“Only by reputation.”
Before the conversation could go further, Lydia and Kitty interrupted. “We wish to walk to Meryton;Aunt Philips invited us all to tea.You will come, too, will you not, Mr. Wickham?” Lydia asked flirtatiously.
“I will happily see you to town, Miss Lydia.” He stood and made a quick bow to her. “I am most anxious to hear of your luck with lottery tickets. I understand from Mr. Denny that you win quite often. Do you have a method you employ?” He took her hand and placed it on his arm as he led Lydia to the entrance hallway.
Needing the exercise and Jane’s company, Elizabeth trailed along—despite her misgivings about the fine- looking stranger. Of late, Jane shared secrets about Mr. Bingley with her; Jane told her everything he had said to her while she recuperated at his house. Elizabeth would like to reciprocate and tell Jane of Mr. Darcy, but
Upon reaching the village, they turned towards their aunt’s house. Luckily, Aunt Philips met them coming from the shops. Introductions were made once again. The introduction was followed upon Mr.Wickham’s side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. Elizabeth’s heart leaped.
On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly forward then and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said as he tipped his hat to Jane, “I was just now on my way to Longbourn to inquire after your health.”
“I am well, as you can see, Mr. Bingley.” Jane blushed from his attention.
As the two openly flirted, Darcy and Elizabeth both fought the urge to fix their eyes on each other, and then Elizabeth noted his distress at the sight of finding Mr. Wickham a member of the Bennet party. Elizabeth, happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed color: One looked white, the other red. Darcy’s ice-blue eyes hardened in apparent hatred. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation, which Darcy just deigned to return.What could be the meaning of it? Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued. It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, without seeming to notice what passed, took his leave and rode on with his friend. Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips’s house and then made their bows, in spite of Lydia’s pressing entreaties that they should come in.
Before the gentlemen could escape,Aunt Philips invited them all to dinner for the next evening.The younger girls readily agreed for
Elizabeth followed her sisters into the house, where she tried to enjoy their company and the tea, but her mind rode with a stranger across the rolling hills of Hertfordshire. Why had Darcy snubbed Mr. Wickham? Even in distress, his good breeding took over and Darcy would act the gentleman. It had something to do with Derbyshire, she surmised. Obviously, Darcy would not tell her; she would just have to ask Mr.Wickham for his story.
As he rode away, Darcy’s anger boiled over.Trying to respond to Bingley’s happiness at seeing Jane Bennet only complicated his feelings. Wickham was in town. Even worse, he was in
CHAPTER 6
The woman flirted with him brazenly, and Wickham allowed her to sit upon his lap. Her dark skin indicated that she was of Mediterranean descent. “You are beautiful, my pet.” He bit down on her earlobe, harder than most men might, but the lady did not complain. Instead, she pulled his face to her breasts, allowing him to rub his lips, his nose, and his tongue along her cleavage. Wickham caressed her breast and then he whispered eagerly,“Where can we be alone?”
She giggled and wanted to be kissed, but he hated kissing any woman other than Ellender. Only Ellender fulfilled those needs he tried to bury deep within.
“Let me get my shawl.”
“I will keep you warm,”Wickham insisted.
The woman said playfully,“I expect you will, Love.”
Within a few minutes they walked along a quiet country road. “Me house be just down here.” She gestured to a small cottage.
Wickham pulled her to him. “I do not believe I can wait that long.” He slipped the bodice down, exposing one of her breasts.
“You be an anxious one, Love,” she reprimanded him, but she did not withdraw from his aggressive touch.
Wickham shoved her chin up, so that she might look into his eyes. He held her there with his grasp and with his stare. “Let me show you how anxious,” he growled. He lowered his head and sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. Tasting the blood, he closed his jaw, and with the strength of a wolf, he bit harder and ripped away the flesh.The woman did not scream as he took her; instead, she lolled back into arms. He licked and sucked and tore away more of her.The fear in her eyes remained as her body went rigid. Now, he felt the erection, and he laid her on the ground to ravish her completely.
Determined to have her answer, Elizabeth set out for Meryton as early as propriety would allow. If necessary, she would find Mr. Wickham with the rest of the militia. Luckily, the man lazily sauntered down the main street of the village. She crossed the street at an angle, with the purpose of seeming to accidentally meet with him. She positioned herself as if interested in a fine bonnet displayed in the window of a mercantile. Waiting, her heartbeats anxious, Elizabeth counted to ten before he stepped up beside her.
“The color would do nothing for your beautiful hair, Miss Elizabeth.” He spoke close to her ear—intimately close.
