Chapter 14
Disappointments and Distinctions
That same morning at Longbourn, Lydia Bennet declared that a walk to Meryton was absolutely necessary. “The air is far too fine to remain indoors,” she announced, tying her bonnet ribbons with great satisfaction. “Besides, I am persuaded we shall meet half the regiment.”
Kitty agreed with immediate enthusiasm.
Elizabeth, who had intended to call at the milliner’s in any case, offered no objection. Jane, though not at first inclined to walk so far that morning, was soon persuaded by her sisters.
Mary declined the invitation. She wanted to use the time to practise on the pianoforte.
Mr. Collins easily persuaded himself that a little music just then would be the perfect background while he relaxed after breakfast. Mrs. Bennet remained in the drawing room, still lamenting the sudden departure of Mr. Bingley to anyone who might listen.
Thus, it was Jane, Elizabeth, Lydia, and Kitty who set out together.
Lydia’s expectations were rewarded almost immediately. They had scarcely entered the principal street of Meryton when she exclaimed with delight. “There they are!”
A small party of officers approached from the opposite direction. Among them, Elizabeth recognised Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham.
Wickham saw them at once and stepped forward with his usual easy grace. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty,” he said, bowing. “What a fortunate meeting.”
Mr. Denny greeted them warmly, and the party soon fell into conversation.
Lydia was animated as ever. “You must walk with us,” she insisted. “We are only just come into town.”
“Lydia, we are to the milliner’s.” Elizabeth reminded her.
“You go ahead. We shall wait for you here.”
The officers readily complied, and for a few minutes the conversation proceeded in great cheerfulness. Lydia laughed freely, Kitty listened with admiration, and Wickham spoke with his customary charm.
Elizabeth reluctantly left the group, but when Jane followed, she asked her to stay with the group. When she returned, Mr. Wickham turned his attention to her.
“Have you recovered from the ball?” he said lightly. “Everybody is still talking about it.”
Elizabeth returned the remark with polite composure. “It was certainly a great event.”
He studied her expression. “I hope I can still count you among my friends, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth replied calmly. “I would have thought friends tell the truth to each other.”
Wickham made as though to speak – to recover the ground he had lost – but Elizabeth stopped him.
“Mr. Wickham, I do not wish to hear any explanation from you. I listened once before, and you used that opportunity very ill. We are not friends, and after your behaviour at the ball, I cannot think any further acquaintance proper. Pray do not compel me to repeat what I have already said.”
Wickham’s expression altered almost imperceptibly. For a moment, it seemed he would persist, but something in Elizabeth’s manner convinced him otherwise. His smile returned, though it lacked its former ease.
“You are uncommonly decided this morning, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I prefer to be cautious,” she replied.
Lydia, who had been watching them with growing curiosity, now clapped her hands together.
“Well! Now that everything is settled, you must all walk with us,” she cried. “We are going back to Longbourn soon enough, and I declare it would be vastly entertaining to be escorted by half the regiment.”
Kitty laughed and nodded eagerly. “Yes, do come!”
Elizabeth did not answer at once. Instead, she gently drew Lydia a few steps aside. “Lydia,” she said quietly, “you must not ask it.”
“Why ever not?” Lydia replied, astonished.
“You remember Papa’s opinion.”
Lydia tossed her head impatiently. “Oh! Papa says a great many things.”
Elizabeth’s voice remained calm but firm. “He did not think it proper that you dance with Mr. Wickham the other evening. If he thought that imprudent, how do you suppose he would like you to be escorted home by him today?”
Lydia frowned. “But there are others with him.”
“That does not alter the matter.”
Lydia glanced back toward the officers, where Wickham stood speaking with Jane and Mr. Denny.
“Well,” she said reluctantly, “it would have been very diverting.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “I do not doubt it.”
They returned to the others.
Lydia, though disappointed, still attempted one last effort.
“Mr. Wickham,” she said brightly, “you ought to walk with us as to the edge of Meryton.”
Elizabeth spoke before he could answer. “I believe the officers are already engaged elsewhere.”
Wickham looked at her. For a moment, something far less agreeable than charm appeared in his countenance. “You are very careful of your sister’s conduct today, Miss Elizabeth,” he said quietly.
“I am careful of my family,” she replied.
His smile returned, but it was strained. “You would be readily protected, I assure you.”
