Chapter 4

Elizabeth had been disturbed by Wickham’s behavior toward her the previous evening, more particularly so because they had not been alone together, but in public, among her family and friends. What she found even more distressing was his vulgar allusion to a clandestine arrangement between Darcy and herself. She was completely baffled as to where Wickham could have gotten such a notion. Thoughts of it plagued her for hours before she finally succumbed to fatigue and was able to sleep.

Her slumber was fitful at best, filled with disturbing dreams where Darcy sat staring intently at her, much in the same manner he had when she had stayed at Netherfield to nurse Jane. But rather than the usual haughtiness and criticism, his dark eyes held a burning desire that penetrated every fiber of her being and left her body aching in anticipation of she knew not what. The sensation remained with her long after she awoke.

When Elizabeth arrived downstairs for breakfast, she was disconcerted to learn Bingley and Darcy were locked in conference with her father in his library. She could only imagine one reason for it—the events of the night before. She sat heavily, suddenly feeling not at all hungry. She had hoped Bingley would have kept the mortification of such an encounter between her, Bingley, and Jane. She had not wanted him to worry her father unduly, and she certainly had not wanted him to bring Darcy into the fold. She was now thoroughly relieved she had not yielded to Bingley’s demands that she tell him all Wickham had said to her. How would she ever be able to face Darcy today if he had been made aware of it, as well? The recollection of Wickham’s disrespectful behavior, coupled with the distracting tingles from her dreams, brought a deep flush of mortification to her face.

Halfway through breakfast, the gentlemen joined them. Her father’s expression was grave, as was Darcy’s. As they sipped their coffee, both men silently appraised Elizabeth—Mr. Bennet with a father’s concern, Darcy with something much more unnerving. His eyes had been troubled, almost fierce when he had first entered the room, yet there was an immediate softening and a warmth that occurred the moment he settled his gaze upon Elizabeth. The intensity of that gaze aroused sudden stirrings within her and made Elizabeth feel far more vulnerable than she ever had at the mercy of Mr. Wickham. She could not recall seeing that fire in his looks before, yet there was something notably familiar about the way his eyes seemed to penetrate her. Could it always have been there, and she had simply failed to recognize it for what it was? She found the idea most distressing.

As the morning was particularly fine, Mrs. Bennet encouraged the young people to walk out together. Though Mary had proclaimed she would much rather stay at home, as there was a particular passage in a book she wished to meditate upon and would not be swayed, the rest set out directly. The two youngest girls were bent on going into Meryton but, given the likelihood of meeting Wickham there, Jane and Elizabeth were not eager to sanction such a scheme.

“But why can we not go, Lizzy?” demanded Kitty. “We promised Mrs. Forster most faithfully to call on her this morning.”

“Yes, Lizzy, you and Jane cannot tell us we are not to go!” Lydia crowed. “You would not have us disappoint the wife of the colonel of the regiment, would you? Mama would be quite angry with you, for Harriet and I have become such particular friends. Besides, we were hoping to look at some new fabric and ribbon for Mr. Bingley’s ball. It is to be held in three weeks, you know, and we cannot possibly wear the same tired old gowns in front of all the officers. Lord, how would we ever get husbands?”

“Lydia, please!” Jane hissed, blushing.

Darcy rolled his eyes.

“Well, I daresay we shall go without you, then,” Lydia insisted. “Just because you do not wish to go, it shall not keep us from going by ourselves. What fun we shall have!” This declaration was seconded immediately by Kitty.

“Miss Lydia,” said Bingley, “I see no reason why we should not continue on to Meryton together.” He fixed Darcy with a significant look before he turned to Mr. Collins. “Gentleman, what say you to this? Would it not give you great pleasure to accompany these lovely ladies into Meryton on such a fine day? It would be unpardonable for us to allow them to continue on without our solicitous escort.”

Here, Mr. Collins proceeded to simper and smirk about the delicate constitution of elegant females, while Darcy, who looked as though he would rather ride his horse backward to London while blindfolded, managed to mutter that he could think of nothing else he would rather do than shop for ribbons in Meryton.

Hence, they continued on—Kitty and Lydia running ahead, followed more sedately by Jane and Bingley, Darcy and Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins, who, with a nauseating show of condescension, proclaimed himself to be at the particular disposal of his fair cousin Elizabeth.

