I'm in revisions for Act 3 because I have to get this to my editor by the 30th to make my preorder deadline on Amazon, but I'll try and post a chapter a day as I go through and check for final snags. My editor is wonderful, so the published version should read much smoother and address any inconsistencies that she notices (and that ya'll notice, as well.) Thank you again for the feedback! I read all your comments and make notes. :)
"Mr. Bennet." William bowed.
"Mr. Darcy." Mr. Bennet's voice was cold. "To what do I owe the honor?"
William straightened. "I will be attending the assembly with Mr. Bingley and his sister. I thought it best you were aware of my presence. A surprise public meeting might not have been very comfortable for either of us."
"Indeed. I thank you for your consideration." His expression did not change. "Will you be at Netherfield long?"
"I have no definite plans. Were you aware my brother is also in town?"
Mr. Bennet's eyes widened. "What?" This time his voice was a near bellow of outrage. "Both of you at one time? This is insupportable!"
"I was unaware of it," William said, voice edged. "Now that I am, it is my intent to remain as long as he does, to prevent any imposition from him."
Mr. Bennet's eyes narrowed. "If you believe he will attempt to see Lizzy. . ."
"I do not believe it, I know it. He will be unable to resist the opportunity." Especially since the vivacious girl she had once been had matured into a beautiful, poised woman with an alluring air of gravity.
"Tell me, Mr. Darcy. Is it my daughter you are concerned for, or your brother?"
"I do not believe the match would suit either of them. I did not believe it then, and I do not now."
"They are adults."
William's mouth thinned. "I would hesitate to call George an adult. He is wild and irresponsible, though half the trouble he gets into is due to thoughtlessness rather than malice. We both agreed then that he would make Lizzy a poor husband."
Mr. Bennet's eyes flickered from the use of her Christian name. "And so you would save my daughter from herself again. She will not thank you, and I believe you will find she is not quite so easy to handle, all grown up."
William was silent. He had measured the steel in her eyes, her nearly instant composure even though a flash of shock betrayed her upon first seeing him. He remembered the girl she had been and was able to count the formidable woman she was in the present.
It did not matter. He had made a vow. George would never have her. Over his dead body would his brother take Elizabeth. A part of his mind mocked him. He would not offer for her because her fortune lacked in his father's opinion, but yet he did not want his brother to wed her either. If he were honest with himself, though. . . .would he stand by and let any man have her? Could he, now that he had set eyes on her again through some quirk of fate?
He had searched for her at first, and after a time come to believe perhaps it was for the best, and quietly allowed the search to cease. After his father's death, he had again made inquiries. . .but by then enough time had passed he felt she must already be settled into a new life. What good would it do to disturb her unless he was prepared to wed her were she still unmarried? Which he had thought unlikely. In hindsight, he should have realized Mr. Bennet's mild manner hid a streak of stubbornness as wide as Elizabeth's. No, her father would never force her to wed.
"I also owe you an apology," William said. Mr. Bennet's brows rose. It was less difficult to say than he'd thought it would be, especially since he had had years to reflect. "Those days after I prevented George and Lizzy—Miss Bennet—from eloping, I did not handle my own emotions the way a gentleman should have. If not for my lack of control, things might not have gone so poorly. It has weighed on my mind ever since, the harm I caused your family and the rift between you and my father."
Mr. Bennet was silent a moment, then sighed. "You were a young man, and I cannot refuse to forgive a man who has offered so elegant an apology."
"It was not that I thought Miss Bennet not good enough for George," William said. "Rather I thought he would make her quite miserable. Even then he was much embroiled with the local girls of lower birth. Elizabeth would have been very unhappy."
"Hmm. My old friend was rather more concerned for her lower station in life than her happiness as a wife."
"My father, and now I, were very aware of the duty we have to Pemberley to maintain the estate. It is my duty to make an advantageous match."
"And my Lizzy's dowry was not quite up to snuff."
William said nothing. Elizabeth's portion, in truth, was what a stepson should expect in a bride, and her station not so low as to be an insult to him either. They were technically of the same class, though at opposite spectrums of it. But their father's love and pride had blinded him to the reality that George was not, truly, a Fitzwilliam. Or he was not, as far as William knew. If that was a secret his father had kept, he had kept it even unto his deathbed. William's only concern had been Elizabeth's happiness—and his own struggle with his desire for her. He had known his father would never allow the match, and the anger over George attempting an elopement had proven it. It would have been ten times as worse if it had been himself running away with the second eldest Miss Bennet.
"I only ask that you do nothing to embroil my family in gossip," Mr. Bennet said. "I cannot, of course, control whether you stay or go from Netherfield or if you participate in society here. And we are all adults, after all. But I insist you do not disturb my Lizzy. She has suffered enough."
