Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “At ease my boy, you are not going to your hanging,” ordered the General with a chuckle and gestured to a vacant chair opposite the massive desk that was cluttered with an array of maps and official papers.

  Wickham did as bid and anxiously awaited for the General to speak. He tapped his left foot as it was crossed over the opposite knee idly, a motion not unnoticed by Dr. Silverton as he stood behind the General and whispered in the superior officer’s ear.

  “General, note his range of motion today…as well as the absence of his cane.”

  General Brambleton only nodded and smiled as he addressed Wickham.

  “I have wonderful news for you Captain, of which you will no doubt approve.”

  “What is that sir?”

  “His Majesty’s Army has deemed you fit for full duty and unable to do without your services. You will resume your former responsibilities in the armory and drilling field immediately. We thank you for your service and dedication.”

  Wickham’s mouth dropped in shock and then just as quickly clamped shut as the realization of what had been said registered in his brain. There was to be no discharge… no pension…He would be forced to spend the next five years in the army.

  Seeing his reaction, General Brambleton smiled once again, but it was clearly a smile of satisfaction. He hated malingerers and would see Wickham transferred to overseeing the digging of latrines as soon as possible.

  “Is there something else?” Brambleton demanded as Wickham rose and stood staring across at the two men.

  “No sir! Thank you sir!” Wickham replied and saluted sharply before taking his leave. Once he had disappeared out of sight of headquarters, Wickham made a beeline for the officers’ dining hall. While it was early in the afternoon, he knew a mess cook who regularly needed a supply of opium. Intending to exchange some for a bottle of brandy, Wickham planned to become as drunk as possible before returning to Longbourn. It was only the shouts of a small child announcing the carriage accident of Mary Bennet that caused him any pleasure that day. Apparently his attentions to her carriage wheel was successful. More than one younger son had been released from the military when it was required for them to take up responsibility for the family estate. With Mary dead, Lydia could vie for control of Longbourn… and he controlled Lydia.

  Now, as they packed to move into the opposite wing of the house, Wickham forced himself to be calm. He needed Lydia on his side. Turning to where she angrily stuffed a dress into a trunk, he put his arms around her waist.

  “I’m sorry sweetie. I am just upset over not getting my discharge. I had so hoped we could get a place of our own… and perhaps have a family.”

  Lydia stopped her efforts and turned to face him.

  “Do you really mean that? I thought you did not want children? I have to admit to being rather jealous of Jane’s boys… they really are darling. And…if we have a servant to do all the messy things it could be quite wonderful.”

  “I do mean it,” Wickham lied smoothly. He needed to manage Lydia carefully.

  “Besides, if we are all alone in the other wing… we shall have far more privacy to practice.”

  Lydia swatted him playfully and batted her eyelashes. Mrs. Hill could see to the removal of their things later. That is what servants were for.

  “Perhaps we should go and inspect our new accommodations right now?” she suggested. Wickham nodded, and allowed himself to be led by the hand down the hall, his other hand on one of the small bottles of laudanum he carried just for Lydia. If he could not resign his commission yet, he would at least not be forced to listen to her constant whining.

  ~Fourteen~

  Atlas had not wanted to stay at Longbourn, but nor did he want to leave Mary. It was awkward to stay in the room next door, but in reality, he spent all his hours watching her for any improvement, only leaving to bathe and change clothes. Thankfully, Dr. Silverton had volunteered to take on his surgery hours as gratitude for his vacation, leaving Atlas to monitor Mary. It had been nearly two days since the accident and she had only opened her eyes once. For those brief minutes she had stared at him as if confused as to what had happened. It was not unexpected, most people who suffered head injuries such as hers had lapses of memory, some more permanent damage.

  Wincing as she tried to move, only to be restricted by the heavy wooden splints that ran the length of her left arm, Mary stared up at the ceiling trying to remember.

