Within a matter of days, word had spread of Mr. Whickham's tendencies to accumulate debts. With Mr. Darcy to back the claims, there was little doubt of Whickham's poor character. Meryton gossips soon had begun circulating their own rumours about the man, one of which being extremely accurate: his defamation of young girl's.
There was nary a place he could go without the whispers following him, and today was no different. Still, the disapproval of which he was spoken of only served to make him more enticing to some of the sillier girls in town.
One such girl was a Miss Lydia Bennet. Whickham thought her particular type of stupid: the kind of stupid that stuck her hand directly into a fire, not because she thought it was something else, but because she thought there was a particular beauty in being burned.
"So what if you don't pay? It isn't fair that some people get the best things in life just because they have more ruddy money!" she would say. But she was just like other girls in fancying she could change him.
Whickham amused himself with those girls who thought their love would save him. He wanted to ruin the lives of as many girls as he could while in Meryton. He knew the Darcys were in town, and he wanted to send a message; to make it clear that they could not beat him.
Many weeks and several pleasant gatherings between the Netherfield party and the Bennets saw an invitation from Mr. Bingley to the Bennet girls; well, the missive was addressed specifically to Miss Bennet, but the invitation named all five of the sisters.
Jane was glowing with innocent excitement. "O, a picnic! Mr. Bingley says that it will be an indoor picnic, isn't that queer! Because of the chilling weather, he says. Doesn't that sound awfully lovely."
"Awfully awful, more like," was Lydia's reply.
Kitty, ever loyal to Lydia, hummed her agreement and parroted the sentiments, "Perfectly dreadful."
Jane turned to Lizzy. "Will you go?" she asked, hopeful. "Mr. Bingley writes that the Darcys will be there. It was Miss Darcy's idea for a picnic out of the outdoors, he says. I swear, Lizzy, she you must have rubbed off on her."
Elizabeth smiled, remembering her own little picnic with Georgiana. "What could be better than food and friends to keep the spirit warm in such chilly weather?" She turned to the middle sister, "Shall you join us Mary?"
Mary weighed the pros and cons of going to the friendly gathering. While she wasn't one for socializing, she did not want to to remain at home and subject to the abuse of her younger sisters and nervous mother. "Do you suppose it would be rude if I brought something to read?"
Elizabeth smiled. "I don't think it will be minded to much if you bring something with you so long as you make some small talk first. Georgiana mentioned to me she wanted to talk to you about music for she knows how ill I play, though she would never say it."
Mrs. Bennet could hold her tongue no more, "Mary, you must be very good on the visit so that the men may see fit to recommend you to other gentlemen of their acquaintance!"
Elizabeth was trying desperately to suppress her mirth at her mama's antics. "Mama, we are not so desperate that we should resort to begging for husbands, I should think!"
With a roll of her eyes, Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, "Indeed you are not so desperate with your attentions from Mr. Darcy — and good on you, my clever girl, for gaining them — but certainly you must think of your sisters, child!"
At this, Elizabeth was absolutely horrified. "I have not received any special attentions from Mr. Darcy, Mama, nor would I expect any. He has given me no indication of such, and I would thank you not to make such assumptions." She threw her sewing on the table beside her as she stood to leave. She stopped at the threshold, poked her chin above her shoulder and said, "Jane, I would love to see my friends on the date proposed. Would you mind sending my response along with yours?"
At Jane's nod that she would, Elizabeth scurried up the stairs two at a time and retreated to the safety of her room. How could her mother think she would purposely vie for a man's esteem? Lizzy was sure no esteem worth having won by calculated means, and Mr. Darcy was clearly no fool become attached to a facade of a woman or else someone of the Ton surely would have ensnared him already.
And what of her mother assuming Mr. Darcy's affections lay with her? Charlotte had said something of the same meaning some time back, and she had found it just as ridiculous then.
And it hurt that she found it ridiculous.
When the day of the picnic arrived, Elizabeth had convinced herself that she had put her confusing upset behind her. Georgiana, though, knew Elizabeth better than most (better, even, than her sisters or Miss Lucas, she thought with pride) and saw her friend's discomfort. Several times Mr. Darcy tried to speak to Elizabeth and each time she managed to redirect his conversation elsewhere. Georgiana was worried her brother had done some offence to her friend.
Mr. Darcy worried about much the same thing as his sister. He found Miss Elizabeth's conversation quite valuable, and his chest ached from the loss of it. Her eyes seemed dull and refused to settle for even the briefest moment on his figure. While Miss Mary was a pleasing enough conversationalist in his opinion (straight to the point and without nonsensical silliness), he would much have preferred to discuss the moral flaws and virtues to be found in Hamlet or the cadence of Othello with Miss Elizabeth.
He watched her as she ran about the area with his sister, collecting wildflower bouquets that they gifted to everyone in their merry party. After each had a bouquet, Georgiana sat back down next to Mr. Darcy.
"What did you do, Fitz, to unsettle Lizzy so?" She asked, holding his arm and settling her chin on his shoulder.
"I was hoping you could tell me," he said.
It was then that a giggling Elizabeth fell to Georgiana's other side, her hands fixed in her friend's golden hair. When she pulled away, her eyes shone again with the genuine happiness and affection Darcy admired. Purple flowers were knotted together to form a flower crown that contrasted Georgiana's yellow hair beautifully. Georgiana laughed when she realised what Elizabeth had given her, and Darcy melted in seeing his sister and Elizabeth in such a blissful state.
"I must make you one!" Georgiana said, pushing herself to her feat and heading towards the hills Lizzy had wandered with her a few minutes earlier.
Jane and Mr. Bingley were sat under a tree together, speaking to one another as sweethearts did. Mary sat near enough to them to serve as a chaperone; although, her book served to distract her from paying any mind to the young couple.
And so, Darcy and Elizabeth were left together on the picnic blanket with no chaperone and feeling of discomfort between them.
"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said, "If I have done anything to offend you –"
"You have not, sir," Elizabeth insisted.
"Then may I inquire as to why my conversation seems so detestable to you, today?" Darcy asked, frustrated now.
Elizabeth looked about them to see if anyone was listening: no one was even remotely close enough to attempt eavesdropping. "I have been told recently by more than one person that I appear coquettish in your presence. I do not want people to think I am luring you like a siren lures a sailor to his doom."
Mr. Darcy's surprise showed on his face. "Indeed, I do not think you coquettish at all, and I cannot imagine how one could see our conversation in such a way."
"Well, Mr. Darcy, the women of Hertfordshire have little more to occupy their time than idle gossip," Elizabeth said, looking into his eyes. "I would never wish to subject you to such rumours."
It was the sincerity of Elizabeth's statement that struck some chord on the lyre of Darcy's heart: that she would be concerned for him rather than seek his entrapment amazed him. It was one of the many things about her that amazed him.
Georgiana put a crown marble white flowers on Elizabeth's dark head, and the girls began laughing and chatting together. Elizabeth seemed to forget she'd been speaking to Mr. Darcy at all. It was as if nothing was changed.
He did not forget.
He was alterted.