A Fortunate Alliance

by Beth Poppet

  Lydia snorted and rolled her eyes, apparently not over the habit yet, despite her earlier pretence at decorum. “If you mean to offer him your love undying for helping us marry, you may as well consider differently. Colonel Fitzwilliam acted on behalf of a friend of his, and though you may think me incapable of keeping secrets, this one shall go to my grave. But go ahead and fall in love with Colonel Fitzwilliam anyway. You would do your best to outrank me in husband.”

  With this last remark spoken almost like a threat, Lizzy gave up trying to wheedle anything more from her at present, vowing to see what her father could make of the situation instead.

  ∞∞∞

  Miss Lydia Bennet was married to Mr George Wickham the following morning with Mr Bennet, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, and her uncle in attendance. Lydia did wear the blue gown, and though she looked ready to complain about one or two details in the alterations, a look from Lizzy was enough to stop her short, and Aunt Gardiner was properly thanked for her overnight diligence in fashioning it for her young niece. Not a word was spoken beyond the recitation from the vicar and Lydia’s chirps of delight to be married by the end of it, and Mr Bennet could scarcely hold his head aloft in the colonel’s company, supposing him the sole benefactor of the marriage. The couple would stay a night at some respectable lodgings of Mr Gardiner’s recommendation, as Lydia determined they would not intrude on her uncle’s hospitality any longer, and the Bennets and Wickhams would together return to Longbourn on the morrow. Mr Bennet was eager to be back home with his sensible Lizzy, and though he did not at first suffer the thought of the Wickhams shadowing his doorstep, he was moved to see the unkindness such a depravation would be to Mrs Bennet, and was convinced by Elizabeth that it need not be a long visit as Mr Wickham would soon be off to Newcastle and could not linger beyond a few nights.

  Mr Bennet confessed to Elizabeth as they walked through the park that he did not think it possible for the colonel to have the means to settle Wickham’s debts, and the sums agreed upon between him and Mr Gardiner were too low by far to be any true inducement for Wickham’s marriage.

  “Were his debts truly so high?”

  “Oh, yes, Lizzy. I do not know why the fourth son of an earl would do so much for our family, nor how he could, but there is no other explanation for this conclusion. I did not think colonels of the nobility were so jealous of the uniform’s reputation. Unless there is some other reason for his aid. Lizzy?” he prodded with a meaningful look.

  “Lydia herself told me it was not the colonel who prompted their marriage. And you cannot suppose Colonel Fitzwilliam to be in love with me! I would sooner believe that it was brought about by…” A creeping suspicion nearly gave voice to her thoughts, but she did not speak them aloud to her father.

  “You have another benefactor who wishes to win your heart? Well, by all means, keep that beau, dear Lizzy, and give him my unspeakable gratitude.”

  “I have only a very small suspicion, and it is so extraordinary a thought it scarcely bears consideration. But I intend not to let the matter drop until I have some resolution.”

  “Do not meddle too deeply,” her father warned, “As much as I would love to know the mystery, I might also feel it too keenly to be face to face with the man who did for my family what I was utterly unable to. No, Lizzy. Let the matter be.”

  Unable to do so, Elizabeth asked the colonel when he took leave of her yet again, this time on his way to Matlock where his parents awaited him.

  “Colonel, you have been vastly instrumental in bringing about what must be the happiest way we might have hoped for this dreadful business to end. But tell me… was it you who took care of Wickham’s debts?”

  “I only wish I could have. No, my uses were few, besides whispering in the right ears, and squeezing the right throats into acquiescence. It was another gentleman; a much wealthier and more invested one who took the whole of his debts upon his shoulders and purchased his commission to Newcastle.”

  “Might I ask… Was Mr Darcy the gentleman who did all this?”

  “You might ask, Miss Bennet. And I might be sworn to utter secrecy, and merely raise a shocked brow at your astounding suspicions.”

  Lizzy laughed in spite of his putting her off from a direct answer yet again. “Will you be so good as to thank him on my behalf, then? I believe you said you would call on Mr Darcy next to bid farewell?”

