clergyman, and he appeared to be in attendance on the
ladies. I was just reflecting that perhaps his presence
explained why Miss Mary Bennet was clutching a book
of sermons when I received an unwelcome surprise, nay
a terrible shock.At the edge of the group there were two
further gentlemen. One was Mr Denny, an officer whom
Bingley and I had already met. The other was George
Wickham.
George Wickham! That odious man, who betrayed
my father’s belief in him and almost ruined my sister! To
be forced to meet him again, at such a time and in such
a place.…It was abominable.
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I thought I had done with him. I thought I would
never have to see him again. But there he was, talking to
Denny as though he had not a care in the world. And I
suppose he had not, for he has never cared about anything in his life, unless it is himself.
He turned his head towards me. I felt myself grow
white, and saw him grow red. Our eyes met. Anger, disgust and contempt shot from mine. But, recovering himself quickly, a damnable impertinence shot from his. He
had the audacity to touch his hat. To touch his hat! To
me! I would have turned away, but I had too much pride
to create a scene, and I forced myself to return his salute.
My courtesy was for nothing, however. Catching a
glimpse of Miss Elizabeth Bennet out of the corner of
my eye, I saw that she had noticed our meeting, and she
was not deceived for an instant. She knew that something
was badly wrong between us.
‘But we must not keep you,’ I heard Bingley saying.
I felt, rather than saw, him turn towards me.
‘Come, Darcy, we must be getting on.’
I was only too willing to fall in with his suggestion.
We bade the ladies goodbye and rode on.
‘She is feeling much better, and believes herself to be
quite well again,’ said Bingley.
I did not reply.
‘She looked well, I thought,’ said Bingley.
Again, I did not reply.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked Bingley, at last catching
my mood.
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‘No, nothing,’ I said shortly.
‘Nay, Darcy, this will not do. Something has troubled
you.’
But I would not be drawn. Bingley knows nothing of
the trouble I had with Wickham over the summer, and I
do not want to enlighten him. Georgiana’s foolishness
would cast a shadow over her reputation if it was known,
and I am determined Bingley shall never hear of it.
Wednesday 20th November
I rode out early this morning, without asking Bingley if
he chose to go with me, for I wanted to be on my own.
George Wickham, in Meryton!
It has robbed my visit of its pleasure. Even worse, I am
haunted by a glimpse of memory, something so slight I
can hardly be sure if it is real. But it will not leave me,
and fills my dreams. It is this: when I rode up to the ladies
yesterday, I thought I saw an expression of admiration on
Elizabeth’s face as she looked at Wickham.
Surely she cannot prefer him to me!
What am I saying? Her feelings for me are unimportant. As are her feelings for George Wickham. If she
wishes to admire him, it is her concern.
I cannot believe she will still admire him when she
finds him out, and find him out she will. He has not
changed. He is still the wastrel he has always been, and
she is too intelligent to be deceived for long.
And yet he has a handsome face. The ladies have
always admired it.And he has an ease of manner and style
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of address which make him well liked amongst those
who do not know him, whereas I…
I cannot believe I am comparing myself to George
Wickham! I must be mad. And yet if Elizabeth…I must
not think of her as Elizabeth.
If she chooses to compare us, then so be it. It will
prove she is beneath my notice, and I will no longer be
troubled by thoughts of her.
Thursday 21st November
Bingley declared his intention of going to Longbourn to
give the Bennets an invitation to his ball. Caroline and
Louisa eagerly agreed to go with him, but I declined, saying I had some letters to write. Caroline immediately
declared that she had some letters to write, too, but Bingley told her they could wait until she returned. I was
pleased. I did not want company today. I cannot keep my
thoughts from George Wickham. From the local talk, I
gather he is thinking of joining the regiment. No doubt
he thinks he will look well in a scarlet coat.
Worse still, Bingley has included all the officers in his
invitation to Netherfield, and I fear Wickham might join
them. I have no wish to see him, and yet I will not avoid
the ball. It is not up to me to avoid him. He is a scoundrel
and a villain but I will not upset Bingley by refusing to
attend his ball.
Friday 22nd November
A wet day. I was able to ride out with Bingley this
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morning, but then the rain poured down and we were
obliged to stay indoors. We whiled away the time by
talking of the estate and Bingley’s plans for it. His sisters
gave us the benefit of their views on necessary alterations to the house and the time passed pleasantly
enough, though I missed Elizabeth’s lively company.
Saturday 23rd November
Another wet day. Caroline was in a provoking mood. I
am glad Elizabeth was not here, or she would have surely
borne the brunt of Caroline’s ill-humour. Bingley and I
retired to the billiard-room. It is a good thing the house
possesses one, or I believe we should have been terribly
bored.
Sunday 24th November
I received a letter from Georgiana this morning. She is
doing well with her studies, and is happy. She is beginning a new concerto with her music master, a man who
I
