by Nicky Roth
“Indeed, this outcome could not have been more wonderful had it been written in a novel.” he replied gallantly. “But alas, this is the first time I feel as if I have been dealt a particularly good set of cards. And indeed, you Caroline, have been the first woman I have not lied to, ever. You knew exactly who and what I was and still, here you are, accepting me just the way I am. If I knew I could keep my word, at this moment I would pledge to never gamble again, but instead I beg you to always keep me occupied enough to never have the chance to do so any more. Or only on occasion.”
“Well, that is a promise I will easily keep, my dear.” replied his lady dryly, but not without affection. “You can start right away by clearing the table.”
“You will not have me work in that tea parlour of yours after all, will you?” he cried out in alarm, which had the rest of the party chuckle.
“Oh, I most certainly will.” his Caroline answered with her usual determination. “With your charms the ladies will flock in by the dozens. They already do, if I may say so. We might be well off, but even four thousand Pounds will not last us forever, not with our habits anyway. Let us see what we can do. Invest a bit in our business and perhaps extend and see where this gets us. Here is as good as any place, and I quite like the idea of being on the same social level than my customers. At least then they will not look down on me. Better of consequence in Cheapside than of no consequence in Grosvenor Street.”
‘And aside I will not run into any of my old acquaintances’, Caroline added in her mind. Not that she would be much bothered by it, but the ton was a part of her life she preferred to leave behind. It had done nothing good for her in retrospect, she now knew that. It had made her vile and deceitful, had given her an unbecoming air and had poisoned her mind. No, this was a much better place.
“You sound like an old tradesman already, Caroline.” Louisa Hurst remarked, but with an undertone of unmistakable pride and affection.
“I am the daughter of one, and I should have remembered that much sooner, Louisa.”
“Well, I say Amen to that!” her brother exclaimed. “And do you know what? Jane’s aunt and uncle live just around the corner.”
“Yes, I did know. That is why I chose to come here. My caustic remark about Jane’s relatives had me thinking of Cheapside. So, the two of you will have no excuse for not visiting me. By the way, Mr. Gardiner also lives around here, and his wife is such a charming and gentle creature, I absolutely adore her. She reminds me a little bit of Jane.”
“You know Jane will always be glad to visit you. She is such a dear! And I of course, will be just as glad. You might also be interested in hearing, that Mr. Edward Gardiner is the very uncle Jane had told you about.”
Caroline was surprised. Well, if that was the case even the better.
It was not however, that Caroline Wickham had changed all that much, or was any less determined than she had been before, but with channelling her determination in another direction than finding a rich and high ranking husband, this turned into quite a delightful, and most useful feature. The energy she worked with, and the glee she felt over it, were most becoming and neither of her siblings would ever again hear a spiteful word from her. This she had promised to herself and she had begun with the letter she had written to her sister. Having started several times over, reproaching Louisa for what she had done in crossing her plans, her ire had faded eventually and at last she had written an epistle not only devoid of any accusation, but also of heartfelt affection and forgiveness.
Chapter 20
♥♥♥
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her three most deserving daughters.
Jane and Elizabeth were most happy as was Mary, though on a quieter level. Lady Catherine, on meeting her, had steered Mr. Collins, who had been more relieved than shocked at his initial betrothed’s elopement, in the right direction, and she was certain that over time the young Mrs. Collins would take her place in reminding her husband to not neglect his duties to those less fortunate than himself. Something she had soon grown quite tired of. No, that man very decidedly needed a wife, and a sensible one. Well, as sensible at last as a woman marrying Mr. Collins could be.
Over the last few weeks it had gotten sufficiently colder and on the morning of the wedding an almost magical bout of white frost covered the grounds and trees around Longbourn, glistening in the cold sunlight of early winter.
The whole of the house was, as was to be expected, in an uproar as Mrs. Bennet rushed from one room to the other overseeing her three eldest daughters getting dressed. It had been much to her dismay that neither of them had taken her advice on their apparel and all had insisted on much plainer gowns than she would have deemed proper for such an event. Yet, she was far too pleased in general to even claim her poor nerves were failing her. No, Mrs. Bennet was as happy as she possibly could be, with two of her daughters still unmarried.
Mary, never one to take much care over her appearance, was down first, sitting down demurely in their breakfast parlour reading a book and waiting till it was time to leave for church. However, she had still managed to do something with her hair, which fell much softer around her angular and irregular appearing face, and her new rose coloured dress, a colour which she previously had proclaimed unsuitable for her, brought out the slight blush on her cheeks and complemented her dull grey eyes and mouse coloured hair in an almost charming way. Mary Bennet, soon Mrs. William Collins, looked as pretty as could possibly be.
Jane, the second one down, was of course a much more stunning sight with her golden blond hair and her flawless complexion, her sparkling blue eyes and her graceful figure, all clad in a light blue silk gown embroidered with the most delicate of flowers here and there. Still, with her always looking regal and angelic, this was not much of a surprise.
