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“Mr Darcy!” cried Elizabeth.
Wickham looked at her with interest. “I believe you are acquainted with this gentlemen?”
“I do not know if they are the same person. I am acquainted with a Mr Darcy, though he is a younger man. He is currently residing at Netherfield Park, a guest of Mr Bingley. In fact...” She looked at him curiously. “You were with us when he and Mr Bingley came upon us on the road leading into Meryton. I believe that the two of you...?”
Wickham’s face took on an expression of bitter regret. “Ah, yes. That is the son. As you saw, we are not on friendly terms and it gives me pain to meet him. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr Darcy was one of the best men that ever breathed. He was my godfather and excessively attached to me. Indeed, he meant to provide for me amply and bequeathed me the most valuable living as a clergyman. But, alas, when the living became vacant, the present Mr Darcy gave it to another.”
“Indeed?” said Elizabeth, shocked.
Wickham nodded. “Furthermore, he did add to this scandalous behaviour by asserting that I had forfeited all claim to any bequest by extravagance, imprudence, malice, and other such flaws. The world is blinded by Mr Darcy’s fortune and consequence, and thus society has wholeheartedly embraced his condemnation of me. It has caused me to lose hope of warm reception from any quarter.” He gave a wry smile and gestured to himself. “So you see me reduced to this—making my fortunes as a highwayman. It shames me to take on this mantle of crime. I often think of the pain it would have given the late Mr Darcy had he known how his will was to be disregarded, but I have resigned myself to my situation. I have been a disappointed man and my spirit will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. If this is the only means by which I can find gainful activity, so be it.”
“But... this is shocking!” said Elizabeth, horrified. “What could have been Mr Darcy’s motive? What could have induced him to behave so cruelly?”
Wickham shrugged. “A thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better.”
Elizabeth shook her head disbelievingly. “I had not thought Mr Darcy so bad as this...” She bit her lip. “I know him to be a proud, judgemental sort of man, but I did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice as this!”
She was conscious of a very strong sense of disappointment pervading her senses. There was as much an indignation for his treatment of Wickham as there was distress for her own betrayal. She felt deceived—deceived by Darcy’s noble manners and his impression of gentlemanly decency. Why, she had even come to almost trust him by the end of her stay at Netherfield and, yes, perhaps even feel a certain regard for him. Now she felt herself completely misled and she did not relish the feeling.
“He deserves to be publicly disgraced,” she said angrily. “I cannot comprehend how those such as Mr Bingley—who is the most sweet-tempered, kind man—can be in friendship with him!”
“With those who are his equal in consequence, Mr Darcy can be just and sincere, honourable, even agreeable. He can please where he chooses and he retains the ability to be a very different man.”
Elizabeth thought back to the few, brief occasions during her stay at Netherfield when Darcy had seemed amiable, even charming to her. During those episodes, she felt as though she had glimpsed another side to him and had been astonished at the difference from his usual austere manner.
“Yes...” she said thoughtfully. “He can indeed be very different when he chooses.”
Wickham looked at her curiously, but Elizabeth did not elaborate. Instead, she said to him with a smile:
“Well, Mr Wickham, you can always be assured of a warm welcome in my society. I hope it will please you to know that you have at least one friend in this world who sympathises with your situation most heartily.”
“Miss Bennet.” He captured her hand in his, his blue eyes ardent. “You know not how much your regard means to me.”
Elizabeth coloured and withdrew her hand. She had not meant to imply a romantic inclination for him and she hoped that he had not mistaken her meaning, though she had to admit that the thought of this charming young man being eager for her affections was not displeasing to her.
“I hear that there is to be a ball at Netherfield,” said Wickham cheerfully. “Would that I might join the ranks of those eager to claim your hand for a dance.”
Elizabeth gave him a mischievous look. “I fear that you would have difficulty finding me, sir.”
“Pray, why is that?”
“It is to be a masquerade and I shall be in disguise.”
