Chapter 9 Lessons from a Dream #2
Charlotte believed her. Her knowledge had been a boon to her friend despite the mysteries that had plagued her.
Perhaps to regain her spirits, she should stop dwelling upon unanswerable questions.
But if the dream bears fruit, can I refuse it?
The knot in her breast eased as she resolved not to think of it as a night terror.
Call it a gift—a gift of wisdom and understanding.
Elizabeth meandered back to the parsonage as she contemplated what to do with this gift.
As she thought over the events of the dream and what she had learnt of Wickham’s character, she became deeply ashamed of herself.
Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.
How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation!
Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind.
But vanity, not love, has been my folly.
Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either was concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself.
She had always considered her youngest sisters ignorant, idle, and vain, but was she any different?
Thoughts of her youngest sisters led her to think of Mr Wickham and Mary King.
She did not know Miss King well, but the events of the day had already brought home to her that this gift she had been given was more powerful when shared.
She thought of the shopkeepers and families who would be impacted by the debts left behind by the militia.
She felt an urgent wish to be home. Kent was lovely, and it was wonderful to see Charlotte, but with each step she took back to the parsonage, she grew in certainty that this was not where she belonged.
She certainly had no desire to be here for Mr Darcy’s visit.
She might owe him an apology for misjudging his character, but the man who would arrive was certain to disappoint when compared to the man from her dream.
That evening, Elizabeth had the pleasure of seeing her friend returned from assisting with the birth of the twins, tired but glowing with the satisfaction of being useful. Yet Elizabeth noted a look of disquiet pass over her friend’s face more than once throughout the evening.
Charlotte came to her as she readied for bed, under the pretext of asking if she wanted any powders to ensure a good night’s sleep. They sat as they had that morning, with Charlotte on the bed and Elizabeth by the window. Charlotte seemed at a loss for words as she distractedly smoothed her skirts.
“Charlotte, you might want to use the powders, as it is clear my dream still perturbs you.” Elizabeth quipped.
Charlotte just rolled her eyes. “Do be serious, Eliza. I can tell you’ve reached some kind of resolution. What have you decided?”
“I have decided to dedicate myself entirely to championing wild-goose chases. It shall become my greatest accomplishment.”
Charlotte huffed in exasperation.
Elizabeth sat beside Charlotte and took her hand. “I am convinced that there must be some truth to the dream, particularly about Mr Wickham’s character.”
Charlotte stiffened beside her.
“Charlotte, ‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth...than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ ”
“Oh, Eliza, do remember that Hamlet is a tragedy. Be careful. You may enjoy reading such a play, but you would not want to live it. You cannot know for certain the provenance of your dream.”
“True enough, but I can determine what it is I do with the knowledge I have gained. And I have reviewed my interactions with Mr Wickham without the prejudices I previously held in his favour. I am now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, and Elizabeth chuckled in acknowledgment that yet again, her friend had been the wiser one.
“Charlotte dear, it is no reflection on you or your lovely home, but I must return to Longbourn. I shall not be easy until I know for certain whether Mr Wickham is incurring debts. I realise I must take care not to appear as though I act from a fit of pique, for he has the approbation of our neighbours. Lydia would rather accuse me of jealousy than think poorly of such a handsome man. But I shall gather proof of his character. For the benefit of Mary King and my youngest sisters, I must not delay. Might Sir William be prevailed upon to take me with him?”
Charlotte leant against Elizabeth’s side. “I had so looked forward to your visit. It has been wonderful to have you these last few days. And what shall we tell my father and my husband?”
“If your husband chooses to believe that I have been overwhelmed by regret, do not feel that you need to correct him. I shall not be offended—particularly if it helps you to preserve the peace.”
Charlotte gave her a quelling look.
“If you share your concerns with my father, he could manage the whole affair. It would spare all parties any bitterness should you be mistaken. You know how my father loves to be of use. If Mr Wickham does indeed have debts, my father is sure to spread the word.”
“Except that will not protect my sisters or convince my father to do something about their behaviour.”
Charlotte sighed again. “Then an appeal to your father will be required.” She embraced Elizabeth. “I shall miss you. You must promise to come again.”
After Sir William expounded on the many benefits of Charlotte’s new situation, Elizabeth took advantage of their time travelling in the carriage to discuss the militia’s departure.
Elizabeth continued, “Sir William, you seem to be the ideal person to protect our town from any members of the regiment with less than honourable intentions. The merchants respect you greatly and will let you know if any militia members have unpaid accounts.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Sir William’s brow wrinkled, and he became uncharacteristically silent as he looked out of the window.
“You are always prompt in your dealings. My family is not expecting me, so let us inquire upon arrival. I will ask my uncle Philips for his assistance should you find any militiamen with heavy debts. I will not rest easy until we have determined all is well.”
“My dear Miss Eliza, I entreat you not to concern yourself. I am certain the officers who have been such a pleasant addition to our society are upstanding men. I shall make a few inquiries while you visit Mr and Mrs Philips, and then we shall know how things stand.” Sir William remained jovial, but Elizabeth was encouraged to see the determined set to his jaw.
Sir William entered the Philips’s parlour with all the dignity of a former mayor. His countenance was more severe than Elizabeth had ever seen it.
Mrs Philips said, “Why, Sir William, you are most welcome, but what has made you so dour?”
“Such goings on, I can scarce credit it. Please do call for your husband to join us, for it is likely we will need his assistance.”
Elizabeth’s thoughts were too tumultuous to break the silence as they waited. As soon as Mr Philips entered, Sir William continued. “I bring news of a viper among the militiamen.”
“Say it is not so!” said Mrs Philips with eager anticipation.
“Indeed, he is in debt to every merchant I have spoken with and was walking out with at least two different shop girls at the same time before becoming engaged to another.”
“Who can it be?” queried Mrs Philips.
“Mr Wickham,” Sir William replied.
“Truly? I always did distrust his appearance of goodness, but still, I am shocked.” Mrs Philips tittered.
Elizabeth felt a bewildering mix of vindication for her choice to cut short her trip, sadness that Mr Wickham had proved to be a scoundrel, relief that her plans had been successful so far, and even greater resolve to ensure her father reined in her younger sisters.
“How substantial are these debts?” asked Mr Philips.
“More than he could ever hope to repay, and I have not finished my inquiries. I would like your assistance in preparing a writ.” Sir William paced in agitation.
“Let us leave the women to more feminine pursuits and adjourn to my office.”
Elizabeth could see that her aunt could not wait to be on her way, spreading the intelligence, and as this suited Elizabeth’s purposes nicely, she took her leave of the company. A walk would do her good.
Stepping into the Meryton circulating library, Elizabeth inhaled deeply. She let the comforting silence and the smell of paper and books surround her. She had inherited her father’s love of reading and understood well her father’s need for its quiet as an escape from the tumult of Longbourn.
She selected a book titled Their Share of Conversation by Stephanie Vale. The first line read: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a bad dream can ruin one’s whole day— Elizabeth snickered. Or more than a day!