Beginning, Previous Section, Section VIII, Next Section
Posted on Friday, 21 March 2008
Colonel Forster, of the -----shire militia’s 9th battalion, was a sensible man, and if he had had the misfortune of marrying a younger woman of perhaps less than elegant comportment, he may be pardoned for the momentarily folly which had gained him a pretty but fairly empty-headed wife – a mistake which many men more perceptive than he had made. A judicious mind and genial temperament gave him every appearance of intelligence, and one must suppose that the appearance of something in a person as much as confirms it as truth in the suppositions of others.
Richard Fitzwilliam knew of the commander by reputation and therefore had no scruples in trusting that the disclosures he planned to make would be held in the utmost secrecy. He had not debated long on the question of going to the colonel or not – in his opinion, it was the only thing to be done, no matter how Darcy might object. He had often thought his cousin too cautious, too diffident; no, the best thing here was to launch an attack before the opposition could call up reinforcements – and the colonel well knew how effortlessly Wickham could garner the sympathy of his peers.
A mere mile’s ride out of Meryton brought Colonel Fitzwilliam to the militia camp; the circle of huts and leather tents was not remarkable from any other temporary military quarters, the monotony of the brown and grey tents broken by a scattering of crimson as the soldiers went from place to place about their duties. The headquarter office, located in the center of the camp, was Fitzwilliam’s destination, and he approached the little cabin with confidence.
A young soldier idled outside the door of the building, and upon seeing the gold epaulets on the colonel’s uniform, he immediately snapped to attention.
“Is Colonel Forster about, my good man?” Fitzwilliam asked without preamble, nodding in reply to the soldier’s quick salute. “I have come on a matter of urgent business, and if he is not at present occupied, I would request an audience at once. Tell him that Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam from the London office is here.”
“He is not detained, sir. If you will wait in the receiving room, I’ll forward your request to the colonel.” The ensign opened the door and motioned for Fitzwilliam to enter.
The waiting chamber was small and stark, with only a scattering of chairs – a room that hinted at practicality more than welcome. The colonel took a seat and leaned back, propping one foot up on his knee and folding his arms; he might as well make himself comfortable, for it was unlikely that he would be granted his interview with any amount of speed. Higher-ranking officers often delayed their visitors to make a point, and whether that was meant to impress upon the guest the demand on their attention or the busyness of their schedule, the maneuver was known to be most effective. The colonel himself had found that when a more demanding gentleman was forced to cool his heels for a half-hour or so, he was far less likely to enter the interview believing himself in complete control of whatever business called him there; and Fitzwilliam was consequently taken by surprise when the ensign returned after little more than five minutes to inform him that he was permitted to go in.
Colonel Forster’s office was as plain as the antechamber, and the man seated behind the paper-littered desk was equally unprepossessing. Heavy grey brows and a bushy mustache were the only things that stood out from his bland, good-humored face, and his manners were easy and entirely unremarkable. As Fitzwilliam stepped inside, the gentleman rose to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Good day, Colonel, good day – please, take a seat. Markton tells me you’ve a matter of business to discuss with me?”
Fitzwilliam pulled up a chair and sat down; the two men sized each other up across the length of the desk before he spoke. “Indeed, sir, there is something of which I think you ought to be aware. It has come to my attention that there is a certain Lieutenant George Wickham under your command.”
“Wickham?” The colonel’s brow furrowed and then smoothed. “Ah, of course – Lieutenant Wickham, yes. He came to us from a southern base only a few months back. Bright young man, if a little too fond of wagering. I’ve had to reprimand him a time or two for being at cards, but nothing very serious at all.”
“Nothing very serious....If I may be so bold, I might suggest that when Mr. Wickham is involved in one sort of thing, it is exceedingly likely that he has a hand in other bits of mischief. Gambling, sir, is probably not the only vice he is encouraging among your men.”
Colonel Forster’s round blue eyes widened. “Is that so? Do you know Wickham then?”
Fitzwilliam nearly laughed aloud, but years of training kept his amusement betrayed by only a slight, sardonic smile. “We are acquainted.”
“Perhaps you might be a little more specific, Colonel.”
“He was known to my family from the time I was in short pants. I can assure you that I know every aspect of Mr. Wickham’s character, and I think, with a bit more information, you may find his presence in your company less acceptable.”
“Oh, dear.” The colonel drummed his fingers nervously atop the desk. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to divulge a few particulars? It is not that I doubt your word, sir, but you surely understand the quandary – I cannot in good conscience condemn one of my men without proof.”
“Of course.” Fitzwilliam slipped a hand inside his coat and withdrew a neatly-folded packet. “Will a list of all the debts he owes to the Meryton shopkeepers and merchants do? Or mayhap you would prefer testimony from the draper, whose young daughter, it seems, is in the family way; I daresay I need not tell you who is responsible.”
Astonished distress spread over the colonel’s face. “Wickham has done all that?”
“So it appears. I confess it does not shock me at all; his habits are of long-standing and not very difficult to comprehend. His character begins and ends with greed.”
“I had not suspected him for a moment,” the other man replied unsteadily. “He seemed such an amiable sort, and my wife said the ladies of Meryton thought him quite the gallant. I did not think any man in my company could be so lost to decency.” He paused. “What of the girl?”
“She will be sufficiently cared for,” Fitzwilliam said succinctly. He felt no need to explain that the child and her baby would presently make their new home in a cottage on Pemberley land; Darcy, as he always did, once again had tidied up the mess another made. His cousin yet harbored some misguided sense of responsibility for Wickham’s actions; if the lieutenant didn’t become a touch more cautious, Pemberley would soon be crowded with his by-blows and cast-offs.
Colonel Forster sighed. “And the debts?”
“Extensive – enough to have him landed in prison a dozen times over.”
The man ran shaking hands through his hair and shifted uncomfortably; Fitzwilliam felt a moment’s sympathy for him. It was never easy to learn that men under your command had dishonored themselves and others by foolish actions or deceit; loyalty was prized above all in the military world, and betrayal was undoubtedly the worst crime a soldier might commit.
“Well, if all this is true, then action must be taken immediately.” Colonel Forster’s countenance hardened, and he briskly came to his feet, reaching out to take the papers from Fitzwilliam’s hands. “Let’s see what Wickham has to say in his defense, shall we?”
Although she had suspected much of her sister’s feelings and spoken often of such a scenario with Bingley, Jane was astonished by the news her sister imparted to her that evening as they retired to bed.
“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be — engaged to Mr. Darcy! Papa has given his consent to it?” Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet’s general habits, she was absolutely incredulous. “I cannot imagine that Papa agreed.”
Elizabeth was a little surprised by her vehemence. “This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He loves me, and we are engaged. Is that so very spectacular?”
Jane looked at her doubtingly, and then colored. “I do beg your pardon, Lizzy – I did not mean to sound displeased. Indeed, I know how very much you wished it...but it truly is so? Papa has allowed you to marry?”
“He has.”
“But Mama....the gossip....”
