Chapter Eight
Though she wished to be anywhere but in the same room as Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth found herself seated beside him with Jane on the gentleman’s other side and Colonel Fitzwilliam on her right. After services, she walked about the church yard on the colonel’s arm, which raised some eyebrows, but Elizabeth kept repeating that the colonel was first cousin to Jane’s betrothed.
Like it or not, it bothered her to view the gentleman, with Jane at his side and speaking to Mr. Williamson, just as he said he would. Where their disagreement had nearly stripped Elizabeth of her reason, it appeared none of her admittance had kept him from his mission. Could he not simply have called upon the vicar tomorrow when she was not about to view the man’s commitment to her sister?
“Sir William asked if we all might come to supper tomorrow evening,” Mrs. Bennet told the others when they arrived back home after services.
“That was kind,” Jane said.
“They have ignored us for months,” Elizabeth corrected.
“What did you say?” Mr. Bennet demanded of his wife.
Mrs. Bennet shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I have missed my regular chats with Lady Lucas and the others in the community.”
Elizabeth said in irritation, “The Lucases hope to claim a connection to Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. They have learned something of the gentlemen’s connection to the Earl of Matlock and to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. There have been no invitations for more than eight months. My vote would be to refuse.”
Mrs. Bennet dug the toe of her shoes further into the rug. “I have accepted the invitation.”
“Without asking the rest of us?” Mr. Bennet demanded. “Without speaking to Mr. Darcy or the colonel to know their preferences?”
“Surely Mr. Darcy will choose to attend if Jane does,” Mrs. Bennet argued.
“The rest of you may decide as you choose, but I shall not honor the Lucases with my presence,” Elizabeth declared stubbornly.
“You may make my excuses also,” her father ordered.
“And mine,” Mary remarked.
When Darcy had approached the local vicar, Mr. Williamson spoke his regrets, for he was to be away from the vicarage on Monday, and so they would meet on Tuesday instead. In many ways, he had known disappointment: In other ways, he knew relief. It was very important that his marriage to Miss Bennet occur soon, if he was to bring her to child; yet, the realization that Miss Elizabeth was the very same girl he had treated so poorly upon his return to society said he should leave the Bennets as they were before his introduction to Miss Jane Bennet.
“ But the Bennet family requires your intervention ,” he told himself as he dressed for the evening meal. “ You will be assisting all of Miss Bennet’s sisters, even if one particular young lady does not wish for your presence in her life .”
A light tap at the door preceded the colonel’s entrance. “Were you aware that Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Mary have refused to attend this evening’s supper party?”
Darcy knew he frowned. He had specifically dressed to impress Miss Elizabeth Bennet. For once, he wanted her approval, even if it were for nothing more than the cut of his coat. He had not reasoned why he had gone to such extremes, but he had done so, nevertheless.
“I was not aware,” he admitted, “but Miss Bennet said Sir William and Lady Lucas were long-time friends of the family. Sir William was knighted by the King for service to Meryton as its mayor.”
“Miss Kitty said Miss Elizabeth objects to this invitation because the Lucases and others have shunned the family for multiple months and this sudden invitation comes only due to our presence in the Bennet household.”
“Shunned?” Darcy asked. “Assuredly, the Bennets are not first tier gentry, but they are still gentry. Do you know why the family would not be the center of society in this part of Hertfordshire?”
“I do not,” the colonel admitted, “but perhaps it has something to do with our Aunt Catherine. Her clergyman is . . .”
“Mr. Bennet’s heir,” Darcy supplied. “A distant cousin.”
“The cleric is married to Sir William’s eldest daughter,” the colonel explained. “The twit supposedly proposed to Miss Elizabeth, but she refused. From what my father said of the man I am surprised anyone accepted him. According to the earl, Mr. Collins, quite literally, bows and scrapes before our aunt. Yet, I suppose as Miss Lucas, again according to Miss Kitty, who was seven and twenty at the time, was prepared to accept any offer of marriage.”