  “Don’t rush things, you have a pretty nasty gash on your head and from what I could tell, your arm was broken in two places. But…if you are a good girl…I don’t see why you shouldn’t recover fully.” Atlas had only spoken partial truth. While he was optimistic, his practical side knew that it was far too early to make any lasting predictions.

  “I recall going to see Maggie Timmons, and buying nearly all of her honey…and the deer… that was it…there were deer in the road, a Mama and two babies. Strange to see fawns this time of year. They must have startled Ellie…how is my old mare? Did she…”

  Mary’s voice faltered as she suspected the worst fate for the fourteen year old horse, but was assured by Atlas’ smile that nothing such had happened.

  “She’s fine, a bit bruised from where she hit her knees, but that is all. Ben has been putting warm compresses on her daily. As for your carriage…well that is another matter.”

  “Ruined?”

  “I am afraid so… it is resting at the Timmons’s place until it can be brought back to Longbourn. It may only be useful as fire wood.”

  Mary tried to laugh but a searing pain flashed through her line of vision, causing tears to form. Her head did throb something fierce. Seeing her reaction, Atlas lifted a cup to her lips.

  “Drink, it will help with the pain.”

  “No… no laudanum…to dangerous.”

  “Doctor’s orders…don’t worry, I will not allow you to form a habit.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart,” Atlas swore as he lifted the cup again. Due to her head, he had been extra careful with the administration of the opiate. He did not want anything to impair her recovery, painful or not. It was relief enough to know that her general faculties had not been damaged by the fall, but it would be a long and slow ordeal.

  *****

  While Mary slowly healed, the rest of Longbourn’s residents went about the disruption of their lives with irritation. Both of the elder Bennets had become accustomed to Mary’s management of the estate and were at odds with each other during her absence, rendering the entire household in chaos. Only Mr. Wickham seemed immune to the tantrums of the ladies and reclusiveness of Mr. Bennet. Captain Wickham had his own worries as he worked quietly alone in the new chamber allotted to him and Lydia. Lydia, spending the day paying calls with the other officer’s wives, had been pleased to leave him to his own devices. Despite the extra private attentions, Wickham was unusually surly about his new duties within the regiment. Secretly, Lydia was pleased that she could retain her circle of friends and all the social standing of being married to a captain. It would be quite boring when they eventually left for good. Now, with the chamber door securely locked, Wickham had arranged a line of small bottles to receive mixed quantiles of opium and brandy. It would be necessary to maintain his cash flow with the sale of the drug until his plans for Mary were realized. The only problem was that Mary had survived… and was improving daily thanks to that interfering doctor that never left her side. As he crammed the tiny corks into the bottle necks, Wickham formulated the next step in his plans. Perhaps Mary needed a bit of opium to speed her healing? Persons with head injuries often did not think clearly. Who would blame her if she inadvertently took too much? He only needed to get past Atlas Sutton to replace the regular dosage with his much stronger brew. Perhaps a brotherly visit was in order?

  Putting away his supplies, Wickham pocketed the vials in his coat and made his way down the hall to Mary’s chamber. Knocking softly, the unlatched door moved inwardly to reveal a room empty save for B
ridget the housemaid changing the linens. Frustrated, Wickham nearly lashed out at the servant, but checked his anger and replaced it with his charming smile.

  “Bridget is it?”

  “Yes sir,” the girl replied cautiously. Bridget had been in service her entire life. Weasels such as George Wickham were nothing new to her shrewd assessments of men’s character… or lack thereof. He was always staring at her as if she were wearing nothing but her shift. Bridget had taken an immediate dislike to both Wickhams and was not above making it known below stairs and to Miss Mary. However, she needed her post badly and would not give him undue cause to have her dismissed.

  “Where has Miss Bennet gone? I was hoping to spend some time cheering my dear sister during her recovery,” he inquired.

  “Dr. Atlas has her in the garden for some air.”

  “In this weather … terribly unwise of him, don’t you agree?”

