Chapter Eleven #2
“Perhaps I could hide one in Miss Bingley’s reticule, Lizzy,” Lydia whispered in her ear. “Would that not be a fine joke?”
“It is not polite to torment her, Lydia,” Elizabeth warned her sister, though she personally felt it a grand idea. “Besides, she is rather clever—she might do something to you in return.”
Lydia considered that for a moment. “I do not think she is as clever as she believes, Lizzy. She thought Mr. Darcy was in love with her! I am glad she has gone visiting.”
“Miss Bingley perhaps hoped for an offer,” Elizabeth corrected Lydia. “It is not the same as believing him in love.”
“What is the point of marrying if not for love?” Lydia asked.
“I shall not marry without it. Not when you and Jane are marrying men who clearly adore you.” She twisted her hands together before adding, “I deserve such a man, do I not?” She frowned.
“I should not like it if my husband teased me before my children, Lizzy. Papa thinks Mama does not notice, but she does.”
Elizabeth glanced quickly at her father and patted her sister’s hand. “All of us have faults, Lydia. Do not worry. You have plenty of time to decide upon the kind of man you prefer as a husband. There is no rush.”
Mr. Perry opened the door. “Mr. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley,” he intoned.
Oh, I wondered where Mr. Bingley had taken himself to, she thought. He must have gone to collect Richard.
“Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet called, entirely ignoring Richard. “You have come at last!”
Jane blushed, but Mr. Bingley moved to join her directly, and soon the three were chatting amiably, with only occasional bursts of nervous glee from her mother. Kitty joined them, but Mary wandered over to Elizabeth and Lydia, who had left Mrs. Bingley to the arrangement of her display.
Mr. Bennet excused himself from the men and made his way to Elizabeth. “Is Aunt Olivia upstairs?” he asked, as Mary began a conversation with Mrs. Bingley.
Elizabeth nodded. “She is trying to rest so that she can remain for both the ceremony and breakfast tomorrow.”
“Do you think she would be willing to see me?” he asked, his eyelids drooping and the corners of his mouth tugging down.
She smiled, though it hurt. “Just ask her maid if she is awake. I think she would be quite pleased for a visit.”
He stepped away but stopped and turned.
“I nearly forgot,” he said. “You wrote me, but you never mentioned what had been done with Mr. Wickham.”
Elizabeth shifted her feet. “He has been… impressed, I believe is the term. John paid the Navy to take him, as he is so inexperienced. He tells me Mr. Wickham is currently sailing to join the West Africa Squadron.”
“Hmm,” her father replied with a sly smile. “Forced to swab decks and suppress the slave trade. An elegant solution and yet I doubt it was the duke’s.”
When she answered, there was satisfaction in her tone. “I thought that as he was so very concerned about Uncle Phillip’s dealings with the institution that he might like to be involved in its prohibition himself.”
Her father said only, “Indeed,” but there was humor in the word. He made his way out of the room.
Fitzwilliam approached her shortly after, Richard in tow. She took her intended’s arm and leaned against him but addressed herself to his cousin. “Richard, have you spoken with Georgiana?”
He smiled. “I have. She was a bit upset she was not to see you today.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, disappointed. “Why ever not?”
“Because, my dear Miss Russell,” he replied, offering an exaggerated bow, “my mother has declared that you already have a great deal of company and should not be imposed upon.”
“Oh, Georgiana is never an imposition,” Elizabeth scoffed. “She should have been here to meet my sisters.”
“Which I told my mother, along with delivering your invitation to dinner,” he explained. “They have accepted and will be here a little later.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I cannot wait to see her!”
“What shall we do while we wait?” Richard asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Damn Richard, Darcy thought as he clapped his gloved hands together to force some warmth back into his fingers. His ideas are terrible, yet somehow he is always able to get them implemented.
Mr. Bennet might have quashed the notion, but he was still upstairs with Mrs. Russell.
Mrs. Bennet had been too engrossed with Bingley’s aunt to do aught but wave them off.
Richard always had been good at using those fleeting moments of adult inattention as a child, and his skill had only improved.
He had been a master in the past sen’night.
Which is why they now all found themselves out of doors in the very cold December weather, the day before Darcy’s wedding, teaching the women how to shoot.
Darcy had assisted his betrothed, who was now encouraging each of her sisters.
Elizabeth had received instruction before, but she was an indifferent student, which did not bother Darcy in the least. She could hit a target up close—as they would always travel together, and he planned to hire a small army to protect her, it was more than adequate.
