“Hello, Mr. Wickham,” replied Elizabeth, curious about his behavior. “Good fortune had nothing to do with it—I returned when the time of my visit with my friend elapsed.”
Though Mr. Wickham waited for her to say more, she disappointed him by remaining silent. It was a deliberate choice on her part—she wondered what he would do if she forced him to introduce a subject. Since he had been eager to speak of Mr. Darcy and knew of her recent residence in Kent near his aunt, Elizabeth suspected she knew what he would say. The man proved her conjecture the next moment.
“How did you find your friend?” asked he, easing into the conversation from an oblique angle.
“Charlotte is well.”
Mr. Wickham waited for her to say something more, but Elizabeth kept a stubborn silence, not wishing to allow him to use something she said to turn a comment to the subject he most wished to discuss. If he wanted to speak of it, she would make him choose it without disguise.
“I hope you are not regretting your choice.”
Elizabeth allowed an unfeigned laugh. “Not at all, Mr. Wickham. Marriage to Mr. Collins may suit my friend, but I had no interest in it.”
He now appeared disappointed and perhaps a little suspicious. When he spoke again, he spoke of what he wished to hear without holding back.
“Might I suppose you came to Lady Catherine’s attention?”
“You can hardly suppose that I did not, given Lady Catherine’s character and Mr. Collins’s position as her parson.”
“Her lackey, rather,” ventured Mr. Wickham.
Elizabeth nodded, not having to pretend to be diverted. “With that, I cannot disagree.”
“And what did you think of the lady?” asked Mr. Wickham, finally coming to the point. “Do you not suppose that her nephew is a mirror image?”
Hesitating just long enough to consider what she should say, Elizabeth determined to give him more than he wished to hear. Perhaps she could induce him to reveal something he would rather conceal. At the very least, she suspected she could make him quite uncomfortable. That would only aid her in undermining his reputation.
“Anyone who considers them to be alike has spent little time in their company.”
Mr. Wickham appeared at once intrigued and apprehensive. “Is that so? I would have said their pride, insolence, and superiority made the resemblance unmistakable.”
“Of pride, they both have enough to spare,” agreed Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine, however, is a woman of decided opinions who does not hesitate to share them, whereas Mr. Darcy barely opens his mouth. He is restrained, while she is brash, retiring where she is meddling, and quiet where she is loud. No, Mr. Wickham, I cannot see much resemblance between them.”
After a moment’s consideration, Mr. Wickham ventured: “Perhaps in that you are correct. But they are both members of a class that revels in its superiority, two of the worst examples of conceit I have ever met.”
Elizabeth decided it was time to insert the knife. “Lady Catherineisevery bit the haughty noble, Mr. Wickham—I shall not deny that. Mr. Darcy...”
When Elizabeth trailed off, Mr. Wickham waited with impatience for her to continue, and when she did not, he snapped. “Yes? You have something further to say about Darcy?”
“I hardly know what to think of the gentleman,” replied Elizabeth, shaking her head as if with confusion.
“That is surprising. When you departed, you did not hide your opinion of him.”
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth, affecting unconcern. “Yet that was before I saw him in the company of his family.”
This provoked a start from Mr. Wickham. “You saw Darcy in Kent?”
“Mr. Darcy stayed with his aunt for three weeks, Mr. Wickham,” replied Elizabeth. “Before he departed from Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley claimed that Mr. Darcy was much altered when he was in company with whom he is comfortable.”
“And you discovered the truth of that assertion?”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. Now that she had him where she wanted him, Mr. Wickham was speaking in hopes of drawing from her what he wished to hear. Every pause, every hesitation increased his discomfort. By now, he suspected she had heard something he would not like, though she knew he would not imagine the extent of her current knowledge.
“Ididdiscover that Mr. Darcy was altered in Kent,” replied Elizabeth, “though I cannot say that he was comfortable even there. Lady Catherine is not a woman to make others easy in her presence, and her daughter is taciturn to the point of being a misanthrope.”
“Yet Darcyisengaged to her.”
“Of that I cannot speak. Mr. Darcy showed no uncommon interest in Miss de Bourgh. To own the truth, I wonder if the matter is in Lady Catherine’s mind alone.”
