Unforgiving Temper (7 page)

When the men rejoined the ladies, Elizabeth
observed Mr. Wickham's veiled attempts to single her out. More
than once his efforts were thwarted by Lydia's sudden demand for
attention. Slowly moving away whenever necessary, Elizabeth
purposely maintained a comfortable distance from the only man in
the room she wished to avoid.

Making another change, she joined Sir William
and Lady Lucas in their conversation with Colonel Forster. Sir
William was enthusiastically describing his most recent experience
at court when Elizabeth's gaze drifted to Jane and Mr. Bingley
seated in a corner of the room, their heads bent in private
conversation. The sight gave her pause.
What did
Mr. Bingley's presence in Hertfordshire signify? If
Mr. Darcy takes such prodigious interest in Mr. Bingley's
affairs, surely he knows of the return. Could it be Mr. Darcy
has reconsidered his interference and has encouraged his friend to
this present course?

She owned that she had been so very wrong
about Mr. Darcy! Her cheeks flushed with the memory of how
Mr. Wickham had skillfully employed his charm and good looks
in such a way that she had eagerly accepted his attentions and his
stories without question. The malicious account of ill-treatment at
the hands of a prideful Mr. Darcy had been especially
satisfying as it had served to give substance to her own
pronouncements against the man's character.

The truth of the matter now pricked her
conscience and Elizabeth came to a grave realization. Perhaps she
would have allowed for Mr. Darcy's pride had not her own been
wounded by his slight at their first meeting. Her pride, obscured
by faulty conviction, now lay exposed in its true nature. Until
this moment, she never knew herself, and she acknowledged that her
existence had been profoundly altered by this man whom she thought
to never see again. Oddly, this reflection brought a sad, puzzling
tug to her heart.

Forcing her attention back to Jane's plight,
she very much wanted to believe – hoped, even – that a goodness on
Mr. Darcy's part was the reason for Mr. Bingley's return.
Carrying that thought to a logical conclusion, her eyes widened in
alarm. Was Mr. Darcy here as well?!

“Sir William,” she blurted suddenly as he
paused in his animated narrative. “I beg your pardon, but I wonder
– has Mr. Bingley told you of his plans? Will he be long in
the neighborhood?”

“Oh, that I cannot say for certain. However,
he did say he had some pressing business that may take a little
time.”

“And has he brought his
entire
party
back to Netherfield?” she asked tentatively.

At this, Lady Lucas was happy to add her
knowledge to the conversation. “He is come alone at present; but we
look forward to the pleasure of his sisters' company at tea next
week, for they are to come with his friend, Mr. Darcy, in a
few days' time.”

Elizabeth's fleeting relief turned to alarm
at the news of the impending arrival. She felt herself growing warm
as the blush returned and deepened noticeably.

“Miss Eliza! Is something wrong? You look
very ill, indeed!”

“No, Sir William. I mean, yes! I am fine. I
just…it seems a little warm in the room. I am sure a little fresh
air is all I need.”

“Shall I send for your mother or father to
assist you?”

“No, please! I am quite all right. I just
need some air and I shall be right again in no time!”

Elizabeth escaped to the terrace and leaned
against the low stone wall that overlooked the expanse of lawn
beyond. It took several deep breaths before she could begin to calm
her racing heart, and then she sighed miserably.
Oh, why did I
not comprehend the full implication of Mr. Bingley's return?
Mr. Darcy is sure to accompany him! This is wretched! I cannot
possibly think to greet him with any composure!
Conflicting
sentiments waged war within her heart.
For Jane’s sake,
I
am happy Mr. Bingley has come back, but I cannot bear to think
of facing Mr. Darcy! Will he even abide my company after I
said such hateful things to him?

Standing in a pool of moonlight, the soft
rays illuminated each emotion as it crossed her face. Happiness,
sadness, hope, despair…such a jumble of feelings! What was she to
do?

The overwhelming distraction of her thoughts
obscured the approaching footsteps until it was too late. Before
she could turn away, Wickham was beside her, the soft tenor of his
voice belying the annoyance she had seen on his face all
evening.

