Mr. Darcy's Diary

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.

‘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 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 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 am happy to say is almost in his dotage, and she is enjoying herself.