by Maria Grace
A woman, worn and tattered, with two young children in tow looked at him with hollow eyes. Her face was dirty, and so very, very tired. She was young for a widow. Probably a soldier’s wife. He waved at her with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. She limped as she hurried toward his carriage, sending one of the children, a young boy ahead of her. Darcy tossed him a coin before the carriage was out of reach and the child ran it back to his mother. Tears ran down her face as she waved her thanks.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. How many young girls chased after a smart uniform? Certainly, the young women in Meryton had. What would they do if they encountered real officers like Fitzwilliam, not mere militia? Would Miss Elizabeth consider marrying a soldier? Her mother certainly would not warn her against it.
If she did, how easily could she end up as that poor wretch in the streets? He gulped, stomach knotted. Far, far too easily, and through no fault of her own. Surely, her family though, they would take care of her, would they not? If her father were alive, there was no question, but if Collins was master of Longbourn—with his own self-righteousness and Aunt Catherine’s judgmental nature, charity would be hard to find from his household.
He scrubbed his eyes with his palm, but still the image of that woman remained. That was too cruel a fate for a woman like Miss Elizabeth. But what could he do about it?
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
Tomorrow he would instruct the housekeeper to increase what was set aside for the mumpers.
December 19, 1811. Meryton
The following evening, Lady Lucas hosted a party to celebrate Charlotte’s upcoming nuptials. Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lydia waited in the front hall, buttoning their redingotes and adjusting their muffs. Lydia and Kitty giggled still over the thought of anyone actually marrying Mr. Collins.
Mama declared herself far too ill to attend. She went so far as to suggest that the weather might be too disagreeable for frivolous travel and the rest of the family might remain at home as well.
“My dear Mrs. Bennet,” Papa slipped on his great coat in the crowded vestibule, “I have seen you traverse the countryside in foul weather for a bit of gossip following an assembly. A few rainy clouds will not keep us from doing our duty by our neighbors.”
Mama stood at the top of the stairs in her dressing gown, waving her handkerchief before her face. “I think it very cruel that you would deprive me of all my daughters’ company when I am so very unwell. I could die before you return, then how would you feel?”
“I doubt your nerves will be the source of a sudden demise over the course of a single evening.” Papa muttered something else under his breath, but best not try to make it out.
“Perhaps it would be aapropriate to allow Mary to stay with her.” Jane appeared from behind Mama’s shoulder and raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth.
Mary was taking Mr. Collins’s visit very hard indeed. Although she complained far less than Mama, her suffering was probably more real. Forcing on her an evening spent in Charlotte’s presence would be truly cruel.
“I think Jane’s idea a good one,” Elizabeth whispered, straightening the capes across Papa’s shoulders.
He huffed. “Very well, Mary, you may stay behind and tend to your mother, if you wish.”
“Yes, Papa,” Mary called from somewhere upstairs.
Jane took Mama’s elbow and led her back toward her chambers.
“Well, I dare say that will make the ride to the Lucas’s much more agreeable. I hate being squashed up in the carriage so.” Lydia peered into the vestibule’s mirror and pulled a curl out from under her bonnet.
“I am more thankful that Mr. Collins is already there, and we do not have to ride with him.” Kitty giggled.
Papa rolled his eyes. “Come, come, the carriage is waiting, unless of course you prefer to walk.”
“I am here, Papa.” Jane hurried down the steps and followed them out to the carriage.
The driver handed them up into the coach and they settled into the worn, cracked leather seats. Some warm bricks would have been nice, but no one had thought to ask for them, so they would just have to make do without. Still, Lydia was right; the ride was far more comfortable with two fewer ladies in the coach. Roomier and far easier on Elizabeth’s equanimity. It was one thing to endure Mama’s open rudeness to the Lucases in the privacy of their own home, but far different to anticipate witnessing it publicly. Perhaps that was why Papa permitted her to stay at home.
