Second Glances: A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice Continues (Tales of Less Pride and Prejudice)

by Alexa Adams

  The occasion was Miss Burke’s seventeenth birthday, the momentous age at which she was due to leave Mrs. River’s establishment and prepare to return to her Aunt’s care, just as soon as that good lady could be persuaded to undertake the task. Mr. Burke, who was entirely unfit to have guardianship of his headstrong daughter, was famous for his entertainments, and Letty’s party was to be the grandest affair the house had seen in many years. Several of her school friends were guests during the festivities, and with all the attendant hustle and bustle, the butler of the establishment had his hands quite full. He did not look kindly upon the gentlemen gathered at the door. He would have liked to bar their admittance altogether, as their travel-stained appearance was less than genteel, but he could not deny the rights of Mr. Bennet – as the father of a house guest – and the cards presented by his companions had these advantages: Sir James’ announced his rank, and Mr. Wickham’s was exceedingly fashionable. Leading the visitors into the closest parlor to wait while he found the master of the house, the butler maintained a suspicious air that left none of the party in any doubt that the disruption they were about to create would be highly resented. Those members of our little band who concerned themselves with the feelings of others found consolation in the knowledge that the inconvenience to Mr. Burke, should Lydia and Mr. Beaumont’s plans come to fruition, would be far worse than what a timely warning would wreak.

  It was not long before Mr. Burke made his appearance. A well-intended man, if too indulgent of his only child, Mr. Burke shook Mr. Bennet’s hand with great enthusiasm, noting that “though they might get into more mischief together than they could conceive of alone, his little Letty’s friendship with Miss Bennet was a great thing for both girls.”

  Mr. Bennet could not help replying sharply, “Yes, a great thing indeed. For were they not such friends, I would be happily ensconced in my library at Longbourn, rather than partaking of the sites of Bath. What opportunities would be lost!”

  Mr. Burke, who had no ear for wit, began to cheerfully elaborate on his city’s greatest attributes. As Mr. Bennet, in his odd humor, seemed ready to allow him to enumerate on these at length, all much to Mr. Wickham’s amusement, Sir James decided to put forward the matter at hand.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but I am afraid we have little time to discuss the sites right now,” he said, with a conscious look at Mr. Bennet. That gentleman cleared his throat, agreeing that Sir James was quite right, and asked to see his daughter.

  “Of course! I shall have Miss Bennet seen in at once,” but when his summons was answered, it was only to deliver the report that the butler, anticipating the need for Miss Bennet to make an appearance, had failed to locate the young lady in any of the obvious places. Several housemaids had been sent in search of her.

  At this news, Mr. Bennet turned a disturbed mien on Mr. Wickham. “Are you sure their plans were to make off during the party?”

  “Yes. At least that is what Miss Beaumont told Mrs. Wickham.”

  “Excuse me,” inserted Mr. Burke, the realities of the situation beginning to dawn upon him, “but do you anticipate some trouble?”

  “Trouble,” insisted Mr. Wickham, “is precisely what our presence here will avoid, I hope. I come as the emissary of Miss Beaumont, Mr. Burke, who is the dear friend of my wife.”

  “Eustacia?” interrupted a confused Mr. Burke. “She is in good health, I hope?”

  “Yes,” continued Mr. Wickham, “very hale, I believe, but she is concerned for her brother, who has written to her confiding a scheme to make off with Miss Bennet tonight. As you can imagine, she is quite distressed!”

  “What! You mean Hugh? Elope?” he replied incredulously. “Impossible! You must not be long acquainted with the Beaumonts, my boy, for you should know that not a one of them has ever behaved exceptionally in his life! Fact of the matter is Stacy should know better, even if you do not.”

  “Nevertheless,” interposed an impatient Mr. Bennet, “you see the urgency in locating my daughter, do you not, sir?

  “Yes! Yes, indeed! Sutton! Go find Mr. Beaumont and ask him to join us, please.”

  “He is here? In this house?” asked an alarmed Mr. Bennet.