Elizabeth was down last as, much to her dismay, she had been fretted over the most. But as her groom was the most consequential of the three men, her mother had deemed it necessary to remind her of her new station in life, and that with it she had an obligation to look particularly beautiful. Once Mrs. Bennet was out of the room Elizabeth had convinced the maid to undo her gaudy hairstyle and start afresh with something more to the bride’s own taste.
“With a dress as plain and unadorned as yours, Lizzy, you cannot be too extravagant with your hair.” her mother had said and the result had been an abominable mixture of braids, curls, ribbons, flowers and bows, till her daughter’s coiffure appeared like some kind of foreign Christmas decoration. Had she not been so nervous Elizabeth would have laughed at seeing herself in the mirror. At long last though, Elizabeth had been satisfied with how she looked, and trying to avoid being caught by Mrs. Bennet on her way downstairs lest she would be dragged back into her room and still end up being stuck with a hairstyle so elaborate it would surpass the likes of Marie Antoinette, she sneaked into the parlour where the other two brides were by now nervously pacing up and down in front of the window.
The small procession left for church so shortly after the second oldest bride had made her appearance that thus there was little Mrs. Bennet could do to change her daughter’s pretty but plain hairstyle.
As was to be expected the tiny village church was packed with people. There were the Fitzwilliams’, the de Bourghs, the Hursts along with the Bennets and Gardiners, as well as several close friends from around the neighbourhood, all in their Sunday finest. Even Mrs. and Mr. Wickham were present, having been gracefully invited by Jane and Bingley and skilfully entreated by Mrs. Hurst.
Caroline Wickham, never one to back down once she had made up her mind, sat there, a languid smile on her face, next to her husband who as always bore a most charming expression, currently flirting with Maria Lucas. Elizabeth was most astonished that, as she was walking down the aisle, Mrs. Wickham’s smile grew broader and perhaps a tad more insincere, her eyebrow raised challengingly, making Elizabeth wonder what the woman was up to now. She was not the only one to se
e it however, as Lady Catherine had just then turned around to observe what was going on around her, being her ever busy and meddling self.
The ceremony was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the fact that three couples were married all at once, and went by without a disturbance. Without hesitation either of the six people involved
answered with a resolute: ‘I do!’ And not an hour later, and under great cheer, left the ecclesiastic building happily wed.
Caroline Wickham had just stepped outside when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and upon turning around looked into the sparkling eyes of an elderly lady she had never seen before.
“Mrs. Wickham, I presume?” the woman enquired, and Caroline could not help but think that there was something sly about this shrewd and somewhat eccentric woman before her. She certainly had a very individual approach to fashion, yet her garments were exquisite.
“I am. With whom do I have the pleasure?” was the Mrs. Wickham’s more curious than polite reply.
“Ah, so you are the young lady who has brought all this about. I am not quite sure whether I should thank or scold you. But seeing that my nephew is usually quite hopeless in matters of the heart, I dare say the former would be more appropriate.” the lady stated matter of factly, without answering Caroline’s question as to her person.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Exactly what I have just said. I thank you for having been such a selfish and ruthless young lady that you have managed to, with the help of your most delightful sister and her husband, entrap one Fitzwilliam Darcy in wedlock at last. It was about time, I tell you. He was becoming more dour by the day.” Lady Catherine smiled wryly. “And to such a charming, vivacious young lady no less. Well done!”
“But...”
“Oh never mind, I know you did so quite accidentally, but between us, had it not been for your foul and impertinent scheming, he would have needed much longer. And he really should not. Eight and twenty and no woman to share his bed with… - No wonder he always used to such a miserable sod. Well, hopefully that will change now.”
Hearing this, Mrs. Wickham could not help blushing and for many different reasons. First there was incredulity of being spoken to thus, then there was the remembrance of her own wedding night, which had been fairly disappointing to say the least, and then there was the somewhat awkward remembrance of her horrible attempt at compromising Mr. Darcy, who seemed to be this lady’s nephew. As her eyes accidentally fell on Mr. Collins she blushed even further, memories of his hands on her breasts entered her mind unbidden.
“I still fail to understand...” Caroline at last stammered.
“Oh, that I doubt. Mr. Wickham certainly would have claimed his rights by now, he is always quick with that. I hope he has lived up to his reputation?”
“Excuse me!” Caroline exclaimed on the verge of losing her temper. There was something about this stout woman and her inquisitive eyes which made her quite irate.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh shook her head thoughtfully: “I never thought he would be this bad. Really, considering he has had a decided problem of keeping on his breeches when someone of the opposite sex happened to be around, I would have thought he is practised enough to actually accommodate his wife. Seems I have been wrong.”
“I never said...”
“There is no reason to, deary. The expression on your face tells me everything. He is charming though and not at all bad to look at. One really would not mind to have him hung up in ones parlour just to stare at him.”
Neither of this Caroline could justly deny.
“You know what, Mrs. Wickham? I think it is time for some sound advice from me. I will have to speak to the brides anyway, as I somehow doubt their mother will do an appropriate job, so why do you not simply join us?”
And before the younger lady could reply, the older one was gone with an agility that belied her age and figure.
