Page 4 of Hidden Desires
She crossed the road with quick steps, eager for the meeting. Yet despite her efforts to catch his attention, he passed without a word.
She opened her mouth to speak, but before a word escaped, she pitched forward and struck Mr. Denny with enough force to send him stumbling before he caught himself.
“Forgive me,” she said, shooting a glare at her sister, who smiled and stepped back. “I tripped, though I cannot imagine on what.” Behind her, Kitty struggled to contain her laughter.
“Miss Lydia,” he greeted her, “how nice it is to see you on this fine afternoon.”
“Is this a new officer?” Lydia asked, her manners forgotten in her rush to secure an introduction. “I do not recall seeing him in Meryton before today.”
The question seemed to catch Mr. Denny off guard. She assumed he would request permission to make the introduction, yet her blunt demand silenced him for a moment.
She watched him collect his thoughts before replying. “Miss Lydia, allow me to introduce Mr. George Wickham. We came together from London and arrived about an hour ago. He has accepted a position in the regiment, and we were on our way to meet Colonel Forster regarding his quarters.”
“It is an honor and a privilege to make the acquaintance of such a comely woman,” the man said, bowing low and sweeping his arm across the space between them. “Please consider me your friend.”
Lydia examined him openly, as was her habit. He stood nearly half a head taller than Mr. Denny, his posture firm, his confidence evident. His shoulders were broad, his back held straight. The crisp uniform only heightened the impression.
Her curiosity, stirred first by his bearing, deepened as she studied his face. He looked like a man who had endured hardship despite his charm.
Sand-colored hair framed a wide, high forehead. Beneath it, his brows rose in mild curiosity. Narrow blue eyes, shaded by deep lines, fixed on her with disquieting force. A proud nose stood at the center of his face, and his smile, though pleasant, carried the faint suggestion of cruelty.
Whatever appeal his charm held, it could not hide the ambition in his gaze. Lydia turned back to Mr. Denny.
“We have to go,” she said. “I think Lizzy is looking for us.” She took Kitty’s hand and walked away, pulling her sister along.
“Come again when you have time to visit,” Mr. Wickham called after her.
Lydia did not respond, but Kitty turned and waved. “Why did you ignore him?” she asked as Lydia quickened her pace. “He is handsome and polite. Think how jealous everyone would be if he escorted you to an assembly.”
Lydia glanced back. The men were still watching.
“There is something about him,” she said. “I doubt he is as kind as he seems when no one is around. And he is much too old. He looks to be at least twenty-five.”
Kitty laughed at the remark as the sisters continued down the road.
“Stop right there,” Elizabeth demanded as they crossed the avenue. As usual, it was the elder of the two who took hold of Lydia’s arm and waited for the others, aware that a reprimand was on its way.
“We searched all over Meryton for you,” she snapped, choosing not to hide her anger at Lydia’s answering smirk. “Was it that easy to forget what Papa said before we left? No sooner did I turn my back than you snuck off to flirt and carry on with the first man in uniform you saw.”
“I did not,” Lydia argued. “We happened to come upon Mr. Denny, and he introduced us to Mr. Wickham, who is new to the regiment.”
“She is telling the truth,” Kitty affirmed as Elizabeth lifted her brows and shook her head. “Lydia said he is too old, but I think he is a handsome specimen.”
“Right now, that is unimportant,” Elizabeth replied. “It is time to go home.” She gathered the girls and turned her back on the men, accompanied by three of her four sisters.
They had walked quite a distance before she realized one of them had not moved, remaining motionless, as if captivated by the two officers standing where Kitty and Lydia had left them.
“Mary,” she called, “do you need help with something?”
Elizabeth’s inquiry startled the girl, prompting her to hurry back to the group. Mr. Wickham did not look away, his gaze steady and almost amused as he watched her retreat until she disappeared.
The afternoon sun had waned, leaving a hush over the road as the sisters walked in the cool shade, the afternoon light flickering across the path.
Lydia walked ahead with brisk, impatient steps, her bonnet dangling from her hand as though it weighed too much to bother wearing.
Every few paces, she tossed a remark over her shoulder.
“There was nothing in Meryton to tempt me today,” she complained. “Not a single officer worth speaking to, and the shops held the same tiresome displays as always. But at least it was more interesting than this walk back home.”
Kitty hurried to keep pace, her cheeks still warm with excitement. “You only say that because you refused to speak to anyone.”
“There was no one worth speaking to,” Lydia retorted. “Mr. Wickham was pleasant enough to look at, I suppose, but he said nothing remarkable.”
“You are too difficult to please,” Kitty said with a sigh. “I thought him very agreeable.”
“That is because you have no standards,” Lydia said. “You would admire any man in a red coat, no matter how dull he proved.”
Mary, who had walked in silence until then, lifted her chin. “Perhaps you would both benefit from considering what draws your notice. A man’s character is not measured by his uniform.”
“Thank you for the sermon,” Lydia called without turning around. “I am sure we shall remember it next time we look at a pair of polished boots.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, who pressed her lips together to hide a smile.
“You were quiet today,” she said, her voice low enough that only her eldest sister could hear.
Jane tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I enjoyed the outing more than I expected.”
Elizabeth studied her face but said nothing. Jane always chose her words with care, and if she wished to share more, she would.
The lane curved toward the house, and for a moment they walked in dappled shade that smelled of blooming roses and sun-warmed grass. Elizabeth lifted her head to breathe it in, grateful for the peace that had eluded her all morning.
A little way ahead, Lydia turned around, walking backward as she called out. “Do hurry! If you dawdle any longer, we will arrive home in the dark.”
“Perhaps you should walk at a more moderate pace,” Mary said. “Then we might all arrive together.”
“Perhaps you should keep your advice to yourself,” Lydia retorted, spinning around to march on without waiting for a reply.
Elizabeth felt a sigh rising and did not bother to suppress it. She glanced at Jane again, who met her gaze with an expression that blended fondness and exasperation in equal measure.
“I am interested in the Bennet girl,” Wickham said as they left the tavern that night. “What do you know about her?”
“Miss Lydia is an intriguing young woman,” the other replied, watching his companion before answering. “She pays little heed to politeness or manners and seems unconcerned with other people’s opinions. Take my advice and discourage her company.”
“Not her. I want to know about the girl who came in search of her. I believe they called her Mary.”
“Are you certain?” Denny asked. “That one is unlike the others. She is quiet and seldom speaks unless prompted by her parents. When she does, it is often to quote scripture or name a sin someone has committed.”
“You must know something about her,” Wickham said.
Denny paused before answering. “She seldom comes to Meryton and never stays long. She has no suitors, and her nature discourages any attempt. Her appearance is beyond plain, and she shows no interest in improving it. In my view, Miss Mary would prove a frustrating woman to pursue. Why waste your time when her younger sisters welcome our company?”
“Perhaps I relish the challenge.” Wickham gave a lazy roll of his shoulder, his smile turning thoughtful. “It is always the quiet ones who never expect a kind word. They believe whatever a man cares to tell them, and nothing is more satisfying than watching virtue slip away.”