Chapter II #2
“Go to Brighton for the summer?” asked he when Lydia eagerly spoke of her idea. “Whyever would we go there?”
“Papa!” exclaimed Lydia as if he had scandalized her. “Do you not know I wish to keep the officers’ company?”
“And why should that matter a jot to me?”
Again, surprising though it was, Lydia showed a hint of cunning and said: “Do you not suppose a house in Brighton would be as comfortable as your study? If we go to Brighton for the summer, we would all be much engaged with the officers, leaving you far greater peace in whatever chamber you choose to occupy and the books you love so much.”
The way her father smiled at her, Elizabeth knew Lydia’s attempt to purchase his support for the scheme had amused him. Lydia’s self-satisfaction suggested she expected her father to agree with her. She had not considered his propensity to tease his family.
“That is an intriguing notion, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, his sage nod hiding what Elizabeth was certain was his intention to discount whatever his daughter said. “I shall need to ponder it.”
“I am certain it will be no bother at all,” said Lydia, blithely misunderstanding her father. “Why, the cost will be so insignificant as to render it a trifle. You will enjoy yourself without the concerns of the estate bothering you, and we shall enjoy ourselves with the officers.”
“The leasing of a house for the summer is a trifle, is it?”
Had Lydia paid any attention at all, she might have recognized right then that her father had no intention of indulging her.
As the imagined delights of Brighton had already seized control of her, she missed the look of utter amusement in his eyes.
His wife appeared less obtuse, which was itself a surprise, given her usual inability to understand him.
Seeing as much, she spoke up, extolling the scheme and adding her support.
It was a hopeless business as Elizabeth had known it would be from the start, but Mr. Bennet enjoyed the chase, dodging and weaving, allowing them to believe he might ultimately agree, but never committing or denying them in so many words.
As with so much of her father’s behavior, Elizabeth watched the spectacle, diversion mixed with annoyance.
Sometimes his teasing bordered on cruel, and in this instance, Elizabeth judged it would be best to inform them he would not relent.
After a time of this, he finally tired of the game and informed them he had no intention of letting a house for the summer.
Only a few days later, Lydia received her invitation, rendering the matter a moot point in her mind.
Lydia’s behavior after receiving her invitation was as objectionable as she might have expected, but Elizabeth did her best to ignore the girl.
Then, several days before the regiment was to depart, Elizabeth attended an event that was to be the last in the officers’ company before they broke the hearts of every young girl in the community.
It was, reflected Elizabeth as she looked on the company of men in scarlet, no trouble for her to bid farewell to them, the important point being that they would depart.
Elizabeth had never had much affinity for them, her previous regard for Mr. Wickham notwithstanding.
They were a creditable enough lot, she supposed, though she considered them to be quite dull but for a few exceptions.
The one member of their party for whom Elizabeth had always possessed compelling feelings—first in admiration and now in revulsion—watched the room with a sort of complacent indulgence.
His looks now revealed him as a man who looked at his fellow men as marks to be exploited for his own profit.
Elizabeth wondered she had not seen it before.
It was unfortunate for Elizabeth’s equanimity that Mr. Wickham soon decided he must pay his civilities to her, necessitating a show of amiability that she did not feel for him.
His conversation, so pleasing before, now caused nothing but vexation, provoking her to wish to leave him in no doubt just what she thought of him.
Propriety dictated a more amiable response, and Elizabeth obliged most grudgingly.
For a time, they spoke of the regiment’s departure for Brighton and Mr. Wickham’s exaggerated wish that the most charming lady in the room was at liberty to attend them there.
Elizabeth had no notion of replying to his false gallantry, contenting herself with brevity of response, implying she would have much to occupy herself in Hertfordshire and during her coming journey to the lakes, which her aunt had confirmed while she had been in London.
Then the conversation changed for the worst.
“How did you enjoy your time in Kent?”