“That is all to be forgot. Perhaps Papa recollects some of the more unpleasant rumors, but when he comes to know Mr. Darcy, I am sure all those aspersions will be put aside. How could they not? In such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember that such things happened myself.”
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously, assured her of its truth.
“Good heavens, it is so,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would — I do congratulate you — but are you certain? Forgive the question — are you quite certain that this is the right course for you?”
“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”
“Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. He had not thought Mr. Darcy willing to risk your future on it; and I very much feared that you would be hurt. You do feel all that you ought?”
“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all.”
Jane looked alarmed. “What do you mean?”
“Why, I must confess that I like him almost as much as his ten thousand pounds a year.” Elizabeth grinned at the disgruntled expression that overtook her sister’s countenance.
“My dearest sister, now be serious,” she scolded. “I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. When did you become engaged?”
“In Kent. Well, actually, just a few days ago, if you wish to be specific. We came to an understanding at Hunsford, but he did not really ask me until last Thursday.”
“In Kent! Lizzy, you did not tell me anything! How long you have loved him?”
Elizabeth smiled. “It has been coming on so gradually that I hardly know when it began.” It was not entirely true: although she could not mark the exact hour that her admiration had turned into love, she well knew when the revolution of her feelings toward him had begun. The evening at Netherfield, all those months ago, in which she had been granted a startling and intimate insight into the man that Darcy was, stood out vividly in her mind; that image of graceful hands and expressive, flame-shaded features would forever represent him and her realization of his true worth.
Jane’s light blue eyes appeared too bright, her lovely face shadowed with some apprehension even as she smiled at her sister. “Lizzy, please – you oughtn’t tease me so. You must have some idea.”
“Do you?”
Having thrown the remark out flippantly, Elizabeth was surprised by Jane’s serious and thoughtful reply. “I first knew of my own deeper feelings for Bingley at the ball at Netherfield, when we danced the first set together. I remember imagining myself having the honor of partnering him at every assembly ever after and wished that it could be so.” Her cheeks pinked, composure unsettled by such a personal disclosure, but she resolutely pressed on. “I would not have presumed to suppose that I would have the great fortune to be his wife, but I wished it nonetheless. There, I have been honest and mortified myself completely.”
“Not at all, Jane – why would I think ill of you for feelings that are natural and just? Come, I know I should not try to tease you about this, and indeed, I will not anymore. In truth, I cannot tell you the exact time, but only that I do feel what I ought now. Can that not be assurance enough, Jane?”
“Of course it may,” Jane said at once, looking contrite. “I do not mean to press you for confidences, Lizzy. If you really love him...”
“I do. So much, in fact, that I think you will be angry with me.”
“Angry with you?”
Elizabeth nodded. “You see, I believe I love him much better than I do Bingley.”
Another entreaty that she would be serious produced the desired effect; and Elizabeth soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing farther to wish.
“Now I am quite happy,” she said, “for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for Mr. Darcy. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Kent!”
Despite the lightness of her sister’s tone, Elizabeth perceived that Jane really was hurt by how little she had been told, and earnestly did she try to explain that her silence on the subject was not for lack of a desire for a confidante, but merely that she did not know whether she and Darcy had been courting at all.
Her explanation did seem to soothe Jane’s injured feelings, and Elizabeth desperately wished that her mother might be so easily placated. She had been avoiding the dreaded conference, but she knew that Mrs. Bennet should soon be informed. After all, her father had invited Darcy and Bingley to dine with the family the very next day, and it would be most unwise to allow her mother to remain uninformed about the former’s change in status.
And so, with a good deal of trepidation, Elizabeth left Jane for her mother’s room across the hall. The hour was still fairly early, and her mother often did not retire until late. Mrs. Bennet generally took a glass of strong claret before bed to calm her nerves and ensure a peaceful rest, and Elizabeth hoped that in this mood, her mother might be easier to approach.
Knocking lightly on the door, she came inside and found Mrs. Bennet seated in front of her vanity, Sarah putting her hair into a night-braid.
“Lizzy, there you are,” her mother said amiably. “Come in, dear. Sarah is almost finished.”
Elizabeth softly closed the door behind her, and saw, with some amusement, that the wine glass was already emptied, placed by the door to be taken downstairs. The maid quickly did up her mistress’s hair in a nightcap, took the glass, curtsied, and left; Elizabeth came to sit by her mother, who was quietly humming as she smeared some sort of beauty concoction over her face.
“Mama, I have some good news for you.”
Mrs. Bennet turned to smile benignly at her, and Elizabeth stepped back a little from the claret fumes that lingered heavily in the air. “Yes?”
Steeling herself for a harsh reaction, she said quickly, “Mr. Darcy and I are engaged to be married. He spoke with Papa today, and we have his consent.”
When no outburst or enraged cry rent the air, Elizabeth hesitantly looked over at her mother. Mrs. Bennet stared silently back at her, blinking rapidly – and nearly a full two minutes passed before she said a word. “What did you say?”
Elizabeth cringed inwardly. “I am engaged to Mr. Darcy, Mama.”
Another long silence drew out, and ironically, Elizabeth found that, far from being overwhelmed by arguments and lamentations, she had to try and coax her mother into any response at all. “Will you not congratulate me, Mama?”
“I....” Mrs. Bennet shook her head, as if to clear away the dazed look from her face. “Marry Mr. Darcy? Lizzy....” She hesitated, and then, startling her daughter, a trill of piping, somewhat tipsy laughter burst out from her. “You are jesting with me, surely! What a sly trick, Lizzy – did your father tell you to fill my head with nonsense?” She wagged a finger unsteadily in Elizabeth’s face. “Naughty, naughty girl, to play jokes on your mama!”
“I am quite serious,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mr. Darcy and I are to be married; it is not a joke at all.”
Mrs. Bennet flopped her hand carelessly to the side. “Oh, no, no, no – you shan’t fool me, Lizzy. Your papa and you....You never did have a care for my delicate health; you persist in trying to vex me – but I understand you. You shan’t catch me unawares.”
Elizabeth struggled to keep her temper in check. “Mama! I am telling you the truth: we are in love, and I am to be his wife!”
“My word,” her mother whispered, her cheerful countenance falling almost comically into frowning lines as she studied her daughter’s face. “If I did not know better, I would say you are in earnest.”
Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth came to her feet. “Never mind, Mama. You are very weary, and I will leave you to your rest. We’ll speak of this again tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” her mother said absently. “We’ll speak tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Mama.” Completely frustrated, Elizabeth returned to her room to find that Jane had retired to her own bed; it was just as well. She was in no humor to speak to anyone.
No sooner had she changed into her nightgown, however, than the door opened and Mrs. Bennet stepped inside, looking uncertain. “Lizzy?”
“What is it, Mama? Do you want me to call Hill up for you?”
She came inside, stepping slowly and carefully, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You were not jesting with me, were you?”
Elizabeth bit back a sigh. “No, Mama. I truly am engaged.”
Mrs. Bennet looked down at her hands. “I see.”
To Elizabeth’s horror, her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Mama!”
