Chapter 4 Pretenses
Elizabeth prepared for bed, lost in thought. Could Jane be saved from Mr. Goulding? Many believed he had caused the deaths of both his young wives, though no evidence had ever been lodged against him.
The following morning, Elizabeth woke to find Mary looking down at her. “Lizzy, you sleep like the dead. I could not wake you.”
Elizabeth sat up at once. “What time is it? Has Mamma been to see Jane?”
“It is half past eight, and no. I convinced her to leave Jane in my care. Alice is cleaning the guest chamber, and Mamma has gone to Meryton to purchase new bed linens and a hip bath for the guest room. She says nothing but the best will do for the heir.”
Elizabeth rose and reached for her wrap. “Come, let us speak with Jane while she is out shopping. Where is Lydia?”
“She is with Mamma and Kitty. Lydia was eager to speak with Mr. Denny, another soldier of the militia.”
Elizabeth scowled. “That child knows every man in the regiment by name.”
She knocked upon Jane’s door, and they entered to find Jane sitting by the window.
“Jane, I was thinking. You are of age. You may refuse Mr. Goulding, and Mamma cannot force you.”
Jane blanched. “Lizzy, not even Papa, an intelligent, educated man, can refuse her. I do not believe I could withstand her mandates.”
Elizabeth replied, her voice earnest. “But she cannot compel you to marry him. Even if she forced you to the altar, should you refuse your vows, there is nothing she could do. You might warn her of this and ask whether she wishes to be made a spectacle before the neighborhood.”
Jane shuddered. “My name would become a byword. No man would ever marry me after such a spectacle as that.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said. “I do not urge you to do so. I merely wish you to know that you can say no. Let the knowledge soothe your spirits. I am certain Uncle Edward will assist us. Did you eat anything today?”
“Mary brought me eggs, bacon, and toast. I ate all of it, in case I am unable to obtain food when Mamma returns.”
Elizabeth turned to Mary. “How did you obtain the extra food?”
“I served the tray myself and said that I would eat at Jane’s bedside to watch over her. Alice brought Jane a tray of gruel.”
Jane laughed. “I took two spoonfuls and refused the rest.”
“And did you eat, Mary?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. I served myself a plate, piled high with food, and ate in the yellow saloon at the back of the house. It was so early that no one had yet come down for breakfast.”
Amused, Jane said, “This morning, I heard Mamma outside the door.” She mimicked her mother in voice and tone. “‘What do you mean I should not enter my dear girl’s room?’ Then I heard Mary speaking, but it was muffled. After that, our mother went away.”
Elizabeth looked to Mary. “How did you persuade her to leave without a struggle?”
Mary laughed. “I said, ‘Mamma, if you contract the illness and give it to Papa, and he should die of the influenza, what then?’ She did not answer. She turned about and said she must change her gown, for she must go to Meryton to purchase bed linens for the heir.”
The sisters laughed.
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, “you should write a novel. I believe you would excel. Now, I must contrive some means of persuading Mamma to permit Lydia and me to travel to London.”
“Nothing so easy,” Mary replied. “Appeal to her fears for Lydia’s health. You must remember little Emmeline Cluett, who died of influenza three years ago? Though she was only a child, in Mamma’s eyes, Lydia would be considered just as vulnerable.”
“I shall do so,” Elizabeth said.
She kissed Jane’s cheek. “I must go.”
An hour later, Elizabeth set out for Oakham Mount.
When she returned, a flash of red caught her eye.
She hid among the hedges and watched. Mr. Wickham approached the very place where she had found him with Lydia the day before.
He paused, looked about him, removed a stone from the fence, and placed a folded paper within before restoring it to its place.
He then turned and walked back toward Meryton.
Elizabeth remained hidden until he was gone. She approached the fence and retrieved the note.
My dear girl,
Forgive my impertinence yesterday. When a man is in love, as I am, he does not always think clearly.
I lost my head over your charms and your beauty.
Meet me here tonight at seven. I must leave the militia and go to London on an urgent family matter.
I cannot bear to be without you. Say that you will come with me.
Bring nothing. I will purchase gowns for you in London. I depend upon your affection for me.
Yours, with all my love,
G. W.
Elizabeth stood as one paralyzed, stunned by his effrontery. What child could resist such declarations of devotion? She replaced the stone, tucked the note into her pocket, and returned at once to the house.
The three sisters stood together in silence, Jane still holding the paper. At last, she spoke. “It is as you feared, Lizzy. That man intends no good towards our sister. Her ruin signifies nothing to him.”
Mary added, “Her angel must be working tirelessly to preserve her.”
Elizabeth replied, “I am going to begin packing. Even if Mamma does not believe Lydia vulnerable, I shall contrive to take her from the house and escort her myself. I have a little pin money, and if you will both add to it, I will purchase the tickets and see her safely there. We must be ready to leave by the time the mail coach sets out this evening.”
She leaned in and embraced Jane. “I shall most likely have no opportunity to see you again today. Farewell, and remain strong.”
Turning to Mary, she said, “Take care, my dear. I doubt Mamma will permit me near you either, since you have been attending the sickbed.”
Elizabeth walked to the door, then turned back. “I shall see you again in about a week. I hope to remain in London with Lydia until the day before Mr. Collins is expected to arrive.”
An hour later, Frances Bennet bustled into the front entry. “Hill, how does my poor Jane go on?”
“She ate only a few spoonfuls of gruel, mistress. Cook is preparing barley water now, and chicken broth is on the fire. It may tempt her.”
Mrs. Bennet handed her shawl and bonnet to the housekeeper. “And Elizabeth. Where is she?”
