“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, hesitating. His voice was low enough not to be overheard but not so low that a girl like Lydia would come closer to discover what he was saying. “I am sorry to hear you do not believe I think well of you. I assure you, that is not the case.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, but she did not believe it.
Mr. Darcy must have seen as much, for he frowned and changed the subject. “I am afraid I was rather taken aback at your mention of Mr. Wickham last night during our dance.”
“I am aware,” she replied, lifting one eyebrow.
“If you would allow me,” he continued, “I might explain why.”
Elizabethwascurious. “Very well.”
“Mr. Wickham’s father was my own father’s steward, and they were very good friends. Old Mr. Wickham was well versed in property law and was an intelligent, honest, hard-working man. Unfortunately, the son is nothing like the father. Despite growing up together, Wickham and I have never been friends, for the way he behaves in my company has been callous, even cruel. He runs up debts with merchants and has several children with different women, none of whom he has married.”
Elizabeth’s head began to throb.
Mr. Darcy continued to speak with a kind of sincere gravity. “After my father died he was paid both a bequest and an additional amount of money in lieu of a living he did not want. Yet a few years later he came back and asked for the living and was very angry when I denied him.” Mr. Darcy shook his head. “There is a great deal of bitterness beneath his charm, Miss Elizabeth, and he does not care who he hurts so long as he is given even a moment’s pleasure. I would beg you not to find yourself alone with him at any time.” He glanced at Lydia and Kitty. “Perhaps I might speak with your father about it, for the same is true for all of your sisters.”
Elizabeth was not certain how to feel about this. Had she not had Mr. Bingley’s insistence from this morning to guide her, she might have dismissed it all out of hand, but as it was, she could only stare at Mr. Darcy. Her head was now pounding nearly as hard as a carpenter’s hammer.
Was twenty years’ worth of mortification to fall on her all on one day?
Mr. Darcy was not angry with her, but he was frustrated. Anyone could see it. She wanted to deny it, to defend Mr. Wickham, but she could not. It was wrong to be speaking about a man’s private business in such a way, and yet had not Mr. Wickham done that very thing practically the moment they had been introduced? Mr. Darcy had not done so until she had confronted him.
Elizabeth touched her forehead. “I thank you for explaining this to me, Mr. Darcy. I fear I must beg you to excuse me. A sudden headache . . .”
The frustration fled in an instant, and he stood, all solicitousness. “May I get you anything for your present relief? You have been overtaxed today.”
“No, no,” she murmured. “I thank you, but rest and solitude are all I require. Jane, would you please see to Mr. Darcy until Mamma returns?”
Jane was all concern. “Of course, Lizzy.”
It was not Elizabeth’s proudest moment. She was fleeing from Mr. Darcy, and why? Because she had asked him a question, and he had answered it in exacting detail. She was a ridiculous creature.
She brushed past her mother on the stairs.
“Where do you think you are going, Miss Lizzy?” Mamma called out. “We have a guest in the drawing room.”
“He is with Jane, Mamma,” she called back without stopping. “I am for bed.”
“You lazy girl,” Mamma said with a sigh. “I do not know what I shall do with you, forIshall not be able to keep you when your father is dead.” Elizabeth felt rather fortunate that her mother did not follow her to continue her complaints at length. Mr. Darcy was in the drawing room and, though her mother did not care for the man, she would not insult any friend of Mr. Bingley’s. Particularly not when Mr. Darcy had been so complimentary of their efforts on his behalf.
Elizabeth was grateful when Sarah was finished helping ready her for bed. Her head was very bad, and she closed her eyes. She had not suffered a megrim in several years and had hoped she had outgrown them. Alas, her penchant for dramatic scenes seemed to have reawakened one. Even thinking hurt. A dark, silent room was what she required. She would have to go over Mr. Darcy’s words tomorrow when she was feeling better. It bothered her to think that she had completely misunderstood the man, but it did appear to be the case.
It required another half an hour, but Elizabeth finally fell into a troubled sleep.
Chapter Five
Darcysankontohisbed with a sigh. He would need to remain at Longbourn until Bingley was well enough to travel to Netherfield without reinjuring himself. It would be several days at least. A week, if Mrs. Bennet could prolong them.
He rubbed the back of his neck. How was he to keep himself aloof from Miss Elizabeth now he was again thrown into her company? Had not her sojourn at Netherfield been torture enough? Every time they were together, he witnessed more to admire in her and grew more attached. If he wished to depart Hertfordshire without raising the same expectations Bingley had, he could not continue in this way.
Did he wish it?
He mulled over what Bingley had said about offering for Miss Bennet. If his friend decided to marry Miss Elizabeth’s sister, she would forever be in his life. Either she would come to live with her sister and become a regular resident in Bingley’s household, or she would marry . . . He groaned. Shewouldmarry, of course, and he would be forced to watch her live her life, happy with another man.
He was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If he had been able to leave Hertfordshire without seeing her again, he might have stood a chance of recovering his equanimity. But now . . .
Miss Elizabeth was a sensible girl. Darcy was sure she had not allowed herself to think of him. She would understand that the difference in their stations would prevent him from forming any serious designs upon her, and Elizabeth Bennet was not the sort of woman to make herself unhappy about it. Sadly, this only added to her charms.