The Trouble with Mr. Darcy (26 page)

“Master Darcy,” he greeted, looking then to Lizzy. “Mrs. Darcy.”

“Mr. Wickham,” she returned in a level tone.

“I was returning to Longbourn when I saw you leaving, so I followed. We have had no opportunities to converse privately.”

“I have no desire to converse privately with you, Mr. Wickham. Nor would my husband appreciate you accosting me on the road.”

“Ah yes, Darcy. He always did have an overdeveloped sense of control. Of course, I suppose one could argue that that desire to dominate is essential to the Master of Pemberley.”

“Mr. Wickham, I will not allow you to insult Mr. Darcy in front of me and his children.”

He inclined his head. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I meant no disrespect, truly.” He looked at Alexander, whose smile was beginning to fade from the sensed hostility between the two adults. “I remember a time when Darcy smiled more, laughing and playing as a boy. Your son looks so like him. Rather uncanny.” He looked again to Lizzy. “I think you, Elizabeth, would have preferred that Darcy. The one who was jovial and free spirited, before he grew so serious and dictatorial. That is all I meant.”

“Mr. Wickham, let me be clear. I appreciate my husband precisely as he is and would not prefer him any other way.”

He shrugged, sunny smile in place. “If you say so, Elizabeth. It still baffles me, I confess. The Darcy I know is completely unsuited to you and I admit I have puzzled over the subject since I heard of your marriage. Was it obligation, Elizabeth? You felt you had to marry him after he ‘saved’ your sister from the bad man who compromised her? I know he regarded you at one time but never would have imagined him stooping to marry…”

“Mr. Wickham,” she interrupted, glancing to Alexander. “You do not know me in the slightest or Mr. Darcy. I will not listen to your poison, now or ever. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you would not address me so informally.”

“Just curious, forgive me. And are we not brother and sister? You can call me George.”

“I think not, Mr. Wickham.” She stressed his name, turning a glare his way. “And as for being your sister, that is a fact I would rather not be reminded of!”

“What a pity. Indeed, I had hoped that your gaiety and plucky wit would have rubbed off on the old man, brought some lightness to his personality. Quite the shame to see it has worked the other way around.”

“Mr. Wickham…”

“Very well then,” he interrupted her angry rebuttal, his own voice and expression abruptly gay with dimples flashing. “We shall change the subject. I must confess it is lovely here in Hertfordshire. I am delighted to be back. Devon tends to be cloudy. And the wind!” He shivered dramatically, winking at Alexander. “At times I fear it may blow me out to sea! Have you felt such winds as that, lad?”

Alexander shook his head. “No, sir.”

“No, I suppose not. Derbyshire is not known for her winds. Beautiful springs and summers are more the standard. I recall, Mrs. Darcy”—he emphasized with a grin—“that you were always one to walk. Miles upon miles. Is this still true?”

“Yes, it is still true.”

“How you must adore the grounds about Pemberley. The endless trails amongst the trees and the pathways through the beautiful gardens surely delight. Mr. Clark is yet head groundskeeper?” Lizzy nodded. “He is a marvel to be sure. One of the finest gardeners in all of England, I daresay. Do you not agree?”

Again Lizzy nodded and kept her eyes straight ahead while her mind furiously wondered how to rid them of his unwanted presence without disturbing Alexander.

Wickham continued as if nothing was amiss, turning his attention to a baffled Alexander. “Do you enjoy watching the plants grow, son? Pulling nasty weeds and playing in the dirt until your fingernails are caked with muck?”

The toddler was further confused, as the epithet “son” was associated with his parents and odd coming from a stranger’s mouth. He glanced to his silent, clearly annoyed mother before meeting Wickham’s beaming face. But politeness was an inherited trait as well as a virtue enforced by his parents, so he responded accordingly. “Yes, sir. Mama show me how to dig and pack seeds and pick flowers. Papa teaches bot… botumy.”

Wickham laughed. “Botany. Yes, Darcy would teach science to a two-year-old. And do you like to walk like your mother, Alexander?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be sure your mother or nanny takes you to Hyde Park to feed the ducks, Alexander. They live in the smaller lake near the Grosvenor Square entrance.”

