My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

10 - Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

... [W]hile Mr. Collins offers financial security without love, Wickham offers sexual fulfilment without stability.

A strangled gasp escaped my throat as my eyes laid upon the last sentence of the Wikipedia article.

At lunch, I had barely enjoyed the tenderness of the pork belly, unsettled as I was by George Wickham and his blasted smile. Without the slightest remorse, Amy had helped herself to my share of hard-boiled eggs, while I'd gulped down the content of my plate and darted back into my bedroom. There, I had opened a dozen browser tabs, diving into his character analysis to convince myself that he was the worst libertine of all Austen's work.

But "sexual fulfilment", really? I didn't need to be reminded of the instant attraction I had felt for him. The inner turmoil had however faded away quickly once I had escaped the simulation, in a manner similar to hunger and thirst: no matter how much I would stuff myself with jam tarts, my real stomach would grumble for attention in the minutes following my return back home.

I snapped my laptop shut and steeled myself, sticking the Bridge on my temple with more strength than necessary.

"Rakehell. Seducer. Scoundrel. Gambler. Liar. Coward." I intoned the words like an incantation, protecting my flimsy heart with the knowledge of his many flaws.

My resolve melted like snow in the sun when Wickham entered the Philipses' drawing room and beamed at me. "Miss Elizabeth. As I don't play whist, your uncle assured you would join me for lottery tickets?"

Blinded by his Colgate smile, I stumbled to the card-tables, and he rushed to offer me his supporting arm. Stupid gentlemanlike manners.

With a moan, I let myself fall on a chair and asked the Bridge to take care of the game. Aunt Philips shuffled two decks of cards together while Lydia and Wickham seated themselves by our side. The fish tokens were distributed amongst us, my sister almost immediately forgetting about her growing infatuation to concentrate on the shiny prizes.

About two minutes into the game, Wickham's gaze flicked to me. I stifled a sigh.

"Do you happen to know how far Netherfield is from Meryton?" His seemingly innocent question hung in the air, announcing the masterful conversation during which he would fill Elizabeth's head with lies.

"A little over two miles." My laconic answer did not satisfy him, of course.

"How long has Mr. Darcy been staying there?" Gosh, he was good. His phoney hesitation was perfect.

"About a month. He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes, his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself--for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

I squinted my eyes.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

The words "I am his future wife and mistress of Pemberley" almost passed my lips.

"As much as I ever wish to be. I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

A satisfied spark glinted in Wickham's eyes, swiftly extinguished. "I have no right to give my opinion as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish--and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your own family."