the assembled group, then turned his attention back to Jane. “It is a pleasure to see you this morning, Miss Bennet, and all your sisters! We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you when we happened to see you here. It is certainly an exceptionally fine day, is it not?”

Jane blushed becomingly before replying that, indeed, it was. Denny, one of the officers under Colonel Forster’s command, stepped forward then to introduce Wickham to Bingley’s acquaintance, informing him that his friend was to take a lieutenant’s commission with their regiment, now quartered in Meryton. Bingley received him with his usual unaffected good humor and, though he gazed at Jane every few seconds, somehow managed to maintain an intelligent discourse with the gentlemen.

Darcy silently noted Elizabeth’s continued observation of his thinly veiled hostility toward Wickham. He knew he must speak, or she would certainly think the worst of him for such animosity. With nothing short of a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to assume a semblance of composure and inquire after the health of her parents.

She met him with civility as she replied, “They are both in excellent health, I thank you,” and fell into silence.

“Um, do you often walk into Meryton, Miss Bennet?” he asked, failing to suppress a scowl at his adversary who, at that moment, dared to be smiling at his Elizabeth while attempting to speak convincingly with Bingley.

“Why, yes, Mr. Darcy. It is a pleasant enough walk, and as you can see, there are always an abundance of acquaintances to be met with.” Here, she glanced boldly at Wickham. Darcy wrestled most fervently to hide his displeasure. Elizabeth continued calmly, “What think you of the village, Mr. Darcy?”

“Charming,” he muttered, his answer perfunctory.

“And have you had an opportunity to acquaint yourself with the various establishments, sir?”

“What? No, not well. I have been too much engaged since my arrival to have had that privilege.”

Though Wickham’s eyes appeared to be focused most diligently on the rest of their party, Darcy knew with certainty Wickham was paying very close attention to his conversation with Elizabeth. The master of Pemberley desperately wished to say something—anything—that would communicate an appropriate warning to her in some small way, but he knew it to be impossible under the circumstances. His frustration was extreme. Relief, however, came from a most welcome quarter.

“As it so happens, Mr. Darcy, there is a particular item I was hoping to procure this morning in one of the shoppes, just there, at the end of the street. If you feel you can bear my company, sir, I would be quite willing to assist you in familiarizing yourself with all the attractions Meryton holds.”

Though Elizabeth’s offer took Darcy by surprise, the benefit of such a proposal registered immediately. He tore his gaze from Wickham’s profile long enough to offer her his arm, which she took after a slight hesitation. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he said sedately, “I am most obliged to you.”

He led her away from the group at a restrained pace, and Elizabeth nonchalantly pointed out various aspects of the town and certain shoppes.

Darcy offered distracted responses, contemplating how best to address her on the unsavory subject of Wickham. After walking far enough to avoid being overheard, Elizabeth startled him once again by inquiring, in a somewhat direct manner, how long he had been acquainted with Mr. Wickham.

Darcy overlooked her boldness and stated, “I have known him practically my entire life, Miss Bennet. His father was my father’s steward, and a very respectable man. We played together as boys, grew up together on my father’s estate, and, at one time, even looked upon each other almost as brothers.” He paused to observe her startled reaction before blurting out, in spite of his better judgment, “You seem to take an eager interest in that gentleman’s relationship with me, Miss Bennet. Why is that? Is it merely curiosity on your part, or something more?”

“Why, Mr. Darcy, I was concerned only for the gravity of your countenance. It appeared to me even more serious than usual, and I merely thought you could use a diversion. Seeing as you do so enjoy staring out of windows whenever something greatly displeases you, I thought, perhaps, you might appreciate the opportunity to stare into them instead.”