  “Of course he is! Why the boy is like a son to me. His father and I were friends all our lives, and a thoroughly gentlemanly young man he is, too. I cannot imagine he would engage in such antics.” But when the butler reappeared saying that Mr. Beaumont, like Miss Bennet, was not to be found, Mr. Burke lost his amiable demeanor and betrayed real concern. “I want the entire house on this, Sutton. Find them! And send my daughter to me at once!”

  Miss Burke was quick to make her appearance, and although she entered the room timidly, there was a notable glint of defiance in her eyes.

  “Letty,” her father demanded, “where is Miss Bennet?”

  “She went for a walk, Papa.”

  “What? Where to? Is she attended?”

  “Oh, she needed to visit a shop, and yes,” she concealed a smile, “she is very well attended.”

  “Please, Letty,” said a now pale Mr. Burke, “tell me she is not with Hugh.”

  “If that is what you wish me to say, Papa,” she replied, mischievously. Her father groaned in response and took a seat in the nearest armchair.

  “Enough of this,” declared Mr. Bennet. “Miss Burke, kindly respond either yes or no: is my daughter in Mr. Beaumont’s company?”

  Quelled by his tone and the pangs of conscience it inspired, Letty hung her head and said quietly, “Yes.”

  “Then we are too late!” declared a defeated Mr. Wickham.

  “Where did they go?” demanded Mr. Bennet.

  “Just to the shops,” Miss Burke replied defensively. “They will be back soon. They aren’t to elope until this evening.”

  “They aren’t to elope at all!” her father roared. “I am so sorry, Mr. Bennet. I do not know where they get such notions.”

  “Certainly it would be a dull affair to elope during the day. An evening assignation is far more romantic,” huffed Mr. Bennet.

  “Precisely so!” said Letty looking up at her friend’s father inquisitively. “Lydia said you did not know romance.”

  “She’s quite correct, a marvel for Lydia,” he replied bullishly, “but raising five daughters has given me a very good notion of the queer starts young ladies cultivate.”

  “Oh!” said a disappointed Letty. “And I had hoped you might understand.”

  Mr. Bennet was denied the pleasure of replying by the sound of the front door opening. Soon Mr. Beaumont, a harried look on his handsome face, was ushered into the room. Mr. Burke began to make the introductions, but Mr. Bennet interrupted him: “Now is not the time for pleasantries. I demand to know, sir, where is my daughter?”

  “Yes, yes!” seconded a flustered Mr. Burke. “My dear Hugh, can you tell us where Miss Bennet is currently?”

  Mr. Beaumont’s already red face deepened into crimson. Casting Mr. Bennet a look that declared his misery, he said, “She was to enter through the back of the house. I left her there.”

  “Of course they could not be seen together,” said Letty, by way of explanation.

  “Sutton!” Mr. Burke summoned his suffering retainer once more. “I think you will be able to locate Miss Bennet now.”

  “She was supposed to go back to her room,” offered an increasingly helpful Miss Burke.

  “Very good, miss,” said Sutton dispassionately before turning his disapproving eye from the room. Those who remained behind glanced at each other questioningly. Mr. Beaumont had ample time to imagine every horrible scenario that the presence of two young and unidentified men could herald before Lydia made her nonchalant appearance.

  “You were looking for me, Mr. Burke?” she said before looking about the room. “Papa! And Mr. Wickham? What is all this?”

  “Where were you just now, Lydia?” asked Mr. Bennet in a menacing tone.

  Lydia jutted out her chin. “In my room, of course!”

  “It’
s no good, Lyddie,” said Miss Burke sorrowfully. “They know.”

  Lydia looked around the room for confirmation of this fact, and upon reading its truth in the faces of all the company, threw herself into Mr. Beaumont’s arms and declared passionately, “You will not separate me from my dearest Beaumont! You can lock me up, but I will run away to him, time and time again! Nothing shall keep us apart.”

  Mr. Beaumont stared, panic stricken, at the room’s male inhabitants. He was so sincerely relieved when none of the gentlemen came forward to offer him a challenge that at least one member of the party was bound to perceive it, and Sir James burst out laughing.

  Chapter 19

  “Excuse me,” said Sir James when he noticed everyone staring at him in astonishment, attempting to gather himself, “but we have clearly ridden all this way, in such haste, only to disrupt a Cheltenham tragedy of the first order.”