“Mr. Collins sounds as if he ‘toadies’ to our aunt. Any wife of his would have a hard time with Lady Catherine. Assuredly, if Miss Elizabeth had been desperate enough to agree to the proposal, the young lady and our aunt would be constantly butting heads. Miss Elizabeth does not tolerate fools and neither does our aunt, unless they are bowing at her feet.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention, after Miss Elizabeth’s refusal, for which I would have loved to have been present, for Miss Kitty says it was hilarious, Mr. Collins suppered with the Lucases and proposed and was accepted by Miss Lucas on the very same evening as Miss Elizabeth denied him,” his cousin shared.
“So, our aunt ordered the cleric to return with a bride?” Darcy suggested.
“It sounds as such,” his cousin confirmed. “Could that be the cause of the ‘uneasiness’ between the families?”
“I suppose we will soon discover the truth of it. Obviously, the idea that the former Miss Lucas will replace Mrs. Bennet as mistress of Longbourn could easily be a sore spot,” Darcy reasoned.
However, the colonel frowned, “It would seem to me such would be a ‘good’ reason for the Bennets to avoid the Lucases, not the other way around.”
Darcy’s well-practiced manners were barely enough to cover his continued frustrations with how his proposal to Miss Jane Bennet was progressing. First, his betrothed was more stand-offish than he would like, especially as he required an heir in a short period of time. Secondly, his lady’s dowry was minimal at best, which could be problematic if he had to bargain to purchase his own Pemberley land from Bertram Darcy. Now, there was some mystery regarding the Bennets’ relationship with a local family, who was theoretically connected to both the Fitzwilliam family and the earldom, as well as to Darcy.
Finally, and most importantly, he was more attracted to his betrothed’s sister than he was to Miss Bennet, though the woman was truly fine of face. Somewhere in his mind, Darcy recognized Miss Elizabeth’s approval would be worth more than ten such accolades from her elder sister.
“We should take my carriage. It will be more comfortable. Moreover, perhaps one of the ladies will say something to clarify what we should expect.” Darcy had originally thought he and Fitzwilliam could claim the company of Miss Bennet and one of his betrothed’s sisters, preferably Miss Elizabeth. Like it or not, he enjoyed the way the lady led the conversation and seemed to wish to know his opinion, even when Miss Elizabeth believed otherwise. In contrast, Miss Bennet preferred when he led, which was not always his strength in social settings.
On the short journey, Mrs. Bennet fidgeted more than usual and jabbered on about how long she and Mrs. Lucas had been friends. Fortunately, it was not a long journey, for the Lucases lived along the main road to Meryton in a “lodge,” not a manor house.
Miss Kitty explained, “Sir William purchased the lodge after receiving his knighthood. He also sold his mercantile and stables and became a gentleman farmer.”
Darcy glanced at his cousin who nodded slightly. As suspected, the Bennets outranked the Lucases, so why would the Lucases avoid the Bennets’ company?
Elizabeth had watched as Mr. Darcy’s carriage had rolled away from Longbourn. She then sought out Mary. Elizabeth had agreed to play duets with her sister. Mary had more technique than Elizabeth, but her sister, in Elizabeth’s opinion, “attacked” the keys. She meant to soften Mary’s approach. She knew Mary hoped to play for Samuel Ericks when the gentleman came, along with the Gardiners, for a few days at Christmastide. She also hoped Ericks would soon speak his proposal to Mary.
“Are you prepared for my interruption?” she asked jovially as she entered the small sitting room that held the instrument.
“Are you assured you do not mind?” Mary asked. “It seems no matter how much I practice, I never improve.”
“Such is because you wish to be perfect instead of simply proficient,” Elizabeth declared. “Our dear Lord knows my fingers forget the pattern more often than nought, but . . .”
“But you have a lovely voice,” Marcy countered. “I am worse than a cat whose tail is caught in the door.”
