Page 11 of Elizabeth and Caroline
“Do not say it is because of status or his wealth or his connections.”
“Well, why else would a girl be desperately in love?”
“Oh, Lord, Caroline, truly?”
Caroline shrugged at Elizabeth. “What? He is handsome, I suppose?”
“No, no, think of something about him that is kind or good or caring,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh,” said Caroline, making a face.
“There issomethingkind about him?”
“He has a sister, I suppose,” said Caroline. “A younger sister. I suppose he is kind to her.”
Elizabeth huffed. “If you want Jane on your side, you must make her think that you have done this because he is a good and kind man and that you are convinced that her husband would have blocked the match for no good reason. She’ll go to Mr. Bingley, who will say that Mr. Darcy thinks you beneath him, and then Jane will counter with proof of his sheer kindness and goodness and then—”
“Oh, all right, I see, I see.” Caroline nodded. “It’s quite good, Eliza. You are brilliant.” She seized Elizabeth’s hand. “You are the best friend a girl could have, you know?”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. Caroline was good with praise. “I hope it works.”
“It will, quite. And set your mind to rest over that that dreadful Mr. Collins, my dear. We shall have you free of all of that, don’t you worry.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, all of the Bennet sisters walked to Meryton with Mr. Collins in tow. He talked a lot, and Elizabeth did her level best to ignore him, even though he kept trying to especially engage her.
It was horrid.
She was trying so hard not to pay attention to Mr. Collins, however, that she spent a great deal of time paying attention to other things, things she might not have paid much mind otherwise, things like men in the regiment.
The militia was set up on the outskirts of town just then, and her younger sisters, especially Lydia and Kitty, were in ecstasies about such a thing. They knew every single officer’s name and where he was from and likely whether he liked peas or carrots, for they were wont to hang on these men’s every word.
Elizabeth somehow got herself introduced to a man who’d just arrived from London. He was with Mr. Denny, who had apparently been away in London, something that Lydia had known, for she was that aware of the comings and goings of the officers. Lydia greeted Mr. Denny herself, saying she was so happy he was back, and Elizabeth was there, part of this conversation simply to have an excuse to be away from Mr. Collins.
Mr. Denny told them he had brought back another officer with him, a man named Mr. Wickham, who bowed to each of them, smiling a great deal, having a fair and pleasing countenance, and saying that he could now see that the Bennet household contained the prettiest girls within twenty square miles.
Lydia blushed and preened.
Elizabeth thought he was a bit of a flatterer, but he did seem amiable, she supposed. She might not have paid much more mind to Mr. Wickham, however, but then there was another interaction involving Mr. Wickham, only a few moments later.
At this time, three horses and riders arrived in town, and Elizabeth noted that Caroline was among them as her brother helped her dismount from where she had beenperched prettily on her side saddle. There was another man with them, a tall and regal-looking man with a long, straight nose and a serious expression on his face.
He had dark brows and dark hair, but his eyes were fair, though they appeared almost a gray color, a color like storm clouds. She was staring at this man, she realized, when his gaze caught hers.
He held her gaze for a moment, then his eyes left hers to sweep her up and down and then to settle his eyes on hers again.
The man was coming towards her now, she realized.
She squared her shoulders, waiting.
But then, Mr. Wickham was there, calling out, “Well, well, Mr. Darcy, as I live and breathe.” He touched his hat.
The man with the stormy eyes turned to look at Mr. Wickham and he went entirely white. He was quite still, simply staring at the other man. Then, stiffly he touched his hat and turned away, pointedly away from Mr. Wickham.
“That’s Mr. Darcy,” whispered Elizabeth, scolding herself for having openly gaped at him for so long.
“Aye, that’s him all right,” said Mr. Wickham. “Are you acquainted with him?”
“No, but I’ve heard of him,” she said.