“It was a pleasant visit,” replied Elizabeth. “To be again in my friend’s company and to observe her in her new circumstances was a privilege I cherished.”
It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Wickham was disappointed she had spoken only of Charlotte. “I hope she is happy in her new life.”
“To a large extent, I believe she is,” replied Elizabeth. “I cannot say I would have acted the same as she, but Charlotte has an excellent disposition. Few could take such a position with equanimity, but I believe Charlotte is foremost among their number.”
“Then I am happy for her.”
Mr. Wickham regarded her, expectation written on his brow. Elizabeth said nothing, contenting herself with sipping her tea, forcing him to introduce the subject of Mr. Darcy or the man’s aunt if that was what he chose.
“Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth, but staying at your cousin’s home, I cannot imagine you escaped his patroness’s notice.”
“That, Mr. Wickham, would be impossible for anyone,” replied Elizabeth with a genuine laugh. “The lady herself would not allow it.”
Seeming to believe he had finally obtained what he had wanted, Mr. Wickham agreed with a laughing: “To be certain! Might I assume the lady was as eager to part with her wisdom as ever?”
“While I cannot say, given my previous lack of an acquaintance with her ladyship, she did not hesitate to dispense with her advice.”
Mr. Wickham gave her a knowing look. “I believe, Miss Elizabeth, that our opinions of the lady coincide with a fair degree of accuracy.”
Elizabeth nodded and sipped her tea.
“And did you chance to meet Darcy there, too?” Mr. Wickham affected mirth by adding: “It was my understanding he kept up yearly visits to Rosings Park about the time you were in residence at the parsonage.”
This was the crux of what Mr. Wickham wished to discuss, though Elizabeth could not understand why it would interest him. On a whim, she pushed him just a little to see if she might learn anything from his reaction.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy was there with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Are you acquainted with the colonel?”
A shadow crossed Mr. Wickham’s face, confirming Elizabeth’s conjecture; now he would wonder if she received intelligence of him from the colonel, who would not be nearly so reticent to speak of his cousin’s childhood friend.
“I was never nearly so friendly with the colonel,” said Mr. Wickham. “He is two years Darcy’s senior, three years mine. I cannot recall having much of his company when we were young.”
“And yet it seems the colonel and Mr. Darcy are the closest of cousins. Surely you must have seen him occasionally, for he spoke of their close companionship stemming from their childhoods.”
Mr. Wickham offered a sage nod. “That is correct. But Colonel Fitzwilliam is the son of an earl. You can hardly suppose he would pay much attention to the son of a steward.”
“By that same token, Mr. Darcy, as the nephew of an earl, might have been the same. Yet you have spoken of your closeness as children.”
“The son of an earl is worlds apart from a nephew.”
Elizabeth smiled to acknowledge his point and sipped from her cup.
“Were you much in company with Darcy?” asked Mr. Wickham, his manner seeming to suggest great interest in her response, though the reason eluded her.
“Rarely,” said Elizabeth, wishing to reveal as little as possible.
The officer snorted, the most open form of derision he had ever made toward Mr. Darcy in Elizabeth’s presence. “Ah, the infamous Darcy pride and reserve. No doubt he expected you to genuflect when faced with the honor of his deigning to pay a visit to your friend’s parlor.”
Now that Elizabeth knew more of the gentleman’s character, there was little enough reason to credit Mr. Wickham’s charge. Not long ago, she would have agreed with him. A hint of offense welled up within her breast at his scorn for Mr. Darcy, which she now knew he did not deserve.
“On the contrary,” replied Elizabeth, “in the company of those with whom he is comfortable, Mr. Darcy sheds something of his reserve. While I cannot claim a great interest or knowledge of his ways, I understand him a little better than I did before, which has improved my opinion of him.”
“Indeed?” asked Mr. Wickham. He feigned incredulity, but Elizabeth was certain she had told him exactly what he wished to hear. “That is a surprise, Miss Elizabeth. I could not have imagined Darcy condescending to pay the compliment of his attention to anyone. It appears he favors you exceedingly.”
