Their visitors in no way diminished any of the Bennets' desire to attend to their aunt that evening, and since Mr Collins' only objection to joining them was a fear of neglecting his hosts (a fear that was hurriedly brushed aside by both Mr and Mrs Bennet - each for very different purposes), the six were carried away at the correct time to Meryton.
To the delight of all it seemed, they were quickly assured of the attendance of Mr Wickham, even though he were not to arrive until a little after them. By that point Elizabeth had found herself sat down attempting a discussion with Mary - for she had begun to worry that she did in fact neglect her younger sister, and Jane, Lydia and Kitty had all found themselves some other employment. Elizabeth was doing her best not to comment on the fact that Mary's main source of distraction seemed to come not from the book she held in her hand, but their cousin across the room.
Mr Wickham couldn't have helped but notice the attention poured upon him by every young woman about the room, but still he chose to sit beside Elizabeth, and it was all she could do to not be flattered by that very fact.
She quickly introduced Mary and Mr Wickham made some perfunctory remark, before he turned his full thoughts onto her to make some conversation - even if it was only about the weather.
Nonetheless, it took a lot of Elizabeth's willpower to not comment on his dismissal of her sister - after all, that would not be entirely polite, and perhaps the error had been well intentioned. After all Mary, with her drab clothes and firmly clutched book, did not exactly invite conversation.
They only properly spoke later, once the card tables had been brought out and Elizabeth had sat down to play - upon the same table as Lydia, and despite Mr Wickham's abstention from playing, Lizzy had half feared that Lydia would truly embarrass them by her determination to hold his attention.
Finally though the man broke away, and smiling courteously at Lizzy began a new conversation about the distance of Netherfield to Meryton, and how long the inhabitants - and in particular Mr Darcy - had been staying there.
Elizabeth couldn't help her relief that the topic had been brought up. She couldn't deny that she desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two men, but she had known better than to hope that either man might confide in her. "About a month." But she couldn't resist entirely giving up on the subject. "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand." Something had her pausing to bring up Miss Darcy's presence there too - after all, she wasn't sure how common knowledge of the latter was. Elizabeth didn't want to ruin her new friend's privacy.
"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth tried to hide her surprise. Surely it was a coincidence enough that he and Mr Darcy were acquainted, what were the chances that their lives were so deeply intertwined?
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday." Elizabeth thought that was quite possibly the biggest understatement she had heard for a long time, but knew better than to comment on it. "Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"
"As much as anyone here," Elizabeth couldn't quite account for her own wariness. She had to know more about what was going on, her curiosity would not forgive her otherwise. But she didn't wish to lie, but she hardly knew what she thought of the older Darcy at the moment - how was she supposed to speak of him to anyone else? "I have spent four days in the same house as him, and he made not one effort to be pleasant or agreeable." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised they were false. Mr Darcy certainly had not been overt in his gestures of friendship, but they still had been there - in a way.
"I have no right to give my opinion," Mr Wickham's voice was level and sincere. Elizabeth tried to put away her concerns and simply appreciate the attentions of the undeniably charming man. "As to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial." Elizabeth failed to suppress a small smile at his thoughtfulness. It was such a gentlemanly thing, especially considering how badly they seemed to get along now. "But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish - and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your own family."
"No, indeed." Elizabeth had never thought of it in such a way before of course, but aside from Jane (and Mary, Lizzy would hazard) there was no one else in Meryton who would even consider standing up for him. "Everyone is disgusted by his pride. You would find it hard to have him spoken of favourably anywhere beyond Netherfield."
Elizabeth had supposed the conversation to be ended by then, after all, an interruption followed, and Mr Wickham's attention was diverted. She could not be entirely sorry for that, somehow she felt as though she were betraying Miss Darcy and Mary by speaking so ill of Mr Darcy. Her conscience could not be entirely clear.
"I cannot pretend to be sad that he is not estimated beyond what he deserves." Mr Wickham said gravely. Elizabeth forced her attention back to him. For a moment she had been watching Mary and wondering why it was that no one had asked her to sit down for cards. In all likelihood no one had thought to ask and for the first time, it began to bother Lizzy. "With him, I do not believe it usually happens. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen."
"We here do not appreciate being deceived..." Elizabeth spoke slightly absently. She was on the verge on excusing herself, when she caught Jane's eye, and her elder sister went to Mary's aid, shepherding her younger sister to one of the tables and beginning to teach her how to play. It was better from Jane anyway; she found it easier to ignore the surprise the change in behaviour of the taciturn Bennet had caused.
"I wonder," Mr Wickham's practiced nonchalance confused Lizzy for a moment, but she chose to ignore it surely she was imagining things? "Whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."