“You are looking quite lovely this evening,
Miss Elizabeth.”

“Mr. Wickham, you startled me! I think
it unkind of you to intrude upon my solitude.”

“I had not thought the intrusion unwelcome.
We have had many pleasant conversations together, have we not?”

His question brought to Elizabeth's mind the
many reiterations of his woeful misfortunes inflicted by
Mr. Darcy. Misfortunes indeed! Wickham's true character was
now exposed, if only to her, and she was determined to have nothing
more to do with him.

“Mr. Wickham, I beg you would excuse me.
I must return to the party.”

“So soon? You have only just come out.”

“I came out to get some fresh air, which I
have now done.”

Elizabeth took a step forward, but Wickham
moved at once to block her way.

“I require only a moment of your time,” he
said, flashing a charming smile which was no different than any she
had seen before, but something in his look caused her to shiver in
spite the warm summer air.

She stepped back, gaining some comfort in the
distance, only to have Wickham move in again, a disconcerting smile
on his lips. Silently she chided herself for letting her guard down
and allowing him to catch her like this. A slight breeze stirred
ominously, making his nearness all the more unnerving, but she
refused to be intimidated. Gathering her courage, she met his look
with cool indifference.

“What is it you wish to say,
Mr. Wickham?”

“I understand you were often in
Mr. Darcy's company during your recent visit to Kent.”

“I was.”

“And did you find him much changed? Is your
opinion of him still what it was when last we met?”

“No, Mr. Wickham, I did not find him
changed at all. As to my opinion, I have found that, contrary to
some, Mr. Darcy
improves
upon closer acquaintance.”

Wickham's smile broadened a bit at her reply.
“Yes, I thought as much.”

The two were silent as another breeze blew
through the foliage of a nearby elm and then swirled down and
around the pair, tugging at Elizabeth's dress. She frowned,
wondering where the conversation was going.

Wickham looked as if he was about to speak
again when Lydia's loud laughter suddenly drifted out from the
crowded drawing room and his eyes flashed mischievously.

“Your sister, Lydia, is quite outspoken in
her enjoyment of life, is she not?”

“I cannot say. There are many girls of
fifteen who enjoy life in a high-spirited manner.”

“I must say that I find your sister's high
spirits very pleasing. Yes, very pleasing, indeed.”

His evocative tone sent fear and alarm
coursing through Elizabeth's veins. These were not the words of a
gentleman, and they were adding a sickening reality to
Mr. Darcy's account of Wickham's vile character. His close
proximity was suddenly more than she could bear and she took a
small step back, colliding with the rough, unyielding surface of
the wall behind her. She was trapped! Her heart raced with a new
fear. He had already blocked her once from returning to the house.
There was no easy means of escape, unless he chose to allow it.

Again laughter was heard, this time from two
young ladies seeking relief from the heat of the drawing room. With
a muttered oath, Wickham stepped back as the girls came into view.
Giving them an especially charming smile, he tipped his head in
acknowledgment and received a cascade of nervous giggles in
reply.

Relief flooded Elizabeth's strained senses
and she released the breath that had caught in her throat at his
last words. Regaining some of the spirit Wickham's nearness had
drained from her, she met his gaze with an icy stare.

“I do not know your meaning, sir; nor do I
care to. I believe this conversation is at an end!”

“I had not reached my point; but perhaps you
are right. It is at an end for now. Shall we return to the
party?”

He offered his arm, which she reluctantly
took, and led her back inside where he promptly released her when
Lydia called to him from across the room. Leaning close as he moved
away, he breathed a parting whisper into her ear, “Another time
then.”

Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips and bent
her head to cover the shudder that shot through her body at the
intimate gesture.

Wickham leisurely walked away in the
direction of Lydia's laughter, clearly unhappy that he had not
accomplished whatever his purpose had been. Joining the group of
officers now entertaining Lydia and Kitty, Elizabeth watched as
Lydia immediately pressed him for a dance. He willingly obliged and
took his place in the line, looking one last time at Elizabeth
before turning his full attentions to his partner.