Elizabeth could not disguise her chuckle, but she did not comment on the obvious. Instead, she said, “Choose something simple that fits my skills.”
Mary thumbed through a stack of music sheets and chose one. “You should play this one.” She set it on the stand.
“If you insist,” Elizabeth said as she shifted her shoulders and placed her fingers on the keys. It took her several starts to perform the beginning correctly, but, eventually, she was playing the song, though not exactly as it was written and occasionally sliding from one note to the next without clarity.
“That was beautiful,” Mary remarked when Elizabeth finished.
“Not faithful, though. Assuredly not perfect,” Elizabeth countered.
“How do you play so easily?” Mary pleaded.
“In truth, sometimes, I hum the song beneath my breath. Such is why you hear me slur some of the notes. Other times, especially when I am without an audience, I imagine myself looking out on the valley from Oakham Mount or upon the loveliness of the lines of a new foal when he learns to gallop across an open field for the first time. I imagine if I said the same thing to Kitty, she would imagine the swirl of colors on a dance floor as the women twirl around and around. What moves you, Mary? And do not tell me something you think I want to hear.”
Her sister paused as if considering several choices, which surprised Elizabeth. It was a shame she had never considered Mary’s hopes and dreams previously. Such would not happen again, for Elizabeth had finally chosen her role in Mary’s life.
“I love the color of the sunlight as it streams through the church’s glass murals,” her sister admitted. “It is as if the will-o’-the-wisp, of which our grandmother told us when we were young, truly exists.”
“Then play the piece. Do not worry if your finger does not reach far enough for the correct key or not. Just enjoy the wisps as they jump about the room. Tease the notes as the wisp might tease you.”
Mary asked, “Will not people think I am odd?”
“Should we care what others think? Sometimes, Mary, a person must do what he or she wants to do, not what he is told is correct. Young children do not have the restrictions society places upon adults. Do you not wish for your children to know the wonder of searching for a will-o’-the-wisp rather than the reality others wish to drive down their throats? If someone loves you, he will be happy that you are happy. If perfection is his only reason to admire you, both you and he will be forever falling short of the mark,” Elizabeth advised. “Now, play. I wish to view the wisps also and feel Grandmother Bennet’s arms about me one more time.” She purposely closed her eyes and waited.
Mary’s first three attempts at the opening bars were stiff, but on the fourth try, the music came alive. Elizabeth sneaked a peek at her sister before closing her eyes again. Mary was smiling largely and swaying slightly in place as she played. At length, the music ended.
When they both turned their heads to a nearby sound, their father was looking at them fondly. “I have never heard you play so beautifully, Mary,” he said as he entered the room. “What was your inspiration?”
“Grandmother Bennet’s tales of the will-o’-the-wisp,” Mary explained. “They were playing in the church in the lights of the windows during Mr. Williamson's sermon today. Elizabeth suggested I play what makes me happy, for it would also make the wisps happy.”
“I miss your grandmother’s tales,” he said with a sigh, “and I miss when you girls were all scampering about with ribbons tied in your hair. Do you think you might play a song that holds those memories?”
“Perhaps it is not a particular song,” Mary suggested, “but rather the mood it evokes. Elizabeth says she sees the view from Oakham Mount and the foals in the field. I see the wisps. Come. Hold Elizabeth’s hand and simply listen. Let us see what we might conjure up together.”
Mr. Bennet pulled a straight-backed chair closer. “What must I do?” he asked.
“Hold my hand, Papa,” Elizabeth instructed, “just as you did when each of us was small. You were our rock while we experienced the world.”
“And you girls were the brightest stars heaven had ever known.”
They all three sat while Mary played the tune again, eyes closed and smiles wider than ever. When Mary was finished and they each had his or her dream pay a visit, though this time, in truth, Elizabeth’s ‘dream’ had been one of dancing with Mr. Darcy and his close study of her person, her father said, “I am grieved, Mary, that I have not been more supportive of your love of music. I have treated you unfairly, which makes me a miserable father. I ask for your forgiveness.”
