A Learned Romance

by Elizabeth Rasche

  Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “Mr Wickham and I are quite content.”

  “I must confess, I had heard some reports of an alarming nature…” Lieutenant Stubbs’s dark brows drew down. “Appalling things, things I really could not leave alone, as your brother-in-law. I am relieved to find them untrue.”

  To this, Lydia only stared, the expression on her face reminding Mary of the time that one of the neighbourhood boys had refused to let her win at lottery tickets. It was a mixture of confusion, mortification, and pique, and it did not sit well on her.

  When she refused to comment, the lieutenant added, “The rumours involved a gentleman—if I can call him that—by the name of Mr Cole. I suppose you do not actually know any such person?”

  Seeing Lydia’s eyes light with scorn, and sensing a scathing retort or fit might ensue, Mary hurried to intervene. Lieutenant Stubbs seemed to startle, and Mary wondered if he had not realised she was even in the room. “We both know Mr Cole,” she said, hoping to provide the truth, and yet downplay it. “He is a geologist, and sometimes we attend his lectures—along with Mr Wickham, of course.”

  It was not strictly true—Wickham had only attended them the one time—but the last thing she wanted was an argument. But perhaps Lieutenant Stubbs could be an ally—he could help persuade Lydia and Mr Cole to leave one another alone. The thought quickly died. Lydia would never stand for Lieutenant Stubbs’s interference. He would only make things worse.

  Lydia’s face heightened with colour, and she spoke warmly. “He is a very dear friend, perhaps the dearest I have, aside from my beloved husband.”

  Kitty’s mouth dropped open, and she gasped loudly. “Then it is true! You do go gadding about and flirting with him, meeting with him clandestinely—”

  “I have never!” Thanks to Mary, the latter was true, at least. “He is my friend, and what people call flirting—why, that is just fun. Mr Wickham knows it.”

  Lieutenant Stubbs said, leaning forward, “Mrs Wickham, your name has been coupled with Mr Cole’s in a way that demands correction. If you will not alter your reckless behaviour, the rest of the family will have to suffer your loss of respectability with you. I cannot imagine why the other gentlemen of your family have not already corrected you.” His mouth drew down into a real grief. “Do not stir needless trouble, Mrs Wickham. No friendship is worth the loss of your good name.”

  “My good name is in no danger at all. The only people who threaten it are busybodies with no sense.”

  “Those busybodies can ruin you, whether they have sense or not.”

  Although Mary agreed, she wished the lieutenant had not taken such a bullying tone. But then, my pleading did not do much either.

  “Please, Lydia!” Kitty folded her hands, and for a moment she looked almost prim. “We are not children anymore. There are rules that govern society, and you must learn to follow them.” Though she only glanced at her husband, her pride in his regal demeanour was clear. “Sam only wishes to help. He is part of the family now, and he knows about such things.”

  “Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy do not think I am doing anything wrong,” Lydia retorted petulantly.

  Now Mary had to speak up, though she fumbled over her words. “Mr Darcy has expressed his concern already, Lydia, and I know Mr Bingley would as well, were he not so concerned for Jane’s confinement at present.”

  Lydia shifted tactics as easily as a child. “‘Tis nobody’s business but my own!” She curled her lip with enough hauteur to match her brother-in-law’s.

  “If your good name is ruined, then Miss Bennet’s chance of marriage is harmed. Your other sisters would be forced to put you aside to save their own honour.” The Byronic handsomeness seemed to deepen as his voice recited the aspects of potential doom. “Your parents’ hearts would break at such a scandal. All of us would be shut out from good society. These are the consequences of your folly. Do you still say it is none of my business?”

  “I do!”

  “My dear—” Mr Wickham appeared in the doorway, his hair ruffled as if he had been running his hands through it in perplexity. “My dear, I have unfortunate news. Will you come with me to my study?”

  “Sir.” Lieutenant Stubbs stood. “I fear we have been, already, speaking of most unfortunate matters which also demand your attention.”

  “I thank you, good sir, but I must beg my wife to accompany me—”

  “Oh, just say it, Wicky,” Lydia interrupted irritably. “This man thinks he can solve any problem with his high-handedness, I am sure whatever it is can be dealt with summarily by him.”