Across the room, Jane sent her sister an
enquiring gaze, looking quickly to Mr. Wickham and then back
again. Elizabeth promptly dismissed Wickham's unsavory gesture with
a roll of her eyes and an amused smile.

On the inside, Elizabeth did not feel the
least bit like smiling. A cold dread began to settle in the pit of
her stomach, giving an urgency to the desire for her sweet Jane's
advice. She had to tell someone of Wickham's true character, and
Jane's calm, even-tempered opinion was just what she needed to sort
things out. Again she glanced at the happy couple who were still
deep in conversation. She could not disturb Jane now. There would
be time in the morning.

“Lizzy, why are you standing there with such
a long face?” Lydia demanded as she poured herself a cup of punch.
“You should be dancing like the rest of us! I shall even let you
dance with Wickham if you promise not to take him off again.”

“I thank you, Lydia, but I have no wish to
dance with Mr. Wickham or anyone else at the moment.”

“Well, I wish you would just once. Then you
could answer all his silly questions.”

“Questions?” Elizabeth stiffened in alarm.
“What sort of questions?”

“Do I think you will be walking to Meryton
tomorrow…do you often accompany Kitty and me…that sort of thing.
Really, Lizzy, you had your chance with him; now it is my turn. It
is unfair of you spoil it for me.”

“I can promise you, Lydia, that I have not
the slightest interest in Mr. Wickham. I do my best to avoid
his company, and I think you would do well to follow suit.”

“La! You are just jealous!” Lydia quipped,
finishing her punch with alacrity before flashing her sister a coy
smile. “Just you wait and see, I shall hold on to him much better
than you ever did! I must go now. He is waiting for me!”

Elizabeth frowned at her sister's departing
figure. Something had to be done to separate Lydia from Wickham. It
was obvious she would not willingly give him up, but his
dishonorable nature was becoming more apparent and it would not be
long before any family connected with him would be censured and
despised. It would not do to ruin Jane's chances again.

She had to find a way to convince her father
of the danger to them all brought on by Lydia's unguarded and
imprudent manner. It was crucial that he check her exuberant
behavior now or she would soon be beyond the reach of amendment. A
fresh outburst of raucous laughter erupted from the group of
officers surrounding Lydia and Kitty, underscoring Elizabeth's
thoughts.

I will speak to Father as soon as I return
from my walk in the morning. Lydia's behavior must be checked at
once before it destroys Jane's happiness forever!

The morning sunlight filtered through the
small window of the officers' quarters, bringing George Wickham
awake with a jolt.
What time is it?
Peering at the ebony
mantel clock, he scrambled from his bed.
I've got to hurry!
Fortunately his companions were still deep in slumber, compliments
of the large quantities of wine punch Sir William had served the
night before. He did not need any prying eyes or curious questions
this morning. Dressing quickly, he slipped silently out into the
cool, quiet morning.

It was an ungodly hour for him, but necessary
if he was to succeed. Moving swiftly through Meryton's deserted
streets, he shook off the last vestiges of sleep; but he could not
shake off the growing desperation brought on by
Lady Catherine's recent communication.
“Your failure to
improve the state of my nephew's health as promised is a great
disappointment. I expected more to be done by now. I shall not
recompense a physician who cannot cure. Should you desire my
continued patronage, you will give proof that my nephew is rid of
this malady once and for all, with no chance of it ever
returning.”

Wickham smiled to himself. Darcy was about to
be cured of his “malady.” There was one last detail to finalize and
his plan would be set. Elizabeth Bennet had slipped through his
fingers last evening; but she would not do so again. Failure at
this point was not an option. Wickham accelerated his pace, eager
to secure his future. He would need to reach Pettigrew's Meadow
before Elizabeth if he was to gain the advantage.

Approaching the meadow, Wickham slowed his
pace and began scanning the wide glen for his quarry. Lydia had
been more than cooperative in providing information regarding her
sister's habits. He did not know the exact location, but he knew
this meadow was her destination of choice. His gaze swept the wide
expanse several times without finding any sign of her, but he was
not giving up so easily. Selecting a spot that would conceal his
presence while still giving a clear view of the entire meadow, he
settled in the shade of a large split birch and waited.