Tears appeared in Mary’s eyes as she rose to embrace their father. Elizabeth looked on in contentment as Mr. Bennet’s arms came about his middle daughter. “I love you, Papa,” Mary hiccuped through her tears.
“And I love you, my girl,” he said solemnly.
Meanwhile at Lucas Lodge, introductions had been made, and Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were being highly courted by the Lucases. Lady Lucas was saying for the third time, “Our Charlotte will be quite beside herself with joy to learn we have dined with two of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s nephews. I am confident Mr. Collins will carry word of your presence in Hertfordshire to the great house.”
Neither Darcy nor Fitzwilliam liked the idea of their aunt knowing their business. “If you would, ma’am,” Darcy began, “I would appreciate it if you would temper Mr. Collins’s eagerness to inform her ladyship of my betrothal to Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine would be quite out of sorts if she thought her cleric knew of my happy tidings before she did. As I customarily call upon her at specific times of the year to know with confidence all her books are in order for tax purposes, I had planned to call in at Rosings Park once I settled everything with Mr. Williamson tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” Sir William declared. “We would not wish to have Mr. Collins reprimanded for superseding the announcement of a marriage by her ladyship’s nephew. It would be best to wait to inform Charlotte of our good fortune of taking Mr. Darcy’s and the colonel’s acquaintances until her ladyship mentions the connection herself, Lady Lucas.”
“Of course, I would not wish Charlotte or Mr. Collins to displease Lady Catherine,” Lady Lucas said obediently, but Darcy knew the woman felt great disappointment.
Fitzwilliam claimed the opportunity to ask of the local militia. “When Darcy and I walked into the village several days prior, I noticed a militia going through its drills. Where are the lads from?”
Sir William frowned. “If I understand what Mrs. Bennet told my lady wife, most are from your home shire of Derbyshire. There are also some from Yorkshire and Lincolnshire and quite a few of late from Herts.”
“And their colonel?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Colonel Forster,” Sir William supplied. “Do you know him?”
“A younger son of Lord Greaves,” Fitzwilliam remarked. “I thought perhaps they might have a commander who had seen action in the war. The men I observed were executing more, shall we say, ‘sophisticated’ drills.”
“I believe that is at Captain Baggett’s hands,” Sir William provided. “The captain was injured in Spain, I believe it was.”
“We should see if we know any serving here,” Darcy suggested. “We could carry letters home to their families.”
“You knew at least one of the former officers,” Miss Maria Lucas said, demanding her share of the conversation. She had been flirting with Fitzwilliam all evening, though Darcy’s cousin had characteristically ignored the girl.
“I fear I do not understand,” Darcy admitted.
In a provincial manner, the girl appeared pleased to share her tale. “Did not Miss Bennet tell you of her youngest sister’s marriage to a man who claimed to be your father’s godson?”
Darcy’s stomach plummeted at the idea of Mr. George Wickham being involved. “I see.” He placed his serviette on the table and stood abruptly.
Darcy was followed closely by his cousin, who said, “We were correct, Darcy.” Fitzwilliam addressed Sir William, “Obviously, sir, there was a purposeful intimidation and humiliation to be delivered as a plate of crow upon my cousin’s betrothed and her family. We thought a hand of communion had been extended, but Mr. Bennet and his middle daughters have judged this evening correctly. In my opinion, the King made a mistake in presenting you with a knighthood, for ‘knights’ should act with honor.”
Darcy bowed and reached a hand to Miss Bennet who appeared embarrassed by his actions, rather than those of her neighbors. “It is late, my dear. We should speak our farewells.”
Jane Bennet looked to her mother to lodge an objection, and, for a moment. Darcy thought his betrothed and Mrs. Bennet would each perform accordingly. At length, though, Miss Bennet wisely rose and accepted his hand. Miss Kitty followed her sister’s lead, but Mrs. Bennet obviously thought to speak to the Lucases’ innocence, that is, until Miss Bennet said, “Mr. Darcy is correct, ma’am. We should return to Longbourn.”