  Mr. Bennet, so quick to find the humor in the strangest situations, saw none here. “Explain yourself, Sir James!” he demanded.

  At this Lydia took stock of Sir James, her eyes narrowing in comprehension. Abandoning the arms of a relieved Mr. Beaumont she declared, “So you are Sir James!”

  “Oh! How remiss of me to forgo the introduction in such circumstances,” humphed Mr. Bennet, “but it remains no time for pleasantries! What I want to know, young man,” he turned on Mr. Beaumont, “is how you could plot to make off with a girl still in the school room? Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir?”

  Mr. Burke stepped forward as well, “Yes, Hugh. You have a lot of explaining to do, my boy. A great deal, indeed!”

  “But do you not see, gentlemen,” cried Sir James, inserting himself between the older men and a terrified Mr. Beaumont, “that this man has not the slightest wish to elope with anyone!”

  “Indeed, I do not!” declared Mr. Beaumont, relieved to perceive that he might have an ally in the imposing man before him.

  Mr. Bennet surveyed both quizzically, saying in a calmer tone, “I have always prided myself on my sharp wits, so you will understand that it pains me to acknowledge that I do not follow your reasoning, Sir James.”

  “Why is he here!” demanded Lydia, accusingly. “You are supposed to be winning my sister’s hand, not interrupting my perfectly well-planned elopement!”

  “Lydia!” declared her shocked father. “Do you not yet know to at least hold your tongue when in disgrace?”

  “Why am I in disgrace? I have not eloped with Mr. Beaumont,

  have I?”

  “Only thanks to Mr. Wickham, who warned us in time to stop you!”

  “But I was not going to elope,” the word was uttered with consummate distaste, “with Miss Bennet!” protested Mr. Beaumont. “I swear I was not!”

  “Yes you were!” both Lydia and Miss Burke cried in unison.

  “Enough!” cried Mr. Bennet, and everyone fell silent. “I need to hear what Sir James has to say.”

  “Can you not see, Mr. Bennet? Rather than your daughter having been lured by an unscrupulous actor, it seems like this entire notion was conceived by her, with some help from Miss Burke, no doubt,” he bowed in her direction. “I imagine that Mr. Beaumont, on the contrary, has been doing everything in his power to stop Miss Bennet from coercing him into acting upon her romantic notions, including informing his sister of the plan.”

  “Is this true?” Mr. Bennet turned to Mr. Beaumont.

  “Yes sir,” he said in visible relief. “I love your daughter, sir, but I dared not dream of marrying her before she came of age – nor without your permission either, sir,” he hastily appended

  “He would insist on waiting until I had a season to propose, but surely such is a waste when we already knew we loved one another,” Lydia inserted.

  “So when Miss Bennet continued to insist on her plan,” continued Mr. Beaumont, now eager to explain, “I agreed, hoping to dissuade her from the notion before the appointed time came.”

  “And how have you succeeded?” quizzed Mr. Bennet, his customary humor emerging.

  “Not well at all, I am afraid. As a last resort, I had planned to take Miss Bennet back to Mrs. Rivers, if she insisted on running away.”

  “You what!” cried an indignant Lydia. “You were planning to fob me off? How could you, Hugh?”

  “I told you, my dear, over and over again, how an elopement to Gretna Green was not at all the thing. I could not do such a thing, and you would not like it nearly as much as you think you would.”

  “He’s quite right, Miss Bennet,” said Sir James. “A rough, uncomfortable journey you would have had, its inconvenience added to by the need for concealment, to say nothing of the reception you would receive upon return.”

  “A most disagreeable experience,” asserted Mr. Beaumont.

  Mr. Burke burst into laughter. “Quite confounded by a schoolroom miss, were you not, my boy? Well, no harm done! Though I am very grateful that you gentlemen arrived to give my poor friend here a graceful out! I hate to imagine the uproar if the ladies’ plans had come to fruition, but I cannot imagine how they would have pulled the thing off, even so.”

  “We were to sneak out the back and bribe the footman, if necessary,” Lydia defended herself.

  “My dear child,” Mr. Bennet replied in relieved exasperation, “does it not occur to you that such details are best left unshared?”

  “I see no reason why it matters now.”

