A Beneficial, If Unwilling, Compromise

by Bronwen Chisholm

  Elizabeth laughed. “Am I to play the role of matchmaker?”

  “Well, not directly.” Mrs. Bennet turned toward her husband. The pale moonlight reflected in her eyes as she gazed at him beseechingly.

  Mr. Bennet was unable to maintain a severe expression as he patted her hand. “I shall see what can be done. Perhaps if we work quickly, we shall beat Mr. Collins to the altar.” He laughed. “I assume a double wedding will not cost much more than a single one, and far less than two, therefore my wallet will be most obliged by the idea.” He turned his smile upon Jane. “Indeed, though I would be losing both my eldest daughters at once, I suspect the joy of the moment might overwhelm my melancholy.”

  “Thank you,” Jane mouthed in his direction, hoping he could see her.

  The carriage drew to a stop and the door was quickly opened. Mr. Bennet stepped out and looked about before reaching inside to hand out his ladies.

  Jane had just stepped down to follow her mother when she heard an odd noise coming from the gardens. She glanced over her shoulder, but her father was speaking quietly to Lizzy. Though she was certain it was nothing, a cold chill upon her neck made her stop and turn toward the sound.

  “What is it, Jane?” Lizzy asked as she touched her sister’s arm.

  “I thought I heard a … muffled giggle.” Her eyes widened as Elizabeth frowned.

  “Papa,” Lizzy whispered to her father.

  “Yes, my dear?” he responded as he helped Mary from the carriage.

  “Heaven preserve us! What is that?” cried his middle daughter as she pointed toward the gardens. “There is someone there!”

  “Inside!” Mr. Bennet shouted to his daughters as he ran around the side of the house, motioning for the footman and driver to follow him.

  Jane turned in time to see Lizzy following her father. Mary was already entering the house, so Jane rushed to her dearest sister’s side. As they rounded the corner of the house, Jane grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and stopped her, uncertain what was occurring.

  A cloud had passed over the moon and it was difficult to see more than the small rectangles of light coming from the windows on that side. There appeared to be some sort of scuffle near the tree line, but Jane could not make out how many were involved or who was the likely victor.

  “Papa!” Lydia’s angry voice pierced the night just as the clouds disbursed.

  Jane nearly jumped from her skin when a cold hand touched her arm. She spun about to find her mother leaning toward Elizabeth.

  “Mama,” Jane whispered, alerting Lizzy to the lady’s presence.

  Lydia’s cry was heard once more, but this time it sounded as though she were in pain. Mrs. Bennet pushed her eldest daughters aside and ran in the direction of the sounds.

  “Lydia?”

  “Mama! Stop him! He is going to hurt Mr. Wickham!”

  Jane saw Lydia step out of the darkness. She was dressed in her warmest pelisse and her reticule dangled from her waving arm. Elizabeth tugged on Jane’s hand and the two began making their way across the lawn at a slower pace than their mother.

  “Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet scolded. “What are you doing out here? Who is going to hurt Mr. Wickham?”

  “Papa!” Lydia had reached their mother and was tugging on her arm. “You must make him stop!”

  Mrs. Bennet stopped walking which allowed Jane and Elizabeth to draw closer. They saw her remove Lydia’s fingers from her arm.

  “Stop pulling on me so. Why is Mr. Wickham here at this hour and why are you outside?” She kept hold of Lydia’s hand and marched her toward the front of the house.

  Elizabeth came to an unexpected halt, causing Jane to stumble into her.

  “You two also.” Mrs. Bennet pointed at her eldest daughters and then toward the house.

  “Yes, Mama,” they said in unison and turned about.

  “I have no notion what has come over you, Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet repeatedly tugged upon her daughter’s arm as they progressed, while Lydia simply whimpered and whinged.

  In the distance they heard more shouting, but the cries sounded victorious. A moment later, they heard Mr. Bennet giving orders to his men.

  “Send young Samuel to summon Colonel Forster and the surgeon. Keep this lout tied in the barn until he returns. I do not want him in my house or near my girls. Keep a close eye on him.”

  “Aye, sir, though I doubt he’ll be going far on that leg.”

