An Unexpected Ally

Part 11

"I suppose Meryton must seem dreadfully quiet to you now, compared with London!" Elizabeth remarked as she and Mary reached the edge of the small town. She had persuaded her sister to accompany her when nobody else seemed inclined to, and found, to her surprise, that she had rather enjoyed their walk. Mary had not exactly been talkative - that had never been a trait of hers - but she answered Lizzy's questions and the two had developed a pleasant rapport while they walked.

"Oh, yes." Mary feigned a sigh. "Dreadfully! I so long to be amongst interesting people once more..."

Lizzy glanced at her, recognising a pitch-perfect impression of Lydia, who had complained that very morning of the dearth of interesting people in Meryton at present. She laughed.

"You shall have to take care not to do that in the house. I do not suppose Lydia would approve of such an accurate portrayal."

Mary beamed and became herself once more, lifting a scrap of paper from her basket and consulting the list of errands she wished to complete whilst she and her sister were in town.

"What do you think? Shall we go together? Divide and conquer?"

"We might as well do them in tandem," Lizzy said, adjusting her hat as they passed two rangy soldiers, lounging against a wall. "It is not as if either of us is in a hurry."

One of the soldiers straightened as they passed, tipping his hat to them and his companion called out to them, taking a step or two closer when they did not immediately recognise him.

"Miss Elizabeth! Miss...Mary. Good morning!"

If Mary had noticed Mr Wickham's hesitation in recalling her name she did not acknowledge it but she did fall back a little, angling herself to be behind her sister and thus, Lizzy supposed, less noticeable.

"Good morning, Mr Wickham." She smiled. "This is your first time seeing my sister since her return from London, I expect! She has but lately come back to us."

Wickham bowed and Lizzy heard Mary giggle nervously at her shoulder.

"I see you are intent on some errands this morning," he remarked, spotting their basket. "I do not suppose I could be of any assistance?"

"Are you not on duty?" Lizzy arched an eyebrow, peering past him to his colleague, who had straightened to attention and kept his gaze fixed on the middle-distance, the picture of diligence.

"Ah." Wickham's smile slipped. "Yes, you are quite right." He shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned again. "I suppose even chivalry is no excuse to shirk one's duties."

"Indeed not, Mr Wickham." Lizzy waved as he bowed again, returning to his post with evident reluctance. "Come along, Mary," she said, slipping her arm through Mary's and tugging her down the road. "Let's make a start."

"I see Mr Wickham is still a fixture," Mary remarked, almost under her breath but not quite low enough a whisper that Lizzy did not hear her.

"A fixture?" She bristled. "If you mean is he still a friend, then yes, Mary. He is a friend to our whole family, so you needn't slide back into judgment just because I pause to pass the time of day with someone who is known to us all."

Mary bit her lip and Elizabeth instantly regretted her outburst. Why was she so adamant about defending Mr Wickham to her sister? Mary's question might have been entirely innocent. In the time since she had been home, there had been scarcely a mention of Mr Wickham. What was she to think but that his friendship might have slipped in comparison to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had fast become a regular visitor to Longbourn.

"We are not such close friends," Lizzy said, after a moment, wishing she could make her voice sound normal. Trembling the way it did made it sound as if she cared far more for Mr Wickham than was truthful. "But he was kind enough to stop and speak to us. It would have been rude not to acknowledge him. Look, here is the glovemakers. Do you have Mama's note?"

Mary reached back into her basket, retrieving the specifications Mama had dictated to them and passed a scrap of paper to Elizabeth, who bounded into the shop, grateful for a task and equally grateful to escape what felt like scrutiny from her silent sister.

While the shopkeeper retreated to his store cupboard in search of Elizabeth's order, she feigned interest in his display of newer items before allowing her gaze to travel, quite naturally, to the window. Mary stood patiently outside, waiting for her return. Her features were neutral, not clouded with concern, as Lizzy had half-expected to see them. Perhaps she had imagined the censure in Mary's voice about Mr Wickham. Your imagination is playing tricks on you. What does Mary care about who you are friends with? And what did it matter to Elizabeth what Mary thought about her, anyway? She had rarely cared to court her sister's good opinion before her trip to London. Had things changed so much in a few weeks?

Mary startled and Elizabeth startled with her. Something had caught Mary's attention, for now she turned away from the window, waving into the distance. Not something. Someone. Lizzy took a step to the side, wishing the small window was larger, so she might see whether Mary had now fallen victim, herself, to George Wickham's warm greetings and handsome smiles.

"Here we are, Miss Bennet." The shopkeeper emerged from behind a door, clutching the parcel she had come to collect, and she smiled and thanked him, taking it and hurrying out of the door in eagerness to see whether Mr Wickham's manner with Mary was quite as friendly as it was with her. He was handsome and charming, but she dared to think he had shown particular pleasantness to her and she was a little reluctant to be proved mistaken.

"Have you decided to abandon your work altogether, then, Mr -" Lizzy had begun speaking whilst still in the building but her words faltered when she looked up and realised, with surprise, that it was not Mr Wickham that had hailed Mary at all. "Mr Darcy," she finished, faintly. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He tipped his hat to her, stepping back to allow her ample space to step out of the shop and into the street. "Your sister tells me you are running errands today." He glanced past Elizabeth and into the shop. "I trust you are making progress."

"Progress?" Elizabeth realised she still clutched Mrs Bennet's new gloves and with a faint smile she leaned over to drop them unceremoniously into Mary's empty basket. "Yes. We are making progress."

Mary was looking at her expectantly, clearing her throat pointedly when Elizabeth did not immediately pepper Mr Darcy with questions.

"And you? What brings you to Meryton?"

"Errands." Darcy's smile was not quite so wide nor as charming as Mr Wickham's, but it did improve him greatly. He was very handsome, particularly when he did not scowl as he had done when first he came to Hertfordshire. Lizzy was staring, and all at once she nodded, turning back to the street and tugging Mary along with her.

"Well, you must not allow us to detain you from your tasks."

"Very well," Darcy replied, his voice ringing with what might have been disappointment. "Good day to you both."

"We might have walked with him a step," Mary whispered when they were far enough away that she was in no danger of being overheard. "I dare say our paths will cross again, and our errands take us to many of the same places. He could have accompanied us -"

"He did not offer!" Elizabeth said, sharply, wondering why it stung her that he had not when Mr Wickham had been only too eager to be of service.