"I do not know; I heard nothing of his plans of going away when I was at Netherfield." In fact, she had rather had the impression that Miss Darcy was eager to stay and make their acquaintance - despite her puzzling absence earlier. "I hope your plans will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood." That was after all the polite thing to say. She still did wonder that he kept the conversation turned to Mr Darcy - for one who had professed no intention to judge Darcy, he seemed very content to keep making her doubt the other man's character.
Mr Wickham replied strongly negating her statement. His words continued to roll off his tongue with a practiced ease so unlike that of the man of whom they spoke. That he could not be about Mr Darcy without being grieved - of course, Elizabeth had rather thought him scared the previous day, but she must have been mistaken - and that Mr Wickham had to forgive all of Mr Darcy's failings for the sake of his father. Elizabeth somewhat wryly supposed that Mr Wickham must have had a different sense of forgiveness to herself, but chose not to comment.
The conversation quickly moved onto other topics, and Mr Wickham, being equally good at flattery and conversation, was not an entirely awful man to be stuck with at such a gathering. In truth, despite his gallantry and charm, Elizabeth felt her mind wondering - at some point she had lost track of Mary and Jane, and she found herself uncommonly worried for their welfare. If someone had managed to upset Mary on one of the first instances she had pushed herself to take steps into society, Elizabeth was sure she would have to do something (exactly what she had not decided, but something nonetheless).
She turned her attention more fully back to Mr Wickham, unable to explain to herself her lack of focus.
"A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."
"Indeed?" Elizabeth couldn't help but struggle to imagine Mr Wickham in her cousin's place. The latter was foolish and silly - but Elizabeth had to believe he was ultimately well intentioned and humble. Mr Wickham seemed almost too sure of himself. She made a small note to herself that she really ought to try not to assume so much of people, and waited on his reply.
"Yes - the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."
Elizabeth had to stop her mouth from gaping open in a most undignified manner. "But how? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal recourse?" Elizabeth could hardly believe something so terrible of the man she knew - he might not have been the paragon of all virtues, but she struggled to accept that Georgiana could idolise someone who was so lacking in all the common virtues.
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it - or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence - in short anything or nothing." Elizabeth listened in near horror, hoping against hope that she might hear something she could dispute. Any sign at all that the story he told could not be as bad as it seemed. She hardly knew why it mattered so much, but it did. "Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."
"Why did you not publicly disgrace him? It is all so shocking..." She hardly knew what words she was saying; she could hardly trust her own thoughts.
"Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."
Elizabeth hid her frown by looking away. How could he say such a thing after exposing Mr Darcy to her? Did he not realise his own inconsistency?
How could she get to the heart of this matter? She couldn't ask Miss Darcy, and yet she wanted to. More than anything she wanted to find Charlotte and Jane and talk it out with them - they were sure to find an explanation, even where she could not.
Mr Wickham continued to wax on about the many failings of Mr Darcy, and Elizabeth was sure she replied where she could, although what words she might have used and what she truly said was utterly beyond her - at least, until she heard him mention Mr Darcy's family as a whole, rather than simply the late Mr Darcy.
"He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."
Elizabeth could not deny that, but she found herself speaking without much real thought, and hardly considering the outcome of her own words. "What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?" After Mr Wickham had criticised one of her acquaintances so strongly, what harm could he cause by insulting another?
He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy." Again Elizabeth could only doubt his sincerity, but his words carried on and she was hardly given a chance to think of it. "But she is too much like her brother - very, very proud." Or at least, as Elizabeth had discovered very shy. "As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted many hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."
Elizabeth happily attempted to move the conversation on and away from the Darcys. Had she not known Georgiana, Elizabeth might have thought to believe Mr Wickham for his appearance of sincerity. But he had spoken so ill of Miss Darcy that she would have felt more than comfortable believing nothing of his words of Mr Darcy - except he had seemed so earnest in his manners.
She was grateful to observe another table break apart and her cousin and sister to make their way towards them. Mr Collins easily slipped into place beside Mrs Phillips and Elizabeth eagerly turned to speak to Mary with an inquiry as to how she had fared. The conversation did not last long, before Mary was called away and Elizabeth's attention was dragged back to Mr Wickham, who had chosen of all things to discuss her cousin - or more accurately her cousin's most kind patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Still Elizabeth listened in good enough humour - at least she was pretty sure she was managing to smile and not at appropriate times. Her only real and genuine thought, after he mentioned the belief of Mr Darcy's future marriage to his cousin, was a small measure of pity that Miss Bingley was putting so much effort into gaining Mr Darcy's affection when it was all for naught.
Suffice it to say she was more than happy to allow Lydia to determinedly take Mr Wickham's attention and talk at him with such determination that there was no way for the man to politely speak to anyone else. For the first time she could remember, she wanted nothing other than to escape from the entire gathering and be at home where it was peaceful and she could be left in quiet to mull over her thoughts.