1811 Meryton
MERYTON
‘Must I attend, Mother? I have nothing to say to soldiers, you know; and they rarely have anything to say for themselves.’
‘I see you are an expert on military men. I had no idea,’ replied Lady Lucas drily.
Mother and daughter were stood in front of Charlotte’s open wardrobe, selecting a dress for her.
Tonight’s dance at the assembly rooms had been arranged by Colonel Forster to provide some entertainment for his militia regiment, who had been recently installed in the area, and to introduce them to the people of Meryton.
It would be fairly relaxed – not a grand occasion, but a chance to be seen.
Lady Lucas picked out a pretty peach gown for Charlotte, with puffed sleeves and lace detail – which Charlotte rejected in favour of a simple, pale-blue dress that bordered on day wear.
Her mother was not pleased. ‘Perhaps if you gave them your time more generously, and actually listened, you might find they do have something to say – perhaps you would learn something about the war.’
‘From the militia? I hardly think so. Although it is true that I have been hoping for instruction in shining buttons and drinking ale very quickly.’
‘Charlotte!’ Her mother was usually amused by her daughter’s quips about their acquaintance, but tonight, she was in a mood to be irked by them.
‘You cannot set yourself against entire groups of gentlemen on the strength of but one or two encounters. Your judgements are formed too hastily; no man is likely to approach you if you look closed to the very notion.’
‘I ought to be grateful for the attentions of just anyone?’
‘No. Only of someone good and worthy, but you will never be approached by that person if you wear anything like the expression on your face at this moment.’
Perhaps it was the act of being forced by her parents to attend an assembly that was making Charlotte feel like a child tonight, but she was in a mood to be difficult.
She had grown accustomed to being allowed some agency over which social events she attended, but since her last birthday – as if the particular age of twenty-seven held some distinct horror – her mother had suddenly been more insistent on her attendance at every occasion.
Tonight was one that Charlotte would certainly have foregone.
She had no interest in the militia, and she did not anticipate Elizabeth or Jane attending.
She had received a note from her friend earlier today to inform her that, owing to the arrival of a cousin who had come to visit, the whole family would be absent.
Without the hope of their company for diversion, the evening held little prospect of enjoyment.
‘Even if I were noticed by a soldier, you would not have me marry a member of the militia, would you? How generous a dowry is Father willing to give me that I might support a handsome captain with no house?’
‘I am not trying to marry you off to a soldier! I only think it wise to be seen among all sorts of people and be known as pleasant company.’
Charlotte sighed. ‘Very well. Although you know they will only have eyes for Maria.’
‘You and Maria are very different.’
‘Oh, I am aware of that.’
‘I know her features have invited compliments, but you have many qualities she does not.’
‘I do not have the ample qualities she possesses, which most of those soldiers will be looking at instead of her face.’
‘Charlotte Lucas!’
Lady Lucas playfully slapped Charlotte’s arm and exited the room, shaking her head.
Charlotte grinned and sat down, allowing Alice to begin curling her hair.
Charlotte, in pale-blue muslin and with neatly curled hair, stood alone – contentedly so – watching the dancing and sipping some punch.
She had positioned herself in the corner of the hall, avoiding the eyes of her mother, who was beckoning her over with a curt tilt of her chin.
Lady Lucas and Maria were standing with Colonel Forster and two young gentlemen, one of them dressed in regimentals, the other in cream breeches and a smart navy tail-coat.
The latter rather stood out, as every other man here was in uniform; the hall was a sea of red, white and gold.
Tonight’s assembly was a diplomatic venture of sorts, smoothing relations between the soldiers and the town, and Colonel Forster’s efforts in this were aided by Sir William Lucas, who cut a fine figure as he moved through the gathering, making introductions with practised ease.
‘Ah, and here she is!’ exclaimed Lady Lucas, when Charlotte, relenting, joined the group. ‘May I introduce my eldest daughter? Charlotte, this is Mr Denny, and Mr—’ She looked questioningly at the gentleman in navy. ‘Oh, forgive me?’
He smiled warmly and supplied, ‘Wickham, my lady. And a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lucas.’ He bowed low, and Charlotte gave a small curtsy in return.