“You are all determined to leave me,” Mrs. Bennet sniffled, swabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing-gown. “First my Jane and now you. You and all your sisters....What shall become of me, then? All married, all gone away.”
“Mama, please.” Elizabeth hovered timidly around her mother; she had dealt with anger, fretfulness, anxiety, but never had she seen the woman in this state of weepy inebriation. How was one to approach her like this? It crossed her mind to call for Hill or even her father, but she quickly dismissed the notion.
Tentatively, she put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and settled down on the mattress next to her. “Kitty and Lydia and Mary will still be at Longbourn, Mama, and Jane and I will still see you, even when we are both married.”
Mrs. Bennet looked up at her and smiled tearily. “Shall you?”
“Yes – I promise.” Elizabeth quickly hugged her, suddenly aware of how strange the action felt. In fact, she could not recall when she had embraced her mother last; Mrs. Bennet’s usual conduct coupled with Elizabeth’s disgust for it seemed to eliminate any reason for affectionate behavior. Her father she lavished with fond kisses and loving addresses – but never her mother. Oh, she loved her, certainly, and always would....but over the years, her mother had come to be more a source of embarrassment than anything else.
Somehow, the thought made her feel suddenly, ineffably sad.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Bennet said complacently, “if it is all settled, I think I will go to bed. We will still talk more in the morning?”
Elizabeth suspected that when morning came and her mother’s head was clear again, their conversation would be much less pleasant, but she smiled and nodded all the same. “Yes, in the morning.”
While the notion of being a landed gentleman had always appealed to Mr. Bingley, he had not been wholly prepared for all the things that entailed that lauded position, for he found himself, for the fourth day in a row, holed up in his study pouring over an incredibly tedious account of the borders between tenant property.
An interruption at this point would have been extremely welcome, and Bingley had the good fortune to have such an interruption come that evening with expeditious speed in the form of his friend. Darcy, in a manner most unlike him, tumbled into the office, still dressed in riding clothes and looking windswept and wild.
Bingley’s papers were placed calmly back down on the desk even as his eyebrows rose. “News, Darcy?” he drawled, propping his boots up on the desktop.
“I am t-to b-be married,” he burst out, without preamble or a thought beforehand.
Bingley could not help but laugh to see his stolid friend so discomposed. He had suspected the nature of Darcy’s afternoon errand to Longbourn, and unlike many of the others, had no concern that he would come back disappointed. Elizabeth Bennet was a stubborn creature, and not for a moment did Bingley think that she would fail in carrying her point. Mr. Bennet – and Darcy, for that matter – did not stand a chance. There was no force in the world so powerful as a determined female.
“Congratulations!” Bingley cried, standing up to pump his friend’s hand. “We are to be brothers, then – I could not wish for anything else.”
Darcy grinned. “I c-can hardly b-believe it myself, b-but Mr. B-Bennet has c-consented. Is it p-possible to b-be so happy?”
“Indeed it is; if I had known that getting shackled was this delightful, I would have done it years ago.” Bingley crossed the room and pulled out a heavy volume from the bookshelf; reaching into the empty space behind it, he pulled out a silver flask and held it up with a wink and a flourish. “What say you to a toast, Darcy?”
“I sh-should like nothing more.” He accepted the cut-crystal snifter Bingley pressed into his hand and waited while his friend divvied up the smuggled French brandy into their glasses.
“To the Bennets!” Bingley said, lifting his glass in a mock salute.
Darcy echoed the proclamation, and they drank to it. “Marvelous v-vintage, Bingley,” he said after a moment. “I d-daresay you c-can’t find it in England.”
Bingley shrugged, downing the rest of his glass. “There are certain advantages to having connections in trade.” He settled back into his chair. “Well, man, I’m keen on hearing all – what did Mr. Bennet say?”
A tap on the door interrupted whatever reply Darcy was about to make, and, with a little alarm, Bingley quickly stashed the flask back behind the bookcase. The door opened, however, to admit Georgiana.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bingley,” she said, retreating a step as the two men turned to look at her. “Would you mind terribly if I stole my brother away for a moment?”
“Not at all,” he replied jovially. “I imagine he has some news to share with you anyway.”
Georgiana’s face paled a little, but she flashed a smile and went back into the hall to wait. Darcy rose and put his glass away. “I’ll ret-turn in a moment, B-Bingley.”
Going out into the hall, Darcy saw his sister standing rigidly by the door that led out into the portico. “P-Perhaps we might g-go out into the garden,” he said softly, offering her his arm. “It is a fine d-day, and we may sp-speak more easily th-there.”
She nodded and took his arm, and they went out together into the evening’s fading sunshine. Darcy waited for her to speak first, hoping that she might finally tell him of whatever had been troubling her these few days. She had been oddly silent and unresponsive, and her rude dismissal at the table that morning had troubled him. He had at first supposed that it was a woman’s matter and that it would resolve itself in time, but this strange belligerence seemed too strong and lingering for that.
When they had wound their way down the path to the hedge maze, Georgiana finally tapped his arm to gain his attention. “I wanted to apologize,” she said stiffly.
“F-For this morning? It is all f-forgotten, I assure you.”
“No, not just for that.” She cast her eyes away for a moment and then met his gaze solidly. “I have behaved like a spoilt child all this week. I have not been fair to you – nor to Miss Bennet.”
“Elizabeth? Wh-What d-does Elizabeth have t-to d-do with—?”
“Everything,” she cut in. Taking a few paces forward, she took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I was jealous of her.” Not giving him time to speak, she went on in a rush, “I saw how much you loved her, and how you could scarcely think of anything or anyone else when she was around, and I hated her for it. I had been always been so important to you before, and then she came and it was as if you had forgotten all about me.”
Darcy looked at her in amazement. “How c-could you th-think such a thing?”
She stared down at her feet. “I blamed Miss Bennet for interfering; I was sure that nothing could come of it and her family would refuse you.”
He tried not to show how much her words hurt him. “You d-doubted me t-too.”
“No. I doubted whether she could understand you well enough, whether she could look past everything and love you like she ought. I was afraid that she would break your heart.”
“Georgiana....”
“I did not doubt that she cared for you; but I doubted whether she could take care of you.”
“I d-do not need t-to b-be t-taken care of!” he said hotly. “F-For heaven’s sake, G-Georgiana, I wanted a wife, not a n-nurse!”
“I know that,” she murmured, cheeks flushing pink. “It was foolish, I know; but I resented her, because I saw how close you were becoming to her, and I did not like it.”
He sank down onto a nearby bench and propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to watch her intently. “I th-thought you liked Elizabeth – you wrote t-to her all th-those months in London – you enc-couraged me t-to f-further my s-suit with her.”
Georgiana smiled bitterly. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? I did like her – I still do, in a way. I was perfectly happy to help you along with her, until I started to realize that it meant my own place would be usurped. Silly, isn’t it?”
Darcy sighed. “I h-had no idea.”
“I know.” She kicked at a stone on the path. “You would never hurt me intentionally, but apparently I don’t have the same compunctions. I made you unhappy when I should have been supporting you.”
