A Continued Affection

Part 25

"Come along, Wickham! I have never known such a fellow for dawdling! And on a night like this?"

Denny was breathless with exertion or excitement, Wickham could not be sure which. His young friend was circling him, urging him to hurry and looking more and more like the eager young pup he was.

"And you did say Miss Lydia would be there?"

He stopped short, so suddenly that Wickham almost collided with him.

"She said as much," Wickham replied, pausing to straighten his cravat and using the motion to disguise his reflexive grimace at recalling the conversation. Monologue, he thought. Conversation would suggest Lydia had anticipated a reply. Instead, she had simply talked over any equivocation he had offered and made him promise to attend the assembly and dance with her at least once. He glanced at Denny out of the corner of his eye. The demand had been that Wickham attend, but that was surely simply because Lydia did not think to mention Denny. She will be delighted to see him, he told himself, not entirely truthfully, and prayed that might be the case. Poor, simple Denny had entirely lost his heart to the young Miss Lydia and matching the pair had become, to Wickham, something of a talisman. If you can do this one good deed, fate seemed to be telling him, it will go some way to redressing the balance of all the bad you have done in your short life.

"Well?" He turned to Denny, replacing him in the role of eager encourager. "I thought we had an assembly to get to."

"Indeed. Yes." Denny hesitated a moment longer before shaking off whatever momentary malaise had given him pause and hurried forward, so quickly that Wickham had to jog to catch up. He was pleased to see his friend's mood rebound, although their pause had done little to delay the inevitable. In a matter of minutes, they would arrive at the assembly room, and as Denny had booked a place for both of them, Wickham would be hard-pressed to find an excuse to avoid entering. He scanned the crowd of guests arriving, hoping he might find someone to push Denny towards and make his escape. He could easily fade into the shadows without being seen by anyone he did not wish to see...

"Mr Wickham!"

He stiffened, but the voice that heralded him was female and familiar. Grasping Denny by the shoulder, Wickham turned them both in the direction of the voice's owner, smiling politely at Lydia Bennet, who easily sidestepped the rest of her party and hurried forwards, clearly delighted to greet not one but two familiar figures.

"And Mr Denny!"

Did Wickham imagine it or did her enthusiasm dip slightly at the acknowledgement. No matter, Denny did not seem to notice, although his cheeks reddened significantly and Wickham was grateful that the shadows of the evening would hide his friend's blushes from Lydia's perceptive gaze.

"Good evening, Miss Lydia," he called, rumpling his hair with one hand and his cravat with the other in a hasty attempt at neatening himself up.

"Gentlemen."

Wickham would recognise the dry wit of Mr Bennet anywhere and he was not immune to the suspicion that lurked behind those perceptive eyes.

"What a surprise to see you here this evening. It seems as if half of Hertfordshire find themselves in London at present."

"Certainly seems that way!" Denny agreed, beaming at the entire party of Lydia's family. This was Wickham's chance, and he ought to take it, leave his friend fully enamoured with Lydia and her family and fade into the crowd, avoiding any chance of crossing paths with Darcy again, or with anyone else he might not care to see.

Something kept him pinned in place, though, and his eyes sought out one of Lydia's sisters in particular. There was Elizabeth Bennet, unchanged from when they had met in Hertfordshire. Scarcely changed, in fact, from when they had first crossed paths in London. He bit his lip, wincing when he recalled his interference in whatever suit had existed between her and Darcy. Neither of them could know he had wilfully - spitefully, he realised now - destroyed the letter. It might have been lost in any one of a dozen different ways, and he had nothing to gain by owning up to his own nefarious role in is disposal. Yet somehow he felt guiltier to know that this deceit had gone unpunished - unknown of - for so many years.

"Well, do not let us all stand around out here in the cold and the dark," Mr Bennet harrumphed at last, eyeing Wickham and Denny with irritation, as if they were personally responsible for the cool night air.

"Yes, do come in with us! You were on your way to the assembly, I hope?" Kitty asked, mimicking her sister's wide-eyed grin and fixing her attention on Wickham.

"Of course they were, Kitty," Lydia hissed. "Did I not tell you as much? Come along, Wickham -"

"Ah, Miss Lydia, you already have an escort." Mr Wickham said, ably side-stepping her and allowing Denny to fill the place she had willed to be his. He tripped back a pace or two, spying a moment's opportunity as Jane Bennet turned to address a question to the middle Bennet sister, whose name Wickham never could bring himself to remember. He seized his chance.

"Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth, you will permit me to escort you?"

Elizabeth blanched, momentarily lost for words. In any other setting, on another occasion, Wickham might consider this feat a victory. Elizabeth was canny and clever and he had never yet bested her in conversation, on the rare opportunities they had caused to have them. More so, he had rarely seen anyone her equal in speech. But this was not a victory he delighted in, more an indication of the arduous climb that lay ahead of him if he truly meant to make amends for his past misdeeds.

"Lizzy!" Mrs Bennet hissed, her single word all that was needed for a reproach.

Obediently, if reluctantly, Elizabeth stepped closer to Mr Wickham and the party began its slow process towards the assembly room, already crowded with revellers.