“Ducks and frogs at home in our pond. Cook gives us crumbs to feed. Michael ’fraid of ducks, but not me!”

“No. I am sure you are very brave.”

“Papa says I brave boy.”

“I am sure he is right. At Hyde Park, near the pond, are hedges to hide in. And bulrushes along the lake edge. It is great fun and since you are so brave you could hide very well. Play hide and seek, and your nanny would never find you!”

“Mr. Wickham, please do not encourage my son to misbehave!”

“Not to misbehave, but to have normal boyhood fun. Your father and I, when we were boys together, Alexander, had some crazy adventures. Hiding and exploration is what a boy is supposed to do! Yes, son?”

Alexander frowned, thinking carefully, and then shook his head slowly. “No, sir. May scare Nanny if gone long.”

“Oh no, my boy! Nannies expect brave boys to be a little wild! It makes their job fun!”

Alexander held Wickham’s gaze, assessing as typical, with the tiny creases between his brows deepening. Wickham winked as if sharing a great secret. “Just imagine the fun, Alexander. The ducks often lay their eggs in the hedges too, so you may find a treasure while on your quest!”

Alexander thought in silence, finally giving a short, solemn nod.

“Now I see the grave Darcy peeking through. He has a serious bent as his father; however, I hope his humor remains intact. And your youngest, Mrs. Darcy? Is he molded after you with a ready laugh and sparkling eyes?”

Lizzy did not answer, her angry eyes fixed on the road.

“I shall pray that he does. Too much stuffiness is unhealthy, I think. Do not be afraid to test the limits once in a while, Alexander. That is what brave boys do.”

“Mr. Wickham, we are nearly to Netherfield and it would not do for Mr. Darcy to see you with us. I am sure you agree?”

He grinned, again inclining his head. “Yes, I am sure you are correct, Mrs. Darcy. I shall bid you good day then. It has been a pleasure. Master Darcy. Mrs. Darcy. Until tomorrow.”

The encounter seemed innocuous enough, but Lizzy was disturbed. She dreaded having to broach the topic with her husband when they were so near the wedding and then being able to put the unpleasantness behind them altogether. That it would enrage him was a given, and she wanted to weep at causing him any further anxiety or grief.

But, they had vowed long ago to have no secrets between them. They were aware that the other frequently glazed over during the maundering discourses that were a necessary part of their lives, ears listening to the words that recounted their day, but the details not always penetrating into the deeper memory banks. They did pay heed for the most part, however, with only the occasional slice of information forgotten and thus leading to humorous teasing or a minor argument later.

The drawback to all this communication, if one looked at it from a certain perspective, is that after all this time it was ingrained. Lizzy could no more withhold the interaction with Wickham than halt her breathing. But that did not mean she ceased fretting about it or wishing, just this once, she could remain mum.

A stroll along the twisting pathways through the grass and wildflowers was decided upon as a necessary exercise to soothe her frayed emotions, so she bundled the sleeping Michael into his perambulator, grabbed Alexander, and set off. Joining her extemporaneous excursion was Jane carrying Deborah, Mary pushing Claudia in her carriage, Georgiana, Mrs. Hanford and Mrs. Geer, and Simone. Ethan, Hugh, and Harry skipped alongside Alexander, staying in the open fields and miraculously managing to discover every remaining mud puddle from the winter rains. Laughter was prominent, birds were chirping in nearby trees, and the slight breeze was invigorating. Nevertheless, Lizzy’s pensiveness continued.

She unconsciously sighed, drawing the attention of Jane. “Are you well, Lizzy? You seem distracted.”

“Oh, it is nothing really.” She glanced around, but the children were picking dandelions and blowing the seeds, and the other adults were spread along the trail. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Wickham accosted me on the way back to Netherfield today.”

Jane gasped, Lizzy squeezing her hand as she continued. “It was nothing horrible, so rest easy. He made a few remarks against William, but generally was friendly and harmless. He spoke with Alexander about gardening and the ducks in Hyde Park.” She shook her head. “It was odd really. There seemed no point in it at all.”