  Just then Sutton returned, stifling Mr. Bennet’s scathing retort, and ushering a harried looking Mrs. Rivers into the room. She took one look at the penitent Miss Burke and defiant Miss Bennet before declaring, not needing to be told that it was no time for pleasantries, “Well! It seems as if whatever you had schemed was thwarted! Dare I ask what it was this time? Your father’s sudden appearance, Miss Bennet, suggests mischief of a greater magnitude than even you have previously attempted.”

  Through the protests of the injured girls, Mrs. Rivers was gradually made master of the tale. She gratefully accepted the chair Mr. Burke ushered her into, her knees having grown weak with contemplation of just what the elopement of a student would have done to her reputation. It was long before she gathered herself enough to utter, “You are fortunate, Miss Burke, to no longer be under my supervision. Your father will surely be more lenient than I!”

  “She will be severely punished for such a stunt, I can tell you!” said a vehement Mr. Burke. “After all your guests depart, Letitia, we will have to consider what is to be done with you! But for now,” he shook his head indulgently, “I think you all have much to discuss. Come, Letty, and we will leave you to it! Give our guests some privacy, you know.”

  “Mr. Burke,” Mr. Bennet said in parting, “please have your staff pack Miss Bennet’s belongings.”

  Lydia let out a cry of protest, but Miss Burke only cast her an apologetic look as she was ushered from the room.

  “Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Rivers severely upon the departure of the Burkes, quelling Lydia with a glare, “I have tried my best with your daughter, sir, and you have my sincere apologies for not having accomplished more, but you must understand that I cannot allow her to return to my establishment following this episode.”

  “Yes. I can certainly sympathize with your stance, but it does little to render your decision more palatable,” he sighed. “Is there nothing to be done? We could hush the affair up, I suppose.”

  Mrs. Rivers shook her head. “If a good portion of my other charges do not already know of it, Mr. Bennet, then I do not know my business. There can be no concealment, I’m afraid, and I fear this is a sad way to thank you for preventing such infamous notions from being acted upon. I am sorry to end your relationship with my school in this manner. Miss Catherine Bennet was a most excellent pupil.”

  “I knew she must have been,” declared an enthusiastic Sir James, the first words he had spoken since Mrs. Rivers’ entrance. “She insists she is quite stupid, but you know she is not, don’t you ma’am?”

  “Yes, I do!” she replie
d, gazing somewhat bewildered at the unknown young man before turning her attention back to Mr. Bennet. “May I offer you some advice, sir?”

  “Certainly!”

  “Miss Bennet will prove hard to handle, I am afraid, if you keep her at home.”

  “I shall not return to Longbourn to be cloistered until Kitty is married!” declared Lydia, defiant of her school mistress even while proving that good lady’s point.

  Mrs. Rivers continued dryly, “If the gentleman is unobjectionable, you will have far less to fear in the way of a scandal if she were to marry soon.”

  Lydia beamed. “You see, Beaumont! We shall be married after all! Let Kitty be Lady Stratton – I shall have precedence for a few weeks at least! Then I shall be forever content.”

  “Are you not the heir to some title or other, Mr. Beaumont?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  Surprised, Mr. Beaumont stuttered, “No sir, but Freningham is a very old and respected estate, I assure you!”

  Ignoring this, he asked Lydia, “And you wish to marry him, nevertheless?”

  Thrusting her chin in the air, she declared, “I would marry him were he a draper!”

  “How fortunate for you he is a gentleman,” Mr. Bennet smirked. “The question is what to do with you now?”

  “I think the very best thing would be to go to Letty’s party, Papa! We can announce our engagement there.”

  “You most certainly will not! Mrs. Rivers, we will send for her things.”

  “Best of luck to you, Mr. Bennet,” said the good lady as she curtseyed her departures.

  “I have a notion, Mr. Bennet,” said Sir James, a familiar gleam in his eye.

  Mr. Bennet eyes him quizzically. “Am I to enjoy this, Sir James?”

  “I think so, sir. I know I shall. You see, my Aunt Augusta lives only a few miles beyond town. I think she is just the matronly lady the situation requires. We could hire a carriage and be there by nightfall.”

  “And she will not feel imposed upon?”