Flustered Caroline Wickham went in search of her husband, who was, no surprise there, now talking and flirting with a whole bunch of ladies of various ages, while he stayed suspiciously clear of the Darcys. How odd, considering that back in London he had claimed a close acquaintance with them. And what had the lady meant with ‘he had a problem with keeping on his breeches’?
As Longbourn was too small an estate to hold all the wedding guests in a comfortable manner, the wedding breakfast had been sat up at Netherfield and all the way, being crammed into a hack chaise with Mrs. Long and her nieces, Caroline Wickham thought about it.
Some time during the second course Lady Catherine approached her once again and, not wanting to cause a stir, Caroline begrudgingly followed her into her brother’s library.
“I am so sorry to interrupt this most pleasant feast, but I dearly wish to speak to you all.” she said smiling as she closed the heavy doors behind her.
Three puzzled faces looked at them as all the young brides sat on a sofa by the fire.
“I wish to speak to you, about what to expect on ones wedding night. - No, there is no reason to blush at all. There is a lot of bliss to be had in the marriage bed, and a disappointing experience can be somewhat unsavoury, can it not, Mrs. Wickham?”
Caroline really should have known better than to trust Lady Catherine, whose name she had at last learned from Louisa, who had been sitting across from her during the meal. Clenching her fists angrily she would have walked straight out of the room had the lady not stood firmly in her way, solidly leaning against the doors.
“Oh, I am sure you would not want to miss such sound advice, Mrs. Wickham. After all you have to take matters into your own hands, quite literally, lest you will end up a complete nuisance to everyone around you. - Then again...” Lady Catherine trailed off in a manner which left little doubt of what she had intended to say.
Elizabeth Darcy followed the conversation with the utmost amusement. She was nervous after the conversation she had had with her mother, looking forward to some more sensible advice and still, this was a most entertaining spectacle.
“Anyway, in all likeliness your new husbands will claim their rights and make you their wives once and for all tonight. Let me tell you this however, no man wants an unresponsive sack of potatoes in his bed, no matter what you have been told. They also rather have you thinking of them instead of England. Then there is one part of a man in particular you should praise well and often. - And I do not mean his wallet.”
Here the three young brides chuckled nervously, while Mrs. Wickham thought to herself that there was hardly anything in her husband’s wallet she could possibly praise. And thinking about it, the one thing she could praise about him was his ceaseless flirting with her mainly female customers. There he was without a doubt, the most adept and zealous.
“I presume you mean their... – well, what makes them a man?” Elizabeth carefully worded, blushing furiously.
“Of course that is what I mean, my dear. It is, by the way, not the size which matters, but the way they use it to their and their wife’s advantage.” her Ladyship now winked.
“Is it very large?” Mary whispered almost soundlessly. She seemed the most terrified of the sisters, which with the clumsy Mr. Collins was perhaps not much of a surprise.
“It depends on your point of view, I would say. But you might perceive it so. Mrs. Wickham?”
Caroline cast the lady an angry glare, unsure of what to answer. It was not as if she had ever seen anything to be able to make a valid comparison. At last she only nodded.
“I am most concerned about the pain. Is it really such a painful matter as our mother has made it out to be?” Jane enquired calmly, though her face was most vividly flushed, just like her other sisters.
On this Lady Catherine seemed to ponder for a moment.
“That is what your mother has told you?” she asked incredulously after a while.
All three brides nodded in unison.
“Well, what can I say to this? It is not comfortable the first time round, but the more you fear i
t the more your mother’s prediction will come true. What was your experience, Mrs. Wickham? Will you not share your superior knowledge?”
The thus spoken to lady glanced from one expectant face to the other before, with another glare at the lot of them, left the library as fast as she could without looking too undignified.
The Wickhams were just about to leave, and Caroline had been about to congratulate herself on having gotten rid of this crazy old bat for good, when for the third time that day she found herself face to face with Lady Catherine, standing firmly in their way as they crossed the frosty gravel of the driveway to get to Meryton where they occupied a tiny room at the inn.
“You left so quickly earlier on, you failed to hear my advice I fear. What a shame! It would have come in handy I dare say. But you know, with a man like yours there is only one way to deal anyhow.” Catherine de Bourgh told her with a sly smile on her lips, completely ignoring the uncomfortable looking man, who was well aware that what she was about to say was embarrassing at best. “You will have to tie him down and then have your way with him. Best work him first before you make use of him. After all, bit of handiwork never goes amiss. It takes longer the second time around. I presume you get my meaning?”
At this Caroline Wickham could not help smirking, despite herself. Oh yes, she would like that for sure, and she got every bit of her Ladyships meaning. Glancing at her husband she saw that he seemed thoroughly taken aback, not knowing where to look. A first, his wife thought, as he usually seemed on the delivering instead of the receiving end.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh however did not leave it at that as, on turning around to walk back inside, she mumbled with a shake of her head: “You, George Wickham, have always been afraid of work and never put much of an effort into anything. But really, even in this? Dear, dear...”
