Now, however, he was before her again, his handsome mien reminding her why she had considered him the best of the officers. His actions were still unforgivable, and Lydia had no notion he would fit her idea of a proper husband, but he wasstillso very handsome! Perhaps a little idle flirting would not go amiss.
At that moment, the man with whom he had been talking gave him a sullen nod and turned away, while Wickham went in the opposite direction—toward Lydia and Kitty. Grateful for this bit of good fortune, Lydia hailed him, plastering her most beguiling smile on her face.
“Mr. Wickham!” called she, though it came out as more of a squeal than she would have liked. “Ithoughtit was you I had seen.”
“Miss Lydia,” said the man, his response curt, unlike his usual gentlemanly conduct.
“It is good to see you returned.” Lydia sidled close to him and batted her lashes as she knew he liked, adding: “We are so desolate without your presence. How fortunate it is to see you again.”
Far from Lydia’s expectation, Mr. Wickham did not fall at her feet to worship her. Nor did he even seem pleased to see her; instead, he appeared annoyed that she had interrupted whatever he was doing.
“I am not here to stay, Miss Lydia.” His tone was also condescending, which set Lydia’s teeth to grinding. “If you will excuse me, I must be about my business.”
“You cannot take a moment to speak to old friends?” pouted Lydia.
“It is the present with which I must concern myself,” rejoined Mr. Wickham.
Lydia raked him with contempt. “You are not so gentlemanly after all. Perhaps it is the lack of scarlet in your dress.”
The muscles of Mr. Wickham’s jaw bunched, but he said not a word further, turning and stalking away. As he retreated, Lydia watched him, frowning, noting that he gazed about him in the attitude of one who was searching for something. Curious, Lydia eyed as he receded into the distance, wondering what he was about.
“That was odd,” said Kitty. “Mr. Wickham has never so much as scowled in my presence.”
“It is,” mused Lydia.
Something was happening here, something she did not understand. While it may be better to leave well enough alone, Lydia did not like it when men such as Mr. Wickham dismissed her without consideration. Lydia meant to discover what he was about.
It was not long thereafter when the complaints began.
Strange though it was, Elizabeth thought she had begun to understand Miss de Bourgh. In Kent, she had seemed colorless and insipid, uninterested in anything that Elizabeth, a more active person, considered essential about the mortal condition. She was, in many respects, painfully naïve about many things, a state Elizabeth contributed to the suffocating influence of her mother. Yet in those brief moments after their flight from Mr. Wickham’s clutches, she had seen another side of Anne deBourgh, one she had not thought existed. It was, she thought with some perturbation of mind, not different from how her initial impression of Mr. Darcy had been.
As with Mr. Darcy, it appeared some of those initial estimations were proving to be the truth. A few further minutes in Miss de Bourgh’s company proved her disposition to be cross, as Elizabeth had determined in Kent, her expectation that others would wait on her hand and foot. The roads of Meryton were too dusty and nothing like Westerham, its people unaware of her position in society, and the streets too narrow or too busy. Then, as they approached the road leading from town, came the crowning glory of her sudden need to complain.
“Where is your carriage, Elizabeth?”
“My sisters and I walked to Meryton this morning,” replied Elizabeth, not paying much attention, intent as she was on ensuring that Mr. Wickham did not observe them leaving the town.
“Walked?” exclaimed Anne. A glance at her showed her completely aghast at the very notion.
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, wondering at her behavior. “We often walk into Meryton when the weather is fine; this morning it provided a distraction from certain goings-on at my home.”
At once Elizabeth thought of those events and she wondered if taking Anne to Longbourn was at all wise. Lydia would surely make a mockery of their family before their judgmental guest, and whatever positive impression she left standing, Kitty would dispense with. There was truly no other choice unless Elizabeth led her to Lucas lodge instead. Given the characters of the master and mistress of that estate, she could not say the situation there would be any better.
“I apologize, Elizabeth,” said Anne, drawing Elizabeth from her thoughts, “but I had thought you proposed returning to Longbourn in a carriage. I could never walk so far.”
“Longbourn is not even a mile from Meryton,” said Elizabeth, her patience beginning to fray at the edges. “If you wish to escape from Mr. Wickham, you must walk there, for that is how we came to Meryton this morning.”
“That is unacceptable,” declared Miss de Bourgh.
“Then what do you propose I do?” asked Elizabeth, hurrying Anne along. “Send to my father for his carriage? By the time I do that, Mr. Wickham will discover us and prevent your escape.”
“I have never walked so far in my life,” said Anne, sounding dubious.
“That is because you have never tried,” said Elizabeth. “I walk every day, and usually far more than a mile. If you set yourself to it, you could walk that far and more. Walkingisbeneficial exercise, after all.”
Elizabeth did not miss the flat glare Anne directed at her. “Are you suggesting that I am indolent or incapable?”
“Not at all,” said Elizabeth, though she thought that was exactly what Anne was, though through no fault of her own. “All I suggest is that at present, there is little choice but to walk, for no other means of going where we wish to go is available to us.”
