Chapter 19
“Father?”
Mr. Bennet, who was pacing back and forth, swallowed down a bark of impatience and forced a shaky smile to welcome his eldest daughter, “Come in, Jane, and sit by the fire for another … four minutes, if you would. Please do not speak as I am quite uncomfortable at the moment.”
Jane obediently sat down near the fire, though her attention was fixed on her father, who looked to be in a wretched state. He was shivering a little, his face was pasty, his eyes slightly glassy. Was her beloved father ill? If so, why would waiting four minutes be of any help?
The minutes ground by slowly but finally, upon the very stroke of ten, Mr. Bennet picked up a glass of dark red liquid and drank half of it down quickly, sighing with relief as he did so.
“Thank you for waiting, my dear,” he declared, sinking down in the chair opposite his most handsome daughter.
“Are you ill, Father?
“No, I am cutting down on my consumption of wine and finding it a most uncomfortable business.”
Jane’s porcelain forehead creased in astonished wrinkles, “I do not understand.”
“According to Mr. Jones, my body has grown so accustomed to vast quantities of drink that it now craves it incessantly. I am reducing how much I imbibe based on a rigid schedule, and am now in a nearly constant state of agitation, save for those blessed minutes immediately after my most recent glass of wine. Still, it is worth it, I daresay. My head is already somewhat clearer.”
Jane’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears, “Oh Father, I am so sorry about what you are enduring.”
“Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”
“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” Jane murmured in distress.
“No, my dear, I should. I retreated into spirits to comfort myself after Matthew’s death, leaving you and Elizabeth to carry the burden of Longbourn and the younger ones. It was the cowardly actions of a foolish old man, but I hope to make things better, if not completely right. But come, I do not wish to discuss my own idiocy and weakness any longer. What can I do for you?”
“I wish to speak of the disposition of Longbourn, Father. Mother believes I should inherit the estate, but I think it should go to Lizzy. She is the one who has been assisting you in managing Longbourn.”
“Assisting me?” Bennet replied with a grim chuckle. “Nonsense, my dear, she has done it all, with Mr. Gregory’s help. I have been useless for the last six months.”
Jane opened her mouth in protest but he waved his hand, “Enough of that. What does Lizzy think on the matter?”
“She thinks it ought to go to me because I am eldest and, she thinks, the most likely to find a good husband. But that seems unwise to me, Papa. If Elizabeth does not marry, my mother and the rest of us unmarried sisters can live at Longbourn with her oversight of the estate. I do hope to marry someday, but desire a husband who cares for me because of my character, not my wealth.”
“Like Mr. Bingley, perhaps?”
This provoked a fiery blush and Jane ducked her head, “He has been most charming and attentive, but he has not spoken.”
“Give him time, dear girl. But to answer your question, I have not yet decided to whom I will bequeath Longbourn, though I agree that Lizzy seems the obvious choice.”
Jane looked up at him, her upper lip caught firmly between her teeth, which prompted Mr. Bennet to reach forward and put a gentle hand on her own, “What is it, Jane?”
“If someone does offer for me in the near future, I … I would wish the gentleman to be told whether I will inherit the estate or not.”
“Ah, I see,” her father declared, leaning back and stroking his chin. “Yes, I quite see the problem. You would not wish to obtain an offer based on a false premise.”
“No.”
“Well, my dear, if a man offers for you, before you answer you must tell the gentleman that the situation regarding Longbourn is yet unclear. If he has further questions, he can consult me. Does that help?”
“Yes, Father, it does.”
/
George Wickham forcibly pinned a cheerful smile on his face as he stepped into the front door of Lucas Lodge. He was late to the gathering thanks to Colonel Forster, the commander of the militia, who had ordered Wickham to copy out a series of memos since the colonel’s handwriting was nearly illegible. The memos were tedious and uninteresting, and Wickham was additionally outraged that he had missed a chance to claim an early dance with the lovely Miss Jane Bennet.
“Denny,” he greeted his friend, who gave him a sympathetic grin.
“The colonel kept you late, Wickham?”
“Indeed. Where is Miss Bennet?”
“She is dancing with Pratt, but if you wish to ask her to dance, I would not bother. It is an informal affair and thus she does not have a dance card, but she is swarmed every time she steps off the dance floor.”
Wickham grinned at his friend, “We will see about that, Denny. Watch the master at work.”
/
Elizabeth walked cautiously into the sitting room of Lucas Lodge and smiled as she discovered her quarry, “Mr. Darcy!”
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, looking up with pleasure. He had stood for only a few minutes in the main room before retreating here; his leg ached, and there were so many people in such a small space that he was in constant fear of being knocked over.
Miss Elizabeth was dressed in a lavender dress in honor of the recently departed Mr. Collins, but the subdued colors did nothing to diminish her beauty and vigor. She was absolutely lovely.
“I was, I confess, surprised to learn that you decided to attend this gathering at the Lucas Lodge, but now I understand completely.”
“Do you?” he inquired, fascinated by the arch smile which graced her lips.
“Of course! Here you sit by the fire with Shakespeare in your lap, a servant available to bring you drinks, and no obligation whatsoever to dance. What is there not to like?”
He chuckled openly at this, and she was struck at how very handsome he was when happy.
“There is much truth to that, Miss Elizabeth, but I must admit that I meant to be slightly more social tonight, though my ankle thought otherwise.”
She looked down at the open book, “What are you reading?”
“ Henry VI , which I suspect seems rather odd.”
“Why would I think it odd?”
“I find most ladies, and gentlemen as well, much prefer the tragedies and comedies to Shakespeare’s historical plays.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully as she sank into a nearby seat, “Yes, I suppose that is true enough, but I have a great love for the histories because my brother Matthew enjoyed them so much.”
