Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Lizzy, are you well?” Jane spoke softly so as not to be heard by the other members around the breakfast table. “You are very quiet.”
Elizabeth looked up from her plate. “Am I? Forgive me, I slept ill.” The truth of the matter was she had hardly slept at all.
Hanging over her head since yesterday morning, like the sword of Damocles, was the fact that she still had not had any kind of frank discussion with Mr Lucas.
Her fear was that he might attempt to make his proposal during their next meeting, possibly in front of others, and she would not have the chance to refuse him discreetly.
There was also the matter of Mr Darcy. In all their previous encounters, she had come away convinced of his pride and contempt, but ever since he departed yesterday, she could not shake the uncomfortable sensation that she had erred in her judgment of him.
“Here is a letter that will be of some interest to you,” Mr Bennet addressed his wife. “It is an apology from Mr Collins, explaining that he has been unavoidably detained in Kent. His patroness has taken ill, and he believes it is his duty as a clergyman to stay close at hand.”
“You speak as though I have any inclination to meet that vexing man,” Mrs Bennet replied through gritted teeth. “Such a wicked thing, inheriting through an entail, and I do wonder at his asking to visit us in the first place.”
“I suspect he wishes to make sure all the silver is accounted for before I die,” replied Mr Bennet cheerfully. “My advice would be to start an inventory—it would save you a great deal of time in the future.”
Mrs Bennet opened her mouth, presumably to shriek for her smelling salts, and so Elizabeth swiftly interrupted, “Is Mr Collins’s delay not fortunate Mama, for it means more space for us in the carriage to Aunt Philips’s card party.”
“’Tis nothing of the kind! If Mr Collins were here, I am sure he could be persuaded to marry one of you. It is a grave misfortune for him to be stuck in Kent and away from us all. Curse this abominable weather, for all the misery it brings.”
This statement was in direct contradiction to Mrs Bennet’s first exclamation, but Elizabeth thought it prudent not to point this out.
A letter was passed to Elizabeth, and she recognised Charlotte’s hand.
Grateful for an excuse to escape Mrs Bennet’s inevitable attack of nerves, she slipped from the room to read it in peace.
Aunt Philips’s card party was a busy affair, and her drawing room was filled with many people that Elizabeth did not recognise.
Elizabeth was glad of the crowd for she could make herself scarce amongst all the noise and chatter.
From Charlotte’s letter, she had not been able to discern if Mr Lucas might be in attendance.
Her mind much occupied, she was in poor spirits, a state of being that was unfamiliar to her, and she wandered to the next room in the hope of finding a quieter conversation.
As she walked into the dining room, she espied Charlotte and her mother sitting near a group of redcoats.
Elizabeth had not the humour to sit with Lady Lucas and listen to the merits of marrying her son, and so she moved to make a hasty retreat, but it was too late.
“Sit dear Lizzy! We have much to talk about.” Lady Lucas patted a plump hand on the empty chair beside her.
Her chins wobbled as she spoke, the feather in her cap quivering in perfect unison.
“Poor Fred arrives later. My darling boy has worked himself into a state of agitation. His waistcoat had dropped a button, and there was not the thread to match it. What disasters befall these men of fashion!” A calculating light shone in her eyes and a shrewd smile played about her lips.
“On the subject of noteworthy men, how fares Mr Vanderbeck?”
“My godfather’s last letter informed us he was well,” Elizabeth answered coolly, disliking the speed with which Lady Lucas turned the conversation to her father’s oldest and wealthiest friend.
“And still exploring the Americas?”
“To our knowledge, yes, although our correspondence is intermittent—I believe he had suffered from a bout of ill-health. He aims to return to England before Christmas.”
“And yet he still finds time to write to his favourite goddaughter.”
“The letters are addressed to my father, not to me.”
“A pity that he should always be so far away, especially when he is so fond of you. I have heard that those parts of the world are very dangerous. He must live in a constant state of peril.”
“I am sure Mr Vanderbeck’s vast fortune does much to appease his suffering.” Charlotte caught Elizabeth’s eye over her mother’s head.
“Yes, indeed, dear girl.” Lady Lucas brightened at this reference to Mr Vanderbeck’s wealth.
“Pardon my intrusion, my dear madam, but I could not help overhearing your conversation.” One of the redcoats who was sitting near them turned in his chair and addressed Lady Lucas with a charming smile. “Are you by any chance talking of Mr Artur Vanderbeck, the eminent explorer?”
“Why, yes.” Lady Lucas’s eyelashes fluttered at the young man’s interest.
“I once went to a lecture of his at Cambridge. He is without a doubt the most fascinating man.” The soldier’s eyes were on Elizabeth, his expression full of interest.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied primly, thinking of the chaos that followed whenever her godfather chose to arrive, unannounced, at her parents’ door. “Fascinating is the word.”
“And Lizzy is such a favourite of his,” Charlotte added with a smile. “She is his only goddaughter.”
“Indeed?” The man’s smile deepened, flashing a row of gleaming white teeth. “I was not aware Mr Vanderbeck had any living relations or godchildren.”
“It is not widely known.” Elizabeth attempted to quell Charlotte’s outpouring of information with a stare. “Forgive me, but I do not think we have been introduced.”
The man turned his chair so it joined the women’s party, his eyes shining in an unmistakable display of admiration. “You must pardon me. George Wickham, at your service.”
Ice ran through Elizabeth’s veins, but she managed to regain her composure. Charlotte did not seem to notice Elizabeth’s inner turmoil and performed the introductions with a mischievous glance in her friend’s direction.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance.” Mr Wickham smiled at them all before returning his attention to Elizabeth. She fought the urge to recoil under his appreciative scrutiny.
“A-a pleasure, sir.” Not wishing to stay a moment more than was necessary, she hastily addressed Charlotte, “I must return to Mary. She is expecting me to partner her at whist.”
Mr Wickham did not appear offended by her swift departure. “I shall not prevent any pleasure of yours, Miss Elizabeth. I wonder if you might allow me the honour of playing alongside you later.”
“I am sure Lizzy would like that very much.” Charlotte grinned, apparently mistaking Elizabeth’s discomfort in meeting Miss Darcy’s seducer as embarrassment at receiving attention from a handsome stranger. “She is so fond of cards.”