Page 55 of Introducing Mrs. Collins
‘True. Why did you not tell Lizzy that we had met before? She introduced us as strangers tonight. Why would you keep it a secret?’
‘It is no secret; it is only of no consequence. I talk to my friends about things that interest me.’
His smile remained fixed, but she could tell he was irritated. ‘I do interest you a little, though. I saw you earlier, in the hall, peeping,’ he said, his eyes challenging hers.
Charlotte’s brisk smile faded. She felt him provoking her, but did not know how to respond.
He continued to goad her. ‘You were watching us from the shadows. Rather prying, but then, you are a rather watchful person, I think. So am I.’
Wickham began to walk towards the settee, so Charlotte rose from it quickly, not wishing to share a seat with him. He was enjoying her nervousness. As he sat, he seemed struck by genuine exhaustion for a moment, and he rubbed his hands over his face and groaned.
Charlotte, now standing, felt chiefly the impropriety of the situation, and more disgusttowardshim than any threatfromhim: she knew too well that his interest was in young girls, and she had always felt far beneath his attention – a lucky escape on her part, she thought. She did not wish to be alone with him, but she also sought not to incite his temper or make a scene, which she knew Elizabeth and Darcy were keen to avoid. She was treading a fine social balance.
‘Marriage disappoints us, does it not,MrsCollins? I always thought a wife would be a firm companion, a match for my own spirits – you understand? I thought I would have a wife who was my intellectual equal. But that has not proven to be the case.’
‘You are lucky in your marriage, sir. Lydia is very devoted to you.’
‘Yes. Devoted, besotted,easy. She was easy to catch, and she remains eminently available. But I have known enough women now to know the value of a real lady – a woman ofsubstance. You must know a man wants some mystery, a lady who holds something back, someone modest, demure… a little hard to get.’
He was looking at her again, his eyelids low and his breath heavy. She felt a shift in his intentions, and she wished to be away from him. But she felt afraid and incapacitated by her fear. Her instinct told her to keep him talking.
‘I do not know what a man wants, sir,’ she answered, distracted, looking at the closed door.
Wickham grinned, wolf-like, and said, ‘So you claim. But you’re clever; I bet you could learn.’
Charlotte heard the implication, felt the alarm. She wished to leave now and did not know why her body felt so paralysed when urgency was required.
Wickham rose surprisingly quickly from the settee and started to approach her. ‘As a man, you want to feel you are uncovering something that hasn’t been seen before, that you are making a discovery, Miss Lucas—’
‘Mrs Colli—’ she automatically corrected him. He was standing in front of her now. She felt her hands grow rigid with anxiety.
‘Yes, yes,Mrs Collins,’ he said irritably, then, with a sneer, ‘Yes, you have some experience now, although I can’t imagine it has been very satisfying.’
‘I will not talk to you further,’ she said abruptly, wrenching her feet from where they had felt stuck to the floor and turned from him.
Charlotte made quick progress towards the door, but a moment later, she felt her wrist caught firmly and pulled back. She cried out in surprise. Wickham spun her around and pushed her back,and back again, nearly tripping her, pinning her against the wall. His body was now pressed firm against hers, and her face craned away from his as he loomed over her, close enough that she could smell his sour, stale breath.
‘But I want to talk to you, Miss Lucas. You think you are better than me. I saw it the first time we met. You judged me then, and you’re judging me now.’ He was ranting. His eyes looked wild, and he spat as he talked. He looked as if reason had left him entirely. Disdain, anger and drunken lust were a terrifying combination to see up close.
‘Let me go,’ she managed to utter.
It was as if he did not hear her. ‘You do not like me, but youdowant me, do you not?’
Charlotte’s breathe was short; she could hardly reply. ‘I do not,’ she managed to utter.
‘I know you do. Always so detached, so proper, but I bet you were burning for me.’
One of his hands gripped her at the waist, squeezing painfully, while his other held her arm against the wall. She was pushing with her other hand at his chest, but it was pointless.
‘Please!’ she cried. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing herself away.
His lower body pinned her against the wall, and his hands pulled sharply at the neckline of her dress, grabbing at her breasts. As he did so, he slammed his lips hard against hers, knocking her head back against the wood. She turned her face to the side, his lips dragging across her cheek. He grabbed her jaw and painfully turned her face back to his.
And then, suddenly, she felt herself free. She opened her eyes to see Wickham’s face moving quickly backwards, away from her, his mouth open in shock. Only then did she see a strong hand around his neck, pulling him back by the throat.
Wickham staggered, losing his footing, even before Colonel Fitzwilliam threw him to the floor. The colonel then positionedhimself between Charlotte and the rather pathetic figure now panting on the ground.
A few tense moments passed, only the sound of ragged breaths from all breaking the silence.
