Over the course of the next few days, Elizabeth found herself often in the presence of Darcy. Though that gentleman continued to stare at her just as steadily as he always had, Elizabeth was startled on several occasions to have him approach her as well, with the obvious intention of engaging her in conversation. Elizabeth did everything in her power to quickly extract herself from his company and to avoid him whenever possible, making a point to speak politely with every officer or gentleman, save Lieutenant Wickham, who paid her even the slightest attention. She had no intention of speaking with Darcy, either alone or in the company of others.
Each evening Darcy now passed in Elizabeth’s society, saw him become brooding and withdrawn. He could hardly like her friendly attentions to others, not when he wished for nothing more than her eyes, her lively teasing, and her smiles to be directed at him. He could not understand what could have occurred to make her wish to avoid him now, for it was quite clear to him Elizabeth was avoiding him. Though Darcy felt a great deal of pain over her inexplicable actions, he could at least rejoice in the fact she did seem to take his warning about Wickham to heart. She avoided prolonged contact with that gentleman, as well.
The following evening, the Bennets were all to dine at the home of their Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Meryton. Mr. Collins was delighted to find himself included in the invitation. He had been loath to part from Elizabeth, to whom he had been attentive since he had decided upon her several days earlier. Mrs. Bennet wasted no time by publicly proclaiming her immense delight with the match and encouraging it in whatever way she could.
To Kitty and Lydia, this continued to be a ceaseless source of amusement, especially since they considered themselves most fortunate to have escaped any such notice by the stodgy Mr. Collins. After all, in the opinion of Mrs. Bennet’s two youngest daughters, what woman could ever be bothered to give two straws about a droll clergyman when there were far more satisfying prospects to be had parading themselves about the countryside of Hertfordshire in regimentals? They delighted in making their sentiments known.
With immense relief, Elizabeth managed to slip away from Mr. Collins’s attentive and somewhat overbearing society while he spoke with great enthusiasm to her Aunt Phillips about the grandeur of Rosings Park and the condescension and affability of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In her aunt, Mr. Collins was sure to find a most obliging listener and, in Mrs. Phillips’s guests, an audience eager to hear his raptures on his favorite topics for the greater part of the evening.
She soon found herself uneasy, however, as she recognized Mr. Wickham standing slightly apart from the other officers and guests in her aunt’s home, an insincere smile gracing his face, and his gaze resting upon her. She had not spoken with him at any length since their first meeting in Meryton, when Darcy had cautioned her not to be taken in by his easy manners. Elizabeth had imagined any association with Darcy would have been enough to deter Wickham from wishing to renew their slight acquaintance, but in that she had been mistaken. He had taken every opportunity, on the few occasions when their paths did cross, to attempt to engage her in conversation. She could see by the determined look in his eyes that tonight would be no different, and indeed, no sooner had she left Mr. Collins than Elizabeth found herself being addressed with a low bow and an ingratiating smile.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I must say you are looking lovely this evening.”
She returned his compliment with guarded civility. Wickham was far from discouraged. “I must confess I had hoped to have become better acquainted with you by now, but alas, I have not had the pleasure of seeing you in Meryton with your sisters these six days at least. I can only imagine this is due to some far more rewarding pursuit of yours, which must, undoubtedly, have a prior claim on your time.”
Elizabeth did not know whether or not she trusted his words and, with a raised brow, replied, “I engage in many pursuits I find to be rewarding, Mr. Wickham.”
“Do you indulge yourself in these rewarding pursuits daily, then?”
“Yes, I suppose I do, whenever I find I am at leisure.”
“I see. And which pursuit, if you do not mind my asking, brings you the most pleasure, Miss Elizabeth?” Wickham inquired.
Elizabeth hesitated. “I am partial to any form of exercise that might afford me an opportunity to be out-of-doors, particularly when the weather is fine.”
“You enjoy taking your exercise out-of-doors, do you? How interesting. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, would I be correct to assume you also enjoy taking your pleasure indoors whenever you can?”
Elizabeth observed him with a puzzled expression. “Indoors, Mr. Wickham? I am not certain whether I understand your meaning. Certainly, when the weather is uncooperative, one will find pleasure in one’s needlework, at the pianoforte, or in a good book, but you must own that one can hardly compare taking a turn in a stuffy drawing room to the satisfaction of a leisurely ramble in the fresh air of a wooded path.”
Wickham’s voice took on a tone she could not like. “Oh, come now, Miss Elizabeth, there is no need to be coy. I have noticed your intimacy with a certain gentleman from Derbyshire… or, to be more accurate, his marked preference for you. I can imagine it must be rather gratifying for a young lady such as yourself to be singled out by such a wealthy and distinguished man who has lived very much in the world.”
Elizabeth gasped as comprehension dawned on her. Wickham lowered his voice in a disturbing manner and said in a throaty whisper, “Does his… society satisfy you, Miss Elizabeth? Because I, for one, would be most obliged to step in and instruct you myself whenever you may feel the urge for far more superior companionship. I assure you, I have never been known to disappoint a beautiful woman.” He took a step closer while his gaze roamed over her form. A smirk began to tug at the corners of Wickham’s mouth, and the same insolent sneer he had worn for Darcy appeared for her.
Elizabeth was appalled and sickened by the vulgarity of this man, and before she could stop herself or recall where she was, she raised her hand to slap him hard across his face. To her further horror, Wickham caught her hand roughly in his and forced it, instead, to his lips as he let out a soft, derisive laugh.
“Of course, I knew you and I would soon come to an understanding of sorts.”
Elizabeth struggled to pull her hand from his grasp, but he gripped it tightly—almost painfully—his gaze boring into her in a most offensive manner before he finally released her, but not before muttering in her ear, “He is a very lucky man, Miss Elizabeth. Please be sure to give him my best compliments when you are next with him. And if you should ever change your mind…”
In alarm and disgust, Elizabeth broke away and fled from Wickham. If there had been any doubt in her mind about the credibility of Darcy’s information regarding Wickham’s character, the offensiveness of his address and his repulsive behavior had just removed it completely. She saw Jane in avid conversation with Charlotte Lucas on the other side of the room. Bingley, she was certain, had very likely been attending them, though at this moment he was moving quickly and deliberately in her direction with a frowning countenance. Elizabeth found herself extremely grateful that, for once, Jane had not succeeded in monopolizing his attention. When he reached her, Bingley drew her quietly aside into an unoccupied corner and addressed her with great concern. “Miss Elizabeth, are you well? Forgive me, but I could not fail to notice your distress as you were speaking with Mr. Wickham. Did he impose himself upon you in any way? Did he insult you?”