Unforgiving Temper (3 page)

“…
scandalous connections…not to be
borne…”

Lady Catherine's words became muffled
and incomprehensible at that point, pulling Wickham forward as far
as he dared with no success. Lady Catherine had moved out of
his hearing completely. Disappointing, but he had heard enough to
stir his imagination.

Wickham knew Darcy's annual habit of spending
a few weeks at his aunt's estate in Kent. Apparently, this year he
had also spent time with someone else! Is it possible Darcy
developed an interest for a country miss right under
Lady Catherine's nose! What a pity for Anne.
But I wonder,
who could this remarkable lady be?

Wickham's deliberating was abruptly
interrupted when Mrs. St. Clair rose from her seat, motioning young
Thomas to his feet as well.

“I should like to take in some fresh air
before the next act. Thomas, you must come and meet Lady Beatrice's
daughter. You will excuse us, Lieutenant?” Wickham happily made way
for mother and son, grateful to be released from the pretense of
being attentive.

Settling back into the hopelessly
uncomfortable chair, he considered his newfound knowledge. It was
intriguing, but not quite enough to be useful. He needed to know
more. Mentally, he listed those who might be able to give him
additional information.

He had been introduced to
Lady Catherine's clergyman,
his
knowledge would be most
helpful. And then there was
Mrs.
Collins, of course –
formerly Miss Lucas; but neither acquaintance was so close as to
allow him the liberty of addressing the intimate topic of Darcy's
romantic affairs.

It was then he recalled the charming
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, an intimate friend of Mrs. Collins. She
had recently gone to Kent for a visit and doubtless would soon be
back in Hertfordshire. Ah, yes! This was even better, for they had
already shared several mutually agreeable opinions regarding
Darcy's private affairs, not the least of which was his own sad
tale of woeful mistreatment.

The delightful Miss Elizabeth had a keen
sense of observation, and yet she was still as easily manipulated
as any young woman he had encountered. Yes, she would be one who
might have some knowledge. It was very likely she had seen him in
Kent; and, having been in his company both in Hertfordshire and
Kent, she would be in a perfect position to detect any changes in
him. In fact, having been a full week in his company at Netherfield
when her sister was so ill, she would be just the one.

Wickham rubbed his hands together with
growing excitement. There was every chance she would be able to
impart something of value! He reviewed the limited information he
had collected so far, anticipating what Miss Bennet might have
to add, when abruptly he shot upright in his chair –
Can it
be?

Wickham's mind flew to an astonishing
possibility, immediately dismissing it at first and then returning
to it again with amazement: could Miss Elizabeth Bennet be the
lady in question?

He considered the evidence. Without a doubt,
she had been in Darcy's company frequently enough for an attachment
to form. By Lady Catherine's standards, Miss Elizabeth
was unquestionably a “country nobody” with a family “scandalously
connected” to trade. Wickham smiled to himself. And, yes, the
unaffected, delightfully engaging manner of Elizabeth Bennet would
most definitely be regarded as “impertinent” in
Lady Catherine's eyes.

The sudden recollection of some
long-forgotten gossip spurred his suspicions on. The day after the
ball at Netherfield, Saunderson and Coburn had tried to make him
feel some regret for his absence by describing the more interesting
highlights of the evening, one being that the famously proud
Mr. Darcy had actually deigned to dance with a lady other than
his friend's sisters. Coburn had delighted in describing the wave
of astonishment that swept the room when Darcy was seen dancing
with Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

Intimately acquainted with Darcy's aversion
to public dancing, Wickham knew the man's habit of participating
only when forced by the dictates of civility. Yet, without any
obvious dictates pressing upon him that night, Darcy had freely
chosen to dance with Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed that Darcy had
been motivated solely by a personal regard for the lady. Wickham's
head wagged slowly at his utter failure to understanding the
significance of the event until now.

The longer he thought on it, the more
credible it seemed. How many times had he heard Darcy denounce
insipid, artful women, whose only interests were fashion and
gossip. What a contrast he would find in the independent thought
and pert opinions of Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Yes, her quick wit
and educated mind, her lively eyes and engaging manner, were
exactly
what Darcy would find irresistible.

