Chapter VI
Confusion was Elizabeth’s constant companion in the days after Colonel Fitzwilliam had unmasked Mr. Wickham as a scoundrel. Foremost in Elizabeth’s mind was how Mr. Wickham had deceived her with such apparent ease despite her firm conviction that she was an excellent judge of character.
“Girls,” said Mr. Bennet the night they returned from Lucas Lodge and before he would allow them to retire, “it appears we have learned something of great importance to us all.”
“I am not certain I believe it,” muttered Lydia. “Mr. Wickham has never betrayed so much as a hint of ill behavior.”
“Your belief is irrelevant,” replied Mr. Bennet, though he was not unkind. “Tomorrow, the colonel will investigate Mr. Wickham’s activities in Meryton, and we shall learn at least part of the truth.”
Mr. Bennet paused to consider what he wished to say. “It is possible that Mr. Wickham has not had enough time to incur enough debt to provoke Colonel Forster to act, but that means nothing. Regardless of what he finds, we shall not associate with Mr. Wickham anymore.”
As might be expected, the youngest girls began to protest, but Mr. Bennet held up a hand for silence—they quieted, but with evident reluctance.
“Girls, you will obey me in this, or I will curtail your participation in society and your ability to go to Meryton.”
Mr. Bennet paused, regarding each in turn.
“It matters little if Colonel Forster finds any debts. The salient point is that we have been warned about a man who has not behaved as he should—I will not risk your safety or the reputation of this family when we have the testimony of such a man as Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
So stern was Mr. Bennet’s tone that even his wife did not protest his edict.
Elizabeth could not be certain, but she thought Mrs. Bennet’s eyes were open to the possibility of her daughters becoming unmarriageable.
As Mrs. Bennet’s purpose in life was to marry them to men who could support them—and herself—she would treat any threat to that ambition as anathema.
Elizabeth was not certain she completely understood the threat Mr. Wickham posed, but she would do nothing to gainsay her father.
As it happened, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arrival the following morning and the news he brought rendered the point moot.
“Wickham’s debts are now an established fact,” said the colonel the following morning as he sat with them. “I shall not publish the amount, but it is substantial, especially for a man who has been in town for only a month.”
“Less than that,” ventured Elizabeth, still shocked by how it had all come about. “Mr. Wickham was away on business for much of that time. He came to town a week before the ball, left the day before, and has only been in Meryton for brief periods since.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam offered her a curt nod. “I do not care to speculate what business took him to London, but it is fortunate he was not here, or the damage may have been worse. I have pledged myself for those debts— now that I have some control over him, I mean to make use of that leverage.
“The other point of which you should be aware is that Wickham tried to decamp after leaving Lucas Lodge.”
“As you predicted,” said Mr. Bennet.
“It was not difficult,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “His fellows in the regiment were most displeased with him, as I understand. The regiment would be obliged to settle his debts if he fled, and I understand his luck at the card tables had been abysmal on the rare occasions he joined.”
“And that,” said Mr. Bennet to no one in particular, “is how a young man, though granted every opportunity his situation could allow and treated with uncommon generosity by his patron, manages to ruin any prospect of a respectable future.”
With Mr. Wickham’s activities confirmed, even Lydia had no more desire to defend him. Elizabeth did not know what would become of him, but she knew he had been confined while awaiting his fate.
It was perhaps poetic justice that Mr. Wickham spent Christmas Day confined in a cell.
The Bennets, as was their custom, celebrated the day at Longbourn with the Philipses and the Gardiners in attendance.
The addition to the company was Colonel Fitzwilliam, who proved his continued devotion to Jane when he found her under the mistletoe more than once, laughing with good-natured abandon at Mr. Bennet’s jests about the ubiquitous nature of his presence at Longbourn.
“We cannot always be correct, Lizzy,” said Jane as they were preparing to retire that night after their guests had departed for their homes.
Elizabeth looked up from her dressing table, bemused that Jane understood her, even when she could not quite understand herself.
“No, I suppose we cannot,” replied Elizabeth, her mind still replaying the events of the last days. “I hope you will not accuse me of excessive pride, Jane, but I do not think I have ever been so spectacularly wrong.”