Richard was demonstrating a stance for Lydia when Jane turned to Elizabeth. “Have you heard, Lizzy, that Charlotte Lucas is to wed?”
“No,” Elizabeth replied, and Darcy wondered how such a thing could have come about in less than a fortnight before begrudgingly noting that not only his engagement, but his wedding would occur in little more than the same amount of time. “I had no idea. Who is her intended?”
Jane pressed her lips together when Lydia snorted, and Richard had to pause. “She is to marry our cousin, Mr. Collins.”
There was an astonished silence from those of their party who had not been aware.
“Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth repeated, her expression indicating her disbelief. “Clever Charlotte Lucas is to wed Mr. Collins?”
“Not so very clever,“ Kitty said softly, sending Lydia into silent but shoulder-shaking laughs.
“I suppose I did not know Charlotte so well as you, Jane,” Elizabeth said slowly. “She did tell me once that she would be happy to know as little as possible of the defects of her marriage partner.” She turned to Darcy, “Truly, I thought she was in jest.”
“The man lit up a curtain in front of her, Elizabeth,” Darcy said, shaking his head. “I am afraid she has seen the defects in her partner and has chosen to ignore them.” What a life she has chosen.
“Charlotte is clever, Lizzy,“ Jane admonished her.
“Mr. Collins is awkward, and he may not be the cleverest of men, but he is neither wholly without wit, nor is he vicious.” She took a seat on a wide stump.
“Perhaps at seven-and-twenty Charlotte feels it would be imprudent to turn away an eligible offer.” She brushed off her hands.
“I must say, I believe Charlotte will make an excellent mistress for Longbourn.”
Elizabeth had not considered that, but had to agree.
“Perhaps Papa should teach Charlotte how to run the estate.
She would certainly have a better chance at preserving his work, and she would be able to manage Mr. Collins.
“ She pursed her lips. “I wish her luck. It is not an inconsiderable task she has accepted.”
Darcy silently agreed.
Lydia turned back to Richard and eventually managed to shoot, hitting the edge of a paper target. Jane took her turn, but she did not like the loud report nor the recoil and returned to Bingley. Kitty would not even make the attempt—she shook her head and backed away.
“Well, Miss Mary?” Richard asked jovially. “Would you like to learn?”
Mary had watched them all without comment; now she tugged thoughtfully on one lock of her hair and nodded.
She stepped up to Richard and listened to him carefully.
Then she stood in the stance he showed her, grasped the weapon with both hands, steadied it—and shot a bullet through the center of the paper circle fifteen feet away.
Darcy did not react outwardly, but Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide. “Do that again, Mary,” she insisted. “Can you do that again?”
Mary cocked her head to the side. “I do not know,” she admitted.
Richard was delighted. He trotted out to the target to move it a little farther away. “It is too far, Richard,” Darcy called.
Miss Mary pursed her lips. “I am willing to try, Mr. Darcy.”
Richard returned, showing Mary how to reload the pistol. When it was ready, she again took up the correct stance, held the weapon with both hands, and pulled the trigger.
A small hole appeared in the paper a half-inch above the first. They all turned to look at Mary, who ignored them and handed the pistol back to a smiling Richard.
“That confirms it,” Elizabeth declared proudly. “Mary rides with me.”
Elizabeth dressed early for dinner, as she expected the party from Matlock to arrive before they would normally come down.
She was wild to see Georgiana. It had been two years—more—since they had been in one another’s company, and their letters had been waylaid since the summer.
She had been extraordinarily busy but thought that Georgie had likely been rather dull in the country with no girls close in age with whom to speak.
Still, she would be here soon and all of that would be forgotten.
Fitzwilliam was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look beautiful, Elizabeth,” he said with that tiny smile she loved. “I do not believe I have seen that gown before.”
She was wearing a deep rose gown with a scalloped hem, a single strand of pearls around her neck and the matching ear-drops, simple but elegant. “That is because I did not take it to Longbourn,” she informed him. “I sent most of my best gowns ahead so as not to stand out.”
He shook his head. “It is not the gown that makes you stand out, Elizabeth.”
“Oh,” she said with a laugh and a blush, “you may continue to flatter me all you wish, Mr. Darcy. I quite enjoy your compliments.”
“I try,” he said wryly, in imitation of her cousin from Kent, “to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”