Could it possibly be true? He knew Darcy
always guarded his privacy with a passion and would never knowingly
expose himself to talk of this kind. If his behavior in Kent had
been so careless as to incite Lady Catherine's notice, then it
must be true! His jaw dropping in amazement, Wickham let out an
explosive sigh. The conclusion was undeniable – Fitzwilliam Darcy
did indeed have an attraction for Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

Wickham tensed with giddy anticipation, for
he also knew Lady Catherine. If she was as unhappy as her tone
had suggested, she would willingly pay a high price to prevent such
a disgraceful attachment. What a most fortunate turn of events for
him!

Wickham hurried out of the St. Clair's box,
nearly falling over Thomas and his mother who were at that moment
returning. With the briefest of apologies, he dashed off, returning
only a short while later. In spite of their obvious curiosity at
his sudden departure and now obviously high spirits, Wickham
offered no explanation. With the proficiency of a practiced
seducer, he skillfully diverted their questions with an engaging
comparison of Italian and German operas. Their interest in his
affairs was soon forgot and the remainder of the intermission was
passed without any fear of the topic returning.

In short order, the curtain rose on the
second act, and Wickham found his mind delightfully engaged as he
contemplated his impending fortune – one large enough to relieve
his present circumstances in Hertfordshire and also allow for a
very comfortable living.

Settling back in a chair he no longer found
uncomfortable, he smiled broadly in the dark. The events he had
just set into motion would not only provide him with a comfortable
financial arrangement, they would also bring a particularly
delightful opportunity to give Fitzwilliam Darcy the excruciatingly
painful disappointment he deserved!

Feeling a pair of eyes upon her,
Elizabeth Bennet looked up from the pages of her book and glanced
around the fashionable London bookshop. It was a large
establishment and a number of customers were browsing the stacks,
but she detected no particular regard from any of them. With a
slight shrug of her shoulders, she returned to the volume in her
hand; yet it was not another minute before her stomach knotted with
the same, unmistakable feeling. Remaining very still, her eyes
swept the room again, once more finding no cause for the disturbing
impression.

Unable to completely dismiss the feeling, she
finally approached Jane and suggested they end their shopping
excursion. When Jane saw the troubled look on her sister's face,
she immediately agreed. Quickly completing their purchases, they
turned to leave. At the door, Elizabeth tucked her new book into
the crook of her arm and gave the shop one last curious study
before stepping out onto the busy street.

As soon as the door closed behind them,
Fitzwilliam Darcy came out from behind one of the massive columns
near the philosophy stacks. After watching Elizabeth and her sister
leave the shop, he waited only a few minutes to be certain they
would not meet, then left the bookseller's establishment as
well.

“Home please, Harrison,” he called to the
coachman sitting atop the carriage as he entered the door held open
by his footman. Settling into the soft, leather cushions, Darcy
took a few deep breaths to calm the turmoil rising in his chest,
and the driver flicked the matching grays into motion.

What is SHE doing in London?
He sighed
desperately to himself.
This is impossible! It is not enough
that she troubles my dreams every single night – now she must
disturb my waking hours as well?

He looked out at the crowded streets, trying
desperately to order his distracted thoughts. His heart skipped a
beat when he thought he saw her again and he quickly snapped the
curtain shut.

Ridiculous!
He grumbled.
I try to
rid myself of these absurd thoughts with a new book only to have
her materialize right in front of me, in the middle of the
bookseller's shop! I can only be glad she did not see me! I do not
know what I would have said to her.
A smile played at his lips
as he recalled the sight of her mystified look and the familiar
arch of her brow which often appeared when she was piqued. S
he
is as beautiful and enchanting as I remember.

For one brief moment, he allowed himself the
luxury of considering the extraordinary woman who had touched him
in a way no one ever had. Elizabeth Bennet had been so irresistibly
captivating that he, a man well-acquainted with bachelorhood, had
wanted her for his wife, and offered himself in marriage.