  “I’m afraid that’s completely out of the question, as my thanking a certain unnamed gentleman on your behalf would get me into a vast deal of trouble. This gentleman threatened grave misfortunes upon my person if I was to breathe a word of his involvement to anyone alive or dead, you see. It seems you will have to wheedle the truth out of him and thank the unknown saviour yourself.”

  “I fear that is impossible,” she lamented, “I could hardly approach a gentleman I merely suspect of assisting us and thank him for such a service.”

  The colonel agreed that it was not quite the thing to do and continued to play the mysterious accomplice until their parting.

  ∞∞∞

  The party that returned to Longbourn was not the merry one that Lydia declared they would be. Not a mile was passed in which the new Mrs Wickham did not make some effort to assert her marital status in putting herself before Elizabeth in every manner possible. Mr Bennet was dreadfully silent, breaking away from his intense reading of a heavy book in order to shame Lydia by some memory of the most unflattering mishaps of her youth. Elizabeth and Mr Wickham took turns at striving to keep the peace by petty, yet amiable conversation, but Wickham’s charming ways only provoked Mr Bennet’s unkindness to Lydia, and Elizabeth soon grew tired of the endless disharmony on the long road back.

  Not for the first time since receiving the dismal news about Lydia, Elizabeth wished herself back at Hunsford with Jane, or even in the glade that she had grown so fond of in the months spent there. She had written to Jane from London, disclosing the event of Lydia’s wedding, though without divulging the nature of her marriage. She gave enough warning, she hoped, to ease the shock if Jane should be made privy through less kinder means than Elizabeth’s letter. She wondered how she fared and if she was being cared for. She also wondered at Mary, and whether she was truly happy spending day after day in the company of such dour and sickly persons as Lady Catherine and her daughter.

  By the time they reached Longbourn, Elizabeth felt as if she’d passed full years on the journey. Her heart was heavy with a resignation that seemed to seep into her very limbs, making them ache and slow to move. She had come to the realisation that if Mr Darcy were indeed the gentleman to have paid all of Wickham’s debts, it was undoubtedly to be done with him once and for all and naught to do with herself, except that she happened to be sister to the object of his resolution. She did not feel it was at all reasonable to expect him to acknowledge his part in the marriage, as he would wish to remember no more about her degrading connexions, nor her own person.

  She longed to believe it did not matter; that she would likely never see him again, excepting when they must cross paths at Hunsford, and it did no good to dwell on it. The words of their last parting would not allow her rest, however. How he had come after her to apologise, that he thought it necessary to speak of his regret. She wished now she would have let him finish his thoughts. He was capable of feeling remorse, but was it over his regard for her, or the way he spoke of her family before? She dared not guess at which.

  Mrs Bennet was all joyous tears and welcomes, surpassing even Lydia in girlish dramatics. Kitty tried to smile and behave as if she and Lydia were the best of friends, but Lydia brushed her aside with even more carelessness than usual, and soon Kitty’s smile was only held together for the sake of Mr Wickham’s presence, and her determination not to cry in front of him. Lizzy noticed her struggle and was glad to tune out the incessant raptures of her mother and Lydia in favour of putting her arm about Kitty and asking her to tell all of the Meryton news, and how Charlotte and Maria Lucas were.

 
Kitty cheerfully plunged headlong into a description of the newest things at Ford’s, the litter of kittens Aunt Phillip’s mouser had delivered, and Maria’s beau.

  This made Lydia interject with an invitation for her unmarried sisters and the Lucas girls to come to Newcastle so she might get husbands for them all. Kitty smiled eagerly, but her expression grew troubled when Lizzy said she did not particularly like Lydia’s way of getting a husband.

  Supper was a merrier affair and felt almost as it should have been. Mr Bennet was already won over once more by Mr Wickham’s engaging manners, and Lydia being seated by Kitty forced them into a better rapport. There was nothing wanting in Cook’s execution of Mrs Bennet’s menu, and Lizzy felt a little more herself by the end of the meal. They only lacked Mary’s haughty moralising, and Jane’s sweet reminders for them all to be mindful of one another and the blessings of their good supper and sisterhood.