“Miss Lizzy is in the drawing room, mistress, and Miss Mary is at her sister’s bedside.”
Mrs. Bennet moved to the doorway of the drawing room, cast a searching glance over her second daughter, and then turned her attention to Kitty. “Where is Lydia?”
“She has run to the hermitage. She says she left something there yesterday.”
Elizabeth frowned. The deceitful little baggage. She was no doubt already searching for a note from the lieutenant, proof that the child could not be left to herself.
“Kitty, go up to your room and remain there until luncheon is served.”
Kitty withdrew to her room, and Hill set about picking up the bonnet and wrap. Mrs. Bennet addressed the housekeeper.
“Have you seen Mr. Bennet? How does he go on?”
“The master is well, mistress. He ate breakfast and is reading in his study.”
“Well, perhaps he will escape illness. He rarely sits with us or goes out, which may help him avoid the influenza.”
Frances Bennet joined her second daughter in the drawing room.
“Elizabeth, I trust you have kept away from Jane and Mary?”
“Yes, Mamma.”
Mrs. Bennet stepped closer and placed the back of her hand against her daughter’s forehead. “How are you feeling? I do not wish to send Mr. Collins away without a wife.”
Elizabeth reddened. “No, ma’am, I understand. You need not fear for me, for I will stay away from my two sisters.”
She took her courage in both hands and began her performance. “Do you remember little Emmeline Cluett?”
Mrs. Bennet stood still. “Emmeline Cluett? What concern is an Emmeline Cluett to me? Who is this person that I should remember her?”
Elizabeth set her needle aside. “Emmeline Cluett was the child who died of influenza three years ago. I heard the apothecary say that it strikes children and elderly persons with severity.”
“Do you mean to warn me for Lydia’s sake?”
Elizabeth began folding the dress she had been mending. “Yes, for Lydia is young. She has only just turned fifteen. Should she fall ill with this malady, she may not survive it, but then again, you know best.”
She rose as though to leave the room.
“Now that you have brought her to mind, I do remember little Emmeline. She was only a child, no more than five or six, when she succumbed. But Lydia is already fifteen.”
“Yes, it is as you say. Yet I recall how ill my sister became when she took a cold last winter. She seems to be of a weak constitution.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to keep her expression composed.
That lazy child had made the most of her cold.
It pleased her to remain in bed while her sisters attended to her every need and to bask in their mother’s anxious care, for Mrs. Bennet believed the child far sicker than she truly was.
In truth, Lydia’s constitution was strong, and she felt certain that the child would outlive all of her immediate family and many in Meryton.
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, was likewise thoughtful. “There is sense in what you say. Lydia was brought low by that cold.”
Elizabeth continued, “Perhaps Lydia should be sent to stay with Uncle Edward. I could take her myself. If we pack now, we could dine early and catch the mail coach this evening. I could return in time to meet Mr. Collins, unless you write to say Jane remains ill. In that case, I might meet Mr. Collins at the Gardiners’ home. ”
Mrs. Bennet gave her daughter’s counsel more consideration than was her habit.
“Yes, I believe that is the best course in this situation. I shall write to my brother myself and send the note with you. He will not turn his nieces from his door, and he will extend his hospitality, since Jane lies ill here at home. Go now, Elizabeth. Begin packing. I will send Alice to help Lydia. Be ready to dine at four, so that Mr. Hill may drive you into Harpenden to catch the mail coach.”
Elizabeth excused herself and went upstairs. She looked into Jane’s room and found her in bed, with Mary seated beside her, reading aloud.
“Take heart,” Elizabeth said. “Mamma is sending Lydia and me to London. If all goes well, you will soon be spared, Jane. I intend to ask Uncle Gardiner whether he can place Lydia at school. Perhaps he may find a situation where she could work in exchange for part of her tuition, so that Papa may afford to keep her there.”
After contriving to escape her mother’s notice, Lydia carefully drew the stone from where it was wedged in the fence.
She slipped her hand into the vacant space, but there was no note.
She must have angered Lieutenant Wickham by refusing him.
She replaced the stone and stood looking out over the field before her, uncertain of what she ought to do next, and wondering how she might persuade him to pursue her again.
Of all the gentlemen who flirted with her, he was the most well-favored and the most gentlemanly of them all. She turned back toward the house.
As she entered through the kitchen door, Mrs. Hill called to her. “Miss Lydia, you are wanted in the drawing room. Your mother wishes to speak with you.”
Lydia hurried to the room and found both her father and her mother seated together, their countenances grave. A flutter of fear stirred within her. Had her sister spoken to Papa of her flirtations with Wickham? Lizzy had intended to tell all. She remained silent until her mother addressed her.
“Lydia, your sister is very ill, and for that reason, I am sending you to my brother Gardiner. You are to remain in London until I send for you. Now go upstairs and see that Alice packs everything you will require for a stay of two or three weeks.”
“Mamma,” Lydia asked, “is Jane going to die, as little Emmeline did?”
“No, my dear. Jane is a grown woman. She is healthy and strong, but you are still very young. I am sending you away to protect your health. Do you understand?”
“Yes. You will write to me?”
“Of course I shall write to you, and I will tell you how Jane goes on. Now make haste. We shall dine early this evening so that we may see you off on the mail coach.”
“The mail coach?” Lydia cried. “I have never ridden in the mail coach. At last, I shall travel to London in the mail coach, just as my elder sisters have always done. Thank you, Mamma.”
She turned and ran up the stairs, and she gave Lieutenant Wickham no further thought.