There were enough officers swaggering about the streets of Meryton in their regimentals to sufficiently distract Kitty and Lydia from their purpose, and Bingley did an admirable job of corralling the younger Miss Bennets away from mischief and off toward the milliner’s shoppe. Inside, the ladies separated from the gentlemen to admire ribbons and bonnets, and to talk of gowns and gloves. Before long, Bingley moved to take his place at Jane’s side as she stood holding two spools of silk ribbon in apparent indecision.

Left only with Mr. Collins for company, Darcy quietly slipped outside to wait for the ladies. To endure that insipid man’s addresses while watching him fawn over Elizabeth in such a fashion was insupportable. The morning was, in every way, a punishment to him. He could not believe he had voluntarily placed himself at the disposal of Lydia Bennet. What in God’s name is becoming of me? he demanded of himself in irritation.

It was then that he glimpsed Elizabeth through the shoppe window, and his breath caught in his throat. She was a vision of loveliness as she ran her fingers along a length of velvet ribbon the color of sunlight. She was so graceful and unassuming in her movements that he became completely entranced. He longed to discover how it would feel to have those fingers caress him with such exquisite tenderness. Unconsciously, Darcy raised one hand so it rested against the glass as his eyes continued to drink in her beauty. At that moment, he wanted desperately to open his heart to her, to take her in his arms—and to his bed—and never let her go.

A cold, mocking voice invaded his wistful thoughts. “Shopping, Darcy?”

He spun around to see George Wickham’s insincere gaze leering in a most offensive manner at Elizabeth. Not trusting himself to speak, he fixed Wickham with a glare of pure loathing. Wickham was unperturbed. “I daresay Georgiana would enjoy having her for a sister, but who among us would not enjoy having her?” Wickham turned his eyes upon Darcy. “Come now, Darcy. Such coldness. Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

“You dare to call yourself my friend, Wickham?” he spat in a dangerous voice.

Wickham laughed derisively. “Perhaps I was presumptuous. Old habits die hard, you know. Speaking of which, you were absent last evening from the Phillips’s. I was rather expecting to see you there, but I suppose the society in Hertfordshire does not agree with you, save for that of one.”

Darcy’s jaw set in a hard line as he struggled to contain his anger. A malicious smile flickered across Wickham’s mouth, and their eyes locked in challenge. Wickham lowered his voice. “I had the good fortune of finding Miss Elizabeth Bennet without a proper escort and looking absolutely fetching. We had a very satisfying conversation, she and I, though I must confess I could not see any indication she returns your regard. But I suppose that is an inconsequential matter.”

Wickham turned his gaze back to Elizabeth. “All that beauty before you—all that temptation—and none of it waiting for you. Tell me, Darcy, how can you stand it? Her lush body, her coy smiles. It must drive you positively mad to be so denied… you, who have never been denied anything.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you just long for once to damn propriety and take her? I daresay many men of far less consequence would be more than willing to pay a very heavy price to lay claim to such an exceptional creature, and indeed, I have no doubt Miss Elizabeth Bennet would make any man a most spirited conquest.”

He had finally gone too far, and before Wickham even saw it coming, Darcy had driven his fist into his sneering mouth with such force that Wickham was brought to his knees. Darcy was upon him again in the next heartbeat, closing his hands around Wickham’s throat and dragging him to his feet. Bingley, accompanied by Jane, Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins, emerged from the shoppe just as Darcy slammed Wickham against the side of the building, his hands squeezing the breath from Wickham’s body.

Darcy spoke through gritted teeth, his tone venomous. “You will not touch her! You will not look at her! You will not think of her! And you will never, ever insult her in my presence again as long as you live, or so help me God, Wickham, I will hunt you down like the animal you are and run you through! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

“Darcy!” Bingley yelled. “Good God, man! You will kill him! Darcy!” He tried to tear his friend from Wickham, but Darcy was beyond reason, rendering Bingley’s battle utterly in vain. It was not until Elizabeth laid her hands upon his arm and began begging most fervently for Wickham’s release that Bingley was able to successfully pry Darcy’s shaking hands from Wickham’s neck and drag him away. Wickham collapsed to the ground, massaging his throat as he gasped for air.