Chapter V #2
“I thought it would be obvious. As Mr. Wickham’s character is now suspect, I must question his behavior in Meryton. I know of no ruined ladies, and the shopkeepers have not spoken of debts, but I cannot ignore the possibility.”
“And if he proves to have behaved himself?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Then there is nothing more to be done. The regiment will leave, and Mr. Wickham’s reputation will remain intact. I doubt he has reformed here, so I suspect an investigation would discover activities that will expose him to all.”
For a long moment, Mary considered this, then she sighed. “I suppose you have not done this to spread rumors for the sake of gossip. What I cannot understand is why you did not expose him or tell Papa.”
“Because, Mary,” replied Elizabeth, “exposing him is not an option, for Mr. Wickham’s reputation is excellent and it would be a matter of competing tales—I have no direct knowledge, after all, only what Mr. Darcy has told me.
My other motivation is to see Mr. Wickham called to account for his deeds.
If I confront him, I am certain he will just depart in the night, which will leave him free to continue as he wishes in another neighborhood. He has done it before.
“Besides,” added Elizabeth, “I did mention this to Papa.”
“Can I suppose he declined to take action?”
Elizabeth sighed and shrugged. “Papa said he would consider it, but as yet he has done nothing.”
Mary considered this and offered a tight nod. “Gossip by itself is sinful, but you have considered this carefully and acted to prevent greater consequences. While I do not condone it, I understand why you have chosen this response.”
“Thank you, Mary,” replied Elizabeth, a hint of irony in her voice.
“Do you need my assistance?”
“Another pair of eyes would not go amiss,” replied Elizabeth. “My primary concern is Lydia.”
A grimace was Mary’s response—knowing Mary and her opinion of Lydia as she did, Elizabeth knew her sister agreed with her about their youngest sibling.
“What of Kitty?”
Elizabeth allowed an affectionate smile. “Kitty is a co-conspirator. I made a few comments to them when they came to Watford, and when Kitty heard, it aroused her suspicions. Kitty’s task is to watch Lydia and ensure she does not do something foolish.”
“Very well,” said Mary. “I shall also remain watchful. Thank you for your honesty, Lizzy. I shall keep watch on Lydia as much as I am able.”
With those words, Mary stood and left the room before Elizabeth could so much as think about inviting her to stay.
Perhaps it was best to take matters slowly; Mary would regard any blatant overtures with suspicion.
As she recognized her sister’s solitude now, Elizabeth wanted to show Mary more attention, to bring her more into the bosom of the family and treat her as a dear sister rather than the tiresome young woman she could sometimes be.
Regarding Mary’s promise to watch Lydia, Elizabeth was of two minds.
Elizabeth did not reject her assistance and knew that Mary could be indefatigable when she put her mind to it.
What rendered Elizabeth uncertain was whether Mary could restrain her judgmental attitude, which would cause nothing but argument, and if she could even watch Lydia at all.
The girls were not close sisters, the spats between them a product of Mary’s rigid morality and Lydia’s opinion of Mary, which was not at all kind.
Mary would not open her mouth at an inopportune time and ruin what Elizabeth was trying to accomplish, but she might provoke an argument.
Sighing, Elizabeth turned down the coverlet and blew out the candle, settling into bed.
There was no reason to worry, for there was nothing she could do to influence events more than she already had.
Though Elizabeth wished Mr. Wickham to receive the just consequences for his actions, the most important point was that she protected the town.
If Mr. Wickham fled before the consequences descended on his head, Elizabeth would call the matter closed and satisfy herself with that result.
THE NEXT MORNING, ELIZABETH learned something unexpected—she was not certain how to greet the news if she was honest.
It was one of those beautiful spring days perfect for walking, and though Elizabeth had been out earlier that morning, she was not opposed to going out again.
The sisters all decided to walk out to Meryton, even Mary, who often eschewed such outings for her books and the pianoforte.
As they walked, Lydia and Kitty ranged on ahead, with Mary following them, and though Elizabeth thought her scrutiny was rather obvious, Lydia did not seem to notice.
