Chapter 3
A SURFEIT OF SUITORS
Mr. Bennet was a mixture of wittiness and caprice.
He enjoyed few things other than losing himself in a good book in the solace of his library.
When he was not doing that, laughing at the ridiculousness of others, including his own family, suited him.
On this day, he could hardly wait to impart the intelligence of the impending arrival of Mr. Collins, an estranged cousin and the beneficiary of the Longbourn estate’s entail.
Mr. Collins’s purposes were everything that might be deemed as good.
The gentleman intended to extend an olive branch to the Bennets.
It was his way of apologising for the unease that kept his own father, now deceased, and Mr. Bennet apart for so many years.
He planned to apologise for the circumstances of his birth and make amends to the lady of the manor by offering his hand in marriage to one of the Bennet daughters.
Oh, what a happy day! With Jane as good as married to Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied that Mr. Collins should have his choice of any of her remaining daughters; even Lizzy, should he wish it.
Mrs. Bennet knew her husband had arranged for the marriage of either of his two eldest daughters to a Mr. Caseman of Lincolnshire, but she also knew his stipulation that they would first be allowed time to find husbands of their own choosing.
Mr. Caseman, with his meagre estate miles and miles far away in Lincolnshire, was nothing in comparison to Mr. Bingley with his five thousand pounds a year and his estate just three short miles away.
Nor was Mr. Caseman anything of consequence as compared to the heir of Longbourn in Mrs. Bennet’s estimation.
Upon his punctual arrival, the peace-making gentleman was received with all the cordiality that was due a man armed with such honourable intentions.
Whereas Mr. Bennet had little to say to the guest who observed his surrounding with a proud air of ownership, Mrs. Bennet was quite agreeable.
Here was a man who meant to make her life a bit easier. What could be the harm in that?
By the end of dinner, Mr. Collins’s character was decided.
Only Mrs. Bennet and Mary could endure the man with admiration: the former for the obvious reason—his being a future son-in-law and the latter for his well-expressed benevolence towards the family as a whole.
To everyone else, he was deemed self-important, overbearing, and quite ridiculous.
As the days went by, Mr. Collins grew even more tiresome.
He was determined to make himself exceedingly agreeable to everyone, and scarcely did the girls have time when he did not insist upon attending one or all of them in one way or another.
Settling upon which one of them he wished to admire most seemed a momentous task.
On that particular day, Elizabeth escaped the absurdity of it all with the excuse of reading a letter from her friend Georgiana.
Elizabeth walked to her favourite bench and opened her letter.
Dearest Elizabeth, the letter began. I am delighted to be in company with my brother since his arrival in town after visiting with his friend Mr. Charles Bingley.
You will by now have met Mr. Bingley’s sisters and thus are fully cognizant of my reason for having never mentioned them before.
Please do not think I was remiss in not having mentioned my brother’s being in proximity to you whilst in Hertfordshire.
By the time I learned of his plans, he had already come and gone.
I am sorry he did not have an opportunity to meet you.
When he spoke of having been there, I immediately asked if he had made your acquaintance.
Of course, he had not, but he did speak of meeting other members of your family, including your dearest sister, Miss Bennet.
He spoke of her having taken ill at Netherfield on the day before he took his leave.
I pray your sister has returned to full health.
I can hardly wait to make her acquaintance.
Elizabeth frowned. Was her friend merely being polite when expressing her brother’s opinion of the people of Hertfordshire?
If he were half as uncharitable in his praise of them as they had been of him, then there was little possibility of masking his disdain.
On the other hand, Georgiana was at least nine years his junior.
Perhaps there were some things an older brother did not share with his younger sister.
Add to that, he was her guardian. With the death of her father, Georgiana often likened her brother to more of a parent whenever she made mention of him in her letters.
Elizabeth set her missive aside and headed out for a walk to Oakham Mount, her favourite place, accompanied solely by her musings.
On her way out the door, she espied Mr. Collins busily engaged in a game of backgammon with her father.
Seeing the two of them together recalled her to her father’s plans.
The odds of her escaping his pre-arranged marital scheme were growing against her.
With Jane just as likely to marry Mr. Bingley as not, and Elizabeth with nary a prospect in sight, there was the possibility the latter might be expected to marry that ridiculous man, Mr Collins, or that complete stranger Mr. Caseman.
Elizabeth took heart. With the militia’s arrival in town, perhaps she might meet someone of her own choosing still.
She cast a parting glance over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. One can always hope.
The day before, the young ladies of Longbourn with their cousin in tow, had the good fortune of meeting the handsomest, most amiable officer ever to grace the town of Meryton—at least that is how Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, described the gentleman.
Elizabeth was inclined to agree; however, being an older sister and thereby expected to set an example of proper decorum for the younger girls, she kept her opinion to herself.