“Perhaps,” said Jane. “Yet I cannot but suppose that error is good for us all—it reminds us that we are not infallible.”
The subject was not palatable, so Elizabeth changed it. “What of you and Colonel Fitzwilliam? Speaking of being wrong, it seems you are also correcting a mistake of your own.”
“Do you suppose that my esteem for Mr. Bingley was a fault?”
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, Jane, for he is a decent man. Given your attachment to Mr. Bingley, I wonder at the speed of your newfound attachment to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“We have spoken of this, Lizzy.”
The warning in Jane’s voice was no caution to one who knew her well, so Elizabeth had no trouble ignoring it.
“Yes, we have, but it has been some days since our last conversation. Will you not tell me how your feelings have evolved?”
Jane sighed and sat on the bed. “The truth is that I do not know if my feelings for Colonel Fitzwilliam have grown, Lizzy. What is more certain is that I was never in love with Mr. Bingley.”
Curious, Elizabeth asked: “I was not aware that you fancied yourself in love with him.”
“No, you are correct there. I did not fancy myself in love with him. When he went away, I examined the strength of my feelings and wondered if I was.”
“Then you have concluded that you were not.”
Jane nodded, though distracted. “Yes, I understand enough about myself to know I was not. More, I am certain that I fancied the thought of being in love rather than feeling the reality of it.”
Elizabeth offered a slow nod to Jane’s confession. “I can understand how you might mistake it, Jane. We have spoken often enough of how pleasing the notion of being in love can be — enough to make us mistake the feeling.”
“That seems the true drawback of our determination, Lizzy. We must ensure that our feelings are true before we allow fancy to take us away.”
“I agree.”
“What is beyond dispute,” added Jane, “is that Colonel Fitzwilliam acts like a gentleman in everything he does. Mr. Bingley, for all his excellent qualities, was an amiable man, but lacking in some unfathomable way.”
“Perhaps it is the way he looks at life?” suggested Elizabeth.
“Yes, I suppose that is so,” agreed Jane. “There is something . . . serious about Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Jane shrugged. “That Mr. Bingley left Meryton without a word also does him no favors.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam may do the same, though I would not wish to distress you.”
“Do not concern yourself, Lizzy,” replied Jane.
“I am aware that any hope I might entertain for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s attentions may yet come to nothing.
This time, I shall exercise greater maturity.
At the very least, I shall not give my heart, even in part, to the colonel unless he gives me ample reason to do so. ”
“This is all amusing, Jane,” said Elizabeth, favoring her sister with a grin. “You do realize you have just described the reality of the situation—do you not?”
Jane regarded her as if she expected some witticism, not an unreasonable assumption. “What do you mean, Lizzy?”
“Why, only that Colonel Fitzwilliam is a gentleman, while Mr. Bingley has not yet attained that status.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct. But that is not all. Colonel Fitzwilliam shows a gravity that I never saw in Mr. Bingley, a sense of purpose that is most pleasing.”
“That is a reason to trust in him more than Mr. Bingley. If Colonel Fitzwilliam declines to pursue you, I cannot imagine he will slip away in the dead of night for parts unknown.”
“Which fills me with some hope—I do not think it is unwarranted in this situation.”
“With that, I must agree,” replied Elizabeth.
Later, when Jane had gone to bed, Elizabeth thought about what her sister had said, the day in company, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s pleasing attentions to her sister, and where they might lead.
In particular, she recalled a conversation with the colonel, one of the few times the man had not been attending her sister.
Though Elizabeth had not mentioned it to Jane, it remained in her mind as she tried to determine what she thought of it.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam had said, while Jane was assisting the Gardiner children in one of their games, “I hope you are enjoying the day.”
“It is Christmas, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” replied Elizabeth. “If one cannot enjoy this day of all days, I must assume that person’s heart is made of stone.”
The colonel offered an agreeable nod. “Yes, I suppose so. Now, if you do not mind, I have been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth. “If you will pardon me, I thought you had much more to say to my sister than to me.”
“I shall not trifle with your intelligence and claim I do not find your sister very agreeable.” Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “But I hope that I am not a man who would ignore a young lady of whom I think highly because I am enamored of a pretty face.”
“Then you confess it,” pressed Elizabeth, showing him all the mischief she possessed.