William bowed. A long time ago, she had been his Lizzy as well.
They returned to Netherfield, William having to almost drag Charles from Longbourn and the company of Jane Bennet. That he was well on his way to becoming besotted was obvious. William would have preferred to dine in peace and silence, however, left alone to his brooding thoughts rather than sit quietly and watch as his friend made a fool of himself over a country miss, even a beautiful one. He supposed he should be glad Charles had not fallen in love with a scullery maid. At least Jane was respectable, if poor, by their standards.
"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Charles said. "And her manner so pleasing. Reserved but direct. A becoming hint of warmth but she lacks the. . . uh. . .exuberant natures of her younger sisters. Uh. . .lovely girls. I am certain they will mature with age. Did you not think her handsome?"
William's head was beginning to hurt. Exuberant did not begin to describe the pert, suggestive manners of either Lydia or Kitty Bennet. He had sent an unfortunate fifteen minutes in their company after leaving Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth had remained silent the entire time, Jane equally as genteel in her manners as the younger ones dominated the conversation. Lydia, especially, had a roguish quality that reminded him of George. Pray those two never met.
"Jane, I presume?" he asked.
"Yes, the eldest Miss Bennet."
William glanced across the table at Charles' slightly repressive tone. "Forgive me," he said mildly. "I remember her when she was a girl."
There was a beat of silence. "You will have to enlighten me," was the somewhat cool reply.
"I cannot imagine how such a family could claim a former acquaintance with the Darcys of Pemberley," Caroline said, voice arch. "They are not quite the same society as we, are they? I hear their uncle is in trade."
William suppressed a grimace. Caroline liked to forget her own tradesman roots. "I believe I already offered an explanation. Their family once resided in Derbyshire on a small estate similar to Longbourn, near my own. Mr. Bennet was a great friend of my father's."
"I have never heard you mention them before."
He ignored her indelicate probing and continued to eat.
"Well, I look forward to the assembly," Charles said. "I would bet my horse Miss Jane dances like an angel. I am certain the other Miss Bennet is no less graceful as well. You will have to break your habit of skulking in corners at balls and stand up with her, Darcy."
"I cannot imagine what would tempt me to do so."
Already settled from Will—Mr. Darcy's call, Elizabeth and Jane set out to Meryton the next morning. Well, snuck out was closer to the truth. A note sent via a servant sworn to discretion advised George to meet her in the circulating library at a time of morning she knew it would be less occupied. Jane would remain nearby for propriety's sake.
"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Dunwoody greeted them, spectacles slipping down his nose as he shelved several books. "How lovely to see you. Are you looking for anything in particular?"
"Good morning," Jane said. "Not in particular. Do you have any recommendations?"
Elizabeth allowed her sister to engage Mr. Dunwoody while she passed the time pretending to be engrossed in a volume of poetry which he presented to her, and took it to a bench in the back of the establishment set aside for individuals and small parties to quietly read or converse. Elizabeth pretended to read, becoming engrossed in her thoughts. William, standing so still and silent in the parlour yesterday, watching her sisters with inscrutable eyes. What had he thought of them? He had never like silly girls, and Lydia and Kitty were two of the silliest, her father often said.
"That is one of my favorite volumes!" a male voice exclaimed. "May I join you?"
Elizabeth glanced up into George's twinkling eyes, and suppressed a sigh as he bowed.
"George Wickham, at your service."
She rose to make her curtsey, annoyed as he settled into a chair opposite her. "Do you have to speak so loudly?" Jane gave her a telling glance, moving a little closer.
He blinked innocently. His eyebrows and lashes had darkened over the years, lending maturity to his face. A false maturity, she suspected.
"You wished to meet here, Lizzy, rather than someone in the country. And I see you brought your dragon with you. I cannot help if I have a deep voice—"
"Oh, stop." She rolled her eyes. "Deep voice, indeed."
His expression sobered. "I will not take up much of your time. I only wanted to see you again—I know I dare not call on your father—to assure myself you are well."
"I am very well, George, thank you." She softened—a bit. Had she not wished to assure herself of the same thing? That he was well and happy?
"You have grown into a beautiful woman." His expression turned speculative. "Is there no intended lurking into the background to challenge me to a duel for your hand?"
She knew better than to take anything he said seriously. "Not a one. I quite prefer the single state, thank you."
His eyes narrowed. "No one here knows of your fortune, do they? I cannot believe you or Jane would remain unwed if it were common knowledge."
That was because the eldest Bennet girls had sworn their parents to secret on pain of remaining spinsters. Neither of them wanted to fend off suitors only interested in their fortunes. And since the fiasco with George—who had been so very honest that her money was what attracted his attempt at elopement—even her mother had seen the wisdom in averting disaster by keeping quiet. Though Elizabeth knew Mrs. Bennet's silence would come to an end sooner or later, if neither she nor Jane showed any signs of choosing husbands.