  Wickham glanced back and forth between his wife and his brother-in-law. “I am not sure—”

  “Mr Wickham, we are family, are we not?” The lieutenant said. “It would be a great honour to me to be of service to you in advising you in any way I know how.”

  “Very well.” Wickham licked his lips then plunged right in. “Markham and Mrs Forrest inform me that there is a housemaid who is…with child. I fear we must have her removed at once.”

  “With child?” Lydia looked at him in bewilderment. Mary found herself scrutinising Mr Wickham’s face, searching for any sign of guilt in Hannah’s predicament. She could find nothing, but then, the man was an accomplished liar.

  “Her name is Hannah Cupp, apparently.” Mr Wickham’s cheeks showed no sign of flush, no indication he knew Hannah in any personal way, but Mary still distrusted him. “I told Mrs Forrest she must be displaced, of course, though perhaps we can give her a few days to—”

  “One of your maids has ruined herself, and you want to let her stay in your house?” Lieutenant Stubbs pounded on the back of a nearby chair. “This is exactly the sort of fodder the gossipmongers are hungering for! Do you not see? Everyone will take this as evidence that Mrs Wickham is a fallen woman herself. You must show you harbour no weakness for such things and turn her out immediately.”

  Mary dared to speak up. “It would be hard for Hannah to find employment in her condition, and she has no family to help her.”

  Lieutenant Stubbs rounded on her. “What do you know about it, Miss Bennet? How do you know she has no family to help?”

  She flushed. “I have spoken to her…a little.” Her embarrassment revealed the rest.

  “You knew!” Kitty sounded as outraged as her husband. “How long did you know this scandal and say nothing?”

  Even Mr Wickham looked disappointed in her. “It is a serious matter, Miss Bennet.”

  Mary swallowed hard, simultaneously wishing to cry and yell at them. Had they forgotten their own elopement? And that Kitty had known and hidden the truth? How quickly two years had turned their own youthful folly into nothing!

  She had hoped to keep Hannah’s secret for weeks longer, but so it was. With a little lift of her chin, she said, “She is in great difficulty, Mr Wickham. I was afraid she might be thrown into the street.” Resentment entered her tone. “Clearly that is what Lieutenant Stubbs wishes, any way.”

  Lieutenant Stubbs’s shoulders straightened and pulled against his military uniform. “You must know I do not wish anyone harm. But she cannot remain here, and she cannot be supported by the Wickhams—that would lend the same immoral appearance, only slightly mitigated. No one likes to send her away, but this girl has brought this on herself.”

  “At least give her a few weeks to try and find somewhere to go. If Mrs Forrest and Markham are discreet, no one need know yet.” Mary turned away from Lieutenant Stubbs and appealed to Mr Wickham instead. “It would be cruel to send her away tonight. I promise I will find a place for her to go, if you only grant us time.”

  Mr Wickham fidgeted with his waistcoat, thumbing the buttons until he grew calm. “I will give you three weeks, Mary. Until then, Hannah can stay. I daresay she can be given lighter duties upstairs for that time.”

  “Three weeks! You cannot expect servants to keep a secret like that so long.” Lieutenant Stubbs paced back and forth, scuffing the carpet with his boots. “It will ruin you all.
” His wife made noises of agreement.

  “We cannot be cruel, Lieutenant Stubbs,” Lydia said.

  He levelled a glare at her. “God help you if your maid’s laxness is due in any part to your example.”

  Lydia gasped at his effrontery. “Now see here, Stubbs,” Wickham began.

  Lieutenant Stubbs shook his head. “I do not think you guilty in the worst sense, Mrs Wickham, but you are guilty of making light of a woman’s honour. We have been speaking of your wife’s friendship with Mr Cole, Mr Wickham.”

  “Wicky, you know it is all nothing,” Lydia said, a wheedling tone in her voice.

  “It must end now,” the lieutenant declared. “If you refuse to restrain yourself with this Mr Cole, I will be forced to defend your honour and call him out.” He rubbed at the wound in his arm in an absent manner. “Whether he is a scoundrel or a fool, I have no wish to spill his blood. Do as I say, Mrs Wickham.” He strode out of the room, his footsteps thumping over the carpet of the drawing room and then echoing as he ascended the stairs beyond.