“Lizzy, Lizzy!” Lydia kicked her shin. “Pay attention, I am talking to you.”
“Pray stop that.” Elizabeth rubbed her shin. At least Lydia had not left a mark on her dress.
“I heard that the officers and Colonel Forster were invited to the party tonight. I expect they shall all be there. I want to dance and converse with all of them.”
“And why are you taking particular pains to tell me something so obvious?” Elizabeth bit her tongue. She really did need to moderate her sharp tone.
“Because every time we have seen him recently, you have hogged Mr. Wickham’s attention for yourself. We have all noticed. It is time for you to stop. You must share him with the rest of us.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. Had anyone else perceived her spending so much time in his company? Even if they had, was it truly such a bad thing? He was so very agreeable, and seemed equally pleased with her.
“Lydia, do not be so unkind. Lizzy has done nothing of the sort and you know it. You are just jealous that you must share the officers’ attention with anyone else.” Jane’s lips pursed into the nearest expression to a frown she could muster.
“That is not true! Have you seen the way she talks with him, keeping the rest of us away with her complicated conversation and—”
“Enough.” Papa brought his heel down sharply. “Fuss all you like about the attentions of young men. But when you impugn sensible conversation, I have had quite enough of it.”
Elizabeth leaned back into the squabs. At least Jane did not think her behavior distasteful. Nor did Papa, or he would have joined in the teasing. She could anticipate Mr. Wickham’s congenial company with a clear conscience.
Sir William himself greeted them at the door. They employed a housekeeper who was perfectly well able to perform the office, but whenever they entertained, he insisted on being the first face his guests would see. Charlotte had once confided that he thought it made him appear more affable.
Would they ever share such confidences again? It was difficult to see how.
“Mrs. Bennet is not with you tonight?” Sir William bowed deeply and waved a maid to take their wraps.
“I am afraid Mama is unwell this evening.” Jane’s smile, though pretty enough, felt faded and worn. “Our sister Mary has stayed behind to tend her. They both send their regrets tonight.”
“They shall both be greatly missed.” Sir William was a very bad liar. The unmitigated relief in his eyes betrayed him as surely as if he wore a sign around his neck.
Who could blame him though? Neither Mama nor Mary was by any means subtle about their feelings. It was to his credit that he would have invited them at all.
“Eliza!” Charlotte appeared at her father’s shoulder and grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “How very glad I am to see you tonight.”
“I would not dream of missing this.” Hopefully she was not as bad a liar as Sir William.
Watching others congratulate Charlotte on what surely must be a decision that would bring her unhappiness would be difficult at best. But there were things that one did to honor a friendship.
“Come in. I think there is company here you will find agreeable.” Charlotte looped her arm in Elizabeth’s and edged her way around the crowded room.
What space was not taken up by old, somewhat worn furniture was filled by people. Sir William always managed to invite more people than his house would comfortably hold. There was always greater than average risk of someone knocking over a candlestick with so many elbows and shoulders in play.
/>
“Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Wickham sauntered—or more rightly sidled— toward them, flanked by two other officers. “How welcome to see you here tonight.”
“Thank you very much. My younger sisters are here as well.” She inclined her head toward Kitty and Lydia at the opposite side of the room.
Mr. Wickham’s companions abandoned him in favor of the small flock of young ladies.
“Excuse me, Eliza, Papa is calling to me.” Charlotte dipped in a tiny curtsey and wove her way toward the vestibule.
“There was some talk that you might not be here tonight.” The corner of Mr. Wickham’s mouth turned up a bit.
“Indeed? Why ever would that be?”
“Perhaps I should not be the bearer of such news. Word has it that Miss Lucas was not the first recipient of Mr. Collins’s ... attentions. One might think that to be in the same party with her for so many hours together, could be more than you could bear. I would certainly not blame you at all if that were the case.”
