by Zoë Burton
Wickham spent hours over the course of a week or so, cultivating a relationship with Goulding. When he felt he had gained the gentleman’s confidence, he inquired as to the reason for his hatred of the Bennet family.
“Oh, I have plenty of reasons, I assure you. So many that I am uncertain where to begin.” Goulding’s heavy eyebrows dipped, making his face look as much of a bull as his body did.
Wickham’s own brows rose. “When did you first begin to dislike them?”
“I am uncertain there was a specified date.” Goulding took a swig of ale out of his tankard, setting it firmly on the table in front of him in the inn where Wickham had invited him for a meal and a pint. “From the beginning of our lease, I suppose. I recall hearing Mrs. Bennet commenting that we were beneath her notice because our estate was only leased, while Longbourn has been in one or another of the Bennets’ hands for years.”
Wickham winced. “Yes, I see where that would be upsetting.”
“Upsetting nothing,” Goulding boomed. “She did it every time, the mopsy harridan! For years she stuck her nose in the air every time one of us entered a room she was in, including at Longbourn.” Though his voice had quieted a bit, Goulding was still red-faced, with his mouth twisted into a grimace.
“Was it only Mrs. Bennet who behaved this way?”
“I did not know the younger three girls well enough to know. Still do not, as I avoid them as often as I can manage. The older two were always polite, and Mr. Bennet always left me with the sense that he was laughing at me, though he never spoke a word against us. I would have forgiven, like we are told to at church, but that second Bennet girl, Miss Lizzy, she put the nail in that coffin.”
Wickham’s ears perked up at this. “How so? She is not terribly old, is she? Perhaps nineteen or twenty?”
“Aye, she should be about twenty now. Close to one and twenty, I should think.”
“I thought so.” Wickham tried to rein in his impatience, but it was difficult. He wanted—no, needed—to know why this man disliked Elizabeth Bennet so much. “What did she do to raise your ire?”
Goulding took another swig of ale, this time out of a fresh pint his new friend had ordered. “Two years ago, I was refused by that impertinent, ungrateful chit.
“I came home for a visit after University and saw how well she looked. I knew her portion was small, but mine from my father is adequate, and once I reach the bar, my gifts will increase. I will have plenty of funds to support a wife.
“Miss Lizzy is too high and mighty to marry a mere solicitor, though. Just like her mother, that one. Went on and on about how she did not love me and did not even like me. I told her love does not matter in marriage, that she would likely never get another offer, and that she should grasp this one with both hands, because no one else would be willing to take on her sow of a mother. She got angry-like and told me she would not marry me if I were the last man in the world. Well, I promptly withdrew my application for her hand, gave her what-for, and walked away. From that day forward, I have not spoken to any of the Bennets.”
Wickham whistled, long and low. “I daresay I would not, either. Did you apply to the father at all?”
“I did. Saw him on my way out. The whole lot of them were standing around the corner from the garden, staring. Bennet inquired after my business with his daughter, I told him I came to propose, and would he grant permission, and he said he would not go against his daughter’s wishes. Laughed in my face when I suggested his daughters needed to learn their place, and that they would get no husbands without a more submissive attitude. He called me a cretin, he did.” Goulding snorted. “It is all I can do to be civil at dinner parties and not cause a scene. Of course, I was correct. It has been more than two years, and she still has not married. None of them have.” Goulding’s nose was in the air, his nostrils flaring.
“My word,” Wickham declared, “that was rather insulting. I imagine since it has been so long, you have got your revenge already.”
“Revenge?” Goulding took another swig of ale, splashing it onto his face, where it dripped onto his cravat and down his waistcoat. “Blast,” he swore, “I was certain there was only a mouthful left.” He grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped his clothing. When he was done, he took another draught of ale, this time sipping it slowly. “Where were we?”
Keeping his expression neutral, though he longed to roll his eyes, Wickham reminded him. “You were telling me about the revenge you took on Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, that is correct.” Goulding paused for a moment. “I took no revenge. I have not yet, anyway. I suppose I should have by now.”