Lady Lucas and her daughter appeared stunned, but neither offered an apology or even a word of protest. As the colonel walked away with Mrs. Bennet on his arm and trailed by Miss Kitty, Darcy’s cousin said, “I am confident Aunt Catherine will be most ‘displeased’ that her nephews were purposely placed in an uncomfortable situation, meant as to be staged for the purposes of mockery.”
All remained unspoken until they were in Darcy’s carriage again, and Mr. Farrin had set a course for Longbourn. Only then did he look to his betrothed to demand, “Might I be made aware of Mr. Wickham’s influence on your family?” he growled. Darcy was angry enough to strike someone. As he looked on, both Mrs. Bennet and Jane dropped their heads in submission. As he seethed and studied the pair, a horror he had attempted to ignore arrived: Someday, Miss Bennet was likely to be as silly as was her mother. Then what would they share? Nothing but contempt. Eventually, Jane Bennet’s beauty, too, would fade. She would have nothing to offer him, and he would have nothing to offer her.They would be strangers, not lovers or even companions.
Finally, Miss Kitty cleared her throat. “Maria Lucas wished to remind us that our sister Lydia had run off with Mr. Wickham. Such is the reason our family is shunned.” The girl lifted her chin in defiance, which reminded Darcy of Miss Elizabeth, for she would surely dare him to know contempt of her family.
“Another sister?” he demanded.
“My youngest,” Mrs. Bennet admitted softly.
“And she was ruined by Mr. Wickham?” he pressed, but did not give any a chance to respond. “Naturally, Mr. Wickham chose the youngest. Young ladies often possess silly thoughts of love and devotion.” Such had been his sister Georgiana’s thoughts. “How old?" he hissed.
“Fifteen at the time,” Miss Bennet said softly, her eyes still downcast. “Sixteen now.”
“ Fifteen. Just as it was with Georgiana ,” his mind announced. He had turned from Miss Elizabeth Bennet when she was but fifteen, for he had thought her too young to know the marriage bed and the responsibilities of Pemberley, but Wickham would have thought Darcy foolish for not seducing the young woman. George Wickham had left more than one “girl” with child. Instead of having a woman he desired, Darcy had been honorable, and now he was stuck with a woman he was coming to despise.
“Who paid the girl’s dowry or did Mr. Wickham not marry her?” he snapped.
“Uncle Gardiner,” Miss Kitty explained, “and Papa paid Mr. Wickham’s debts in Meryton and purchased a lieutenancy in the Regulars. Mr. Wickham and Lydia are in Newcastle.”
It all now made sense, but he had fallen for the lure of Miss Bennet’s beauty. He could not call off the wedding without naming Jane Bennet as a “tart,” but, if he married her, he would forever be strapped with Mr. Wickham.
“I cannot discuss this with any equanimity at this moment, but we must speak again, Miss Bennet, before we call upon Mr. Williamson tomorrow,” he ordered.
They all remained perfectly quiet until Mr. Farrin pulled the coach before the house, and Fitzwilliam stepped down to assist the ladies to the ground. Each hurried inside.
“Are you coming in, Darcy?” his cousin asked with a hint of concern.
“It would do me well to assist Mr. Farrin with the team. Leave the front door unlocked. I will lock it when I return to my quarters.”
“Your honor says you must marry Miss Bennet,” Fitzwilliam warned.
“If this deception was purposeful, I will chance the rumors!” Darcy growled. “To hell with all of them!” As his cousin closed the door and gave Mr. Farrin instructions, Darcy buried his face in his hands. “Damn her,” he growled, and he was not referring to Miss Bennet. Despite their “antagonism,” Darcy had thought Miss Elizabeth the most honest woman he had ever encountered. Now, he was not so confident. She had kept the family secret also.