Page 6 of Symptoms of Peculiar Regard

On reaching Meryton, the younger girls immediately spotted an officer of their recent acquaintance with an unknown man at his side. They rushed forwards, eager to be introduced to the handsome stranger. Jane sighed to herself to see the sharp little buds of attraction that accompanied her sisters’ enthusiasm. To Jane’s eyes they were spring shoots tempted into growth by a mild winter, too young and fragile to grow into the kind of love that could survive a heavy frost.

The rest of the party followed their sisters at a more dignified pace, except for Mr Darcy who stopped abruptly in his tracks, his face growing suddenly pale. The stranger stared too, and reddened. They both froze in place, until the stranger turned abruptly back to the sisters, his face smoothing into a pleasant smile. He was introduced as Mr George Wickham, and to Lydia and Kitty’s great delight, he was soon to join the militia.

Jane leant in to whisper to Bingley. “Do you know Mr Wickham?”

Bingley shook his head. “Not at all. Why?”

Evidently he had not noticed his friend’s reaction. Elizabeth had, however, for she was looking sharply back and forth between the two of them, before apparently giving up her attempts to understand. She accepted the introduction with a placid smile, although one or two small bramble shoots betrayed a little more interest in the handsome Mr Wickham than she outwardly displayed.

Mr Darcy had moved away from the group and was not included in the general introductions. To Jane’s surprise, however, the branches of his affection began to behave in a fashion unlike any she had seen before. The strong basket willow stems, instead of growing towards Elizabeth, began to weave together into a sturdy fence, standing between her and Mr Wickham. Troubled, Jane instinctively reached out to grasp Elizabeth’s hand. To her surprise, as she made contact, Elizabeth gasped. She stared into the space before her, then glanced rapidly at Mr Darcy before recoiling suddenly, wrenching her hand away. She gazed at Jane wide-eyed, but before either could say anything, Mr Darcy was at her side.

Elizabeth protested that she was perfectly well, but her face was immensely pale and she was soon whisked into a shop where she was found a seat and urged to rest until she was quite recovered. Jane followed her in concern, but there was no opportunity to speak or to understand what had caused Elizabeth’s discomposure. She said little, and would only glance sidelong at Mr Darcy, continuing to insist that she was perfectly well. When her sisters had all completed their purchases, she was easily persuaded to return to Longbourn but remained at Jane’s side, and barely acknowledged Mr Darcy again.

By the time Jane had the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth, she had concluded that what she had seen demonstrated a rather pleasing wish to protect her sister from some harm known onlyto himself. Elizabeth, however, took a very different view of matters.

“Why did you show me that today?”

“Show you?” Jane asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I saw it—I saw what you can see. Or I thought I did, although it did not look at all as you described it,” Elizabeth replied, pulling a shawl around her as she huddled on the bed.

This is wholly unexpected. Jane felt a thrill of delight that she had been able to share her gift with her sister, albeit unknowingly. “What did you see?” she asked excitedly.

“Mr Darcy’sfeelings, apparently,” Elizabeth replied disdainfully. “Although I could not call them affection, for they were not growing towards me, precisely. They reminded me less of a plant than of an enclosing fence—a barrier between me and Mr Wickham. Is that usual?”

“No,” Jane confessed. “You saw as I saw. I cannot explain it, I have never seen anyone’s feelings behave in such a manner. It was as though he sought to protect you.”

“Protect me!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “And by what authority would he protect me? I have not sought his protection, nor has he any claim to give it. Whatever you might believe his feelings to be, he has made no professions of love. He is no suitor of mine.”

“He did notact, Lizzy—it is only the expression of his feelings I saw, not a conscious choice. He did not interfere.”

“He wished to! Hisfeelingswere officious even if his actions were not, and I do not like it.” She rose from the bed and began to pace as she grew more heated. “What claim does he imagine he has over me that he can set himself up to drive a wedge between me and a new acquaintance?”

“Perhaps there is some reason that we cannot know about,” Jane replied soothingly.

“I am sure there isnot. He is merely an arrogant, unfeeling, unpleasant man!”

“Surely that is not—” Jane attempted feebly, but Elizabeth had worked herself into anger and would not subside.

“I should never have listened to you!” she exclaimed. Jane’s face fell despite herself, and Elizabeth quickly moved to reassure her. “Oh, I am not angry at you, dearest. You told me what you saw, but you admit that what happened today is unusual. You must have been deceived in some way. I had almost begun to believe Mr Darcy admired me—but he is just as haughty and unpleasant as I thought! How dare he insert himself where he was not invited?”

“I am certain he admires you, Lizzy. I do not know what it means, but I cannot think it was borne of any unpleasant motive—my gift allows me to seelove, not any other emotion. He did not attempt to separate you from Mr Wickham, his feelings merely sought to protect you from some harm only he could perceive.”

Elizabeth, however, was not to be placated. Mr Darcy was insufferable, and by the time Jane had abandoned hope of persuading her otherwise, she almost seemed to have the conviction that Mr Darcy had not onlywishedto come between her and Mr Wickham, but had physically enacted the separation. Jane, who had believed Elizabeth to be halfway in love with Mr Darcy, went to bed despairing of what had seemed such a promising pairing.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was, Jane thought, perhaps for the best that the following day they were to join an evening party at the house of their aunt and uncle Philips, which Mr Bingley had declined due to a previous engagement. Mr Wickham, however, was to be there.

Having added a red coat to his many charms, Mr Wickham was much in demand at the party, smiling agreeably at all the ladies and with comradeship at the gentlemen. It seemed he was as eager to be pleased with all the company as they were to be delighted by him. It was at Elizabeth’s side, however, that he finally settled. Jane was seated close by, and observed them with great interest. Mr Wickham made some light comments on the company, and Elizabeth replied in kind. To her surprise, however, he did not linger long on pleasantries.

“You were in Meryton yesterday with an old acquaintance of mine,” Mr Wickham said. “Do you know Mr Darcy well?”

“Only a little,” Elizabeth said, her face fleetingly betraying the anger she had expressed the day before. “He is a good friend of Bingley, who is engaged to my sister.” She glanced towards Jane, standing next to her.

“Of course,” Mr Wickham replied, acknowledging Jane with a brief incline of his head. “I had heard as much from my friendsin the militia. My congratulations, Miss Bennet.” Turning back to Elizabeth, he lowered his voice. “I am sorry to discuss such a distasteful subject in such pleasant surroundings, but if I may, please allow me to offer a word of caution about Darcy. I fear he has not always acted the gentleman he appears to be.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth asked eagerly. Jane frowned to herself; she remained firm in her conviction that Mr Darcy’s intentions were good. Mr Wickham, in contrast, she found entirely cold. She listened uncomfortably as he unfolded a tale of Mr Darcy’s proud, callous rejection of both a childhood friend and a father’s promise. Her disquiet only grew as she saw the bramble thicket surrounding her sister begin to thin as small, questing branches reached outwards. Mr Wickham, in contrast, betrayed no reciprocal interest. As far as Jane could observe, he had no inclination or warmth towards anyone present. No shoots or branches grew from him, not even fading into the mist formed when a pair were separated. Mr Wickham showed no sign whatsoever of any tender feelings towards anyone or anything.

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