“D-Do not dwell on it,” he said, “b-but I still d-do not entirely understand, G-Georgiana. Why would it b-be so d-dreadful if Elizabeth and I married?”
“She would take my place,” she said at length. “It isn’t her, Fitzwilliam. I would have felt the same if it had been any other woman.”
Darcy shook his head incredulously. “Am I t-to c-care for no one b-but you?”
Georgiana’s chin trembled. “Of course not, but....but I thought you loved her more.”
Gazing down at his sister’s proud, miserable face – she was perilously close to tears – he realized again how very young she was; and he felt a rush of compassion which overtook his irritation with her immature conduct. She was but a girl, and he was the only one in their family left. It had always been just the two of them, and he thought he might understand how she would feel to be suddenly thrust out of her place as first in his life.
“Love d-doesn’t c-come in limited quantities, G-Georgiana,” he said gently, drawing her down to sit next to him. “You will always b-be d-dear to me, even th-though I love Elizabeth t-too. Marriage will not ch-change anything. If you were t-to marry some dashing young gentleman, would you l-love me less?”
“No,” she said softly.
“You see? It is exac-ctly the s-same.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Then I may stay at Pemberley? You will not send me away to London once you are married?”
“Send you away? Why w-would I s-send you away? P-Pemberley is your home as well as m-mine.”
“Miss Bennet may not like it.”
“I am s-sure Elizabeth will not mind at all,” he said firmly, “p-provided th-that you t-take up your manners again.”
The girl again blushed in shame like a scolded child. “I will be perfectly civil.”
“G-Good.” He squeezed her hand. “You ought t-to have t-told me about this s-sooner. I know I t-told you th-that c-confidences should be k-kept, but this sort of matter is imp-portant t-to have aired out b-before it sits t-too long.”
“I would not have said anything at all if Richard had not scolded me so roundly this morning.”
Darcy smiled. “Our c-cousin has ap-pointed it his d-duty t-to set us straight when we misb-behave.” He paused and glanced around the garden. “Wh-Where is he, anyway?”
“He went into Meryton a little while after you left. I think he meant to go and speak with Colonel Forster about some matter or another.” She shifted uneasily. “You are engaged, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Mr. B-Bennet g-gave his c-consent for a long engagement; in six months’ t-time Elizabeth and I will b-be married.”
Tentatively, she smiled at him, slipping her hand in his. “Then....then with all my heart, I wish you joy.”
Posted on Friday, 28 March 2008
Martha Hill had been the housekeeper at Longbourn for the better part of three decades, serving under the previous Mr. Bennet and his wife and seeing the present master’s children grown from troublesome children to young ladies. Poor luck, Master Bennet had – all girls and a wife who was more apt to give him grief than not.
One might wonder, with the duties that the long-suffering Hill had to undertake with her nerve-plagued mistress, why the housekeeper simply hadn’t sought work in another great house where the inhabitants might be less demanding.
It was not any particular loyalty to either Mr. or Mrs. Bennet that kept Hill on the Longbourn staff, although she had grown fond of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth over the years, since they were quite the best – and quietest – of the lot. Wisely, Mr. Bennet understood the difficulties involved in tending his wife and paid a very handsome salary to the help, which always seemed to compensate for any amount of extra responsibilities.
Mrs. Hill knew that, all things considered, she had done rather well for herself; despite the mistress’s unsettled disposition, Longbourn was not an unpleasant place to make one’s living. The pay was excellent, the room and board decent, and the work not overwhelming on most days, and Mr. Bennet was a fair, if derelict, master. From years of experience, Hill had developed a most effective method of calming her excitable mistress; a soothing word or two, an extra hot brick under the coverlet, a draft of laudanum-wine, or some smelling salts generally did the trick.
There was, however, one considerable drawback: on those days in which Mrs. Bennet was not so easy to placate, the house resembled nothing more than a madhouse. Hill would be sent dashing all about on errands while the mistress called for her every other moment, the two youngest chits shrieking and quarreling and running wild, the other one pounding away tunelessly at the old spinet while servants hurried here and there. The master was no help, locking himself away in his library to wait out the storm, and there was often little that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth could do.
This, unfortunately, was one of those days.
“Hill! Hill, come here! Where have you gotten to? Hill? Come attend me this moment!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice shrilled into the peace of the early morning, heralding that the comfortable quiet would soon be cut short.
Mrs. Hill tied her apron on and sighed in resignation. “Put some water to boil, Peg,” she instructed the scullery maid. “I imagine rightly the mistress will want her tea. Get you to it; I’ll go on up and see what I can do.”
Peg disappeared into the kitchen and Mrs. Hill began the climb up the stairs, the volume of Mrs. Bennet’s cries increasing with every step. Not for the first time did the housekeeper wish that her mistress’s discontent was not expressed quite so vocally.
“There you are!” came the peevish exclamation as Hill pushed open the door. “I have been calling and calling – where have you been? My smelling salts, Hill, the salts!” She made a frantic gesture toward the side-cabinet. “Why will you not come sooner? Suppose I had been seized in some dreadful way and not able to ring the bell? Oh, Hill, I have such flutterings and aches, such beatings of my heart...the salts, Hill! The salts!”
Mrs. Hill bore the reproof phlegmatically, fetching the vial of salts and bringing them over to the bed where Mrs. Bennet reposed on a mound of pillows and coverlets.
“Go and find Lizzy for me,” she demanded, as soon as she had sufficiently revived herself with the application. “Hill, the most dreadful thing has happened; you will not credit it! I cannot credit it myself.”
The housekeeper bent to pat her hand. “There, there, ma’am,” she crooned. “I shall call Miss Elizabeth up at once – this will all be sorted out in no time at all and with no further trouble to you.”
The summons were put out directly, and Sarah was sent to collect Miss Bennet from her rooms. Mrs. Bennet continued to moan and sigh, insensible in her distress – Hill could hardly get a rational word from her.
Elizabeth, hearing the commotion, had already come out of her room when the maid arrived to fetch her. She knew exactly what was afoot and felt a moment’s bitter disappointment at the return of her mother’s usual poor humors. It should not have come as a surprise – Elizabeth was too cynical, or perhaps just too informed, to believe that Mrs. Bennet’s disposition could change overnight – but the alteration was disheartening nonetheless. The reversion to nerves and gossipy fretfulness, after she had seen such a glimpse of the sentiments that her mother never spoke of, seemed somehow all the more cruel.
Wishing that there was some way to forestall the inevitable, she dismissed Sarah and went to confront her mother. A single knock granted her entrance into the mistress’s chambers; as she entered, Hill picked up a tray, shot her a look of sympathy, and left her to deal with Mrs. Bennet alone.
Elizabeth slowly approached the bed. “Mama?”
Mrs. Bennet tremulously lifted the damp cloth swathing her eyes and peered under it at her daughter. “There you are at last,” she said piteously. “Why did you not come sooner? Have you not a care for your poor mama?”