With Jane by her side, Elizabeth enjoyed the exercise, watching birds diving and bees buzzing until the party reached the town.
In recent months, one could not enter Meryton without encountering pockets of red-clad men strutting about in their finery, and that day was no different.
Though they had come to peruse the shops, Elizabeth had known at least half of their time would be spent conversing with the officers.
It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the east.
When they came upon a group containing Lydia’s favorites, the girl turned her steps toward them without a glance back or a comment to her sisters, and having no other choice, Elizabeth followed along with the rest of her sisters, noting that Mary was keeping a close watch, and Kitty allowed no distance to open between her and Lydia.
The men were, of course, Lieutenants Denny, Sanderson, and Chamberlayne, three of the four men Lydia talked about without cessation.
The one who was not present was the one about whom Elizabeth was most interested.
She was soon to learn the reason for his absence.
“Oh, Wickham is away from Meryton on business for the colonel,” said Mr. Denny, showing Lydia an affable grin.
Then he turned a challenging look on Elizabeth.
“He should return before the week’s end.
If you will excuse me, I had thought another of your sisters was more concerned with Wickham’s doings. ”
“If you are speaking of me,” replied Elizabeth, not at all pleased by his comment, “you cannot be further from the truth. Why, before I went into Kent, I saw Mr. Wickham but little, and only once since his return.”
Mr. Denny nodded easily. “Wickham will be most disappointed to learn of it, Miss Elizabeth, for he has made his esteem for you clear.”
While the conversation continued around her, Elizabeth did not participate, instead pondering what she had learned.
The first matter was Mr. Wickham’s absence, for if he had already determined to disappear, the best time to retreat would be when he was away on regiment business.
Elizabeth could not be certain, but she suspected he was not yet ready to depart Meryton.
The more concerning matter for her was Mr. Denny’s suggestion that Wickham expressed his “esteem” for her.
The assertion might be nothing more than Denny recalling a time when Elizabeth had often been in his company.
However, it may be more dangerous, for Mr. Wickham might have fixed his interest on her for reasons Elizabeth did not wish to contemplate, or it may even indicate he had heard something of the information Elizabeth had been so carefully spreading throughout the community.
When a voice startled her from her reverie, Elizabeth looked up, seeing an officer regarding her.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” said Lieutenant Chamberlayne. “If you will pardon me, you appeared deep in thought.”
Elizabeth regarded the lieutenant. She did not know Chamberlayne so well as Denny and Sanderson, but what she had observed of him told her that he did not possess Denny’s ease in company, and was not shy like Sanderson, who was little more than a downy-cheeked boy.
Chamberlayne was quieter and more observant, unless she was mistaken.
“I appear to have been wool-gathering, Mr. Chamberlayne.”
“You will forgive me if I have always thought you were capable of deep thought.”
With a laugh, Elizabeth said: “That is not a comment which requires forgiveness. It is more of a compliment than anything.”
The lieutenant smiled and nodded, but then turned serious. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but there is a matter about which I wish to ask you.”
Elizabeth nodded but did not reply, waiting for him to ask his question. Chamberlayne did not wait.
“Your reaction to Denny’s comment a moment ago about Wickham struck me as interesting.
When I consider the matter at length, I recall you did appear to esteem Wickham when he came to Meryton, but your regard has cooled since then.
When we visited Longbourn, Wickham appeared uncomfortable in your company. Is aught amiss between you?”
It was more than Elizabeth had expected from an officer, even one she thought observant.
The question was how to respond. There were several ways she could use this to her advantage—the opening was not one she would allow to pass her by.
In her campaign, she had focused her efforts on the people of Meryton; Mr. Chamberlayne was offering her the chance to publish something of Mr. Wickham’s behavior that would reach the ears of the officers from one of their own.
The question was how to go about giving him enough information to make him pause, but not send him running to accuse Mr. Wickham.
“If Mr. Wickham was uncomfortable,” said Elizabeth, choosing her path, “that is his own doing. The truth is that I do not know Mr. Wickham well at all.”
Mr. Chamberlayne contemplated her comment. “What do you mean?”