Read Online A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) by Abigail Reynolds - Free Book Online
Authors: Abigail Reynolds
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you?”
Elizabeth blinked. “Mr. Wickham? What has he to do with this?”
“Everything, as you well know! What did he say about my sister?”
She was beginning to feel frightened by his anger, and took a step away. “ Your sister, sir? Why, nothing to speak of.”
She could see he was trying to calm himself. “Miss Bennet, I must insist you tell me. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”
For a moment she almost took pity on his clear distress, but the illogical nature of the conversation stopped those natural feelings. “He spoke very little of her, only to say she was handsome and highly accomplished.”
“But what of his connection to her?”
“Why, nothing, except that she had been fond of him when she was a child, before she became proud like….” She realized just in time the danger of what she was about to say.
His mouth curled. “As a child, indeed. Why, then, did you raise this question to me, if he said nothing more to you?”
“This question? What question?”
“About my sister!”
Finally, comprehension dawned, though the matter of Mr. Wickham’s connection remained a mystery. “I was speaking of my own sister, Mr. Darcy, not yours.”
“ Your sister?”
“Yes, my dear Jane, who is now not only heart-broken but also exposed to the world’s derision for disappointed hopes!” The thought of Jane’s distress renewed Elizabeth’s anger toward Mr. Darcy. “And if I am not mistaken, you were pleased by the outcome!”
His countenance changed as if she had slapped him. “I cannot deny it.”
His proud words removed the last vestiges of control from her temper. “I believe I have heard quite enough. Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She turned her back on him in what she hoped was an unmistakeable manner, then walked off without a backwards look. The nerve of the man, to admit straight out that he had opposed a match between Mr. Bingley and Jane! At least he could no longer be in doubt as to her own feelings toward him. She doubted he would trouble her again.
Darcy could not take his eyes from Elizabeth’s light figure until she vanished into the trees, but the disturbance of his mind took away his usual pleasure at the sight. How had their conversation gone awry so quickly? One moment he had been warmed with pleasure at the idea that she was seeking his advice, then a moment later …. He did not even wish to think of it.
Wickham. The cur had a malevolent talent for ruining happy moments in Darcy’s life. He half-wished he had not stopped Colonel Fitzwilliam from going after Wickham with a pistol at Ramsgate. What spiteful fate had set Wickham to cross paths with his Elizabeth?
Mention of Wickham always sent clouds of fury through Darcy’s mind, making it difficult to think clearly, but not to the degree that he had failed to notice Elizabeth’s anger at him. Painstakingly he tried to reconstruct the conversation in his head, hoping to understand why her attitude had changed so much. What had she said about her sister, that she was heart-broken? He dismissed that idea. Miss Bennet had been disappointed by the loss of a fine marital prospect like Bingley, no doubt, but her heart had not been touched. She had never shown signs of a particular regard for him.
But while Elizabeth might profess an opinion not her own, she was not the sort to lie. She must believe that her sister cared for Bingley, perhaps out of her own romantic notions. His anger softened a little at the thought, soon procuring forgiveness for her. But no wonder she was distressed, if she felt torn between her growing affection toward him and her loyalty to her sister.
He nodded slowly. That would explain a great deal.
Elizabeth put down her embroidery with a sigh and rose to her feet. What ill-luck was it that caused Mr. Darcy to come to call on her whenever she was alone? In any case, should he not be at Rosings for tea, along with the
Elizabeth blinked. “Mr. Wickham? What has he to do with this?”
“Everything, as you well know! What did he say about my sister?”
She was beginning to feel frightened by his anger, and took a step away. “ Your sister, sir? Why, nothing to speak of.”
She could see he was trying to calm himself. “Miss Bennet, I must insist you tell me. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.”
For a moment she almost took pity on his clear distress, but the illogical nature of the conversation stopped those natural feelings. “He spoke very little of her, only to say she was handsome and highly accomplished.”
“But what of his connection to her?”
“Why, nothing, except that she had been fond of him when she was a child, before she became proud like….” She realized just in time the danger of what she was about to say.
His mouth curled. “As a child, indeed. Why, then, did you raise this question to me, if he said nothing more to you?”
“This question? What question?”
“About my sister!”
Finally, comprehension dawned, though the matter of Mr. Wickham’s connection remained a mystery. “I was speaking of my own sister, Mr. Darcy, not yours.”
“ Your sister?”
“Yes, my dear Jane, who is now not only heart-broken but also exposed to the world’s derision for disappointed hopes!” The thought of Jane’s distress renewed Elizabeth’s anger toward Mr. Darcy. “And if I am not mistaken, you were pleased by the outcome!”
His countenance changed as if she had slapped him. “I cannot deny it.”
His proud words removed the last vestiges of control from her temper. “I believe I have heard quite enough. Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She turned her back on him in what she hoped was an unmistakeable manner, then walked off without a backwards look. The nerve of the man, to admit straight out that he had opposed a match between Mr. Bingley and Jane! At least he could no longer be in doubt as to her own feelings toward him. She doubted he would trouble her again.
Darcy could not take his eyes from Elizabeth’s light figure until she vanished into the trees, but the disturbance of his mind took away his usual pleasure at the sight. How had their conversation gone awry so quickly? One moment he had been warmed with pleasure at the idea that she was seeking his advice, then a moment later …. He did not even wish to think of it.
Wickham. The cur had a malevolent talent for ruining happy moments in Darcy’s life. He half-wished he had not stopped Colonel Fitzwilliam from going after Wickham with a pistol at Ramsgate. What spiteful fate had set Wickham to cross paths with his Elizabeth?
Mention of Wickham always sent clouds of fury through Darcy’s mind, making it difficult to think clearly, but not to the degree that he had failed to notice Elizabeth’s anger at him. Painstakingly he tried to reconstruct the conversation in his head, hoping to understand why her attitude had changed so much. What had she said about her sister, that she was heart-broken? He dismissed that idea. Miss Bennet had been disappointed by the loss of a fine marital prospect like Bingley, no doubt, but her heart had not been touched. She had never shown signs of a particular regard for him.
But while Elizabeth might profess an opinion not her own, she was not the sort to lie. She must believe that her sister cared for Bingley, perhaps out of her own romantic notions. His anger softened a little at the thought, soon procuring forgiveness for her. But no wonder she was distressed, if she felt torn between her growing affection toward him and her loyalty to her sister.
He nodded slowly. That would explain a great deal.
Elizabeth put down her embroidery with a sigh and rose to her feet. What ill-luck was it that caused Mr. Darcy to come to call on her whenever she was alone? In any case, should he not be at Rosings for tea, along with the
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