  Knowing their father was close behind them and they had disobeyed his order to go inside, Jane and Elizabeth moved quickly through the front door and into the parlour. Mary stepped away from a window as they entered. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia followed just before they heard Mr. Bennet slam the front door.

  “Lydia Marie Bennet!” he bellowed from the hall.

  The blood drained from Lydia’s face as she clung to her mother.

  “None of that!” Mrs. Bennet said as she pulled away from her youngest and pointed toward a chair. “You have brought this upon yourself.”

  Mr. Bennet stepped into the room. His eyes roamed over them before he crossed to his middle daughter.

  “Mary, I am very pleased that you brought the alarm as you did, and that you obeyed me,” his gaze flickered toward his eldest and back, “by entering the house and staying away from danger. Go to your bed and know that all is well.”

  A blush covered her cheeks as he praised her, but Mary did not immediately move to do his bidding. “Forgive me, Papa, but I would like to stay.”

  Mr. Bennet glanced once more toward his eldest and back. He took a deep breath and released it slowly through pursed lips. Lydia’s whimpering was the only sound to be heard as he raised a hand to rub his forehead.

  “I suppose everyone should be included.”

  He exited the room, calling out for Mrs. Hill, but spoke softly to the elderly servant. When he returned, he motioned for them each to have a seat.

  “We will wait for Kitty to join us.”

  Kitty entered the room a few minutes later. Her hair was wrapped in rags and she was in her dressing gown, but it was obvious she had not been asleep.

  “Come, Kitty, sit.” Mr. Bennet pointed toward the seat beside Mary.

  Kitty crossed the room, obviously trying not to look at her younger sister. She took her seat and all eyes turned toward Mr. Bennet.

  The gentleman grasped his chin as he ran a finger over his cheek repeatedly. Jane, who was sitting nearest to him, could hear the rasp of his whiskers. No one spoke, or even moved, until he finally took a deep breath and turned toward Kitty.

  “Orders have been given this evening. Some were followed, others were not. I will speak to each of you in turn for an accounting of your actions. I suggest you not look to your sisters for direction, but listen to your own conscience.”

  His eyes crinkled and he smiled. “Forgive me. I will speak to all, but Mary. She is simply here as an innocent witness.”

  His lips returned to their former state and he gazed once more upon Kitty. “Well, my dear? What have you to say for yourself?”

  Kitty’s eyes widened. Jane could tell she wanted to look to Lydia, but remembered their father’s admonitions and stayed focused upon him. She swallowed audibly.

  “I went to bed as you instructed, Papa.”

  “And was Lydia with you?”

  A movement caught Jane’s eye and she turned in time to see Lydia mouth the word “yes” as she nodded her head. From what she could tell, Kitty did not turn toward their youngest sister, though she could probably see her from the corner of her eye.

  “She was … at first.”

  “At first?”

  “Yes, Papa. We prepared for bed, and Lydia rolled my hair for me.”

  Kitty appeared determined to keep her eyes upon her father, but it was a struggle. From time to time, they would fall to her lap, then quickly return to Mr. Bennet.

  “And then?” he asked in a softer voice.

  “Lydia said she had left something in Lizzy’s room and went to retrieve it.”


  Mr. Bennet took a deep breath before asking another question as he slowly drew the story from her. “Did she return immediately?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did she return at all?”

  His frustration finally began to show in his raised voice, causing Kitty to sit taller; her shoulders drawn back and her hands clasped in her lap. Mary reached over and covered Kitty’s hands with her own.

  “Papa? May I ask why you do not question Lydia?”

  “Because, Mary, I doubt she will tell me the truth.” Mr. Bennet turned toward his middle daughter, but his gaze continuously returned to Kitty. “I believe Kitty will give us a clearer understanding of the events of the evening, even if she does not know all the details.”

  “I do not know everything that occurred, Papa.” Kitty’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “I suspect Lydia slipped out of the house, but I do not know how.”

  “That is not true!” Lydia cried.

  “Silence!” Mr. Bennet bellowed. “Mrs. Bennet, I suggest you take your youngest in hand.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bennet.” Mrs. Bennet moved closer to Lydia, a frown upon her countenance. “Your turn will come, Lydia. Until then, you must not speak unless you are asked a direct question.”