  “It’s not my place to say,”

  “Of course…do excuse me.”

  Wickham returned to his chamber irritated, but not defeated. Eventually the opportunity would arise for him to easily dispatch Mary permanently. Taking the vial from his pocket, he held it up to the light, turning it over and over as the two liquids swirled inside. “Patience… that is all you need….” He reminded himself aloud.

  ~Fifteen~

  By the end of nearly a month following her accident, Mary Bennet had become surly in her confinement and had insisted upon taking her meals with the family. It was well past time that she began to take up her regular responsibilities. By now, the house and estate were probably in shambles due to the constant bickering she was forced to overhear between her parents. Her arm, still bound tightly to restrict movement of the healing bones, no longer caused significant pain and her head wound had subsided to the occasional throbbing headache, but otherwise, she felt fine. Atlas too, needed to return to his regular hours at the surgery. Feeling selfish, Mary had insisted that he not sit at her bedside all day.

  “Not enjoying my company anymore?” He teased.

  “It’s not that and you know it… I just feel like the world is falling to pieces around us and will be quite a mess to repair. Besides, there are other sick people in Meryton that need attention. I cannot imagine how some of your regular patients are finding Dr. Silverton.”

  Atlas laughed. Poor Dr. Silverton had kept him informed regularly, but it had been an adjustment from the frank bluntness allowed by the men of the regiment. It had taken more than his share of patience to tolerate the imaginary ailments that plagued his constituency.

  “Indeed, apparently Lady Lucas was most displeased when he suggested that she stop eating so many sweets and take regular exercise to reduce her flatulence.”

  “Oh my… I can only imagine.”

  “I believe his ears are still smarting from the experience.”

  “I should like to also resume my own hours in the surgery,” Mary added quietly, fully expecting his disapproval, but was pleased when Atlas agreed.

  “With a few strict conditions… First, I must be allowed to drive you, your carriage is beyond repair and I won’t have you walking alone…Second, and perhaps more important... the very moment you have headaches or a need to use both arms, you must immediately ask for assistance. I won’t tolerate a relapse for foolishness.”

  Mary nodded solemnly, but her eyes twinkled in happiness. Atlas knew she would be pleased, but he had his own selfish reasons for such an allowance. It would force him to remain at Longbourn, as well as keep a close eye on her progress.

  “All that can wait until Monday… for now, dinner with your parents and the Wickhams must be managed. May I escort you down?”

  “Indeed you may.”

  Mary too, had gotten accustomed to having Atlas around on a daily basis. It was something she did not want to end, perhaps it was time that they announced their engagement. Recent events had reminded her of just how fleeting happiness could be, and she wanted to make hers last forever.

  *****

  Lydia and Wickham were already below by the time that Mary and Atlas entered the dining room.

  “How nice of you to join us. I must say, you do look much improved.” Mr. Bennet said as he rose to give Mary a quick kiss on her cheek.

  “Thank you Papa. I am nearly back to my old self…thanks to Atlas.” Mary replied as she took her seat.

  Mrs. Bennet, never one allow herself to be left out, ordered her plate to be moved next to Mary’s. It was almost comical, considering that the elder woman had hardly visited her daughter’s bedchamber during the most critical days. “Oh I am pleased you are feeling well. I just could not bear the thought of… well, the worst could have happened. Next year the tenants will simply have to come up to the house to receive their handouts. I know Mrs. Kincaid will not mind if they use the kitchen entry.”

  Mary rolled her eyes at Atlas. It appeared that not much had changed while she was incapacitated. Only Wickham and Lydia whispered quietly from their end of the table.

  “What is it? Have you something to say? I insist you share it with the rest of us!” demanded Mrs. Bennet.

  “Oh Mama! George was just hoping that Mary’s arm heals as well as his back. Did we tell you that the Army has decided that they simply cannot do without his services? So unless something more important arises, we shall be moving with the regiment in a few months.”

