Page 2 of Searching for Elizabeth (A Pride and Prejudice Variation)

—that same morning—

George Wickham was making his way, on foot, to a little meadow where he was to meet Mary King. He consulted his pocketwatch to see how early he was, and he was relieved to see that he had plenty of time for a little hair of the dog. He had been worried about his ability to smile and flatter and charm the silly miss with his dreadful headache. He went to his cache tree, reached high up to the little hollow, and grasped his flask.

Sitting down next to the tree, he brought the flask to his lips for a satisfying and warming mouthful of whiskey. He was pretty sure that his headache was feeling better already. He closed his eyes….

A small sound caused Wickham’s eyes to fly open. He had honed his senses over the years, having had quite a lot of experience escaping enraged fathers or husbands, and even more experience hiding from angry gamesters he had fleeced.

Now, in this pleasant meadow outside of the bucolic town of Meryton, he expected the sounds of a woman approaching—and, indeed, there was a woman trudging along the narrow footpath he had used just a short time before. From where he sat, still and quiet, he could see that it was not Mary King, but rather was the much more luscious Elizabeth Bennet. Of course, she was not approaching him, but rather heading towards the most overgrown part of the forest. Strangely, she was carrying a small trunk!

Wickham narrowed his eyes at the oddity of the young woman lugging around what looked to be a fairly heavy trunk. Her face looked…distressed.

Wickham had admired Lizzy—a nickname he had heard from her many sisters—from the first day he had come to Meryton to enlist in the militia. She was the right amount of slender and the perfect amount of curvy, and best of all, she was a fiery little thing. He had always been positive that she had copious amounts of passion waiting to be unleashed, but although he had enjoyed flirting with her here and there, he had never attempted to seriously put his moves on her. She had no money, the tiniest of dowries, and no rich relatives willing to bribe him to keep quiet if he ruined her.

Perhaps more important, she was too intelligent to succumb to his charms. He had seen her immediate attraction to him—she was, after all, a woman, and she was not wholly impervious to his handsome face and elegant manners. But, although their conversations had increased his interest in Lizzy—she was a sparkling and witty woman!—they had seemed to decrease her interest in him.

But now, seeing Elizabeth upset and carrying that trunk, Wickham decided to follow her. He had no immediate plan to ruin her, but something was wrong, and knowledge was power, and Wickham might have time to gain a little knowledge before his tryst with the King chit.

All that sneaking around fathers, husbands, and dupes had helped Wickham learn to walk exceptionally quietly. He followed Lizzy until he saw her goal—a little cottage almost entirely hidden by a tangle of bushes and overhanging trees and climbing vines.

Wickham checked the time. He had no motivation to further his acquaintance with the lovely Lizzy, and he had ten thousand reasons to hurry back to meet with Mary King. But…

…Knowledge was power, and he carefully studied the area as he swiftly made his way back to the meadow. His knowledge of the whereabouts of this cottage and the apparent connection to Elizabeth Bennet may never come in handy, but you just never know.