“Do you want to? I mean, she demeaned you. She besmirched your masculinity. There should be retribution for that.” Wickham did roll his eyes now. What an idiot, he thought.
“She did, the ugly wench!”
Wickham spent the following quarter-hour building up a sense of anger in Robert Goulding, keeping his tankard topped with ale. It was ridiculously easy, in Wickham’s opinion, to stir the gentleman into a righteous rage, then spin tales of Miss Elizabeth being free with her favors. By the end of the evening, he had Goulding sitting at the bar, making up tales of his own about the woman who had scorned him.
Chapter 6
Darcy and Elizabeth were once again wandering the gardens at Longbourn. Darcy had spoken to Mr. Bennet and received his permission to marry Elizabeth, and the pair, with Jane and Bingley as chaperones, were discussing that conversation.
“He did not mock you too much, did he?” Elizabeth had been uneasy about her father’s reaction, given that he had thrown Darcy and his friends out of Longbourn less than a fortnight ago.
“Well,” Darcy replied, his brows raised, “he did, but it was not unexpected. I think he is still too angry with me to treat me with much respect.”
“That may be true, but to be honest, he would have mocked you regardless,” Elizabeth said uncomfortably. She focused on Darcy’s sleeve and picked at imaginary lint.
“Elizabeth.” Darcy spoke quietly, and when she did not raise her eyes, used the fingers of his free hand to lift her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “All is well. We have his permission and a date that is not too far off to have the ceremony.
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes. I only wish he were more respectful.”
“Do not let it make you uneasy, my love. I can bear it. His anger toward me is unfortunate, but I suppose if one of my faults had been laid bare in such a manner, I, too, would be angry for a long time with the person who uncovered it.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Elizabeth sighed once more and then spoke with renewed determination. “There is no help for it, so I will put it out of my head. I will not allow my father’s petulance to disturb me, especially not when I have the most handsome gentlemen in England at my side.” She looked up at him, a grin on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.
Darcy laughed, then lifted her hand off his arm, bringing it to his mouth for a tender kiss. “Indeed.”
~~~***~~~
The next morning, Elizabeth and her sisters decided to walk into Meryton to do a little shopping and to visit with any of their friends that might be found in the shops. As per their usual habit, the girls had paired up, except for Mary, who walked in the middle of them, a book under her nose. Lydia and Kitty were in the front, chattering like magpies, and Jane and Elizabeth brought up the rear. They were also deep in conversation. None of the five noticed the stares and the fingers pointed in their direction.
Reaching the bookshop, they separated, with the youngest moving across the street to search for new embroidery patterns, and the three eldest looking for new books. Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary all greeted the proprietor, who did not acknowledge them. They looked at each other and shrugged. It was not unusual for Mr. Brown to be so involved in his work that he did nothing more than wave a hand when someone entered his shop, but never before had he completely ignored someone. Leaving him to his work, the three girls spread out, each going to
a different section of the store, and lost themselves in the sea of books.
Having finally decided upon what they wished to purchase—a book of poetry for Elizabeth, a novel for Jane, and a new book of sermons for Mary—the three approached the counter to pay for their purchases. They were shocked to find that Mr. Brown refused to speak to them. He scowled at them as he accepted their funds, but did not reply to any of their attempts at conversation. He kept his eyes on what he was doing, his lips pressed firmly together. Confused, they left the store and stepped a few feet away from the door before gathering in a cluster to discuss what happened.
“That was very odd,” Elizabeth began. “Mr. Brown has never failed to tease me about the number of books I buy.” She glanced back toward the shop door. “I hope he is well.”
“I agree; his behaviour was unexpected. Perhaps he is having a bad day and did not wish to take his temper out on us.”
“It is possible, Jane,” Mary agreed. “I have never known him to do that before, though. He has always said that he likes to brighten his customers’ days by being friendly. It is so strange that he refused to speak!”
