Page 8 of Compromise & Consequence
“Your sisters. Do they often walk to Meryton?”
She did not correct him in thinking they were her sisters.
“As much as they can. At times it is their sole source of entertainment.”
“I only brought this up as I noticed them, unchaperoned, in the company of some officers.”
“Are you referring to last week when you and Mr. Bingley came upon them?”
“I am acquainted with one of the gentlemen and would not like to see your sisters deceived as to his true motives.”
“I assume you are speaking of Mr. Wickham.”
“I am.”
“He is an amiable gentleman and easy to talk to.”
She marveled at the cold anger which spread over his face. Mr. Wickham had spoken at least one form of truth. Mr. Darcy did not like the man at all.
“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure hismakingfriends – whether he may be equally capable ofretainingthem is less certain.”
“I have been made aware he has lost your friendship,” replied Elizabeth.
“I do not wish to argue with you, Miss Elizabeth. There are many aspects to Mr. Wickham of which you are not fully aware.”
“His story, to some, would be very compelling. I remember hearing you once say you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to itsbeing created.”
“I am,” he said with a firm voice.
“And your anger with Mr. Wickham is well-formed.”
“May I ask the reason for your interest in this gentleman?”
“I am curious about your character,” she demurred, endeavoring to move them from the dark road their conversation had turned onto. “I hear such different accounts of you… they puzzle me exceedingly.”
“That, I can readily believe,” he answered gravely, “I fear you are not in possession of all the facts, and a country dance at a ball is not the place to speak on this subject.”
“A country dance at a ball may be the only time I can speak with you uninterrupted.”
“Our conversation could still be overheard, and that would be insupportable.”
“Indeed, and I am certain you are aware that overheard conversations are barely tolerable.”
She said no more, and they went down the dance and parted in silence, his handsome face a cold mask of fury or shame, she knew not.
She started to seek out Jane when she thought she spied Lydia slipping outside while her aunt was distracted. Worried her youngest cousin would do something silly, she hastened after her, only to see the girl was not Lydia, but Miss Long. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Elizabeth pivoted to enter the house and stopped at the sight of Mr. Darcy standing not five feet from her.
“Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? You came out here without a coat and could catch a chill if not careful.” He paused, his attention caught by something over her shoulder, and his features tightened with anger. “Wickham!”
She partially turned but did not see Mr. Wickham or anyone else behind her. Shivers ran up and down her arms.
“I find I am chilled. Pray, excuse me, Mr. Darcy.”
She took a step and her dancing slipper caught on an uneven stone, causing her to lurch forward. She threw out her hands to stop her fall, gasping when Mr. Darcy wrapped his arms around her waist before she hit the ground. Both of them froze at the sound of tearing. She looked down and saw the lace edging of her bodice hooked on one of the buttons of his waistcoat.
“Do not stand up, Mr. Darcy. The lace on my gown has caught on your button, and I must take care, so it does not tear further.”
“Madam, we are in an awkward position.”