"They do not know," she said. "And you will say nothing."
He pressed a hand to his chest. "I vow silence. Though, I know several deserving chaps—"
Elizabeth rose. "I am glad to have seen you again, George, and to know all is well with you. I do not think it wise we meet like this again."
He rose. "Are you to attend the assembly?"
"Of course."
"Well, if you will be there, so shall I, but I will not betray our prior acquaintance. You will save a dance for me, will you not?"
She frowned at him and did not respond, instead taking her book selections and leaving the establishment with them carefully wrapped and tucked into her reticule, Jane at her side.
"That was not the disaster I was expecting," Jane said under her breath. "I thought he would swear undying love and get down on one knee. I shudder to think he knows of our money. What is to keep him from attempting to compromise you again? This time you would have to wed him."
"If he tried such a trick with me—"
"Lizzy! Jane!"
Elizabeth sighed as she heard the excited voice of Lydia. Had her sister followed them, or simply had her own early morning errands to run? George exited the library a moment later, almost running into Elizabeth's back.
"Lizzy, you will not live what I heard! The officers are all invited to the assembly. Officers! Oh." Lydia stopped short, eyes widening slightly as she took in Wickham.
Her younger sister looked uncommonly pretty, with slightly rounded and flushed cheeks and rosy lips, her eyes sparkling and strand of light brown hair escaping her bonnet.
"Is that little Lydia?" George asked. "My."
Jane stepped away from George and took Lydia's arm in a deceptively sisterly manner. . . But Elizabeth recognized the subtly restraining hold.
Lydia's head tilted. "Little Lydia? Have I made your acquaintance, Sir?" Far from being offended, Elizabeth watched Lydia shift seamlessly into her flirtatious mode. George was dressed in his regimentals, after all, and cut quite a handsome figure with the dark golden hair and broad shoulders.
Jane spoke. "Lydia, this is George Wickham. From Derbyshire."
Lydia's expression remained blank and then her eyes widened. "Derbyshire? Oh! I see."
George stepped from behind Elizabeth and bowed. "You were still in pigtails, Miss Bennet."
"I wear my hair up now, Mr. Wickham. Tell me, will you be at the assembly?"
He smiled at her, slanting a glance at Elizabeth. "I had no intention of going, but after seeing you, I must claim a dance."
Elizabeth's lips pursed. He was needling her, and she refused to rise to the bait. "Lydia, perhaps you will accompany Jane and I? I am certain Mr. Wickham has an appointment."
Lydia, of course, could not be prevailed upon to keep her silence. The result of which, Mrs. Bennet predictably dissolved into a fit of vapors.
"Mama, Mr. Wickham has promised to keep his distance," Elizabeth reminded her for the third time. "There should be no whiff of scandal where he is concerned. Those events happened so very long ago, after all."
Her mother paused, removing the cloth over one eye, and glared at Elizabeth. "This is George Wickham to whom you refer? You say no whiff of scandal? Ha!"
"He is very handsome, is he not?" Lydia asked. "I cannot wait to dance with him at the assembly."
Elizabeth whirled, fixing a gimlet eye on her younger sister, who succumbed to a fit of coughing giggles and darted from the room, her goal accomplished. Jane glanced at Elizabeth, expression long-suffering.
"Well, I suppose there is nothing to be done for it," her elder sister said. "And truly, it is not so great a thing." But she sounded doubtful.
"I shall never see you girls wed!" Mrs. Bennet wailed. Abruptly, she sat upright, all histrionics gone. "Jane, Elizabeth, it is time we let slip a few discreet rumors regarding your dowries."
Jane exclaimed. "Mother! You know why we wish to keep that information private."
"Yes, all that nonsense about a man marrying you for love!" Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "Foolishness. I shall have to save you girls from yourselves. There are several suitable gentlemen whom I am certain would fall in love with you once they realized your great beauty is accompanied by a decent portion. Marriage is business, my dears. Not romance."
Elizabeth did not bother to argue with her mother. She left the woman with Jane and went straight to her father.
"You have to stop her," she demanded. He lounged in his armchair, a book in his lap as was his wont at this time of day. "You know the last thing any of us wants is a line of fortune hunters calling at our door."
"Have a care for my nerves, Lizzy," he murmured. "I can hear the wailing all the way down here and if revealing your dowries to all and sundry will soothe your poor mother, I am all for it."
"Papa."
He sighed. "I will speak to her. But I fear you will have to make some attempt at a match, my dear, in order to waylay her nefarious intentions to see you and Jane well settled with a suitable husband in a happy marriage."
Nefarious, indeed.
