It's been a couple of weeks and I hope all of you are doing well! Stay safe, keep wearing those masks, and keep your distance! We're going to get through this! In the meantime, I hope this story is a bright spot in your world.

Chapter 4

Elizabeth entered the assembly room that evening in high spirits. She had dressed in one of her best silk gowns, procured from one of her uncle's finest warehouses, and Hortense had created a magnificent coil of curls and spirals that framed her face prettily. She was ready to see and be seen, to dance as many times as she was asked, and above all, to enjoy herself thoroughly.

As she followed her aunt, uncle and Jane into the room she looked eagerly about her for any sign of George Wickham, the handsome young Englishman she had met a few weeks previously whose talent for making himself agreeable was making him popular in his set. He was a little ways from the entrance, standing in a group of four or five other gentlemen and their ladies. As usual he was the center of attention, saying something that made the others laugh when they heard it. Elizabeth could not help but notice that when the Gardiner's name was announced he looked up with interest.

"Enjoy yourselves, my dears," Mrs. Gardiner told her nieces with a smile, and then she and Mr. Gardiner moved off to join their friends. They had scarcely walked away when Wickham approached.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet," He swept a low bow to Jane, his dark suit with long tails contrasting sharply with his blond hair. Older gentlemen tended to wear the white wigs that emphasized their status, but Wickham was one of the bold young men who flaunted his own natural look. His clothes were finely tailored and his manners exquisite.

He lifted Jane's hand to his lips in the continental fashion, a custom not commonly followed in London. It was overdone but not without charm. Jane smiled and returned his greeting.

Then he turned his attention to Elizabeth. "How very beautiful you are tonight, Miss Elizabeth! I have waited so long for you to arrive, I thought you might never come. But I would have waited all evening if I had known such loveliness would be on display!"

Elizabeth's eyes danced with amusement. She could not help enjoying the shameless flattery, though she knew Wickham had likely said the exact same thing to half a dozen other ladies already this evening. It was the style in Paris. "I would have taken even longer to prepare, but too much preparation, they say, ruins the dish. I did not want to spoil the effect!"

"You are perfection itself. There would have been no point in making me wait any longer!" Wickham took her hand and bowed over it as well, keeping his eyes on her face as he kissed her fingers. Was it Elizabeth's imagination, or did he linger over her hand just a trifle too long? But she did not pull away from him.

Wickham turned back to Jane. "Miss Bennet, do you mind if I claim your sister's company for the first set? I promise not to keep her too long."

Elizabeth stiffened with surprise. Wickham had always been friendly, but he had never openly courted her. Was that about to change?

"Only if Lizzie agrees," Jane answered smoothly, with a look that showed how pleased she was for Elizabeth. Any other sister might have been bitten by jealousy, but not Jane. Elizabeth smiled at her gratefully. Wickham offered his arm, and Elizabeth was off to start her evening of entertainment, feeling that she had made an excellent beginning.

Wickham led her onto the floor just as the first dance of the evening was forming. For a minute or two conversation was impossible while the couples formed the lines, made their stately bows and curtsies and waited for the music to start. Elizabeth was aware of rather envious looks from several of the other ladies around the room. Wickham might not be the most eligible bachelor in the room but he was certainly one of the most handsome.

"I have been eager to see you, Miss Elizabeth," he said as they came together briefly to touch hands overhead. "It has been too many days since we had our last conversation. I was afraid you might forget me entirely!"

"Why, Mr. Wickham! We could have seen each other last week, if you had attended Mrs. Duvall's dinner. You promised me you were going to be there," Elizabeth responded, half chiding and half teasing.

"So you noticed my absence! Does that mean that you missed me as much as I missed you?"

Elizabeth laughed by way of answering before they both returned to their corners of the set. She knew better than to take his words seriously. Wickham's flirtations were outrageous, but they were not improper by French standards. At home in Hertfordshire such a remark would be considered forward, but the rules in Paris were more relaxed. Here she was allowed to indulge in such flattery without danger to her reputation.

"Did you enjoy the dinner?" Wickham asked when the music brought them together again. They linked arms together to circle around each other. "Were there many people there?"

"It was as enjoyable as such things usually are, at least for me. You, however, would have been dreadfully bored."

"Bored? Why do you say that I would have been bored?"

"Because you have already flirted with all the women who were present. There were no new hearts for you to break." She arched one eyebrow at him as they changed arms and circled in the opposite direction.

Wickham chuckled, his steps never faltering. "I will own that I do enjoy meeting new people, and society in general is very pleasant to me. But I doubt that I have the power to break anyone's heart. I have not had the privilege of claiming anyone's affection- yet."

Elizabeth's heart jumped a beat, but she kept her voice light. "Why, then, did you not attend?"

"I had to be away on business."

Wickham offered nothing more, and Elizabeth found that she was curious. "What kind of business? I have never asked you before how you make your living, and you have never told me." Now that she thought about it, it seemed odd that this had never come up in conversation.

Wickham did not pause in his dance steps. "There is very little to tell. I am a dealer."

"A dealer in what? Fine wine? Glassware? Perhaps in silk, like my uncle?" If Wickham was a rival in the competitive silk industry that might explain the faint air of disapproval she had sensed from her uncle, though she had never felt that from him with other competitors.