  The thought brought a pang to Lizzy’s heart, but she stifled it with another long sip of soup and bottled it away to be forgotten. It returned that night, however, when the unmistakable sounds of Kitty’s sobs were heard on the other side of the wall that separated the two chambers. She suspected it was bitterly trying for her to have Lydia back in the same house and sleeping in another room while there were more spare chambers than necessitated anyone share at present.

  Lizzy relighted her candle and crept down to Kitty’s room. She rapped softly on the door and let herself in. Kitty sniffled and sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

  “May I sit with you a while?”

  There was no audible reply, but Lizzy could tell by the shuffling of bedding, and Kitty’s shifting to one side that she meant for Lizzy to join her in the bed. The candle was set on the table nearest Kitty, and Lizzy slipped into the welcome warmth of the covers beside her sister.

  “Has Lydia done a very wicked thing?” Kitty sniffled.

  “It was a foolish… stupid thing to do, but I daresay Mr Wickham’s is the greater sin. Lydia is by no means guiltless, but I believe she would have married him the first day if he had an honourable bone in his body.”

  “She wrote me,” Kitty confessed, her head bowed low so that it almost touched her knees that were drawn up close to her chest. “I thought it was a wonderful joke. I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I couldn’t breathe for coughing. I really believed she would return home married, surprising everyone but me,” she let out a long, deep sigh. “But then we had a letter from Colonel Forster, saying that Wickham had left his regiment, and suddenly things seemed so dreadfully serious. Mama shrieked and cried for days on end. Aunt Phillips spoke of lost virtues and sullied young ladies, and Charlotte Lucas said the rest of us might not find husbands willing to connect themselves to our disgraced family, so I was afraid to tell anyone about the letter. I was afraid they would be angry with me, too, and also…” her voice dropped to a whisper barely audible, “I liked keeping her secret. You were all gone away to Hunsford, and Brighton, and it was so dreadfully lonely I felt as if everyone had moved on to new and wonderful things, and I had been forgotten. Having Lydia’s secret to keep reminded me of when we were all home and together before, and Lydia would invent games where the two of us were spies, and whichever of us slipped up first in front of the others was hung at the gallows before breakfast the next morning.

  “Did I do wrong, Lizzy?” she looked to her, eyes tight with worry, “Should I have told Father about the letter?”

  “No, I don’t believe it would have done any good. Did she say where they were going?”

  “Gretna Green, she said, but Father knew better before I had quite decided whether to tell or not.”

  “Then nothing in that letter could have prevented what was already begun. I too have struggled with feelings of guilt regarding Lydia’s recklessness, but it will not do. None but Lydia is to blame for her misdeeds, and the same must be said for Wickham. You may rest easy in that, dear Kitty.”

  “Charlotte said we none of us will get husbands now,” Kitty murmured, “Is that true, Lizzy?”

  “Whether there’s an inkling of truth in it or not, Charlotte has no business declaring such distressing absolutes at a time like this. If eligible men are to be frightened away from matrimony because one sister in five is guilty of indiscretion, perhaps they were not worth having as husbands after all,” she declared, trying hard to believe it. “As for myself, I should like a husband who loves me for my own virtues and does not reject me over my family’s faults.”

  Kitty nodded sleepily, exhaustion overtaking her desire to be in fellowship with one of her sisters. “I still miss Lydia,” she breathed into her pillow.

  There was no reply that Lizzy could make that did not seem trivial or unhelpful, so she merely soothed her sister by brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face and sitting with her until long after she had fallen asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “But isn’t it remarkable, Darcy?” Mr Bingley was comfortably situated in his old room at Netherfield and had just received some surprising news from his sister. From her it was delivered in a sneering, scoffing manner meant to disparage the names of those involved along with all their connexions, but Bingley related it to Darcy as if it were a delightful thing to be celebrated.

