“So you are courting her,” Darcy said from behind clenched teeth.
“What is it to you if I am?”
Stopping abruptly, Darcy spun the other man about to face him. “She has no dowry to speak of. You could not possibly be interested in more than a dalliance.”
Wickham put his hand to his heart. “Do you think me so mercenary as all that, Darcy? I am insulted, sir!”
Darcy’s patience had worn out. He held Wickham in place with a hand on his shoulder and stared fiercely into the other man’s eyes. “If you hurt her—or her family—in any way, I will make sure you suffer for it.”
“I have the greatest admiration for Miss Bennet and have no intention of harming her.” The sincerity of his words was belied by his noxious smirk.
Darcy shook the other man by the shoulder. “I am not making an idle threat.”
Wickham shrugged. “I have debts, Darcy. I may be forced to flee London. If I do so, I might prefer some company.” He winked.
Darcy’s fist raised, but he managed not to strike the other man. How can he think such despicable things about Elizabeth? How can he be so disgustingly cavalier about her virtue? “She would never join you,” he hissed.
Wickham eyed Darcy sardonically. “If you say so… Then you have no cause for anxiety.” He flung off Darcy’s arm. “I suppose time will tell.” After flashing Darcy a knowing grin, the other man hurried away. Darcy did not stop him.
He stood in the pathway, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to get his ragged breathing under control. Damnation! I have tipped my hand. Wickham is not stupid. The officer recognized Darcy’s interest in Elizabeth.
But Wickham’s presence at the Gardiners’ had taken Darcy by surprise. The officer was more than capable of continuing to pursue Elizabeth just to spite Darcy. Wickham had no true feelings for her, and he had no intention of proposing marriage, but his presence could impede Darcy’s plans with Elizabeth.
Not that I have any such plans, of course. I am simply being friendly.
Still, how could he protect Elizabeth from Wickham? Darcy envisioned various schemes involving bodyguards or Bow Street Runners watching the Gardiners’ house, but they were impractical and unlikely to succeed without Elizabeth’s cooperation.
There was nothing for it, he concluded reluctantly. He must tell Elizabeth why Wickham was unsuitable company. Hesitant to spread gossip and unaware of which lies Wickham had told Elizabeth, Darcy had refrained from speaking of the matter before. But now it appeared to be the only way to protect her.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes to scan the ballroom, wishing she were taller. The Marlowes’ ball was quite a crush, and it was difficult to discern individuals on the other side of the room. The ballroom itself was beautifully decorated, festooned with gold and deep red ribbons as well as swags of pine branches and holly. Mistletoe seemed to adorn every doorway and corner. She would have to be careful not to be caught under a bunch lest some man importune her for a kiss.
Frustrated with her inability to see, Elizabeth climbed up a few steps to a landing, which provided access to the French doors opening onto the terrace. Of course, it was December, so the doors were tightly closed. Aunt Gardiner followed her up the steps. “Perchance are you seeking a particular young officer?”
Elizabeth blushed and said nothing. She had been disappointed when Mr. Wickham had not attended the ball at Netherfield in November. However, he had told Elizabeth he was acquainted with the Marlowe family—who seemed to know everybody in London—so she had every reason to hope he would be present for this occasion. While Elizabeth was not like Kitty and Lydia, chasing after every man in a red coat, she would not mind seeing the dashing figure of Mr. Wickham in his regimentals, and it would not be a chore to stand up with him.
“He is an amiable, well-spoken young man,” Aunt Gardiner continued. “Your uncle and I quite enjoy his company.”
“It is pleasant to have an acquaintance from Meryton here in London,” Elizabeth replied. While she had not precisely been missing Hertfordshire, she had been somewhat overwhelmed by the constant stream of new acquaintances since arriving in town. She must have met everyone her aunt and uncle knew
in London, including the Marlowes, whose fortune derived from a firm that did business with her Uncle Gardiner.
Mr. Wickham was always a welcome sight. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was not. It was so unfortunate that he had arrived only a few minutes into Mr. Wickham’s visit yesterday. Elizabeth had been anticipating a pleasant conversation with Mr. Wickham—and perhaps a walk in the nearby park. But Mr. Darcy’s arrival had created a scene of great awkwardness.
Elizabeth had hoped Mr. Darcy’s antipathy for the other man would compel him to quit the Gardiners’ house quickly; instead he had remained, scowling and unpleasant, until Mr. Wickham took his leave. The man had already stolen the living bequeathed by Mr. Darcy’s father. Must he deprive the poor officer of good company as well? Mr. Wickham had borne it all with great equanimity, but Elizabeth had discerned signs of strain on his countenance.
Unfortunately, Mr. Darcy would be attending the Marlowes’ ball as well. When Elizabeth had arrived with the Gardiners, their hostess had been breathless with excitement over the news. “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley! He had initially informed us that he would not attend, but this morning we received a missive that his plans had been altered, and he would be able to grace us with his presence. Such a coup! It is well known he so rarely accepts invitations to any occasion. But perhaps”—Mrs. Marlowe had flicked open her fan and employed it vigorously—“he has heard tales about our fine balls. Everyone enjoys them. They are always much talked about! I would not be surprised….” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “To discover he altered his plans specifically so he would not miss it.”
“That must be the case, madam,” Elizabeth had responded. “He certainly is not attending so he can see me!” Mrs. Marlowe had laughed at her joke.
Elizabeth endeavored not to dwell on Mr. Darcy’s presence and consoled herself that he was unlikely to seek her out. He had performed his duty to their acquaintance by calling on the Gardiners—and plainly had little joy in it. No doubt he had many other friends he would prefer to see.
At that moment Elizabeth spied Mr. Wickham. He was on the other side of the vast room, speaking with a petite blonde woman; but when he happened to glance in her direction, Elizabeth caught his eye. He answered with a broad smile—he really was quite handsome—and proceeded to plough through the crowd in her direction.
Her attention was drawn from him when her aunt tugged her arm. Following her aunt’s gaze, Elizabeth saw, to her horror, that Mr. Darcy was also wading through the crush of people in her direction. His eyes were intent on her the way a wolf’s might be when stalking a doe.
Whoever arrived first could claim the next dance with her. “What shall I do?” she asked her aunt. “I have no desire to dance with him!”