  The girls stared at their mother in shock. Never in her life had their mother not defended Lydia. The girl’s eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled.

  “None of that.” Mrs. Bennet’s expression was stern, but Jane noted a slight quiver in her voice.

  “Why would you think Lydia left the house?” Mr. Bennet asked before his youngest could draw any additional attention.

  “There was mud on the floor when she returned.”

  All eyes were focused upon Kitty as they waited to hear what happened next. It appeared Mr. Bennet was going to have to demand more information, but Mary finally nudged her sister and Kitty continued.

  “Lydia began to dress. I asked what she was doing and she said she was leaving. She said she would show everyone; she was the youngest, but she would be the first one to marry. I told her you would not be pleased, but she said I must keep silent or she would not come back for me. She put some things in a satchel and dropped it out the window.”

  Mr. Bennet glanced at his youngest, then turned and left the room. A few minutes later he returned with a satchel in hand.

  “Is this the one?” he asked.

  Kitty nodded quietly.

  “Lydia.” Mr. Bennet spun about to face his youngest daughter. “If I open this, will I find only your belongings?”

  Though her shoulders were back, Lydia did not meet her father’s gaze. Her eyes moved from side to side, taking in everyone, while she seemed to assess her options. Finally, she sat back in her seat. “I might have borrowed some things from Lizzy.”

  The satchel was handed to Elizabeth. “Pray, Lizzy, open it and see what is yours.”

  Elizabeth glanced nervously at Jane, but did as her father instructed. In an instant, her anger had flared. “Grandma Bennet’s pearls!” She withdrew the familiar jeweller’s bag and frowned. After opening the drawstring, she emptied the contents into her lap. Coins spilled out amongst other jewellery.

  “You little thief!” Elizabeth handed the satchel to Jane as she gathered the money and other pilfered items. She stood and began walking toward Lydia, but Mr. Bennet laid his hand upon her shoulder. He held out his other hand and Elizabeth showed him what had been taken.

  Shaking his head, he turned toward Lydia. “What have you to say for yourself?”

  Lydia reminded Jane of a cornered animal. Fear filled her countenance, but it was replaced a moment later with fierce determination as she leapt from her chair. “It is all her fault! Her and her Mr. Darcy! If he had not refused to give Wickham his inheritance …”

  “You would never have met the man.” Mr. Bennet stepped toe to toe with his youngest and stared her down. “We have been through this before, yet you refuse to listen. Mr. Wickham accepted payment in lieu of a position in the church. If he had accepted the position, he would be in Derbyshire at this moment and you would know nothing of the man. That man,” Mr. Bennet’s voice grew louder than any had heard it before as he pointed in the direction of the barn, “speaks nothing but half-truths. You have been told this repeatedly, but remain determined to believe him!”

  “Papa,” Elizabeth said softly. She laid her hand upon her father’s arm as Lydia sank back into her chair.

  He turned and Jane was able to see his countenance was redder than a beetroot. His eyes were nearly unfocused and he quaked with rage.

  Mrs. Bennet stepped forward and took her husband’s hand as she laid her other upon his cheek. Their eyes met and it appeared as though they were communicating without saying a word.

  As her father’s complexion returned to a more normal colour, he turned his head and kissed her mother’s palm. The room was silent as none had ever seen such a sign of affection pass between their parents. Mr. Bennet squeezed his wife’s hand before turning and taking Elizabeth by the arm. He led her back to her seat and stood at her side, while Mrs. Bennet turned upon her youngest daughter.

  “Lydia.” Her voice was soft; a frightening thing when one was accustomed to hearing her shrill shrieks. “Do you understand what you have done?”

  Sitting back in her seat, Lydia eyed her mother suspiciously. “I was going to be the first to wed.”

  “No.” Mrs. Bennet sat beside the girl and took Lydia’s hands in her own. “Mr. Wickham dislikes Mr. Darcy. He has gone to great lengths to exact revenge against the man for no more than being born to a higher rank. Had you run away with Mr. Wickham, it would have ruined your sisters’ reputations. Mr. Darcy may not have been able to marry Lizzy, and Mr. Bingley might have had to turn his back on Jane. You would have ruined seven lives, Lydia.”