  Mr Darcy was by no means certain as to what event or person he was supposed to find remarkable, as it was the first thing that passed his friend’s lips as he came up to greet him. Bingley was minutely better; he could now hobble and hop disastrously from one chair to another, provided they were positioned no more than five steps away from each other and had furniture for hand-holds between them. He could, he thought, assist the servants by managing a step or two down the stairs on his own, but the entire household was against him there, as the attempt usually resulted in more falling and required a great deal more servants to ensure he had someone there to break his fall lest he injure himself further. Bingley disliked putting people out in order that they might assist him, and so this morning he had refused the long and arduous journey below, deciding that Caroline and Darcy might come to him with far more ease if so desired.

  “Of what remarkable thing do you refer to?” Darcy asked, neither feigning disinterest, nor feeling it, but not appearing particularly engaged, either. Bingley was far more easily impressed with the little country excitements that would have no bearing on the rest of the world.

  “Why, the marriage of Miss Lydia Bennet to that George Wickham!” The expression of indifference fell away from Darcy’s face as Bingley unwittingly touched on a subject that did have heavy implications for him. “I know this holds some interest for you,” he went on blithely, “for I am not so stupid as to have missed the jealousy you bore for Wickham and his apparent interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet when we were all here last and dancing together.” Some of his cheerfulness withered at the thought of dancing, but he recovered to say with a smile, “You know, I think she may be sorry for the things she said to you at Hunsford.”

  “And you base your assumptions on what hearsay or rumour?”

  “The first being that Caroline would not be in such a hurry to put her sister’s recent marriage in the worst possible light if she did not feel somewhat threatened by Miss Bennet’s close proximity to us. Secondly, I know you followed her out that day you were coming to and from my townhouse in such mystery. The colonel came in first, winking at Caroline as he laughed over ‘lovers quarrels quick to mend.’ Splendid fellow, that cousin of yours,” Bingley said, not for the first time.

  “Regretting a few rash words is not the same as hoping for a renewal of intentions,” Darcy persisted. “Miss Bennet may feel disposed to think of me a little more kindly than before, but that is hardly a foundation to build a marriage on.

  “It is of little consequence however,” he tried to say dismissively, “for you see how unsuitable a match we are in every other way besides. Any alliance between us must be regarded as a reprehensible one to some of our closest relations, including her mother and my aunt.�
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  “For heaven’s sake, Darcy, don’t be a fool,” Bingley winced as his excitement caused him to move in the wrong way, twinging his back with pain. “Your objections to marrying Elizabeth Bennet are as absurd as the feathers in Caroline’s new cap. I am cut off forever from marrying the woman I might have loved, and now any other woman besides. Don’t talk yourself out of snatching up such a lovely young woman when the only obstacles are of your own making.”

  “I hardly made Mrs Bennet a crude gossip, nor was it my doing that turned Miss Elizabeth’s sisters into unrestrained flirts, or her relations so despicably unsuitable.”

  “No, but you have given each of those things far more weight than they deserve. If you were to marry Miss Elizabeth, you would hardly need to see the rest of the family more than once or twice a year, and would that really be such a terrible thing to endure if you had your own dear wife beside you for the rest of your days? Come, now! Admit that I am right, and such objections are but petty trifles in a lifetime worth of prospective joy.”

  “I knew you to be something of a romantic,” Darcy retorted, “but I had no idea your convictions were so poetic in nature.”

  “Darcy, I am being perfectly serious,” he said with a deep frown.

  “I know, and I thank you for your concern, truly.” Darcy grew serious himself and offered with particular warmth, “I am sorry that you have lost Miss Darnham. I had not known you to be so fond of her.”

  “I was not speaking of Miss Darnham,” Bingley sulked.

  Darcy looked up at him in surprise. “I was not aware of any other serious courtship before her.”

  “There could not have been a courtship as the woman I cared for was engaged before we met, only I did not know it at the time,” he said a little defensively. Before Darcy could pose further questions, Bingley asked timorously, “How is Mrs Collins?”

  Realisation struck in the gentleness of his friend’s enquiry. Could it be that he was still regretting Miss Jane Bennet as she was upon their first acquaintance?