Sighing inwardly, she sat on the bed. “Now, Mama, I came as soon as I heard. May I fetch something for you to make you more comfortable?”
Mrs. Bennet fluttered her handkerchief. “Comfortable? Hah! How could I be comfortable, knowing what you have done?”
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. “I was not aware that marrying was a capital offense, ma’am.”
Her mother startled and then struggled to sit upright. “It is true! Oh, I had thought it might be a dream,” she wailed. “You’ve gone and done it, have you – gone and gotten yourself engaged to....” Her mouth worked soundlessly, as if the words were too dreadful to cross her lips. “...him!”
Not a minute had passed in the conversation, but already her temper was pressing at her! Elizabeth fought to stay composed. “His name is Mr. Darcy, Mama.”
“Your father could not have agreed,” Mrs. Bennet went on, unmindful of the sudden tightness that had stolen over her daughter’s face. “It could not be – Lizzy, you are quite certain that ----?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure!” Elizabeth snapped. Forcing herself to speak more gently, she added, “Papa has given his complete consent; I assure you he has. There can be no doubt of that.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth, but with a hasty word Elizabeth stopped her. “No! I will not listen to it – I will not hear anything against Mr. Darcy, any objections at all, from you or anyone else.”
“But his reputation....the gossip --” she sputtered.
“--is not a bit of it true, and a large part of it circulated by yourself! I daresay a good deal of it was exaggerated besides for a little more interest in the retelling.”
Mrs. Bennet had the grace to look discomposed at that all-too-accurate observation.
“It is none of it true; the accounts have been falsely spoken and repeated indiscreetly by everyone in Meryton. Mr. Darcy is a gentleman, as sound in mind as....” She paused, quickly substituting for what she had been about to say. “....as Mr. Bingley or Papa or Uncle Gardiner. He has been poorly treated here, Mama, with a disregard that pains me to see. Will you not at least give him the opportunity to reverse your bad opinion? I have no doubt that he can once you have come to know him as I do. His sister is equally sweet-natured and generous, and they have both been turned away from this house before without a kind word or an apology.”
Although she was by no means blessed with any extraordinary powers of perception, Mrs. Bennet sensed enough to know herself chided; her face flushed with piqued displeasure, but again Elizabeth interrupted any forthcoming complaint.
“You owe me a measure of generosity yourself – I am your daughter and no matter how my choice disappoints you, you have the responsibility to keep any discord out of public notice. Tell me you will receive him here today, and you may judge for yourself.”
“Today?” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes opened wide with alarm. “Coming today?”
“Yes, with the Bingleys and Miss Darcy. Papa arranged it yesterday.” Elizabeth grasped her mother’s hand, looking earnestly up at her. “Please, Mama, at least allow him to prove himself – it is not such a burdensome favor to ask, is it?”
There was an extended silence as Mrs. Bennet mulled these things over. Elizabeth waited tensely, not convinced that this moment of contemplation wouldn’t yet regress into angry words and refusals.
“If Mr. Bennet has agreed,” she said finally, sounding unsure of herself, “I suppose there is not much I can do – your father has a stubborn, vexing streak about him – he never can bear to be argued with – but....” She hesitated, as a new cause for concern occurred to her. “What shall I say to Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding and the others? How shall I tell them you are to marry.... him?”
“Admit you were wrong about him. It is very simple.”
“Admit I....! No, no!” Mrs. Bennet looked at her daughter incredulously. “Would you have me make a laughingstock of myself? No, if they mention it, I shall not tell them a thing. I shan’t have them prodding about family business.” Her face crumpled. “But the gossip, Lizzy – how shall you marry a....a....” She waved her hands frantically about. “...a recluse? You will never see any society at all, wasting away in the wilds of the North! What will everyone say?”
“I imagine they will say a great deal, and not much of it complimentary,” she dryly replied. “It seems appropriate, Mama, that since we have helped to spread these rumors, we ought to be gossiped about in turn.”
“How can you say such things!” her mother cried. “You will see the family ruined, mark my words.”
Elizabeth did sigh now, thoroughly exasperated. “Our friends will stand behind us, shan’t they? Lady Lucas will not give you the cut direct.”
“But she will gloat! Scheming woman – she will laugh at us behind our backs, all because her Charlotte was settled first.”
“Maybe so, but Charlotte is a parson’s wife – Mr. Darcy is a man of means.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Her mother looked at her wonderingly, as if that material point had entirely slipped her mind. “Of course,” she breathed. “I had not thought....yes, I understand you now, Lizzy!” She brightened. “What a clever girl you are! What a sly, clever thing you are, to worry your mama for nothing!”
“Mama....”
Mrs. Bennet threw off her quilts and swung her legs across the ticking to come to her feet. “Why did you not tell me of this arrangement sooner?”
“We only received Papa’s consent yesterday,” Elizabeth said warily.
Mrs. Bennet went over to her vanity and sat down heavily, peering into the looking glass as she tugged off her night-cap. “Come now, come help me!” she said impatiently, catching sight of Elizabeth’s puzzled face in the mirror. “I must go downstairs and see that everything is made ready for tonight. We will serve six courses at least – four would do for dear Bingley, but I suppose Mr. Darcy is accustomed to something rather grander....Do you happen to know what dishes he is fond of?”
Elizabeth blinked, taken aback by this sudden alteration in her mother’s manner; it made her suspicious and uneasy all at once. “I am sorry, but I cannot say what his preferences at the table are. I am sure he will like anything you serve.”
“This house of his – this Pemberley – it is grand, is it not?”
“Bingley has said it is the finest in the country, but the commendation of a friend is rarely unbiased.”
“You will have to ask Mr. Darcy about it, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said, enthusiasm beginning to animate her voice. “I am sure it must be as fine an estate as any; and I daresay he has a house in Town – you may spend your time there without too much trouble.”
“I do not know that Mr. Darcy cares much for London,” Elizabeth said carefully, not wanting her mother to become carried away with great plans.
“Of what consequence is that?” she replied dismissively. “It is all the better for you if he does not like Town. He may stay and hide himself in Derbyshire while you take your place in good society.” Putting down her hairbrush, she smiled indulgently at her daughter and patted her affectionately under the chin. “What a clever girl you are! I had not thought you would ever get yourself a husband, and look what you have done! Why, I had not imagined that his condition would prove so fine an advantage in the bargain! You may do as you wish; surely he will not want you with him above half the year, and I daresay you can bear his company that long.”
Elizabeth’s mouth had dropped open somewhere in the midst of this impertinent speech; she was too mortified, too shocked to voice an objection, which Mrs. Bennet took as an open invitation to continue.
“He will want an heir, of course – but I do not think he will trouble you once you have given him a son. Perhaps you can take up residence in London then, Lizzy. I do not think your children will be...afflicted either, if you are careful enough. They can live with you, in any case – I daresay he will not mind. These great men never have much time for children.”
Angry color flared into Elizabeth’s cheeks; her mother was talking on blithely, completely unaware of the outrage emanating from the girl beside her. “Now on you go, Lizzy, and tell Hill to bring out the best china for tonight. There is much to do, since your father did not see fit to tell me that I was to entertain.”