  “And what should happen to prevent that?” Mr. Bennet interjected dryly.

  “Well nothing…”

  “What do you think of it Mr. Wickham?” inquired Atlas.

  “I am happy to serve where needed,” Wickham replied wryly. He wondered how much of his retention had been due to the interference of Dr. Sutton. That man had far too much involvement with the Bennets for his liking. It would make it far more difficult to find a way to be rid of Mary. Although the tampering with her carriage had not resulted completely with the result he had hoped, Mary’s use of opium for her injuries would now make an overdose completely without suspicion. He only needed opportunity.

  Mary smiled back at Wickham and raised her wine glass.

  “We all appreciate what you do for our king and country.”

  While everyone drank to the toast in his favor, George Wickham focused on a far spot across the room. While sounding sincere to her family, Mary’s compliment rang mockingly in his ears. Soon Mary Bennet… very soon.

  ~Sixteen~

  The next day, being Sunday, the Bennets, accompanied by Atlas Sutton, attended services under the scrutinizing eye of Reverend Morton. It had been some weeks since the staunch icon of religious doctrine had seen Mary Bennet in church. She had always been a pious young lady, the very image of modesty and proper deportment… that is until the arrival of Dr. Atlas Sutton. While he had avowed to love all humanity, Reverend Morton found himself harboring a great dislike towards the young doctor. At first, he told himself it was due to the man’s affinity for science, but later acknowledged his own jealousy. A long time widower, Arthur Morton had occasionally entertained the idea of remarriage. With no children and now some years past fifty, he knew time was running out. It was not until the marriages of her sisters that he had looked at Mary Bennet in a new light, that of a grown woman and not a child. However, he was also a realist, he saw how she looked at the doctor, and it was practically indecent. They had also been keeping unchaperoned company. It was his obligation to do something about it before temptation and the devil won. It was for this reason that he had invited the Bennets for luncheon after services.

  “My dear Reverend Morton, to what do we owe the honor?” preened Mrs. Bennet as they were ushered into the tiny dining room of the vicarage.

  The dining room, really more of a closet that housed a table much too large for its area, was quite the squeeze for five people. Reverend Morton, having chosen to forgo the services of a housekeeper since the death of his wife, shuffled a stack of papers from the cluttered table to a spot on the floor.

  “As you can see, I do not
entertain in large numbers, but considering the circumstances, I felt it necessary to have all of you present today.” He explained and immediately excused himself to the kitchen where a small respite courtesy of the Dancing Duck Inn lay waiting.

  Puzzled looks were exchanged between the Bennets as well as Atlas and Mary, but before they could discuss the possibilities, Reverend Morton returned bearing a laden tray. Rising to assist, but awkwardly restrained due to the heavy cloth sling that bound her healing arm, Atlas waved Mary off and relieved the older man of his burden. He preferred to be occupied rather than the subject of whatever inquisition was propelling this meeting. Something inside him warned that it had more to do with him than the Bennets. Atlas remembered how the priest had been most upset when he had insisted upon the churchyard burial of a murdered man last year.

  “What situation?” Mr. Bennet asked as plates were passed around, but was forced to wait further until after a short blessing was said.

  “Why Mr. Bennet… Mrs. Bennet…surely the gossip has reached your ears by now. I was simply wondering when I may post the banns to avoid any possibility of scandal.”

  Mrs. Bennet began to choke on her tea and needed to be pounded soundly on her back before she could speak.

  “I am not aware of any scandalous behavior involving my family. As you may remember, Lydia is long since married.”

  Mary had not spoken, but simply watched the exchange as she picked at the cold selection of meats on her plate. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had always expected this would happen, but had thought her actions above suspicion. It was only through the eyes of another that it became clear. Atlas eyed her with an unspoken question on his face as he continued to pass plates and refill teacups, leaving the entire situation up to her discretion. Clearing her throat slightly to attract attention, Mary lay down her fork before making her announcement.