“Well, I do not think we should go ask him what is wrong; it is likely none of our concern. Let us go to Kitty and Lydia and see if they are ready to walk back.” Elizabeth turned toward the street, looking to her left to see what traffic was coming.
“Oh,” Mary exclaimed, “Mama asked us to stop in at the butcher and order a ham.”
“That is correct, she did. Let us do that first.” Jane turned to walk further down the sidewalk, and Elizabeth and Mary followed.
Reaching the butcher, whose shop was on the far end of Meryton and just past the inn, Elizabeth stopped. “You two go in and I will wait here. I dislike the smells in there.”
Mary laughed and teased her sister. “Be grateful that we are only ordering the meat, lest we force you to carry it home.”
Elizabeth and Jane joined in their sister’s laughter. It was rare that Mary was frivolous, yet her sense of humor was well-developed and they all enjoyed it when she did let loose.
“We will be right back, Lizzy,” Jane touched her sister’s arm once the merriment died down.
“I will be here.” Elizabeth smiled, watching the other two go into the store. Wrinkling her nose at the smell that wafted out of the building when the door opened, she turned back to observe the people on the street. She noticed a group of younger girls on the other side, pointing her way and whispering together. Elizabeth’s brow wrinkled. She looked around and saw that no one else stood near, so she assumed the group was talking about her. I cannot imagine what brought that on. Her contemplation was interrupted by two men who came out of the inn.
“Well, what have we here?” The question was posed by a rough-looking man who, along with his companion, looked Elizabeth up and down as though she were a particularly tasty beefsteak.
“Why, she looks like that Bennet chit,” the second man declared, peering at her with narrowed, bleary eyes. “Dark hair, small, well-dressed but not overly fancy.” Addressing Elizabeth directly, he asked, “What be your name?”
Elizabeth had tried to ignore the men, looking away and studiously examining the façade of the building across the street. These men were clearly tenants from a neighboring estate based on their attire and the fact that she did not recognize them. Hearing her name had, however, caused her head to spin around and now that she was being spoken to directly, she wondered at their manners. Still, her ingrained good breeding won out, and she replied to the pair. “I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Ah, you was correct, Tom” the first man cried. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the flesh.” He approached her with an expression on his face that Elizabeth could not decipher. When he reached her side, he ran his hand down her arm. “I hear you like gentlemen, but maybe for me, you would make an exception.”
Pulling her arm away with a sneer of contempt, Elizabeth took a step back. “I have not given you leave to touch me, sir. Please leave me alone.”
“You hear that, Tom? A fancy piece like her wants no part of a working man like me.” His mocking voice made Elizabeth shiver.
Tom, who had walked up behind his friend, laughed. “That would be because you come at it too strong, Ed. Ya have to be gentle-like.”
Ed snorted. “Gentle? With a high-flyer like her? Nah, I do not think so.” He grabbed for Elizabeth’s arm again, but she jumped back, frightened to the bone and fearful of her safety.
At just that moment, two things happened. The door to the butcher shop behind her opened as Jane and Mary exited the building, and Kitty and Lydia called out as they crossed the street. “Lizzy, are you well?”
Hearing the voices of her youngest sisters and feeling the presence of the other two behind her, Elizabeth swallowed, feeling moisture rush once more into her dry mouth and her heart rate begin to slow. “Excuse me.” She turned, grabbing Jane’s hand and stepping into the street to get away from Tom and Ed.
“What happened?” Elizabeth heard Mary’s voice in her ear at the same time she felt her younger sister’s hand slide around her elbow. Elizabeth said nothing, instead maintaining her rapid pace through town, in the direction of Longbourn. Once she reached the turning, she stopped; and, as her sisters all gathered around her, took a great gulp of air and suddenly sobbed.
Immediately, the four girls surrounded Elizabeth, offering hugs and handkerchiefs. Her sisters’ comfort eased Elizabeth’s distress and within a few minutes, she was explaining the incident between blows of her nose. When she had finished the tale, the girls were all indignant, Lydia most of all.
