Unforgiving Temper by Gail Head Page B

as it crossed her face. Happiness,
sadness, hope, despair…such a jumble of feelings! What was she to
do?
    The overwhelming distraction of her thoughts
obscured the approaching footsteps until it was too late. Before
she could turn away, Wickham was beside her, the soft tenor of his
voice belying the annoyance she had seen on his face all
evening.
    “You are looking quite lovely this evening,
Miss Elizabeth.”
    “Mr. Wickham, you startled me! I think
it unkind of you to intrude upon my solitude.”
    “I had not thought the intrusion unwelcome.
We have had many pleasant conversations together, have we not?”
    His question brought to Elizabeth's mind the
many reiterations of his woeful misfortunes inflicted by
Mr. Darcy. Misfortunes indeed! Wickham's true character was
now exposed, if only to her, and she was determined to have nothing
more to do with him.
    “Mr. Wickham, I beg you would excuse me.
I must return to the party.”
    “So soon? You have only just come out.”
    “I came out to get some fresh air, which I
have now done.”
    Elizabeth took a step forward, but Wickham
moved at once to block her way.
    “I require only a moment of your time,” he
said, flashing a charming smile which was no different than any she
had seen before, but something in his look caused her to shiver in
spite the warm summer air.
    She stepped back, gaining some comfort in the
distance, only to have Wickham move in again, a disconcerting smile
on his lips. Silently she chided herself for letting her guard down
and allowing him to catch her like this. A slight breeze stirred
ominously, making his nearness all the more unnerving, but she
refused to be intimidated. Gathering her courage, she met his look
with cool indifference.
    “What is it you wish to say,
Mr. Wickham?”
    “I understand you were often in
Mr. Darcy's company during your recent visit to Kent.”
    “I was.”
    “And did you find him much changed? Is your
opinion of him still what it was when last we met?”
    “No, Mr. Wickham, I did not find him
changed at all. As to my opinion, I have found that, contrary to
some, Mr. Darcy improves upon closer acquaintance.”
    Wickham's smile broadened a bit at her reply.
“Yes, I thought as much.”
    The two were silent as another breeze blew
through the foliage of a nearby elm and then swirled down and
around the pair, tugging at Elizabeth's dress. She frowned,
wondering where the conversation was going.
    Wickham looked as if he was about to speak
again when Lydia's loud laughter suddenly drifted out from the
crowded drawing room and his eyes flashed mischievously.
    “Your sister, Lydia, is quite outspoken in
her enjoyment of life, is she not?”
    “I cannot say. There are many girls of
fifteen who enjoy life in a high-spirited manner.”
    “I must say that I find your sister's high
spirits very pleasing. Yes, very pleasing, indeed.”
    His evocative tone sent fear and alarm
coursing through Elizabeth's veins. These were not the words of a
gentleman, and they were adding a sickening reality to
Mr. Darcy's account of Wickham's vile character. His close
proximity was suddenly more than she could bear and she took a
small step back, colliding with the rough, unyielding surface of
the wall behind her. She was trapped! Her heart raced with a new
fear. He had already blocked her once from returning to the house.
There was no easy means of escape, unless he chose to allow it.
    Again laughter was heard, this time from two
young ladies seeking relief from the heat of the drawing room. With
a muttered oath, Wickham stepped back as the girls came into view.
Giving them an especially charming smile, he tipped his head in
acknowledgment and received a cascade of nervous giggles in
reply.
    Relief flooded Elizabeth's strained senses
and she released the breath that had caught in her throat at his
last words. Regaining some of the spirit Wickham's nearness had
drained from her, she met his gaze with an icy stare.
    “I do not know