“You will tell William?”

“Of course. We keep no secrets. But I will confess, Jane, that I hate to do so. He will be furious and so troubled. He has been certain from the beginning that Wickham meant harm of some kind. I have not been so sure of that and am still not convinced by this encounter, but William will assuredly perceive it as such.”

“Poor Mr. Darcy! To be so plagued by this one man. Oh, how could Lydia have been so stupid as to align herself with such a terrible individual?”

“Lydia is a fool, Jane, and I doubt she sees beyond that he provides for her needs.”

“And he seems to do that well enough.”

“Yes, it is strange, is it not?” Lizzy paused, staring into the air sightlessly. “She dresses fine, as does Mr. Wickham, yet she cannot say what he does for a living. Where does he get his money? William has mentioned that several times with suspicion. He is positive it a nefarious undertaking of some kind.” She laughed but with little humor.

“All Lydia says is that he keeps late hours and disappears for days or weeks at a time. She complains of that, but then boasts of all the parties they attend in the next breath. I overheard her tell Mama that he works for a rich man in the area, but when Mama questioned further Lydia grew vague. I gathered she does not know the details and was embarrassed by the fact. It was merely a feeling, but her face was flustered for a moment.” She shrugged. “It could be innocent. Mr. Wickham is an educated man, well-spoken and cultured…”

“Thanks to the late Mr. Darcy!” Lizzy interrupted with some heat.

“Indeed. But the point is he could be serving as a steward or some such capacity, could he not?”

“It is possible, and William has thought of that. But why be so secretive about it? If it were a position of esteem he would probably be bragging loudly, even if it was a huge exaggeration, just to annoy William.” She shook her head. “No, it is odd however you look at it but not conclusively criminal. William will be irritated and I cringe at the thought of enlightening him. Perhaps I shall wait until later tonight before we retire and he is especially mellow.”

“Lizzy!”

She looked at her sister’s shocked, red face and laughed aloud. “Oh Jane! You are a treasure!”

“Mama, wellow ’lion for you.”

Lizzy turned to Alexander, who stood before her with a handful of yellow dandelions held up. She knelt and took the offered bundle with a flourish, inhaling the acrid odor as if the sweetest perfume. “Thank you, my lamb. They are beautiful! Now, repeat after me, ‘yellow dandelion.’”

“Yellow dannilion.”

“Close enough!” She squeezed him until he squealed, chubby arms gripping her neck as she rose with him in her arms.

It was then that she saw the carriage.

Their group strolled along a trail that ran beside a narrow creek. The wide expanse of meadow on the other side of the creek was laden with wildflowers in bloom amid the tall, waving grasses, but was barren of trees or larger bushes, thus the view of the road was unobstructed so she could easily see the parked carriage and, presumably, whoever occupied the carriage could easily see them. It was a simple coach, well constructed, but without any embellishments or identifying markings. The driver wore nondescript clothing, not livery, and sat erect upon his seat with eyes staring straight ahead and paying them no mind.

There were probably a dozen reasons why a carriage may be halted on the side of a road with no houses or buildings in sight, so Lizzy’s gaze barely noted the vehicle’s presence before beginning to slide away. But a sudden movement from within the interior caught her attention.

It was a mere flash. An arm reaching, the golden head of an ornate cane held in a pale hand rapping onto the ceiling as a signal. Then the barest glimpse of a face appearing in the window, eyes looking her direction. For a heartbeat only their eyes met, recognition knifing through her brain with an accompanying physical pain before the image was gone. As rapidly as it started the sensation began to fade, her stunned consciousness already doubting what she had seen since it just could not be possible. It was unfathomable that it was
him
.

“Mrs. Darcy? Are you well?”

She turned dull eyes to Mrs. Hanford, the nanny’s kindly face wrinkled with concern.

“Mama? Dannilion?” Alexander pushed the fisted flowers under her nose, sensing his mother’s fright and naively trying to comfort despite his innocence.