Elizabeth was sorely tempted to offer up all manner of retorts, but she was forced to choke back all the remonstrations she longed to fire at her mother for the sake of the peace of all involved in tonight’s party. She did not want to jeopardize this opportunity for her family to come to know Darcy better by putting her mother in ill humors.
Mrs. Bennet shooed her away before she could collect herself enough to say anything at all – Elizabeth went out into the hall, shut the door firmly behind her to cut off her mother’s exaltations, and leaned weakly against the wall.
An actual wave of nausea struck her as she realized the full extent of what had been said. That her mother should advise her to take her wedding vows so lightly – to abandon her husband and separate his own children from him! – was almost too incredible to believe. She was insulted, insulted and deeply hurt, that her mother would think so little of her to imagine that she would behave in that callous manner toward anyone, least of all Darcy.
He had warned her, she remembered – Darcy had warned her that others might think their union had come out of motives less pure than real affection. Of course, he had hinted that they might consider her a sacrificial lamb of sorts, pushed into a marriage to an unbalanced simpleton; but she now saw that it was far more likely that her neighbors and his peers would consider her the opportunistic villain of the piece: willing to marry a madman solely for his money, with no regard for her reputation or family’s good name. They might pity her, but they would see her away from her wedding with no care for her future; she would deserve whatever dire fate awaited her in the mysterious hollows of Pemberley House for being such a grasping creature.
If her own mother believed her motivation in engaging herself to Darcy was centered wholly on his wealth, then what chance was there that anyone else might see past his ten thousand pounds a year?
And there was his family too – this new anxiety only agitated her further. She had not considered what the Fitzwilliams might think of her and her marriage to Darcy. Undoubtedly they would believe the worst of her; they might even attempt to talk Darcy out of the engagement. Since she knew that they would not succeed, she anticipated some very uncomfortable meetings. Her welcome into that family would probably be icily civil at best.
She sighed and cradled her face briefly into her hands. Oh, but she shouldn’t be feeling so upset today, of all days! Her mother’s worries had only reinforced her own. She wanted to see Darcy – she wanted to reassure herself that what she was doing was right for both of them; his presence would remind her why she had come this far. Irrationally, she was tempted to go and fetch her pelisse and walk to Netherfield to see him, but she knew that her mother would have a fit if she so much as took a step outside. Nevertheless, she longed for him with a desperation even stronger than what she had felt during last winter’s long separation. The hours until dinner would seem insurmountable.
Recalling at length that she was supposed to be fetching Hill, Elizabeth pushed away from the wall, swiped at her eyes with her sleeve, and started down the stairs, only to be stopped as the door opened and her mother leaned out into the hallway.
“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can think of nothing else. Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! ‘Tis as good as a lord. But you did not say when you were to marry....Mr. Darcy must get a special licence – you must and shall be married by a special licence.”
“Mama, we cannot; Papa has asked us to consent to a long engagement. We will wait six months to marry.”
“Six months! Why should you wait six months? What has gotten into your father to ask such a thing? I shall speak with him at once and make him see the folly of it.”
“I do not believe you can,” she said. “Papa was very fixed on the point.” Turning, she continued on down the stairs, unable to face her mother any longer. She felt weary and heartsick; although she was in the certain possession of Darcy’s warmest affection and secure of her relations’ consent, she felt that there was still something to be wished for.
Miss Bingley had always been of the opinion that a good taste for fashion and an impeccably neat appearance at all times was the best measure of a lady – and the wile most likely to capture the attention of a gentleman of equal elegance. This tidy philosophy often led her to overdress on occasion, and although she always looked well, her attire did not always coordinate with the prestige of a particular event.
Though they were merely dining at Longbourn, Miss Bingley chose to wear a rich velvet and silk ensemble more suited to a ballroom than a dinner party – so much so that even she had debated the wisdom of wearing it. However, since she was actively scouting out a new suitor and they would all be dining in a house with several ladies, at length she decided that it would not be very indiscreet to outshine the others. Looking fine was her only consolation, for she did not relish the idea of being in the company of Miss Eliza Bennet.
Charles had informed her in short order of Darcy’s engagement; in truth, she felt more relief than fury at the news, for she had become increasingly uncertain that she wanted to waste her beauty and charm on Mr. Darcy, however rich he might be. She was quite indignant, however illogically, that a girl like Miss Eliza – with no dowry, no connections, no conversation or fashion – could succeed where she had failed. She imagined Eliza was crowing over her triumph, and she did not care to have her own deficiencies put on display, particularly to so odious a family.
Nothing could be done about Charles and Jane, but Miss Bingley had not been pleased to know that the Bennets would snap up another connection to their family; to see a country girl with no breeding take her place as Mistress of Pemberley was unsettling to say the least.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, to her pleasure, did seem more than willing to help soothe her wounded pride. He continued to be most attentive, although he had been rather out of spirits the past day; she supposed the military business in Meryton he had excused himself to see to had gone badly.
In any case, she dressed with extra care to ensure that her gown would catch his attention; he always did have the most lovely compliments ready at a moment’s notice. She had not been so admired as to not yet preen and blush over a flattering word from a gentleman. Perhaps she would reward him for his gallantry with more of her company and mayhap a little flirtation over dinner. That would certainly deter the youngest Bennet chits from getting their claws into him – or maybe, she thought sourly, it would have no effect at all. Everyone knew those girls were perfectly brazen little bits.
There was no danger from the other one – Miss Mary Bennet was a spinster in the making, if there ever was one – and at least Eliza would be absorbed with her own betrothed. The colonel would surely keep to her side for the evening; he was a man of discrimination and sense, too seasoned in the game of romance to be foolishly attracted by two giggling, doe-eyed girls with not a brain betwixt them.
With these reassuring thoughts in mind, Miss Bingley joined the rest of the party waiting in the hall for the carriages to be brought around. Her brother scolded her for coming late – he had been rather short with her of late, probably Jane’s influence – but she immediately sailed over to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who looked resplendent in his uniform, and waited for him to offer her due praise.
He did not disappoint, eyeing her with enough boldness to make her genuinely blush. “Ravishing, simply ravishing, my dear Miss Bingley – that shade of blue particularly complements your eyes; I would love to see you in it more often.”
“Only yesterday you said that your favorite color on me was pink, because it so became my complexion,” she said coyly. “You cannot seem to make up your mind, sir.”
“How can I,” he said, with a little smile, “when you look well in everything you wear?”
Georgiana, standing some distance away, resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Really, her cousin was taking this a bit too far. The two were quite revolting to listen to.
Mr. Bingley appeared to have equal impatience with their coquetry, for the instant a footman came inside to announce that the coaches were ready, he ushered his guests out the door to their conveyances. Georgiana fell behind to wait for her brother, who, despite his expression of cool unconcern, was very anxious. She noticed the signs: the thinning of his lips, the faint lines creasing between his brows, and wished that there was something she could do to reassure him. As they settled into their carriage, she reached out and grasped his hand. He looked surprised, and then smiled, the tension around his eyes easing ever so slightly. Perhaps, Georgiana reflected, words were not always necessary.
