Chapter 13 #3
Mrs Bennet’s pleasure at their coming was undeniable.
Mr Ellis was correct. Elizabeth’s mother would want to show Mr Wickham off to their neighbours every bit as much as she would Lydia in all her newly married glory.
A son-in-law, especially one so dashing as Mr Wickham, was worth the price of gold to Mrs Bennet, and Lydia had always been her favourite child, second only to Jane.
It was ridiculous to expect Longbourn’s mistress to observe politesse and leave the Wickhams at home; nor would she consider penning a note to Netherfield, informing the Bingleys of the unexpectedness of her married daughter’s arrival.
Elizabeth’s agitation increased, and with it, her inattention to her current task. She felt a headache coming on and laid aside her embroidery. A moment later, she rose from her chair, intent upon quitting the room in quest of some fresh air.
“Whatever are you doing?” Mr Ellis asked, rising politely in acknowledgement.
Elizabeth startled, hesitated, and finally spoke. “The air in the room has grown stagnant. I am merely going for a walk.”
His eyes shifted from Elizabeth to the other side of the room, where Elizabeth’s mother fussed over Lydia with unabashed enthusiasm. He pursed his lips. “A bit of fresh air would do me a world of good as well. I will escort you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“There is no need, sir,” she insisted at once. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own way through my father’s park.”
“I have no doubts regarding your capabilities. Banish me to a remote corner of the woods if you like, but do not abandon me to the whims of your mother and Mrs Wickham. I have not Mr Wickham’s fortitude.” With a debonair smile he extended his arm, indicating she should lead the way.
Elizabeth looked to her aunt, but her aunt looked far too amused to be of service to her.
“Go on, Lizzy,” she said. “Take a turn about the garden with Mr Ellis. The change of venue will do you a world of good. As for myself, I will check on the children, else they get themselves into mischief.”
Exasperated, Elizabeth ignored Mr Ellis’s proffered arm, turned on her heel, and strode towards the door.
Under different circumstances she would have appreciated her friend’s gallantry and welcomed his society, but she was by no means pleased to have his companionship thrust upon her, not when she desired solitude.
“Where are you going with Mr Ellis, Lizzy?” her mother demanded when she spied Elizabeth making her way across the room. “It is not every day that your sister is come back, and with Mr Wickham, too!”
“I am going for a walk, Mamma. I cannot speak for Mr Ellis. Perhaps he would like to see the hermitage. If so, he can find his own way.” She addressed her friend. “Do go and see the hermitage, Mr Ellis.”
“Oh!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, brightening.
“But of course, you must show Mr Ellis the hermitage, my dear!” She turned her attention to Mr Ellis, her excitement barely contained, and declared, “How wonderful this is, sir, and so spontaneous, too! Take all the time in the world, but do not keep us in suspense forever! I want to hear all about it once you are come back!”
Elizabeth was mortified to see her mother winking at her—much in the same manner she had at Jane before Mr Bingley had proposed marriage—and felt a flush of violent heat.
Surely, her mother did not think Mr Ellis meant to propose to her!
But one look at the gratified smile on Mrs Bennet’s face made Elizabeth’s heart sink.
She dared not look at Mr Ellis but walked swiftly to the door and threw it open.
“Yes,” Mrs Bennet sang, “be off with you now, and do not forget to speak to your father once everything is settled between you! He will want to know every particular!”
Elizabeth quickened her pace.
“Mr and Mrs Thomas Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Catherine Bennet, Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner, and Lieutenant and Mrs George Wickham, sir.”
If Mr Bingley was taken aback to see the Wickhams being presented to him in his finest drawing room, he hid his surprise extremely well.
“Of course. How wonderful,” he proclaimed with a smile as he greeted everyone and made the proper introductions between his future family and several of his own relations who had arrived two days prior from Scarborough.
After everyone was comfortably situated, wine was procured from Netherfield’s cellars and offered to his guests.
Unlike his friend, Darcy could barely conceal his astonishment.
As he watched George Wickham engage in pleasantries with Bingley as though the blackguard was perfectly entitled to receive his notice, Darcy’s consternation turned to anger.
He rose from his chair with his wine glass in hand, walked to the other side of the room, and stationed himself before a large window that overlooked the park. It was dark as pitch.
How the devil has that man come to be in this house!
How is it possible that he is not with his regiment?
It was not without difficulty that Darcy refrained from quitting the room altogether to send an express to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Surely, Wickham would not have been granted leave to travel such a distance for a wedding in the south when there are duties he must be expected to perform in the north!
As though she had the ability to read his mind, Mrs Bennet chose that moment to declare to the room, “It was the most wonderful surprise when I saw my darling Lydia and her dear Wickham walk into the house with Lizzy this morning, Mr Bingley! Upon my word, he is the most considerate husband in the world to bring her all the way from Newcastle for her sister’s wedding tomorrow, is he not? ”
“Yes,” Bingley replied. “Very considerate indeed.”
Darcy may have imagined it, but he thought he detected a note of terseness in his friend’s tone. Perhaps Bingley was not as amenable to seeing the Wickhams as he first thought.
“I thank you,” said Wickham equitably. “Of late, my dear wife has been desolate being so far from Hertfordshire, and so I found that I could not possibly deny her the pleasure of being within the bosom of her family a moment longer. After all, it is not every day one of my dear sisters is to marry such a kind-hearted, benevolent gentleman. It would be unpardonable to miss paying our respects on such a happy occasion.”
Via the reflections in the windowpanes, Darcy’s eyes sought Elizabeth.
She was seated upon one of Bingley’s couches.