That did not lessen her enthusiasm when the coach conveyed Elizabeth, her sisters, and their cousin Mr. Collins to a dinner party at her Aunt and Uncle Philips’s home in Meryton.
When they entered the drawing room, the girls had the pleasure of hearing that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle’s invitation and was then in the house.
There was nothing to do but take their seats and occupy themselves in a manner that made them oblivious of their cousin’s attentions to their Aunt Philips while they waited for the gentleman who must certainly be on her younger sisters’ minds and Elizabeth’s as well.
When at last he entered the room, Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself.
The agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on the weather, made her feel the skill of such a speaker surely must render the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic interesting.
He spoke of many things: his new profession in the militia, his love of life, and his youthful days in Derbyshire.
“Derbyshire is your home, sir?” What a coincidence this is! “I travelled to Derbyshire just last summer with my aunt and uncle from town. I visited many beautiful places including Pemberley, where I made the acquaintance of Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
Crossing and then uncrossing his long legs, Mr. Wickham cleared his throat. “I suppose if you have met Miss Darcy, then you may have heard of me. No doubt she would have said something to you about me.”
“She often speaks of her brother in her missives and occasionally she makes mention of her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am afraid she has never spoken of you, sir. Why would she? Have you a connection with her family?”
“Indeed. I have been associated with her family since my birth.”
This information excited Elizabeth’s curiosity. “You will not be surprised to learn that Mr. Darcy was a guest at Netherfield Park, a neighbouring estate of Longbourn, a short while back.”
“Indeed. This is a surprise, but I must confess that it has been some time since Darcy and I last encountered each other. I know nothing of his comings and goings of late.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. You spoke of enjoying a connection with the family. I only supposed—”
“It is a long story, which I am certain you do not wish to know. Pray how did you and Darcy get along whilst he was in Hertfordshire. With his residing at a neighbouring estate, I imagine the two of you had many opportunities to be in each other’s company.”
“I never truly met the gentleman. His stay was of a short duration.”
“Then you have no opinion of him?”
“Nothing of which to form a true sketch of his character. I have heard varying accounts of him.”
Wickham leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself. He and I were once considered very close.”
Elizabeth could not help but look surprised.
“It is just as well that Miss Darcy has never spoken of me. She is just like her brother, which causes me to marvel at your being acquaintances. She and her brother are descendants of nobility, their late mother’s brother being the Earl of Matlock.
I do not mind saying they are a very proud lot who barely countenance those who are not their equals in consequence. ”
Elizabeth shifted in her seat. It was one thing to allow for foul sentiments spoken against Mr. Darcy, someone whom she had not met, but had made a poor name for himself amongst her friends and family.
It was quite another to cast aspersions on her friend.
Gossiping about one’s own friend is something I dare never tolerate.
“Sir, I beg you to refrain from expressing such harsh sentiments about someone whom I consider a dear friend, even if our acquaintance is of short duration. You may very well have differences with Miss Darcy, but that can have nothing at all to do with me.”
Respecting her wishes, the gentleman spoke no more on the subject of Georgiana Darcy; however, his sentiments towards her brother simply would not be repressed, such had been the magnitude of Mr. Darcy’s offences against him.
The more he talked, the more she listened—even encouraged, for she considered that both Pemberley’s housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, and Mr. Wickham had spoken words along a similar vein, the difference being the former’s commendations were fashioned by loyalty, and the latter’s recriminations were wrought by injustice.
All in all, Mr. Wickham had given a pretty good account of things.
In fact, his words carried more weight as he and Mr. Darcy were reared together and were once considered friends.
Surely one’s childhood friend is more privy to certain unflattering aspects of one’s character than a household servant whose very existence depends upon blind loyalty.
Before they parted for the evening, Mr. Wickham remained of a mind to discuss the gentleman from Derbyshire. “I wonder whether Darcy is likely to return to the country in the foreseeable future.”
“Do you refer to the upcoming Netherfield ball, sir? I am aware all of the officers are invited. Will your plans to attend be affected by the possibility of his being in attendance?”
“I see no reason for my plans being adversely affected by Darcy’s presence.” He took her hand in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You must save room on your dance card for me, or I shall be sorely disappointed.”
How it pleased Elizabeth to be so adored.
She could think of nothing other than Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way to Longbourn Village.
His tale of the injustices of Mr. Darcy told her a couple things.
Were the lieutenant a man in want of a wife, the chance she would be a viable choice was small.
Unless she had read him completely wrong, a man of his habits of taste would likely require a wife with her own fortune.
She might enjoy his smiles and his charming and amiable conversation, but she still had the task of finding and accepting her own husband before it was too late.
I am growing increasingly concerned that my time is running out!