Elizabeth regarded the man with asperity. “I am afraid I cannot divine your meaning.”
“Only that Darcy rarely pays attention to anyone of the fairer sex.” Mr. Wickham released a caustic laugh.
“Mixed with this news of his dancing only with you at Mr. Bingley’s ball, you must apprehend why I find your account to be most intriguing.
Then again, given your feelings for him, I cannot help but imagine his attempts are all wasted. ”
“I have already stated my improved opinion,” said Elizabeth testily.
“And yet he has failed to elicit your regard. Typical, for Darcy has always been inept with the ladies.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wickham, but you have inferred much where I have said little. Then again, given your behavior with Miss King, I suppose understanding is not your strength.”
“On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he, “about certain matters, I am very observant. As for Miss King, the fact of the matter is that she did not suit me.”
“It is important to understand oneself well enough to know when another does not fit as a potential marriage partner,” said Elizabeth, injecting a hint of a mocking quality into her sage observation.
“However, with Miss King, I suspect your failure was more than her lack of suitability. I suspect, however, her dowry suited you well, for it is a greater sum than, say, a mere four thousand pounds.”
Mr. Wickham started when she mentioned that figure. Elizabeth allowed him no time to regain his footing.
“If my sisters are to be believed, it appears Miss King’s guardians did not like what they saw in you. It is unfortunate for you, but I feel that she has made a providential escape.”
Far from being offended, Mr. Wickham looked at her as if he had never been more diverted.
For the first time, Elizabeth felt a little uneasy in his company.
The man could do nothing in a crowded drawing room, leaving Elizabeth with a sense of security for the present.
Were they alone, wondered what depravity he might contemplate.
“If I might proffer a bit of advice, Miss Bennet,” said he at length, still appearing darkly amused, “it would be to avoid believing everything you hear.”
“That is, perhaps, the most perspicacious statement you have ever made, Mr. Wickham,” retorted Elizabeth. “Our acquaintance has taught me to practice more circumspection, for I can never know when one with whom I possess no more than a slight acquaintance will attempt to mislead me.”
Even this transparent reference to his initial stories did nothing to bring him pause, for he gave her a slight smile. “Discernment is a prized attribute, Miss Elizabeth. However, I suspect that discretion is no less critical.”
“Then it will please you to know that I am always discrete.”
“Very good, madam,” said Mr. Wickham with a bow. “I shall wish you a happy life since it appears we will not meet again.”
So saying, Mr. Wickham took himself away. Within moments, he situated himself by Lydia’s side, content to banter and flirt with Elizabeth’s empty-headed youngest sister and her equally silly companion, Mrs. Forster.
For a time, Elizabeth stood by herself, idly watching and considering Mr. Wickham, playing through the confrontation.
The ill feelings had sprouted between them and appeared to grow more biting the longer they had spoken.
The man could no longer be in any doubt as to her opinion of him and her good information.
What he thought of her change of heart, Elizabeth could not say, though he did not appear wounded by her defection.
In all truth, Elizabeth had sensed something about him, a quality she had not noticed previously.
He had appeared almost . . . expectant, though Elizabeth was not certain that was the appropriate word.
What he inferred from her words concerning Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth did not know.
Yet his smirk at the end had suggested she had given him exactly what he wanted. What that might be was a mystery.
In the end, Elizabeth resolved to give the objectionable man no more of her energy.
If he suspected or schemed, it was nothing to her.
He could not guess the truth of Mr. Darcy’s regard or the proposal he had made in Hunsford’s parlor, and Elizabeth would speak on the matter to no one other than her dearest sister.
Thus, Elizabeth put the matter from her mind and turned her thoughts to other considerations. When the officers finally departed, she heaved a sigh of relief. No longer must she endure them. Their departure could not come soon enough for Elizabeth’s peace of mind.