"I deal in rare and unusual items."

"Such as what?"

"Nothing to bore ladies with." Wickham shrugged, just as their steps separated them once more. A stuffy bewigged Frenchman took her round the circle once before she was able to join Wickham again.

"Do you have a settled home anywhere? Where is your family from?"

"I was raised in Derbyshire, the son of an estate steward, but I have no settled home at this time."

So he was not truly a gentleman at all, she realized with some surprise, although he had the manners of one. "What about the rest of your family? Have you any brothers or sisters?"

"None. I am an only child, and my parents have been gone these many years. So you see it is up to me to make my own way in the world."

"By dealing in rare and unusual items?" she challenged, throwing his words back at him.

He smiled mysteriously. "You would be surprised how men support ourselves in these uncertain times. You must make allowances for those of us who are not born into such happy circumstances as you." The dancing continued around them as they separated and went back to their lines.

Elizabeth watched Wickham's face as he bowed to another lady and took her arm to escort her around the circle. She could not help wondering about his enigmatic words. What sort of business was he in, that he could not or would not share with her? He usually arrived at events on foot, not in a carriage, and his clothes, although suitable for this environment, did not speak of wealth. Whatever trade he was in, he had not made his fortune yet. Perhaps her uncle was aware of Wickham's circumstances. She would have to ask him, since Wickham himself was so reluctant to share.

For the rest of the set their conversation was lighter, centering on their observations of the couples in the room. Wickham asked about other events she had attended. He was curious to know who had attended which events and who had escorted whom, and Elizabeth was happy to share what little bits of gossip she knew. The set was almost over when she said, "The talk of the town right now is the man known as the Fleur-de-Lys. I suppose you have heard of him?"

"Indeed." Wickham turned suddenly serious. "Even in London they are speaking of him. A troublemaker by all accounts."

"A troublemaker!"

"Yes, a troublemaker. A rabble rouser, a man who purports to be a hero of the people but wants to undo all the work of the revolution! He must be stopped at all costs."

Elizabeth was so surprised by this that she nearly stopped in her tracks. She remembered her surroundings just in time to avoid colliding with another gentleman, stepping out of his way at the last moment. "I have not heard anyone say that he is an enemy of the revolution! It is my opinion that he is rescuing innocent victims who happen to have been caught up in circumstances not of their making."

Wickham shook his head. "I have a hard time believing that anyone who has had a trial and been convicted by the committee could be anything other than guilty."

"But how many people are ever declared innocent by the committee? From what I have heard, being accused and being convicted are nearly the same. Certainly there is nothing like a proper trial."

She spoke more loudly than she intended, and several couples in their immediately vicinity turned their heads towards her. She flushed but stood her ground, daring Wickham to contradict her.

Wickham glanced around them, then used the steps of the dance to guide her to an area of the floor where there were fewer couples. When he spoke again he weighed his words carefully, and he kept his voice down. "There may be some truth to what you say. The trials are carried out quickly and the verdict is usually a foregone conclusion. But justice is served all the same. I, for one, am glad to see that the rich who have oppressed the poor are finally receiving their just rewards!"

She could hardly believe her ears. "Even if innocent people are swept up along with the guilty?"

"Revolutions are never bloodless affairs." His eyes met hers coolly as they performed their final steps and the dance came to an end. "If we waited for them to be perfectly executed they would never take place at all."

For the first time Elizabeth felt a flash of displeasure with Wickham. "But the first duty of a gentleman is always to defend and protect the innocent!"

The music stopped. Wickham read her face as they made their final bow and curtsey, and his own expression softened. "I can see that I have displeased you. I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. When you have come to know me better you will understand why I have such strong feelings on the topic."

Wickham's eyes were warm with admiration, and Elizabeth felt her annoyance diminish. "My sister Jane tells me that I am occasionally guilty of rushing to judgment. Perhaps this is one of those times."

"Perhaps; but you must not blame yourself too much. It is only natural to hear one side of the story and think that you know the whole. I could never approve of the deaths of people who are truly innocent. Please believe that although I may not be a gentleman in the usual sense of the word, I try my best to live as though I were."

Wickham had stepped closer to her, and his voice was still low, meant for her ears only. "In the meantime, will you forgive me for thinking ill of this Fleur-de-Lys fellow? We must not let someone so wholly unknown to either of us damage our friendship. You are the last person in the world whose regard I would want to lose."

Elizabeth shook her head, regretting her rash words. At the same time she could not help noticing, again, how very handsome Wickham was when he was looking at her the way he was now. "Neither of us need to apologize for having differing opinions. Tell me that I am forgiven for raising such an unpleasant topic in a ballroom, and we will pretend the whole thing never happened."

"There is no pardon needed. A lady always has the privilege of setting the conversation. But now," he added, in a lighter tone, "I should return you to your family, lest they think the Fleur de Lys has spirited you away as well!"

Wickham's effort at humor worked. He bowed elaborately, she curtsied in return, and their differing opinions were set aside for the time being.

So, the plot thickens! What is Wickham up to this time, and how long will it be before Elizabeth figures out what his game is? Keep reading! And please, keep leaving those comments and reviews! I read and treasure every one of them. Have a great weekend! -Elaine