“Lizzy, when we were in the shop, people were whispering and pointing at us.”
“They did,” Kitty offered. “Then, Mrs. Hammond was rude to us and would not allow us to buy anything! She said we were ruined girls and she would not do business with anyone so loose.”
“She did!” Lydia whirled back to Elizabeth. “She said if one was a strumpet, likely all were. I did not know what she was talking about!”
Elizabeth was stunned. She stared at Lydia, not knowing what to say.
“What? Why?” A crease had appeared between Jane’s brows.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said slowly, “But I think we should go home.”
“Yes, please, let us do that.” Kitty’s tear-filled eyes reflected the distress all the girls felt.
Netherfield
Caroline Bingley wore a triumphant smile as she descended the stairs. She had spent a profitable thirty minutes listening to her maid relaying the latest gossip spreading around the area, and knew she now had the ammunition she needed to separate her brother from the local girl he was infatuated with. At the same time, I can rescue Mr. Darcy from his equally inappropriate obsession, she thought. Caroline sneered as the image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet floated through her mind.
Reaching the first story, Caroline glided across the floor to the drawing-room, where her sister and brother-in-law were seated side-by-side on a settee.
“What has made you so cheerful, Caro?” Louisa Hurst asked, her eyes narrowed.
“Can a lady not simply be happy to be alive?” Gracefully, Caroline lowered herself to perch on the edge of a chair next to the sofa on which her sister sat.
Mr. Hurst snorted, then slid down in his seat to rest his head on the back of the furniture.
Louisa looked at him and rolled her eyes, then turned back to Caroline, looking directly into her sister’s green orbs. “If it were any other lady than you, I would say she could indeed be so. However, this is you we are speaking of, and you hate this house, the landscape, and everything and everyone in the area. So, no, you cannot simply be happy to be alive.”
Caroline sniffed, looking down and using her hands to smooth her gown over her legs. “That may be so in the normal order of things, but today is no ordinary day, and I have discovered information that will enable me—I mean, us—to get what we want.”
Louisa lifted an eyebrow and cast
an assessing gaze over her sister. “And, what is it that we want?”
“Why, to leave this backwards and uncultured place and return to town, of course!”
Louisa’s brows had now drawn down, and a furrow appeared between them. She extended her hand to lay it on her husband’s thigh for a moment before withdrawing it as she asked Caroline her next question. “Whyever would we want to do that? You know how happy Charles is here, and it is his house.”
Caroline sneered at the way her sister touched her husband, taking it for an affectionate and inappropriate pat. “Charles is happy everywhere he goes. It matters not where he is, and what I learned today will cause the ruin of our entire family if we do not remove him as soon as possible.”
“Seriously, Caroline, your complaints grow old. What have you heard now?”
With a smug smirk, Caroline relayed her news. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is loose with her favors. All that running around the countryside has a purpose, it seems, and that is to share herself with gentlemen, out in the woods.” Caroline ignored her sister’s gasp, speaking over it. “My maid says that she has lain with tradesmen, as well. Perhaps that is what her uncle in Cheapside does, procuring women for the pleasure of men.” Caroline’s tone hardened. “She is a common hussy, and has no business showing her face the way she does. We need to pack up the house and remove to town immediately, and force Charles to come with us.”
“I cannot believe that. Miss Lydia, maybe; she is unchecked and flirtatious, but Miss Elizabeth?” Louisa shook her head. “No, I do not believe it is true.”
“I do believe it, but even if it is false, that family is ruined. If Charles continues his involvement, we will be, as well. And poor Mr. Darcy! He has trailed along with Charles on these visits. He will be just as tainted as we will! I am going right now to call for the housekeeper and have everything packed up and the house closed. We can be gone by tea.” She rose and turned to reach for the cord.
Suddenly, Hurst sat up. “Belay that,” he ordered, in a tone Caroline had never heard before. She turned around once more, eyes wide.
