Alexander shook his head. “No, sir.”
“No, I suppose not. Derbyshire is not known for her winds. Beautiful springs and summers are more the standard. I recall, Mrs. Darcy”—he emphasized with a grin—“that you were always one to walk. Miles upon miles. Is this still true?”
“Yes, it is still true.”
“How you must adore the grounds about Pemberley. The endless trails amongst the trees and the pathways through the beautiful gardens surely delight. Mr. Clark is yet head groundskeeper?” Lizzy nodded. “He is a marvel to be sure. One of the finest gardeners in all of England, I daresay. Do you not agree?”
Again Lizzy nodded and kept her eyes straight ahead while her mind furiously wondered how to rid them of his unwanted presence without disturbing Alexander.
Wickham continued as if nothing was amiss, turning his attention to a baffled Alexander. “Do you enjoy watching the plants grow, son? Pulling nasty weeds and playing in the dirt until your fingernails are caked with muck?”
The toddler was further confused, as the epithet “son” was associated with his parents and odd coming from a stranger’s mouth. He glanced to his silent, clearly annoyed mother before meeting Wickham’s beaming face. But politeness was an inherited trait as well as a virtue enforced by his parents, so he responded accordingly. “Yes, sir. Mama show me how to dig and pack seeds and pick flowers. Papa teaches bot… botumy.”
Wickham laughed. “Botany. Yes, Darcy would teach science to a two-year-old. And do you like to walk like your mother, Alexander?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Be sure your mother or nanny takes you to Hyde Park to feed the ducks, Alexander. They live in the smaller lake near the Grosvenor Square entrance.”
“Ducks and frogs at home in our pond. Cook gives us crumbs to feed. Michael ’fraid of ducks, but not me!”
“No. I am sure you are very brave.”
“Papa says I brave boy.”
“I am sure he is right. At Hyde Park, near the pond, are hedges to hide in. And bulrushes along the lake edge. It is great fun and since you are so brave you could hide very well. Play hide and seek, and your nanny would never find you!”
“Mr. Wickham, please do not encourage my son to misbehave!”
“Not to misbehave, but to have normal boyhood fun. Your father and I, when we were boys together, Alexander, had some crazy adventures. Hiding and exploration is what a boy is supposed to do! Yes, son?”
Alexander frowned, thinking carefully, and then shook his head slowly. “No, sir. May scare Nanny if gone long.”
“Oh no, my boy! Nannies expect brave boys to be a little wild! It makes their job fun!”
Alexander held Wickham’s gaze, assessing as typical, with the tiny creases between his brows deepening. Wickham winked as if sharing a great secret. “Just imagine the fun, Alexander. The ducks often lay their eggs in the hedges too, so you may find a treasure while on your quest!”
Alexander thought in silence, finally giving a short, solemn nod.
“Now I see the grave Darcy peeking through. He has a serious bent as his father; however, I hope his humor remains intact. And your youngest, Mrs. Darcy? Is he molded after you with a ready laugh and sparkling eyes?”
Lizzy did not answer, her angry eyes fixed on the road.
“I shall pray that he does. Too much stuffiness is unhealthy, I think. Do not be afraid to test the limits once in a while, Alexander. That is what brave boys do.”
“Mr. Wickham, we are nearly to Netherfield and it would not do for Mr. Darcy to see you with us. I am sure you agree?”
He grinned, again inclining his head. “Yes, I am sure you are correct, Mrs. Darcy. I shall bid you good day then. It has been a pleasure. Master Darcy. Mrs. Darcy. Until tomorrow.”
The encounter seemed innocuous enough, but Lizzy was disturbed. She dreaded having to broach the topic with her husband when they were so near the wedding and then being able to put the unpleasantness behind them altogether. That it would enrage him was a given, and she wanted to weep at causing him any further anxiety or grief.
But, they had vowed long ago to have no secrets between them. They were aware that the other frequently glazed over during the maundering discourses that were a necessary part of their lives, ears listening to the words that recounted their day, but the details not always penetrating into the deeper memory banks. They did pay heed for the most part, however, with only the occasional slice of information forgotten and thus leading to humorous teasing or a minor argument later.
The drawback to all this communication, if one looked at it from a certain perspective, is that after all this time it was ingrained. Lizzy could no more withhold the interaction with Wickham than halt her breathing. But that did not mean she ceased fretting about it or wishing, just this once, she could remain mum.
A stroll along the twisting pathways through the grass and wildflowers was decided upon as a necessary exercise to soothe her frayed emotions, so she bundled the sleeping Michael into his perambulator, grabbed Alexander, and set off. Joining her extemporaneous excursion was Jane carrying Deborah, Mary pushing Claudia in her carriage, Georgiana, Mrs. Hanford and Mrs. Geer, and Simone. Ethan, Hugh, and Harry skipped alongside Alexander, staying in the open fields and miraculously managing to discover every remaining mud puddle from the winter rains. Laughter was prominent, birds were chirping in nearby trees, and the slight breeze was invigorating. Nevertheless, Lizzy’s pensiveness continued.
She unconsciously sighed, drawing the attention of Jane. “Are you well, Lizzy? You seem distracted.”
“Oh, it is nothing really.” She glanced around, but the children were picking dandelions and blowing the seeds, and the other adults were spread along the trail. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Wickham accosted me on the way back to Netherfield today.”
Jane gasped, Lizzy squeezing her hand as she continued. “It was nothing horrible, so rest easy. He made a few remarks against William, but generally was friendly and harmless. He spoke with Alexander about gardening and the ducks in Hyde Park.” She shook her head. “It was odd really. There seemed no point in it at all.”
“You will tell William?”
“Of course. We keep no secrets. But I will confess, Jane, that I hate to do so. He will be furious and so troubled. He has been certain from the beginning that Wickham meant harm of some kind. I have not been so sure of that and am still not convinced by this encounter, but William will assuredly perceive it as such.”
“Poor Mr. Darcy! To be so plagued by this one man. Oh, how could Lydia have been so stupid as to align herself with such a terrible individual?”
“Lydia is a fool, Jane, and I doubt she sees beyond that he provides for her needs.”
“And he seems to do that well enough.”
“Yes, it is strange, is it not?” Lizzy paused, staring into the air sightlessly. “She dresses fine, as does Mr. Wickham, yet she cannot say what he does for a living. Where does he get his money? William has mentioned that several times with suspicion. He is positive it a nefarious undertaking of some kind.” She laughed but with little humor.
“All Lydia says is that he keeps late hours and disappears for days or weeks at a time. She complains of that, but then boasts of all the parties they attend in the next breath. I overheard her tell Mama that he works for a rich man in the area, but when Mama questioned further Lydia grew vague. I gathered she does not know the details and was embarrassed by the fact. It was merely a feeling, but her face was flustered for a moment.” She shrugged. “It could be innocent. Mr. Wickham is an educated man, well-spoken and cultured…”