She anticipated the gathering tonight with equal parts fear and eagerness. It was all too easy to remember the last time they had ridden forth to dine at Longbourn and how disastrously that meeting had turned out. Yet, she would be glad to see Miss Bennet again; her shame at her own behavior had been replaced by an earnest determination to set things right again, to compensate for her unfeeling actions by loving her new sister as well as she could.
Her reservations toward the match were not all gone, but the edge had been taken off her jealous resentment, and she was resolved never to let a hint of discontent escape her again in regards to her brother’s marriage. She could put the incident behind her; all she had to do now was make adjustments. Fitzwilliam’s happiness was the most important matter at stake, and Georgiana prayed that nothing would ruin this night for either her brother or Miss Bennet; they did not deserve to be pulled apart or made unhappy by her family’s prejudices.
For his part, Darcy was not thinking of how he would be received at Longbourn; he was only concerned about how he was to correct the impression that the Bennets – and the rest of Meryton – had formed of him. He knew that Mr. Bennet did not credit the rumors, or he would not have consented at all, but surely there was some doubt in the man’s mind. He wished to assure Mr. Bennet that Elizabeth would always be cared for physically and emotionally, that she would have a place in his heart as well as his home, but he knew not how to express it. He had never been much in the habit of revealing his feelings to anyone; experience had taught him that exposing one’s emotions put them at risk of being cast aside or mocked or crushed.
That habit might have saved him from pain before, but it was a severe disadvantage now. Perhaps Elizabeth might have some ideas; Mr. Bennet was her father, after all, and surely she knew which ways to approach him with such things.
He was not given too much time to mull this over, however, for the coachman made short work of the three miles to Longbourn; soon they pulled up at the door, where a footman waited to welcome them inside.
Darcy followed his sister and the Bingleys through the entryway, allowing a servant to take his hat and cloak. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet came out to greet their guests, and Darcy searched the hall for Elizabeth, finally spotting her at the top of the stairs. His breath flew from him in a rush as he registered the charming sight she made in her favorite blue evening gown, her hair piled high and threaded through with ribbons. She smiled at him shyly, and he knew he was grinning like a fool in return.
It seemed impossible that she had truly agreed to have him; he knew his good fortune and fully intended never to take for granted the blessing that had been given to him. Perhaps, he thought, as Elizabeth came down to clasp his hand in welcome, this was Providence’s way of making amends for the hellish years of his childhood, for the deafness that had made his life one of perpetual loneliness. Perhaps this was his reward for remaining faithful – he shook his head at the fanciful thought and kissed Elizabeth’s gloved hand, watching in delight as her cheeks glowed pink.
Mr. Bennet was watching them intently, and aware of the niceties, Darcy turned to greet his host. “G-Good evening, sir,” he said respectfully, keeping Elizabeth’s hand in his. “I t-trust you are well.”
“Tolerably,” the older man grunted, his mouth twitching as though he wished to smile as he looked pointedly over at his wife, who was fawning over Bingley and his sister. “Although I cannot vouch for the state of my health after this confounded evening is over.”
Darcy was tempted to laugh, but a sudden, involuntary pressure from Elizabeth’s fingers made him glance down at her; she looked mortified, and he instantly put aside his amusement. He did not understand why her father’s comment would distress her, but he would never make light of something that caused her discomfiture. The next moment, however, he realized that her gaze was not on Mr. Bennet but on her mother, who was coming speedily in their direction.
He straightened his shoulders but forced himself to relax as he felt her stiffen at his side. Elizabeth was already tense – there was no reason to make her more nervous. “Mrs. B-Bennet,” he said, mustering up every ounce of civility he could. “You l-look very well t-tonight.”
She looked shocked, and he realized that she had never heard him speak before; her revolted fascination was poorly concealed, and it took a discreet cough from her husband to make her recollect herself. “Ah, yes, thank you, sir.” She raised her voice and spoke extremely slowly, as though to a dim-witted child; Mr. Bingley winced. “You are very welcome here.” Leaning closer, she said, with comically exaggerated enunciation, “Will....you....not....come....in?” She pointed at him and then toward the parlor and back again.
Lydia burst into a fit of giggles; Elizabeth’s hand tightened on Darcy’s arm, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. Darcy merely thanked her, and the party filed into the sitting room to wait for dinner to be announced.
Jane paused on her way in to offer her own personal congratulations. “I was glad to hear of Elizabeth’s news,” she whispered to him, her voice full of genuine warmth. “I will be very pleased to call you brother, Mr. Darcy. I know you and Elizabeth will be the happiest of couples.”
Darcy clasped one of her hands, grateful for her kindness; Miss Bennet might not have had the fire and spice he so loved in her sister, but there was something soothing and uplifting about her sweet-natured acceptance. “I th-thank you, Miss B-Bennet, although I d-daresay B-Bingley would d-disagree over c-comparative h-happiness.”
She blushed but met his eye steadily. “I would be delighted if you would call me Jane; we will soon be family after all.”
“It w-would b-b-be an honor...J-Jane.”
Once they were inside, Elizabeth led him over to the windows for a private word, aware that her father was still observing them and her mother and sisters were listening in curiously. Darcy watched her, waiting expectantly for her to say what was on her mind, and she realized there was an advantage in being able to lip-read. Catching his eye, she mouthed, Forgive Mama – she did not mean to insult you.
He could not modulate his voice as she could, and so he simply nodded in acknowledgment to let her know that he bore his hostess no grudge.
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet called, clearly frustrated by her inability to eavesdrop, “you and Mr. Darcy come and sit by the fire; those windows are drafty, and I should not wish you to catch cold.”
Miss Bingley made a faint noise of disbelief, but Georgiana merely moved over on the settee. “Do come and sit with me for a moment, Miss Elizabeth,” she said. “I would like to catch up a little; it has been many months since we’ve met.”
Elizabeth gladly joined her; she liked Darcy’s sister and was eager to renew the friendship they had started last year.
“It has been too long,” Miss Darcy said, sounding a little awkward. “Too long since we have been in Hertfordshire.”
Elizabeth settled onto the cushion next to her, the warmth of the fire against her back. “It has – but your letters always seemed to make the distance between London and Meryton a little shorter.”
“I have been a poor correspondent of late; now we may talk instead of write.”
This statement caught Mrs. Bennet’s attention. “I did not know you and Miss Darcy were so well acquainted,” she said, sounding almost accusatory.
“We kept in contact last winter, when the Darcys were in London,” Elizabeth said shortly. “Miss Darcy and I wrote rather frequently.”
Mrs. Bennet looked somewhat miffed that she had not been privy to this particular detail, nor to the fact that her daughter had known the Darcys rather better than she had ever said.
Wishing to skive off any more offense, Elizabeth directed her attention back to Miss Darcy. “I assume your cousin is faring well?”