“A masquerade ball!” he exclaimed in delight. “What an excellent idea! Mr Bingley has gone up in my estimation.”
“In truth, it was my younger sisters who first made the suggestion to him,” said Elizabeth. “And the decision was further supported by the approbation of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is Mr Darcy’s aunt. She confirms that masked balls are all the rage in London.”
“You have piqued my curiosity,” said Wickham. “I believe I may take the opportunity to come and admire your costume with my own eyes.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “You jest, sir.”
He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “No, indeed. Why should I not? You have said it is to be a masquerade and all will be in disguise. What better occasion for a highwayman to join a ball without invitation?”
“But, sir, the risks should you be caught—”
“The risks are nothing for the chance of a dance with you, Miss Bennet.” He captured her hand again and lifted it to his lips.
Elizabeth knew that she ought not to allow such intimate behaviour, but she found herself slow to reclaim her hand. Wickham’s gaze was warm and admiring, his manner so charming as to defuse all criticism of his unwarranted familiarity. She had to remind herself forcibly of what he was and of the impropriety of their meeting.
“I must go,” she said, turning away. “I must find some means to progress to Lucas Lodge.”
“Miss Bennet, will you not consider my suggestion again? You say we are friends—well, let the bonds of friendship allow me to perform this one service for you.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Her previous concerns were still strong in her mind, but it was true that their recent conversation had given her a greater ease and familiarity with him. She felt almost as if they had met at a social evening and just completed a pleasant tête-à-tête.
“Very well,” she said reluctantly. “Though I need you to promise that you will not approach the house close enough for us to be seen.”
“You have my word,” said Wickham with a bow.
Then he bent and swung her up into his arms. Elizabeth flushed and turned her face away. No matter how he phrased it, there was no escaping the intimacy of this position and she was mortified at the thought of discovery. But she conceded that the activity was a necessary evil to escape her present predicament and she hoped instead for its rapid conclusion.
Wickham carried her easily and made his way quickly through the woods, coming out at last to a little clearing within view of the rear gardens of Lucas Lodge.
“I thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth as they left the shelter of the trees. “This should suffice.”
“Are you certain, Miss Bennet? ’Tis still some distance to the house itself. You may yet find it difficult to attract anyone’s notice.”
“No, no, it will be fine,” Elizabeth said hastily. “I am sure Charlotte or her sisters may soon venture into the rear courtyard and—oh!”
She saw with deep dismay that Charlotte was already present in the rear courtyard and with her was Mr Collins! The clergyman and her friend were facing the other way, but they had only to turn and would certainly see her in Wickham’s arms.
“Put me down, sir! Put me down at once!” she hissed, struggling to extricate herself from Wickham’s hold.
“Rest easy, madam. They have not seen us,” said Wickham, lowering her to the ground.
Elizabeth swayed as she regained her feet and bit her lip to prevent herself crying out as she felt pain assault her once more from her injured ankle. But she was determined to be independent of Wickham’s assistance now and reached for the nearby fence post to support herself.
“Thank you for your kindness, sir, in assisting me,” she said breathlessly. “But I beg you now to return to the shelter of the woods before you are discovered.”
“Parting from you brings me great sorrow,” he said, tipping his hat with flourish. “But I shall look forward to our next encounter.”
“Go, go...!” said Elizabeth urgently.
“Eliza!”
“Cousin Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth turned around to see Charlotte and Mr Collins hurrying towards her. She affixed a smile to her face, hoping to deter their suspicions. But her hopes were dashed as she saw Charlotte’s eyes roam beyond her. A glance behind her showed that Wickham was clearly visible, his scarlet coat bright against the landscape, as he made his way back towards the stretch of woods.
“Eliza!” Charlotte reached her. Behind her came Mr Collins, breathing hard and moping his forehead with a handkerchief. Both wore identical expressions of shock and disapproval.
Charlotte grasped her hands. “Eliza! Who was that man?”