Elizabeth gasped and pressed her hands to her cheeks. Every servant in Longbourn village, and consequently in Meryton, must have heard the story by now. Why had Mama not learned to keep her peace?
“Forgive me. I fear I have embarrassed you.” Mr. Wickham peered at her closely.
“I hardly know what to say. I had not considered that it would be widely known. I bear no ill-will toward my friend and am perfectly content to be in her company. It is entirely disquieting to think that anyone should believe otherwise.”
“I would not be concerned if I were you. You are here and that disproves any rumored animosity between you and your friend. Your reputation as one of the kindest ladies in Meryton is quite safe.” He leaned a modicum closer and whispered, “Moreover, the fact you were his first choice shows his good taste, and the fact that he is now with his second choice shows yours.”
Elizabeth fought back a snicker.
“That is much better. Good humor becomes you.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall try to remember that.”
“Your admirers would all prefer to see you thus.” His eye twitched in what surely must have been a wink.
“Now you flatter me. I would have thought you would know better than to offer such idle flattery to a young woman.”
“It is hardly idle.” Gracious, how his eyes sparkled in the candle light. The dimples in his cheeks were so very, very appealing. “If you will not allow me to speak of your charms, then perhaps I might be indulged a question.”
“Perhaps, sir. But I know you too well to permit you carte blanche in such a matter.” Her heart beat just a mite harder and faster.
“You wound me!”
“With my rapier wit?”
He chuckled. “I know your family were on rather intimate terms with the Bingleys. Have you any idea regarding their return to Netherfield?”
A chill snaked down her back.
“Forgive me, I have offended.”
“Not you, sir, not you.” She bit her lip and looked at the soot stained ceiling. “Though we had hoped otherwise, it now appears that the Bingleys are engaged in town for the remainder of the winter. It seems we shall not be enjoying their society any time soon.”
“I am very sorry to hear that. I know his company was particularly agreeable to your sister.”
“His company shall be missed.”
“But not his sisters’.” His lip curled back just a mite. “No, you did not by any means say that. I speak for myself. They both were far too much like Mr. Darcy for my liking.”
“Indeed, they are. At least Mr. Darcy’s company shall not be a burden this winter.” She bit her tongue. It would not do to share the contents of Jane’s post with him.
“Always one to look on the bright side. He was not one of the countryside’s chiefest charms.”
“So, you find our county charming, sir? What do you pronounce its best feature?”
He looked out over the crowded, noisy room. “Without a doubt, the company. I have hardly found a place more welcoming. You know the militia often meets with less friendly hosts. I have marveled at how agreeable Meryton and Hertfordshire have been. I must thank you, for you and your family have been a great part of that. Your parents’ approbation has certainly influenced the opinion of the rest of the community.”
“You impart a great deal of influence to my family. Perhaps you think too well of us, but it is a vice I can easily overlook.”
Oh, the way he smiled! No wonder Lydia yearned for his attentions.
“I pray all my vices are so easy to overlook.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Have you many of them?”
“I fear there are far more than you have noted.”
“I shall be more careful in my observations then.”
He stepped half a step closer and met her gaze. His eyes were so warm and sincere, full of ... of something she could not name. “I should very much enjoy being the object of your close study.”
Surely there must be some appropriate response, but none availed itself, so she stood gaping at him.
“You are doing it again!” Lydia stomped and crossed her arms, wedging herself between Elizabeth and Wickham.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth jumped back.
“Shall I not have my share of the conversation?” Lydia smiled up at Mr. Wickham, batting her eyes.
Wickham winked at Elizabeth. “Of course you shall.” He offered his arm. “I see a young lady I do not know. Will you introduce me?”
“That awful freckled thing? That is just Mary King. I cannot imagine why you would want to know her.”
“Nonetheless, it is right for us to be introduced, and who better to do the honors than you?”
“Oh, very well.” Lydia clung to Wickham’s arm. “You will see she is dull indeed and not worth knowing at all. Come along.”