“Edmund is quite well now – the physician does not anticipate any future complications. It is a great relief to all of us.”
“That is good news. The way you described events in London, I felt quite as though I was observing them alongside you; it is almost as though I am already acquainted with your family, as strange as that may sound.”
“Not at all; indeed, I imagine they can identify with the sensation.”
Elizabeth could not resist asking the question which had been set up so neatly. “And have I been much discussed among your relations? I did not think Mr. Darcy would inform anyone beforehand of our wish to marry.”
Miss Darcy’s grave face eased into a smile at last. “I believe Fitzwilliam drove my uncle half-mad with his continuous talk of you; he and Aunt Helen were well-aware of his intentions, I assure you, and are most eager to meet with you. I should not be surprised in the least if they journey here soon to visit.”
Although she had never set much store by rank herself, Elizabeth could only imagine what an uproar Meryton would be in if an earl and a countess and a viscount came to stay in the neighborhood. Lords were a rare commodity in this part of the country – Longbourn was the largest estate for twenty miles in every direction. Every person from the fashionable set in Town was of the greatest interest to the villagers; the lifestyle of the bon ton held a sort of forbidden glamor for those accustomed to a simpler manner of living.
If all of the Fitzwilliams descended in Hertfordshire, there was bound to be a great deal of embarrassment and vulgar speeches on the part of Elizabeth’s less discreet relatives and friends. Oh, but Mrs. Bennet would never stop crowing her triumph to her friends for having snagged rich and titled relations from her daughter’s match!
Miss Darcy must have guessed at her thoughts, for she added, “But then, you may prefer to see them in London, when you go to purchase your trousseau. Matlock House is always open to family.”
Elizabeth appreciated the invitation, however unlikely it was that she would intrude on Darcy’s aunt and uncle without express permission. Nevertheless, it was reassuring to know that her engagement to Darcy would not come as a great shock to the Matlocks. She could not have borne to see him suffer yet another rift in his family because of their union; Lady Catherine’s disapproval had pained him enough.
Hill came in after a few minutes to announce that dinner was finally served, and the party filed into the dining parlor. Darcy was seated between Kitty and Mr. Bennet and across from Elizabeth; putting her betrothed as far away from her mother as possible had been Elizabeth’s chief aim in arranging the seating. Mrs. Bennet would have to restrict her impertinent conversation to the mild-tempered Bingley and Lydia, who never listened to her anyway. At the same time, she had ensured that Darcy was placed near her father at the end of the table, so that the two men she loved most might have an opportunity to know each other better.
The meal was excellent, a full six courses served with the best from Longbourn’s wine cellar. Only Miss Bingley seemed to find fault with the meal, merely picking at her braised fish and refusing the soup altogether. Conversation managed to remain fairly sensible – since Kitty was too frightened of Mr. Darcy to say more than a few words, Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet, and Darcy took up the burden at their end of the table. Elizabeth gloried in every comment, question, or opinion that spoke highly of Darcy’s intellect and perception, and she eagerly watched her father’s face as he listened and considered with new respect.
Mrs. Bennet was content to pester Bingley and Jane, while Lydia – much to Miss Bingley’s displeasure – flirted outrageously with Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel obliged her, taking secret amusement in the sour indignation that had come over Miss Bingley’s countenance, but Lydia’s attention could never be held long by one man – even when that man was a charming redcoat – and her eyes soon wandered down the table to where Miss Darcy sat next to Mary.
“Lord, you don’t talk at all,” she said loudly. “Have you nothing to say? I can hardly keep myself from talking for a half-minute together.” She giggled and elbowed Mary, who turned to glare at her. “I should go mad if I kept so quiet as you.”
Georgiana hardly knew what to say to that announcement. “Then it is most fortunate that you always have something to say,” Miss Bingley cut in coolly.
If Lydia understood that she had just been mocked, she did not seem too upset by it; blithely she caught onto another line of thought and addressed Georgiana again. “Your brother talks very queerly – has he always done that?”
Georgiana drew back a little. “Ah, no – well, yes, yes, he has. We think it is because he cannot hear so well, and so his speech....”
“It’s very strange, really, but not so dreadful as being mute, I suppose.” She grinned and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You know, Wickham said that your brother was out of his head too, but Jane says it isn’t true. It isn’t, is it?”
Flustered, Georgiana nearly knocked over her wine glass. “I....Miss Lydia....”
“Oh, never you mind, I’ll ask myself.” Straightening in her chair, Lydia called across the table, “Mr. Darcy! Kitty, prod him for me. I want to ask him a question.”
“Miss Lydia,” Georgiana hissed under her breath, horrified. “Miss Lydia, please, I can assure you that it isn’t true....”
But Kitty had already timidly tugged on Mr. Darcy’s sleeve, and he was looking over politely at Lydia, as was the rest of the table. She seemed not at all concerned by the scrutiny. “You know, Wickham said you were quite mad, but Jane says you aren’t, and Papa has sent him away from the house and we cannot ever see him again...but Lord, you aren’t really mad, are you? I don’t think Lizzy would marry you if you were.”
“Lydia!” Jane moaned, looking utterly appalled.
Despite the sudden tension that had filled the room, Darcy seemed unperturbed. Indeed, he even managed to smile at the girl. “No, I c-can assure you, M-Miss Lydia, th-that Lieutenant W-Wickham has t-told you a n-number of f-falsehoods. I c-cannot hear, b-b-but th-thankfully my mind is unaffected. I may p-put your worries t-to rest on th-that account.”
“Then you haven’t set fire to your house or murdered anyone?” she asked, sounding a little disappointed.
Darcy’s lips twitched. “Not th-this year, no.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled behind the cover of his napkin, and Georgiana relaxed in her chair with an inaudible sigh. Ignoring Miss Bingley’s attempts to catch his eye, the colonel added, “If you wish to hear something worth a listen, Miss Lydia, perhaps you ought to ask me about the time I was stationed in Cadiz. Now there is a tale to curdle your blood.”
Lydia immediately demanded to hear the story, and the moment of tension passed. Elizabeth, who had been too dismayed at first to register the scope of her sister’s insolence, looked anxiously up at Darcy, but he appeared to have easily put the incident behind him.
Taking a breath to steady herself, she tried to remember that the meal was almost over, and at least the first half of it had passed very pleasantly. She only hoped that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be able to distract Lydia for the remainder of the evening.
Elizabeth’s hopes were answered as dessert was cleared away without being accompanied by any more dreadful faux pas, and the ladies retired to the parlor to leave the men to their port and cigarillos and talk of politics.
Jane squeezed her hand as they followed Mrs. Bennet out of the room, and she finally was able to smile, knowing that things certainly could have been a good deal worse. She glanced once more at Darcy, who gazed back at her warmly, before going out into the hall. The girls milled about for a moment as Hill went in to light the tapers and set down the refreshment tray, and Lydia came up beside her.
“You know, Lizzy,” she said brightly, tossing the words over her shoulder as she went inside to get a cup of tea, “I was not at all sure that I would....but I do think I rather like your Mr. Darcy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight