23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
December 30, 1811 Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire Elizabeth
L ucas Lodge bustled with activity. There were groups of people in every public room. Some played cards, some gossiped. Others frequented the refreshment table. The largest room in the house had been cleared, and the rugs rolled up to prepare for dancing. Mary offered to play first, content to dance later. James stood at her side, turning the pages.
Elizabeth had missed Charlotte that season. Had she come to Meryton, this would have been the last time they were in company until after the season. If fortune favored her, Elizabeth would be engaged before returning to Longbourn. Her aunt and uncle had assured her that there would be no need for her to go back if she did not wish it, but she did want to marry from her home parish.
What a thought to be having at this moment! She could not help herself. Life was to be very different in the coming months. There would be no Mrs. Bennet to keep her on edge, no sour Jane to avoid. Papa would have more peace, too. With Lydia gone, Longbourn was likely to be much quieter with only Jane and Kitty.
“Good evening, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth turned. “Mr. Wickham.” She greeted him cheerfully, happy to have his company. “How do you do tonight? Are you here with Miss King?”
Mr. Wickham courted a local girl who had recently inherited ten thousand pounds. Though he had paid Elizabeth a great deal of attention, once Miss King’s good fortune became known, he had pulled away. Elizabeth had surprisingly felt very little regret at his defection. His actions spoke of slightly mercenary tendencies, and while she could accept that his situation forced him to pursue a woman with a healthy dowry, it disappointed her that he did not follow his heart. He liked her; she knew it, and had he but worked to earn her regard, his reward would have been much greater than ten thousand pounds.
Elizabeth felt she could forgive him, and so resolved to be polite. Her heart had not yet been touched, after all, but it would have been very little trouble to fall in love with the handsome soldier.
“Miss King is to arrive later,” he replied. He took her hand and kissed it, smiling roguishly as he lowered it. “I understand you are to go to town for the season. Are you looking forward to it?”
She smiled. “Yes, indeed. I have delayed going for Mary’s sake. She is dreadfully shy and has only just agreed to be presented.”
“Has the eldest Miss Bennet had the pleasure?”
Something about the way he said Miss Bennet made her pause, and she looked up into his face. His eyes glinted oddly as he awaited her answer.
“No, Jane has not been presented, though she does go to London every summer.” Suspicious of his intentions, she did not offer any more.
“I understand that you are to go to town with your uncle. That is Mr. Gardiner, is it not?”
Now she felt certain he probed for information. Had Mr. Wickham somehow learned that Jane was not a Bennet? What purpose did he have in inquiring about her relations?
“Yes, my uncle has graciously offered to have Mary and me in town. My aunt will sponsor us.” She deftly avoided giving a concise answer, and she watched the uncertainty and confusion in his eyes as he tried to puzzle out her reply.
“I had no idea Mrs. Gardiner had the connections to sponsor ladies during the season.” Mr. Wickham smiled ingratiatingly and awaited her answer.
He is definitely seeking information. For what reason? Intending to further ascertain his purpose, she chose her next words carefully, neither confirming or denying that Mrs. Gardiner was the aunt that would present them.
“My aunt has many valuable connections from Gracechurch Street to Mayfair.” That was true enough. Aunt Maria had ‘connections’ with Gardiner Imports and Exports. She and Mrs. Gardiner were friendly with each other. And Elm House was in Mayfair.
“Indeed. How very fortunate for your aunt.” He fell silent and she let him stew for a moment before speaking.
“How goes your courtship with Miss King?” she asked innocently. “How very fortunate for you that she has inherited a handsome sum. It would allow you to sell your commission. I imagine you could live very comfortably on the interest from ten thousand pounds.” Very bold , she thought.
Her words discomposed him. “Yes, well, Miss King is a sweet girl. She is very pleased with my attention.”
“And are you pleased with the match?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping he would choose to be candid with her.
“I must confess, Miss Elizabeth, that my courtship is entirely based on Miss King’s dowry. Call me mercenary if you must, but I only wish for means to support myself.”
Elizabeth kept her expression neutral. “I suppose young men must have something to live on when they are not established in a profession,” she said, parroting her earlier thoughts. “Though I do not think Miss King deserves to be courted solely for her fortune.”
“Please, understand, Miss Elizabeth, I would not behave so if I had been granted the living left to me by my godfather. I would likely already have married had that come to pass. I must say, however, that such would mean I never met you, and I could not bear it if that were so.”
Blatant flattery now? What is next? “I do hope you find something to love in Miss King, should you continue to court her.”
He leaned forward. “Ten thousand pounds is enough to lure any man to propose,” he said huskily. “Though I could be enticed away for the right inducement.”
His breath tickled her ear, but instead of having the effect she thought he wished for, it made her squirm uncomfortably. “The right inducement?” she repeated. “Pray, do not speak in riddles.” She knew what he meant, but she wished him to say it. She needed verbal confirmation.
“Ten thousand pounds is a modest dowry. Something more substantial would be welcome.” She turned to find his face very close, and she stepped back instinctively.
“I cannot approve of such mercenary behavior,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm and uncensorious. “Is a dowry your first thought when considering a woman’s worthiness? Miss King is a lovely, kind young lady. Do not treat her so shabbily.”
“Money is, of course, a primary concern. Should mutual felicity follow, I should be a happy man.” He grinned. “You and I would suit very well.”
“Should not such sentiments come before pecuniary matters?” she asked, hoping to end the conversation and depart to another room.
Mr. Wickham frowned. "I think not. Men as unfortunate as I, raised as gentlemen, must have something to live on. Love does not purchase food or drink."
“Yes, it is a shame that my father did not put aside any money for his daughters’ dowries. I imagine that with ten thousand pounds, you would be courting me instead.” Elizabeth could hear the irritation in her voice, and she hoped he interpreted it as pique at her supposed situation rather than irritation at his mercenary behavior.
His face fell completely, confirming her worst fears. He had learned that she and Mary had a different mother and that they were to have a season in town, and then attempted to ascertain their monetary worth. How very, very disappointing, she thought.
“Your estate is entailed, Miss Elizabeth,” he said bitterly, his warm manner suddenly guarded and cold. “Certainly, you, of all people, must understand the need to consider prudence and practicality when seeking a spouse.”
He schooled his expression to appear disappointed. Elizabeth had the distinct feeling that he wanted her to tell him what her dowry was, and then he would declare he loved only her and would break from Miss King in an instant.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Pray excuse me.” She hastened away, eager to be gone from the man’s presence.
As she drifted through the rooms, she considered that male attractiveness did not necessarily mean their characters were sound. Mr. Darcy, quite one of the most attractive men she had ever met, regarded people with cold disdain and disinterest. Mr. Collins, with his angelic beauty had entranced those around him. Ladies flocked to his presence despite his poor dancing skills and abysmal conversation ability. His lack of sense completed the incongruous picture that was Mr. Collins. And now Mr. Wickham. Equally handsome though in a different manner, his charm and eloquence had drawn Elizabeth in. Whilst her heart had not been engaged, she had found him attractive and wished for his attention and company. Yet, here after one conversation, she found herself completely averse to him.
Mr. Wickham’s duplicitous behavior calls all his words into question. Was he less than honest about his dealings with Mr. Darcy? It hardly matters. If a gentleman wishes to marry purely based on connections and fortune, then he is not for me. Oh, why can a man’s character not match his countenance? It would be much easier to sketch a character if a person’s appearance reflected their inner beauty.
I do hope Miss King finds happiness, she thought.
“Elizabeth! Why the long face?” James came to her side and poked her ribs as he had done when they were children.
“Why are all the handsome men also equipped with less than handsome characters?” she asked petulantly.
“Oh, how you wound me!” He put a hand on his chest dramatically. “Do you mean to say that I am not handsome? Or perhaps you question my character. Dear Cousin, I thought you knew me better!”
She laughed as he intended, swatting his arm playfully. “You know I mean neither, my dear, ridiculous cousin! It is only that every handsome man I have met in the past six months has possessed some trait or another that I find objectionable. Their faults surpass their physical beauty. It is very vexing.”
“You mean in part Mr. Collins, I suppose.” James smiled. “The man is by far the most ridiculous parson I have ever encountered. I wish Lydia well with him.”
“My youngest sister’s silliness is more than a match for her new husband.” Elizabeth shook her head ruefully. “It is not only him. Do you see that officer there?” She pointed to Mr. Wickham, who now stood across the room with Miss King. “He just spent the length of a conversation attempting to gain information about my dowry. We got along well when he arrived, and I found him to be one of the most amiable men of my acquaintance. Yet in the space of ten minutes or fewer, he has become one of the most mercenary and conniving men I have ever met. I cannot stand the thought of being in his company now. And then there were Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.”
“The chaps from Netherfield, yes?”
She nodded. “Indeed. The former impressed upon us his superiority and disdain and the latter proved himself inconstant. Or wise. I cannot decide which.”
She quickly related Jane’s attempt at securing the wealthy man. James shook his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I do not know who I pity more. It appears he had the good sense to stay away once he suspected duplicitous motives.”
“His sisters and friend did not approve,” Elizabeth replied. “It is very likely that they convinced him to stay away. And whilst I feel sad for Jane and her hopes, I cannot approve of the manner she went about attempting to secure him.”
The rest of the evening went well, though her spirits suffered disillusionment and dissatisfaction. James and Mary proved to be admirable distractions. Susan, too, joined their merry party, and they talked well into the night. When at last the carriages were called, Mary and Elizabeth rode with their aunt and uncle to return to Longbourn.
If only that were the end of the evening. When they had all arrived and made themselves comfortable before the fire in the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet made her move.
“My dear Lord Elmwood, it has been a pleasure to have you with us. I understand that you are to depart for London in but a few days. Is it too much to ask that you extend your hospitality to my dear Jane? She is the eldest, after all, and thus the most deserving of a season in town. With your connections, she might be thrown in the path of rich men who are in want of a beautiful wife.” She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.
“I think not, Mrs. Bennet,” Lord Elmwood replied coldly. “Your daughter, though raised as a sister to my nieces, will not accompany Elizabeth and Mary to town.”
“But why ever not? She is ten times as pretty, and more likely to marry well than they are.” Mrs. Bennet crossed her arms and pouted; any pretense of amiability gone.
“Let me be rightly understood, Mrs. Bennet. Miss Jane Younge is not my niece. I have no obligation to provide her with opportunities in town. The same could be said for Miss Catherine. Elizabeth and Mary are my dear sister’s children, and I will do everything in my power to give them everything their mother wished but could not.” He donned an imperious expression and stared the matron down. “Furthermore, I vowed after your precipitous marriage to my friend and brother-in-law that I would never forgive the machinations of you and your father in securing the position as mistress of Longbourn. Good heavens, woman! You did not even give him time to mourn his wife properly! You did not because you knew that if my brother were in his right mind, he would never marry you.”
Jane gasped, and Elizabeth turned to look at her stepsister. She appeared confused, and she looked back and forth between Mr. Bennet and her mother anxiously. Papa’s countenance held no hint of contradiction, and Mrs. Bennet’s gaze fell to her lap, her cheeks flushing in mortification.
“Mama?” Jane asked. “You said—”
“How dare you!” Mrs. Bennet stood up, cutting Jane off and glaring at the earl. “I have been a good mistress, and my husband can have no cause to repine our marriage.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Bennet, it has been many years since I came to regret it. Had I been lucid, it would have never happened.” Mr. Bennet frowned and glared at the woman who dared face down a peer of the realm. “Why else do you suppose that there has never been strong drink permitted in this house? I had no wish to be taken advantage of again.”
“You! What a thing to say! Without me, you would not have Kitty or Lydia. Do you not love your children?”
“That is enough vitriol for the night, Fanny.” Mr. Gardiner stepped in. He and Mrs. Gardiner had gone to check on their children upon arrival and he had thus not been privy to the whole confrontation going on in the drawing room. Apparently he had heard enough to scold his sister. “Keep speaking and you will find yourself in a very uncomfortable situation. Your husband has the power to make your life as miserable as you have made his.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped. “You are my brother!” she said indignantly. “You are supposed to support me.”
Mr. Gardiner shook his head. “I never approved of our father furthering your ambitions and I have done everything I could to support Thomas, who is the victim in this matter. Your scheming won you a husband and a home and prevented you from spending the other half of your dowry. Our father had no wish to have you dependent on him, and so agreed to help you coerce Mr. Bennet into marriage. These are the hard truths, dear sister, and you had best face them.”
Mrs. Bennet sobbed. “I am being most notoriously abused!” With that final sally, she ran crying from the room. Kitty followed, casting a glare at all those assembled. The rest of the party looked around awkwardly, wondering what they ought to do.
“I believe I shall retire,” Jane murmured, sounding more like her old self than she had in a long time. “Uncle Gardiner, may I speak with you on the morrow? I believe I should like to go to town with you when you return.”
Mr. Gardiner sighed wearily. “Yes, Jane, I believe your aunt will be amenable to your accompanying us. Good night.”
James, Mary, and Susan left next, leaving only Lord and Lady Elmwood, Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth in the room.
“Well, that was a dreadful confrontation,” Aunt Maria said, attempting levity.
Mr. Bennet rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yes, and it was a long time coming. I ought to have confronted Mrs. Bennet years ago about her machinations.”
“Have you ever called her Fanny?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“No.” Her father shook his head sadly. “She has always been Mrs. Bennet and nothing else. I did not wish her to think she held anything more than the name. She would certainly never hold my heart.”
“Let us go to bed.” Uncle Mavery held his arm out to his wife. “I believe we had best be ready to depart in a few days. I know we intended to stay until Twelfth Night, but I expect the atmosphere here will be unbearable come tomorrow.”
“You are correct. Though I shall miss your company, I do not blame you for departing.” Mr. Bennet stood. “Goodnight Mavery, Maria. Goodnight, my Lizzy.” He shuffled from the room. The earl and countess followed immediately after.
Left alone in the room, Elizabeth pondered the entire debacle. Perhaps now some healing can begin, she mused. Finally, she lit a candle and left the room, climbing the stairs to her chambers. Her maid helped her undress and get ready for bed, and she fell into an exhausted slumber.