Page 5 of Love Among the Shadows
Kitty suddenly giggled, though there was no evident cause for her amusement. Elizabeth, puzzled, followed her sister’s gaze and immediately understood. Riding toward them were Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, the former with a smile that grew wider upon sighting the group, the latter as grave and impassive as Elizabeth remembered from the assembly.
When they drew near, Mr Bingley dismounted with characteristic ease and approached, reins in hand. “MissBennets,” he said warmly, bowing to the ladies and nodding politely to the officers. “I do not see your eldest sister in your company. Pray, where is she?”
Before Lydia could blurt something indiscreet, Elizabeth intervened smoothly. “Jane felt slightly unwell this morning and decided to rest at home.”
“Unwell?” Mr Bingley’s concern was evident. “I shall call on her later today—or tomorrow, if time does not permit.”
While he spoke, Elizabeth’s eyes wandered to Mr Darcy, who remained mounted. His rigid posture and tense jaw betrayed his displeasure, though she soon noticed that his gaze was not fixed on the conversation but on Mr Wickham. The latter, catching sight of Mr Darcy, froze momentarily, his confident expression faltering as a flicker of tension crossed his face. He quickly tipped his hat in greeting, though the motion was stiff and lacked the ease Elizabeth expected. Mr Darcy, in return, offered only the briefest nod, his cold gaze unwavering before shifting back to the horizon, leaving Wickham to swallow hard and feign composure under the weight of the exchange.
Kitty broke the tension with a question. “Where are you headed, Mr Bingley? Perhaps, if it is not far, you might return in time to call on Jane.”
Mr Bingley glanced at Mr Darcy before answering. “We are on our way to call on Sir William Lucas. There are… matters requiring immediate attention.”
“Then we must not delay you further,” Mary said with quiet firmness. “You should be on your way if you are to reach him promptly.”
Mr Bingley nodded, bowing once more. “Do convey my regards to your sister. I hope to see her soon.” He remounted, and with Mr Darcy, continued on their way.
When they had ridden out of sight, Kitty and Lydia resumed their tittering, this time directed at Mr Denny. Marytrailed behind, her thoughts evidently elsewhere, while Mr Wickham fell into step beside Elizabeth.
Elizabeth seized the opportunity to probe further at the tense exchange she’d witnessed. “Unless I am mistaken, sir, you appear to know Mr Darcy quite well. "Am I correct in observing that his opinion of you is as lofty as his regard for the rest of us Bennets? For I doubt the man thinks of us with any more esteem than a bishop would for heretics."
A shadow crossed Mr Wickham’s face, though he quickly masked it with a smile. “I know Mr Darcy well enough to confirm that he does not often concern himself with civility where it is due.”
Elizabeth raised a brow, intrigued. “What sort of man seeks to demean others simply to elevate himself?”
“That, madam, is Mr Darcy in every particular,” Wickham replied. “He cares only for his own interests and will stoop to any means to bring down those he perceives as beneath him.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened at this revelation. What sort of man would stoop to bringing others low simply to prove a point? Could it be that Mr Darcy’s nature was so devoid of principle that he might bring a man down in the most literal sense? Determined to explore the unsettling implications, Elizabeth pressed on.
“I take it you have heard of the death of Mr Edwin Harper,” she began cautiously.
“The local merchant found poisoned?” Wickham replied.
“Yes,” she affirmed.
“One would have to be deaf not to have heard of his death in Meryton,” Wickham said, his tone as composed as if they spoke of the weather.
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before lowering her voice to a near whisper. “They are saying… that Mr Darcy could have been involved. He had a scuffle with Mr Harper the day before his death.”
Mr Wickham merely shrugged, as though such a suggestion required no great stretch of imagination. “I wouldn’t put anything beyond Mr Darcy,” he replied gravely. “He would do anything—anything—to those he perceives as standing against him or beneath him in station.”
Elizabeth was both horrified and intrigued by this admission. She longed to press him further, to uncover the source of such damning insight, but before she could do so, Mr Denny called for their departure. Mr Wickham hesitated, a flicker of reluctance passing across his face, as though he wished to continue their conversation. Elizabeth, too, felt a pang of disappointment, for what could be more fascinating at that moment than the history of Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham’s apparent understanding of his character?
Mr Wickham bowed deeply, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth. “I trust we shall have occasion to speak again soon, Miss Bennet,” he said, his tone carrying a subtle promise.
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied, her curiosity far from sated.
As the gentlemen departed, Kitty and Lydia resumed their lively chatter about the newly arrived militia, their excitement undiminished. Mary attempted once more to engage Elizabeth in a discussion about the book she had referenced earlier, but Elizabeth’s thoughts were elsewhere, entirely consumed by the conversation that had just ended.
Who was Mr Darcy? If his character was truly as vile as Mr Wickham described, could he indeed be capable of murder? And if so, what could have driven him to such an act? Surelynot something as trivial as a disagreement at a ball? Or did their animosity spring from an older, deeper source?
Elizabeth had no answers to these troubling questions, yet they turned endlessly in her mind as the Bennet sisters made their way home, each step weighed down by her uneasy reflections.
Four
Elizabeth’s curiosity regarding Mr Wickham’s remarks about Mr Darcy lingered in her thoughts, but it was momentarily eclipsed by another affair of great interest. Two days after meeting Mr Wickham, Mr Bennet announced at breakfast that their cousin, Mr Collins, a clergyman, was to visit. The news was met with mixed emotions. Neither parent had met Mr Collins; their acquaintance with him extended only to the formal letter he had written to Mr Bennet prior. However, being a family of daughters with no male heir, the knowledge that the estate was entailed to Mr Collins cast an uncomfortable shadow over the announcement.
Mrs. Bennet expressed in no uncertain terms her belief that the family’s ruin was inevitable should Mr Bennet pass, lamenting the suffering they would endure at the hands of Mr Collins. Her handkerchief was in frequent use as she described, at length, the humiliations they would face.