Elizabeth met his gaze without hesitation.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I am sure you have better things to do.”
There was a brief silence.
Wickham’s composure faltered. “Take care, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in a lower voice. “You would do well not to involve yourself further.”
Before Elizabeth could reply, Mr. Denny stepped forward with forced good humour.
“Come, Wickham,” he said lightly. “We are keeping the ladies standing in the street.”
Wickham seemed to recollect himself. “Quite right,” he said.
He bowed. “Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lydia. Miss Kitty.”
The officers soon continued on their way.
Lydia watched them go with visible disappointment. “Well,” she said at last, “I am sure that was very odd.”
Elizabeth said nothing. But the expression she had just seen on Wickham’s face remained fixed in her mind.
It had not been merely displeasure. It had been anger. And something else besides.
***
When the party returned to Longbourn, they had scarcely entered the drawing room before Mrs. Bennet exclaimed with visible agitation,
“At last! Jane, my dear, where have you all been? A letter has arrived for you, and I have been in the greatest suspense ever since.”
Jane looked surprised. “For me, Mama?”
“Yes, yes – from Netherfield, I am quite certain.”
Jane accepted the letter, though with some hesitation. The direction was indeed written in Miss Bingley’s hand.
Mrs. Bennet could hardly remain seated. “Well? Why do you not read it?”
Jane broke the seal and began to read. At first her expression was composed, but as her eyes moved down the page her colour faded slightly.
Elizabeth, who watched her closely, noticed it at once. “What is it, Jane?”
Jane folded the letter slowly before answering. “It is from Miss Bingley.”
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward eagerly. “Well! What does she say? Is she inviting you?”
Jane hesitated a moment before replying. “They are leaving Netherfield. All of them.”
The words produced immediate confusion.
“Pardon?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “What nonsense is that?”
Jane opened the letter again. “Miss Bingley writes that her brother is to remain in London for the present, and that they have all determined to join him there.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her. “To London!”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And without even calling here first?”
Jane shook her head gently. “It appears the decision was made suddenly.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed her hand to her forehead.
“Well! I declare I never heard anything so unfeeling. To leave the neighbourhood in such a manner – and after all our attentions!”
Lydia, who had been only half attending, now spoke with sudden alarm. “But the officers are not leaving, are they?”
“No one has mentioned the officers,” Elizabeth said dryly.
Mrs. Bennet continued in great distress. “And without so much as a visit! My poor dear Jane – after all the civility you have shown Miss Bingley! When are they to return?”
“They plan to spend the winter in London. I am sure there must be some good reason for their departure.”
“And Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth heard herself ask.
Jane offered her the letter. Elizabeth took it and read it more carefully.
The language was polite – even affectionate – yet something in the tone struck her as strangely decisive.
“London has many attractions,” Lydia observed carelessly. “Perhaps they have found better society there.”
Mrs. Bennet turned toward her in despair. “Better society! I am sure no one ever treated them with more attention than we did.”
“She speaks very kindly of our acquaintance,” she said quietly.
Elizabeth returned the letter to her. “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “she does.”
Yet as she spoke, she could not help thinking that kindness had very little to do with the matter.
Mrs. Bennet sank back in her chair. “To leave without saying goodbye!” she exclaimed. “It is beyond anything I ever heard.”
For several minutes, the room remained full of exclamations and speculation.
It was during this moment of general agitation that Mr. Collins, who had listened to the entire discussion with great seriousness, rose from his chair and cleared his throat.
In his eagerness, he scarcely seemed to comprehend that Miss Bennet’s prospects, whatever they had lately appeared, were now evidently at an end.
The sound immediately commanded attention.
“My dear cousins,” he began with solemn composure, “while I deeply sympathise with the disappointment which this letter must naturally occasion, I cannot but feel that circumstances of a more private nature now require my attention.”
Elizabeth felt a sudden suspicion. Mr. Collins turned toward Mary.
“Miss Mary Bennet, might I request the honour of a few minutes’ private conversation with you?”
Mary looked up in surprise. “With me, sir?”
“If it should not be disagreeable.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked. “Mary?”
Mr. Collins bowed with great dignity. “My request was very intentionally addressed to Miss Mary.”
Mary rose slowly, her colour heightened but her composure admirable. She looked first at Jane, then Elizabeth. “Very well, sir.”
They withdrew together to the small parlour.