Her posture appeared rigid. Despite her serious, almost angry mien, he could not deny that she looked extremely lovely wearing what he supposed was one of many new gowns that would soon be travelling with her to London.
She reached for her wine glass and took a slow, measured sip.
“Do you hear that, girls?” Mrs Bennet cried.
“Now that is thoughtfulness for you! That is generosity for you! Indeed, Mr Wickham is the very best of men, is he not? Should you happen to visit your sister in Newcastle, I am certain he would be able to introduce the rest of you to some equally dashing and solicitous officers. What say you, sir?”
“I say amen to that, ma’am. It would be my pleasure to have my sisters to stay with us. As a matter of fact, I can think of several gentlemen off the top of my head who would be extremely gratified to make their acquaintance. None of my sisters would go unadmired in the north.”
“Oh, yes! You must all come to Newcastle,” Lydia cried, “even you, Mary, for it is as good a place as any to get you a husband, I daresay.”
“I thank you for my share,” Mary answered curtly, “but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands. I would rather remain respectable than behave like a common—”
“Hush, you foolish girl,” said Mrs Bennet.
“You shall become a spinster at this rate! You ought to be grateful your sister is willing to take you under her wing at all. Lord knows you do nothing to attract any notice here, not like your other sisters. Why, in the last month Lizzy has managed to catch the eye of several promising young men who are more than capable of providing her with a very comfortable situation. She will soon follow your sisters’ example and have a doting husband of her own.
Indeed, she could very well receive an offer this evening if only she would wipe that sour expression from her face.
” She turned towards Bingley’s aunt with a wide smile and said, “Mr Ellis is a charming young man, and quite wealthy, too! I was certain he intended to propose to Lizzy this morning, but it turned out he had to go away on some errand or other and did not get around to it.”
The sound of breaking glass was heard across the room. It took Darcy a moment to realise it was not the wine glass he clutched in his own hand that had shattered, but Elizabeth’s.
In haste she had risen from her seat. A heated blush deeply coloured her complexion, not dissimilar to the liquid presently soaking her gloves.
What was left of her wine glass lay discarded upon the table—several large shards of crystal amidst a dark puddle of cabernet.
“I am so sorry,” she cried, frantically dabbing the soiled silk of her gloves with her handkerchief. “I do not know what has come over me!”
Bingley leapt from his place beside Jane to offer his own handkerchief and to ring the bell pull for a servant. “Think nothing of it, Miss Elizabeth. It is only a bit of wine, after all. It is quite all right. I am exceedingly sorry about your gloves.”
“As am I!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “What a careless girl you are! I ought to have known you would do something to ruin your appearance this evening, and before Mr Ellis is able to see you, too! I do not know why I even bother to buy you any new things when all you do is treat them with such ill-care!”
“If I were to have new gloves, Mamma,” said Lydia, “I certainly would not treat them so carelessly, especially gloves as grand as Lizzy’s.”
“Nor would I,” echoed Kitty.
“If Lizzy treats all her new things in such a manner,” Lydia continued, “perhaps I ought to have them instead. As a married woman, I will know how to take proper care of them.”
“Why should you have Lizzy’s new things?” Kitty cried indignantly. “You have a husband to buy you gowns and gloves—and besides, I am two years older!”
Horrified, Darcy watched Elizabeth blanch.
She clutched the soiled handkerchiefs in her hands, which appeared to shake slightly, and addressed the mistress of the house with as much composure as she could likely muster.
“Pray, excuse me, Miss Bingley. I have no desire to leave a mark upon your furniture.” She did not wait to hear Miss Bingley’s reply.
Darcy was at a loss as he watched Elizabeth all but run from the room.
Her departure was accompanied by sympathetic murmurs from Bingley’s relations.
His first instinct, to damn propriety and go after her to provide what little comfort he could, was currently at war with that of his second: taking Mrs Bennet to task for humiliating her daughter—two of her daughters—in such a callous manner in public.
As he had no claim on Elizabeth, neither impulse was viable, nor appropriate.
He turned his attention instead to the few rational members of Elizabeth’s family and was at once relieved to see that Mrs Gardiner had begun to stand.
It was Jane, however, who would follow Elizabeth from the room. Darcy watched her lay her hand upon her aunt’s arm, and the two women engaged in a short, but earnest conversation.
When Miss Bennet had gone, Mr Bennet’s voice rose over the din of his two youngest daughters who, to Darcy’s astonishment, continued to argue.
“Kitty, Lydia, that is quite enough! No one will have Lizzy’s new things besides Lizzy.
They are hers to do with as she pleases.
I do not care if she wears them in the fields after a rainstorm or while wading knee-deep in the brook, so long as I do not hear another word on the subject. ”
“The brook,” his wife cried. “Mr Bennet, you cannot possibly—”
But her husband fixed her with a stern look that brooked no opposition. “I suggest you introduce another topic, Mrs Bennet, for this one is closed.” With a nod to his future son-in-law, Mr Bennet lifted his wine glass and proceeded to drink the entirety of its contents.
Bingley plastered a tight, congenial smile upon his face and enquired after the health of Mrs Bennet’s sister, Mrs Philips, who was also to be a guest at Netherfield that evening.
Within seconds, Mrs Bennet took charge of the conversation much as she usually did, speaking animatedly to all those who would listen about the various other families residing in the neighbourhood, including their situations and prospects, as though nothing untoward had just occurred.
When the topic turned to Mr Ellis and the Lucases, who were expected to arrive at any moment, Darcy had borne more than he felt he could possibly be expected to tolerate.
He discarded his wine glass and made his way to a secondary door located at the back of the room, bent on seeking relief from the exposition taking place using whatever means were within his reach.