  “Seven?” Lydia’s brow drew together and she suddenly looked years younger. “Why seven?”

  “Because,” Mrs. Bennet squeezed her daughter’s hand as tears spilled down her cheeks, “I sincerely doubt Mr. Wickham would have married you. If he had, it would only have been after Mr. Darcy agreed to pay him.”

  “No.” Lydia shook her head, though her eyes glistened. “Mr. Wickham loves me. He said we would go away together. You are trying to turn me against him.”

  All jumped when a loud banging was heard on the front door. Mr. Bennet rushed from the room, but the ladies remained where they were either from fear or emotional exhaustion. Men’s raised voices were heard and Mr. Bennet reappeared with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Colonel Forster close behind him.

  Mr. Darcy was at Elizabeth’s side in an instant. He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. “I received a letter …”

  “From Mr. Wickham?” Lizzy asked and he nodded. “He is in the barn.” Mr. Darcy began to stand, but Elizabeth held his hands tightly.

  Colonel Forster stepped forward. “Mr. Bennet, sir. I received word that one of my officers was trespassing upon your property.”

  “Yes, Colonel. It appears Mr. Wickham has been up to no good this evening.” Mr. Bennet’s gaze fell upon his youngest daughter for but a moment before motioning for the men to follow him.

  Elizabeth held Darcy’s hands until he met her eye. “Please allow Papa and Colonel Forster to handle him.”

  Reluctantly he nodded. After kissing both her hands, he followed the others from the house.

  “I don’t understand,” Lydia whispered into the silent room. “Why would he write to Mr. Darcy?”

  “To demand payment for your virtue.” Elizabeth’s voice was filled with fatigue and disappointment. “Money is Mr. Wickham’s only true love, Lydia. He simply used you as a means to an end.”

  Lydia lifted her chin in what was meant to be a defiant manner, but her trembling revealed her doubt. “If he did, it was simply to gain what was owed to him so we could marry.”

  “Oh, Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet drew the girl into her embrace and began rocking from side to side. “This is all my fault.
I saw myself in you and allowed you to do the things I wanted to do at your age. Your father is correct; you are too young to be out.” She smiled in Kitty’s direction. “Kitty also. I was so overcome with fear of what would happen when your father passed that I pushed you out before you understood what marriage is about.”

  The front door opened once more and the men were heard walking toward Mr. Bennet’s book room. The parlour door opened a moment later and Mrs. Hill entered.

  “The master has instructed all to find their beds, ma’am. He said he would speak to everyone in the morning.” She curtseyed and hurried from the room, no doubt to bring tea or coffee to the gentlemen.

  “Well,” Mrs. Bennet released Lydia and stood. “You heard your father’s orders. To bed.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Mr. Bingley slowly reached for another biscuit while watching the scene before him. It was not his second or maybe even his third. How many he had consumed since the events before him had unfolded, he could not tell.

  Darcy had not ventured far from the window since entering; his fingers tapped randomly against the frame from time to time. Colonel Forster had availed himself of Mr. Bennet’s brandy and taken on a nearly lackadaisical tone in regards to Mr. Wickham. Bingley could see their host’s frustration growing as he sipped his tea.

  Mr. Bennet leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I hope I need not say that Lydia’s part in this must not be revealed.” He lowered his hand and returned his spectacles to his nose, looking over the rim at the Colonel who sat across from him.

  “You have my word, sir, but I know not what has been said amongst the officers.” Colonel Forster sipped his brandy, hesitating to appreciate its rich bouquet before continuing. “Mr. Wickham’s character has been made known as he owes several debts of honour among my men. I should hope this would cast doubt on everything he has said or done.”

  Mr. Darcy stepped away from the window where he had been staring out into the dark gardens. “You may wish to speak to the merchants as well. I do not doubt Mr. Wickham has accumulated more debt than his salary will cover. I will purchase any of the debts still owed to them after his pay is dispersed. I have no sympathy for the officers who have lost at cards.”