  “He does not trust my judgment at all,” Lydia said, but she waited until Lieutenant Stubbs was well out of hearing.

  “Your brother makes some good points.” The stiffness of Mr Wickham’s tone chastised her. “I could wish you were more discreet, my dear.” He then turned to Mary. “I hope you can indeed find a place for Hannah, Miss Bennet. I regret that I cannot simply pay for her to live somewhere else, but your brother is right. People would misinterpret the action as condoning her loss of virtue—or worse, as an expression of guilt for it.”

  Of course, Mary had wondered if… but no, there was no sense casting stones when efforts of a charitable nature would be better received. “I understand.” Mary tried to tally up how much money she had herself, but the distress of the moment disordered her thinking. I do not think it would last her long, whatever the total is. And perhaps if the money came from me, it would carry the same false impression. “I will help her, somehow.” Perhaps Lady Lucy would have some ideas. If Mary invited her for a visit, they would have a chance to discuss it—and better yet, there would be a stranger in the house to defuse the family tension. Lieutenant Stubbs would hardly yell in front of Lady Lucy.

  Mary’s head dropped, feeling the weight of her worries. She could spy a series of loose threads where Lieutenant Stubbs’s boots had caught the carpet in his pacing, and they curled over in a dejection she sympathised with. “Lydia, I think I hate your drawing room too.”

  It was two days before Lady Lucy could come and stay with Mary for the day, and Lieutenant Stubbs passed his time at the Wickhams’ in silent condemnation of his sister-in-law. Mary had broached the subject of Mr Cole with him only once, and that to invite him to attend her next week when she was to assist him in planning his lectures.

  “You are still going to see him?” The incredulity in his voice made Mary hesitate, but she pressed on.

  “Breaking off interaction with him too sharply would cause more gossip,” she said. “We must let things die down slowly—if anything, we ought to let them think it was all for me that Lydia spent time with him. Besides, I promised I would help him.”

  “I do not see why you would promise anything to such a man.”

  “He did me a favour about Lydia.” She hoped the idea that Mr Cole was a reasonable man might percolate through Lieutenant Stubbs’s mind.

  He considered. “I give you leave to go, Mary. I am busy on Wednesdays myself, but I will trust you to manage the matter. But keep things distant and polite.”

  She could not like his assumption of authority over her, but Mary was too desirous of avoiding an argument with him to protest. Still, the idea of behaving with indifference to Mr Cole felt wrong and strangely disappointing. Though the man’s flirtation infuriated her, she could not help wanting to see more of him.

  It is only that I have become interested in the subject of geology, she told herself. The books she had borrowed from Mr Wickham’s dusty shelves and the library had been surprisingly engrossing. Somehow the idea of ancient landforms, pushed by pressures and pummelled by sea, rain, and wind, satisfied a need in her. The rocks remained stoic, despite all the slow weathering of years, largely untouched despite centuries of history. She found herself oddly envious of them. What are men to rocks and mountains, after all?

  While waiting for Lady Lucy’s visit, Mary passed the time in consoling Hannah, who between bouts of weeping informed Mary that Mrs Forrest had guessed the truth with an eye as observant as Mary’s. Mary wrote to her parents and the Bingleys for assistance, but neither group was of much help. “These things happen,” Mama had written, bestowing compassion but nothing practical. Jane’s letter went unanswered, perhaps set aside unread in the hubbub of the approaching birth. If the Darcys had not been travelling, Mary would have relied on them, but she did not know where to address a letter, and the weeks of waiting for a letter to be forwarded about from Pemberley were weeks too long to help Hannah materially.

  Mary had best hoped for Lady Lucy’s intervention, and when the day of her visit arrived, Mary tried to make things as comfortable as possible for her guest. March had swelled far enough into spring to furnish a warm breeze, and Mary opened the window of her bedroom and placed a chair near it so that Lady Lucy could have lots of light for her embroidery. She positioned a shawl nearby, in case the pleasant breeze turned to a nasty draught, and she attired her doll in her best clothes. When she greeted Lady Lucy downstairs and brought her up for a companionable chat, Lady Lucy exclaimed over the doll’s gown.

