“Why not a marriage scheme for yourself, then, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Wickham smiled knowingly at her. “Why not find some way free of it that way?”
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “Maybe someday. But my friend is first. I must secure Mr. Darcy for her. So, if it’s not a formal engagement, there is a chance.”
“I doubt it,” said Mr. Wickham.
“Oh, yes,” she said, getting to her feet, brushing at her skirts. “I’m well aware of what everything thinks of my matchmaking skills. They don’t believe I know what I’m doing. You think I’m just playing a little girlish game.”
“No, no,” said Mr. Wickham. “I would never presume to denigrate your skills so soundly, madam. I only meant that Mr. Darcy, he is not the sort of person who can be made to do things.”
“Right, then,” she said. “Well, he’ll have to think it’s his own idea.”
Mr. Wickham gave her a look so approving and impressed that she actually took a step back. “You’re an interesting sort of woman, aren’t you, Miss Bennet?”
She shook herself. “I have been too free and too open, I think. You must be thinking awful things of me.”
“I assure you, nothing I’m thinking about you right now is awful,” said Mr. Wickham, and there was a rough quality to his voice.
She had never heard a man speak that way about her. It made something inside her come untethered for a moment. She felt out of balance.
Mr. Wickham cleared his throat. “Oh, pardon me, I did not mean to overstep there.”
“You did not,” she said, giving him a tight smile. He hadn’t, had he? “We must go in, I think?”
“You go first,” he said softly. “After all, we must time our entrances.”
“Oh, that was but a joke, sir,” she said.
She went in on her own, anyway.
When Mr. Wickham came back in and joined a table of cards, she kept her gaze on him for some time, thinking to herself that the reverse of what he had said was true also. Mr. Wickham was a very interesting sort of man, wasn’t he? She didn’t think he would have been a very good rector, in the end, but then she didn’t suppose this much mattered, for Mr. Collins was not a very good rector either, all things considered.
What Mr. Wickham would be good at, however, well…
Something about Mr. Wickham made her feel a strange mixture of excitement and dread, she found. She was wary of him. She wanted to be near him nonetheless.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BALL ATNetherfield was six days hence. Elizabeth had no reason to associate with Mr. Darcy during that time period, and so she was left to speculate about him and to stew over the things that Mr. Wickham had said about him.
She could not but feel as if Mr. Wickham had taken too much enjoyment in his censure of Mr. Darcy.
She was not sure what that meant, not exactly. It could be that Mr. Wickham himself took a great deal of pleasure in vengeance. People did, of course. He had been wronged by Mr. Darcy; he was getting him back. That felt like justice and one could convince oneself it was noble. But it was interesting how no one ever seemed to admit that they themselves had been in the wrong or to agree that they should be censured. No, people only wished to do this sort of “justice” to others. Hence, vengeance, not justice.
It could have been something else, of course, something darker. Mr. Wickham could have been enjoying the way it affected her. He might be the sort of person who enjoyed manipulating others.
Elizabeth herself was not entirely immune from this feeling of enjoyment, she supposed, but she was ashamed of it and did her best to keep it in check.
Well, she hoped she did.
There was a succession of rain for several days leading up to the ball, which prevented Elizabeth from walking toMeryton or walking halfway to Netherfield to meet Caroline or walking anywhere at all. Therefore, she said nothing to Caroline about what she’d heard about Mr. Darcy.
She didn’t think it would matter in the end, anyway. Caroline would likely not care very much about the plight of the son of a steward, even if he were as guileless as the day was long (which Mr. Wickham was not and she was certain of that). Caroline was not cruel to servants or anything, but she saw the world in a certain way. Servants were there for the precise purpose of seeing to the needs and desires of their betters. That was their lot in life, and they must set themselves to that path. Servants trying to make names for themselves or rise in their stations, to be elevated to the status of gentlemen by taking on posts in the church… well, Caroline would not be that sympathetic.
Many people wouldn’t, after all.
And Elizabeth herself didn’t know how she felt about it. Was it a sign? Should Mr. Wickham perhaps have schooled his desires? Reaching too high was a sin, the sin of covetousness, after all.
It was ironic, though. Caroline herself was reaching above her own station, trying to rise.