‘How are your men enjoying Meryton so far, Colonel?’ Charlotte asked Colonel Forster, already an acquaintance after he had visited Lucas Lodge a few weeks ago, when the regiment had first arrived.
‘Oh, very well, I thank you. There are many pleasant people here who have welcomed them generously. And a lot of pretty young ladies to keep them entertained!’ he added, with a chuckle and a sideways look at Maria.
Charlotte did not like seeing her sister – and, by implication, many other girls in the village – treated as a plaything for amorous soldiers.
That said, she knew for certain that several of the ladies in question treated the soldiers with the same attitude, that those of the militia were there to be gawped at and flirted with but rarely considered for serious attachment.
Perhaps, therefore, the furtive looks being exchanged between Denny and her sister represented some kind of equality.
But even so, Charlotte did not care for them.
Charlotte turned to the gentleman on her right, Mr Wickham. ‘Pray forgive the question, sir, but are you with the regiment? Only, you stand out a little, without a red coat.’
‘I am aware of the contrast,’ he said, smiling. ‘I receive my uniform soon, and then I shall look more the part and be glad of it.’
‘You are a new recruit, then?’
‘Indeed. I arrived from London just today.’
‘Well, I hope you will enjoy Meryton. It boasts little beyond a very fine ribbon selection at the milliner’s, if that is of interest to you?’ said Charlotte playfully. She had not the will to engage in the usual dull small talk, which such an occasion often demanded.
Mr Wickham looked a little confused at the suggestion, then, catching the tone, he laughed. He seemed surprised to have found humour in his new acquaintance. ‘Ah, you know me well – my uniform will no doubt benefit from some trimming.’
Yet even as he spoke, he leant back slightly, his eyes moving quickly as he surveyed the room.
Charlotte felt that Mr Wickham’s attention was already starting to wane.
She had no inclination to detain him, but until he excused himself, she did not wish to stand in silence – so, as the others in the circle seemed occupied, she went on, ‘Do you come from Hertfordshire, sir?’
‘No, Derbyshire,’ he answered.
‘Oh – splendid. I have not travelled far myself, but I have been to the Peaks and enjoyed the vistas very much.’
‘It is a beautiful part of the country,’ he said distractedly. ‘But I now prefer London, in truth.’
‘Oh, really? You must enjoy events like this then. You prefer a country dance to a country mile?’
‘I suppose I do.’ His gaze, having found no better prospect, returned now to Charlotte and he seemed decided to enter again more fully into the conversation.
‘There are other pursuits I should have enjoyed even more, had life been kinder to me. But’ – he drew in a breath, offering a faint, rueful smile – ‘I am not one to dwell on past ills.’
Charlotte suspected he was inviting her to enquire further, but finding herself unwilling to satisfy him, she instead replied briskly, ‘Good for you,’ with a smile.
He took a breath to begin his story before realising what she had said.
His expression was as if she had shut a door in his face.
He was not happy. He looked around the room once more and, clearly seeing something more to his liking, said, ‘If you will forgive me, Miss Lucas, I believe it is my duty to make myself known to as many people as possible tonight.’ He put on a face of regret, as if it were a sacrifice for him to leave her side, which it struck Charlotte as very false.
She smiled however, saying, ‘Of course, Mr Wickham,’ and curtsied.
She watched him as he traversed the room towards a group of pretty girls giggling in a corner. The young women – and they were young; they must be only just out – stopped giggling with each other and started to laugh instead at whatever Mr Wickham was saying.
How interesting, thought Charlotte. He had not seemed especially humorous, and yet they were all greeting him with gales of appreciative laughter. He seemed much more at ease with this situation than he had been with Charlotte.
The evening passed as she had expected; she danced once with Colonel Forster and once with Mr Denny, who was now well liked by her parents and appeared rather taken with her sister, whom he stood up with more than once.
Her expectations of the militia were surpassed on this occasion; she enjoyed some lively conversations and met with some interesting characters, whom she was eager to tell Elizabeth about when she next saw her.
Word quickly spread through the village that there would be a ball at Netherfield the next Tuesday, held by Mr Bingley and his sisters.
It was an event that had the mothers of Meryton in thrall, posing as it did such a fine opportunity for their unmarried offspring to encounter new, wealthy potential suitors.
Perhaps related to this, Lady Lucas determined that Maria needed new gloves.