However hard she tried, Elizabeth found it impossible to concentrate on the play. Her eyes kept drifting towards George Wickham. It seemed he wasn't interested in the play at all because he constantly chatted to the woman at his side.

She had only seen Wickham once since he had married Lydia, when she had been staying at Netherfield with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and the Wickhams had called unexpectedly. Wickham had been as charming as ever, but knowing exactly the type of man he was Elizabeth found his company and his manner irksome. Lydia's affection for her husband remained undimmed, but Elizabeth observed how quickly he found solace in the company of other women when Jane and Mr. Bingley entertained. It was clear to her that Wickham had no affection for his wife at all and treated her with polite contempt. She wondered how Lydia could be so deluded to his true nature, constantly calling him My darling Wickham, the most handsome and most generous husband in the world.

As she sat watching the couple she suddenly realised that perhaps she was being unfair. You should not rush to judgement, Elizabeth, she told herself. Perhaps Mr. Wickham was merely with a friend, but even as she tried to convince herself of such a truth Elizabeth knew it wasn't right. The way he kept stroking the woman's face, whispering in her ear and laughing was evidence enough that the relationship was one he should not be having.

Elizabeth wondered what he was even doing in London. News from Lydia was sporadic, but she had received a letter from her sister two months previously saying Wickham had left the regiment to pursue another career. Lydia had given no details, but that did not surprise her. Mr. Wickham probably did not know what he was going to do next. Lydia had hinted they were short of money and had recently changed accommodation. As she had done several times before, Elizabeth sent some money, hoping it would be spent wisely. She wondered now if Lydia had used the money to help them secure better lodgings or whether Wickham was using it to entertain other women. It was a dispiriting thought.

The first half was nearly over and very soon there was a thunderous applause as the first act came to an end. Elizabeth was slightly startled. She had been so intent on watching Wickham she had no idea what had been on the stage.

As they stood up, Elizabeth could see that Wickham too was standing next to his companion. Able to see the woman more clearly, Elizabeth could see even from a distance that she was very pretty with bright red hair. She wondered who she was and what she was doing with Mr. Wickham.

"Did you enjoy that, Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth nodded vaguely. "Look," she whispered. "Wickham."

Darcy followed her gaze and she immediately felt him stiffen.

"I wonder who that is beside him," she said.

Mr. Darcy said nothing. Elizabeth gazed up at him, noticing how he was staring straight ahead as his face grew pale, a sudden twitch in his cheek. Elizabeth eyes narrowed. She was certain he was not looking at Wickham but at the woman, who was throwing back her head and laughing.

"Do you know her?" she whispered.

"No...no I don't," said Darcy tearing his gaze away and looking down at her. "Let us join the others," he said.

Elizabeth took his arm. "I wonder why he's here," she whispered as she allowed herself be guided to another room where drinks were being served. "Poor Lydia."

"Elizabeth, I have no wish to discuss that man," said her husband with a touch of asperity.

Elizabeth did not know what to say. For Mr. Darcy to be angry was so very unusual.

"Forgive me," she said quietly. "I had no intention of upsetting you."

Darcy patted her hand. "It is I who should ask forgiveness. It was the shock of seeing that scoundrel that caused me to sound so impatient. Come we are here to enjoy ourselves. Do not let that man upset you."

Elizabeth was tempted to say that she wasn't upset at all, but something was puzzling her. Mr. Darcy had said he didn't know the woman, but something told her he was lying. Why oh why would he do that?

Elizabeth found the second part of the performance almost as difficult to concentrate on as the first. Wickham and his companion had retaken their seats and although she had noticed they were there she tried to concentrate on what was going on the stage. Several times she glanced at her husband and although his eyes were fixed on what was going on she could see the tension in his stance and suspected that he was as distracted as she was. She knew he had a deep and abiding dislike for Wickham after Wickham had almost managed to elope with his sister Georgiana. She leaned over and stroked his arm and Darcy smiled at her. Early in their marriage he had started to confide in her when he was troubled and she had been proud to be his confidant, but now that was not the case. He was kind, thoughtful, but distant. Neither of them were very happy. If she hoped to restore their relationship to the joyous early days of their marriage when they had talked and laughed it was going to be up to her. Wickham be damned. He was of no consequence in her life and she would not think of him again.

The play finished with the audience stamping their feet and cheering as the actors came forward to take their bows. Elizabeth was rather glad it was all over and she was looking forward to such time as they would dine.

"I hope you both enjoyed that," said Anne as they were handed their cloaks by a footman.

"It was very interesting. It is the first time I have seen one of Mr. Shakespeare's plays," said Elizabeth hoping that no one would ask her detailed questions which she could not answer.

Anne smiled at her cousin. "Fitzwilliam?"

"It was an excellent production," said Mr. Darcy, "and it was kind of you to invite us."

"Well we don't see enough of you. I wish you would come to London more often," said Anne. "Now we thought we'd dine at Sawyers. I believe they have the best oysters in…." Her voice trailed away and they all looked at her with concern.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" asked Lord Trentham, touching his wife's arm.

Anne shook her head and turned to her husband. "No, I am perfectly well I assure you." She turned to her cousin. "Fitzwilliam, did you see that? I am certain I just saw Selina Grey. How strange to see her in these parts after all these years."

"Who is Selina Grey?" asked Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy ignored her and turned to his cousin. "London is a place where one often renews old acquaintances," he said, "which is why it is so good to see you both."

"Indeed," said Lord Trentham. "Now shall we go?" he asked, taking his wife's arm.

"Of course, my dear," said Anne. "It may be unladylike to say so, but I must admit I am ravenous."

Her husband smiled indulgently and they all left the theatre. Elizabeth couldn't help noticing that Darcy had never answered his cousin as to whether he had seen the woman or not. It was not like him to show such a lack of manners. Strange. It was very strange indeed. Elizabeth couldn't help wondering exactly who was Selina Grey. It was a name she was not acquainted with.