Suddenly, Darcy bolted upright, trying
desperately to push the thoughts back into the darkest corner of
his mind; but it was too late! The self-indulgent moment breached
the tenuous hold he kept on the painful memories and they came
flooding back, bringing the hurt and humiliation of her words in
excruciating detail.

“
Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike
manner…”

The scathing censure washed over him, and he
squeezed his eyes tightly against the image of her rising
indignation; but the memory of her stinging words could not be
stopped.

“
Your arrogance, your conceit, and your
selfish disdain of the feelings of others...”

Every word she had pronounced surged against
his heart until the bitter swell of her final, passionate
declaration engulfed him entirely, twisting his face in abject
misery.

“
You are the last man in the world whom I
could ever be prevailed upon to marry!”

Unnerved at the sudden, violent emotions
stirred by this chance meeting, Darcy fell back against the soft,
yielding leather.
What a fool I have been to think I could so
easily dismiss Miss Elizabeth Bennet from my life. Her very
presence accosted my senses long before my eyes ever beheld her
standing there.

A ragged sigh fell from his lips as he pushed
back the stark, painful reality threatening to consume his heart.
What a fool I am!
S
he is not mine, nor ever shall be. I
have been rejected completely, and yet I am drawn to her still!
This will not do. I must find a way to reconcile my
disappointment.

He raked his fingers through his hair, trying
to regain control of his chaotic thoughts.
I can put this behind
me; I know I can! All I need is a little more time, but I cannot
stay in London and chance another near meeting, not yet. It would
be the end of me! The only thing to do is leave. I am for Pemberley
first thing in the morning!

Heartened at last by a fixed course of
action, he reached over and flicked open the curtains once again,
taking in a deep, cleansing breath.
I shall go to Pemberley, and
I shall conquer this – I shall!”

Harrison soon brought the grays to a stop in
front of Burnham House and Darcy emerged from his carriage resolved
to banish forever all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet.

In the next moment, however, his newfound
resolution was brutally crushed by the sight of Charles Bingley
standing on his doorstep. It had been many weeks since their last
meeting, but the span of time was instantly bridged by memories of
Jane Bennet's downcast appearance and cruel treatment at the hands
of Bingley's sisters. With thoughts of Jane Bennet, his tortured
thoughts of Elizabeth reappeared.
Would it never end?
With a
quiet, inner groan, he collected himself and stepped forward to
greet his friend.

“Darcy! What luck! Jamison had just dashed my
hopes by telling me you were out, and now here you are!”

“Indeed, Bingley. As you see. And to what do
I owe the honor of this visit? I have not seen
you
since I
went into Kent.”

“I have come to get your advice…on a personal
matter, if I may. I must be away today and have need of some
counsel before I go. Have you time for me?”

“Of course! We can do it now, if you wish.
Join me for tea, and we can discuss what is on your mind.”

In short order, the two friends were settled
comfortably in Darcy's study. Bingley busied himself with the
assortment of sandwiches and cakes on the small table that stood
between them as Darcy held only a cup of very strong coffee and
observed his friend with quiet concern.

Bingley's melancholy that had first appeared
upon his return from Hertfordshire nearly six months ago was
showing a marked increase since their last meeting. Darcy could not
overlook the empty smile on Bingley's face, nor could he dismiss
the obvious absence of his friend's usually abundant affability. He
had thought Bingley would recover soon enough from the encounter
with Miss Jane Bennet, as had been the case with so many other
young ladies before. Now witnessing Bingley's prolonged unhappy
state, he acknowledged he could not have been more wrong.

Still a bit unnerved from his encounter at
the bookseller's shop, Darcy drew a slow, steady breath. An
uncomfortable heaviness was slowly growing in his chest. The day,
not half over, was looking more dismal by the hour. He dearly hoped
Bingley's “private matter” was not one of the heart. His friend's
ill-concealed wretchedness was proof enough that he had caused more
damage than he cared to admit, and he certainly did not wish to be
drawn into that hazardous territory again.