  “So pretty! Mama says white gowns are the most genteel, and I think she is right.” She giggled. “Even for dolls.”

  Mary smiled. “I have a bracelet now that is large enough to serve as a necklace for her. I will show you.” She rummaged through the jewellery from her box, strewing it over the dressing table. “Perhaps Lydia borrowed it. It may be in her bedroom.”

  “Where is Mrs Wickham?”

  “Oh, she went to some sort of charity function. She will be back later.” Lydia had been uncommonly well-behaved since Lieutenant Stubbs’s arrival; Mary could not tell if it was an attack of conscience or fear of her brother-in-law’s temper that motivated her. It could not be fear of Kitty’s disapproval; though Kitty sided vehemently with her husband, Lydia only scoffed at her. After several mornings of listless lying on sofas and sporadic attempts to read, Lydia had finally gone out for a day.

  Mary led the way into her sister’s dressing room, where silken gowns lay spread out or hung from hooks, and a veritable treasure of jewellery was heaped on tables or in boxes fresh from the jeweller. It took a few minutes for Mary to sort through combs, necklaces, rings, and bracelets to find what she wanted, but at last she retrieved the thin gold bracelet she sought. “Here it is! You will admire my doll so much when you see this, Lady Lucy.”

  But Lady Lucy’s attention had been drawn elsewhere. “Oh! It is Prince!” Lady Lucy’s exclamation of reverence was better suited to a real prince, but she swept the pug in her arms with a delight that Mary could not help but admire. Prince always snapped at Mary, and barely tolerated Lydia, but he nestled in Lady Lucy’s arms as if he honoured her. “How fat you are, Prince!”

  “He is spoiled, I think,” Mary said.

  “I cannot blame Mrs Wickham for that. Such a sweet thing!” She carried him into Mary’s bedroom, and when he grew restless in her hug, she swirled a blanket into a comfortable shape and deposited him inside, and he promptly began snoring. Mary ornamented the doll with the bracelet and showed her friend.

  “You can wear it out, and she shall wear it in,” Lady Lucy said, tracing the gold curve with her finger. For once, Mary did not mind someone touching her doll. Lady Lucy used the same decorous gesture she would herself, as if the doll were alive and worthy of respect. Lady Lucy’s smile encouraged Mary to bring up the subject of Hannah. She told Hannah’s story as briefly as possible, emphasising the girl’s lack of means and family.

  “I know that
you love children,” Mary said. “I thought perhaps Hannah could come and work for you. Lydia and I could give you the money for her wages—I know you would keep the secret where others would not, so no one would think the Wickhams are supporting her.”

  But the congruity Mary had seen with regard to her doll was not to be seen in the matter of Hannah. “It does not seem…practical.” Lady Lucy’s mouth had cinched up, as if she had tasted a persimmon. “I do not think I want any maid like that.”

  “But when you know that she will be on the street, alone, otherwise?”

  “I am very sorry for her, but I do not see what I can do. My husband would wonder where I got the money for a maid. Would you wish me to tell him?”

  Mary had not thought about that. “I suppose you could not hide it, nor her situation.”

  “Indeed not. She would be a corruptive influence in our marriage.” Lady Lucy’s voice was full of indignation, but Mary misread it.

  “I see. You think that because he has a—fondness—for Lady Sarah Randall and her sort, that a maid who had been indulgent to a man before might…”

  Lady Lucy fired up. “Certainly not! Captain Roarke would never mix with a woman of that class.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. “He has a weakness for ladies, I admit. But you do not know his pride.” Her voice became more confident. “He has quite a proper sense of what is due his birth. I am not afraid of any maid diverting his affections from me.”

  Mary was nonplussed, thinking any sort of adultery no bright proof of the captain’s honour, but she did not argue. “I am sorry.”

  “You should be.” Lady Lucy picked up Mary’s doll, cradling it in her arms. As Mary watched, she saw indignation fade, to be replaced by sorrow before her friend continued to speak.