Lydia pulled Wickham away, with a quick wrinkled-nose backward glance.
The impertinence might have upset her except Wickham followed with a long-suffering look of his own.
It was a shame to lose his company, but perhaps it was best not to spend the entire evening in conversation with him to the exclusion of others. Surely there would be the opportunity to enjoy more of his society later.
December 20, 1811 Meryton
The next morning, Mr. Collins left Longbourn very early—probably planning to partake of his breakfast at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth took her accustomed place at the round table, near the windows. How pleasant it was not to have Mr. Collins crowding her elbow. With only Jane sitting directly beside her, the normally cozy blue and white room felt positively spacious.
Racks of toast, preserves and butter dotted the table, with Mama’s prize chocolate pot standing sentinel near her seat. The faint spicy smell of chocolate tinged the room with warmth. There was nothing quite like Mama’s chocolate on a chilly morning.
Papa appeared at the breakfast table—something he had not done since Mr. Collins had been in residence. Though he hid behind his newspaper, it was pleasant to have his company again. Mama’s nerves were still frail, and she took no pleasure in Lydia’s recounting of the Lucas’s party. She rallied briefly as Wickham’s attentions to Elizabeth were described, but failed again at the news of Mary King’s new fortune.
“An heiress?” Mama gasped and pulled out her handkerchief. She fanned her face and gasped for breath. “Ten thousand pounds?”
“Her grandfather left it to her. Who knew she was in line for such favor? I wish someone would die and leave me ten thousand pounds.” Lydia crossed her arms and huffed.
“She got ever so much attention last night. It was quite shocking really. All the officers seemed to notice her for the first time. She is such a nasty freckled thing!” Kitty sniffed and buttered a slice of toast, crumbs flying to and fro.
“A fortune will always make a woman far more attractive than she deserves to be.” Mama’s face contorted into the horrid little mocking gesture she reserved to express her deepest disapproval. “Mis
s Mary King certainly does not compare to your beauty, Lydia dear, nor to Jane’s.”
However, to herself and Kitty ... no that thought was not helpful at all. Best not pursue that line of thinking. Elizabeth spooned preserves on her toast.
“Not that any of your beauty seems to matter at all these days. I cannot at all understand the behavior of these young men.”
“I cannot imagine it has changed very much from our own young days.” Papa sipped his coffee.
“Has not changed? Has not changed? How can you possibly say that? I see few similarities at best.” Mama dabbed her neck with her handkerchief.
“A pretty face has always attracted attention, but a fortune, that motivates a man to act.”
“What are you saying, sir? What do you mean of your own daughters?” Mama slapped the table. Glasses shook and china rattled.
“Only that they should not be surprised that Miss King is receiving so much attention now. It is normal, and it will pass. She will marry soon enough, I am sure, and the neighborhood shall return to normal. A little patience will restore nearly all their beaux to them.”
“So, you believe Mr. Bingley will return to us as well? I cannot understand his absence. It is entirely irresponsible. He owes it to the neighborhood—”
“Madam, the only thing he owes is his rent to Mr. Bascombe.” Papa did not lift his eyes from his paper.
“Be that as it may, I cannot fathom why he should continue to stay away.”
Jane closed her eyes and turned her face aside.
Had not Mama already discussed this issue sufficiently? Did she think there were new answers to be found now?
“Perhaps Mr. Bingley was not as fond of Meryton as we thought.” Elizabeth avoided Mama’s gaze as she spoke. “It is very possible that his affections were of the common and transient sort. Now he is in London, presumably among very pleasing society and surroundings. I am sure he finds enough to delight him that he has little memory of his time here among us.”
“Little memory! Little memory! How can you say such a thing? How can you speak of your sister so? She has been very ill-used indeed. You suggest that she is not the most beautiful creature of his acquaintance? How can you speak of her so?” Mama gesticulated wildly, nearly knocking over the chocolate pot.