Darcy was startled. None of the Bennet women had spoken of their brother to him.
“Was he a scholar, Miss Elizabeth?” he inquired gently.
“He was. His weak heart meant that he could not dash around like other children, but he had a very fine mind. My father, Matthew and I used to spend so many hours in the library together reading and discussing the Iliad, the Odyssey , Shakespeare, the Bible ...”
She trailed off and heaved out a breath, “Those are precious memories and I am thankful for them. Tell me, what do you think of the historical accuracy of Henry VI , given that Shakespeare was writing under the Tudors …”
/
George Wickham stilled for a horrified moment and then, compelled by curiosity and dread, crept a little closer to the open door of the front sitting room.
Thus far, he had been quite satisfied with his accomplishments for the evening. He had indeed managed to convince Miss Bennet to dance with him and used all his wiles and vast experience to charm her. Once she was claimed by another, he decided to search for Miss Elizabeth; the word among the militia was that the eldest Miss Bennet was very close to her next younger sister, and Wickham hoped that by charming the second daughter, he could wriggle even closer to the heiress of Longbourn.
But Darcy was here – he would know that voice anywhere, curse him – and thus he had best leave, and quickly. Darcy was too much of a gentleman to engage in fisticuffs in the middle of a party, but it had only been a few months since George had nearly run off with Darcy’s precious younger sister. He had been incredibly close to carrying Georgiana off toScotland for a runaway marriage over the anvil when Darcy showed up unexpectedly and Wickham was tossed out onto the street.There were times that he could hardly sleep at night with fury over the 30,000 wonderful pounds from Georgiana’s dowry which had slipped through his fingers.
Darcy was a tall fellow and a decent pugilist, and Wickham did not care to be in his presence any more than necessary at this juncture. On the other hand, curiosity compelled him to discover what Darcy, who was always fastidious, was doing at a dull party in the home of a man like Sir William Lucas.
He shifted a little closer to peer through the door and then relaxed. Darcy was indeed inside, seated on a chair, but his head was turned toward his fair companion, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The two were having an animated discussion, about Shakespeare of all things, and it seemed unlikely that Darcy would look up and observe his old companion.
Very unlikely.
George Wickham stifled a gasp and leaned forward a little more. What was that expression on Darcy’s face? He knew Darcy, knew him well, knew the twitches of his lips, and the wrinkles in his forehead, knew the haughtiness in his eye and the distaste on his aristocratic face when Darcy looked down from his great height on lesser mortals.
But that expression, that one, was nothing like he had ever seen before save when his former playmate was gazing upon his sister, Georgiana. Darcy was smiling, he was tender, he was … he admired Miss Elizabeth Bennet. How very, very, very interesting.
George Wickham retreated a few cautious steps and turned, then sauntered casually around the dancing couples to collect another glass of wine at the refreshment tables. He smiled vaguely at a few ladies, wandered toward the door, and glided quietly into the night. This was quite an opportunity! He must contemplate just how best to take advantage of his old enemy’s fascination with the lovely Elizabeth Bennet.
/
Charles Bingley, sitting forlornly in the corner of the room behind a row of dowagers, took a bite of honey cake and chewed it ferociously, barely noting the exquisite flavor. He had entered Lucas Lodge in the highest of spirits, looking forward to spending time both on and off the dance floor with the lovely Miss Bennet. They had arrived in very good time since Caroline, who was inevitably late to descend from her bedchamber, had left for London earlier in the day.
But when he entered Lucas Lodge with Darcy stumping along at his side, he found the love of his life already dancing with that exceptionally ill-favored officer, Captain Denny. When the Scottish reel ended, Miss Bennet was swamped by other men as soon as she stepped off the dance floor. Bingley fought his way to her and won the privilege of the next country dance, but afterwards, as soon as they left the floor with her delicate hand on his arm, the Lucas heir swooped in and now she was dancing with him!
“Charles, you will not be able to speak to Miss Bennet in this crowd.”
He turned in surprise to observe his elder sister settling into the chair next to him, smiling sympathetically.
“I suppose you are correct,” he agreed in frustration. “I will call on the Bennets tomorrow.”
“So will at least a dozen other gentlemen,” Louisa declared, gazing out at the loud and swirling throng. “Now that Miss Bennet is the heiress of Longbourn, many a man who previously admired her face will wish to marry her for her fortune.”
He cursed softly and then shot a stricken look at his sister, “I apologize, Louisa. But I truly admire and love her, not for her estate but for her character.”
“Then ask her to marry you.”
He started, “Truly? I seem to remember you did not approve of the Bennets.”
Louisa flushed a little and fanned herself, “In truth, Charles, I was merely following Caroline’s lead on the matter. Hurst took me to task a few days ago; he pointed out that Miss Bennet is a charming and amiable gentlewoman of exquisite character. Regardless of her inheritance, she would be a treasure. I find Caroline’s tantrums thoroughly exhausting and went along with her vaunting matrimonial ambitions because it seemed too much work to combat her.”
“I did the same,” Charles admitted. “I confess that within a few minutes of her leaving for London, Netherfield seemed cleaner and brighter.”
“Hurst said the same.”
Bingley focused on Miss Jane Bennet, who was facing another officer with a gentle smile on her face, “I will ask her to marry me.”
“An excellent plan, Brother,” Louisa agreed. “That is, if you truly care for her. It would not be fair to Miss Bennet to offer for her if you are not committed to her happiness. I do not think she or you would thrive in a marriage of convenience.”
Bingley shook his head firmly and lowered his voice a little more, though there was no chance of being overheard over the music and chatter.
“I truly love her, Louisa. Before the entail ended, I worried that Miss Bennet might feel obliged to accept my offer for financial reasons,but now she has no such impetus; she has a fortune of her own.”
“I do not see Miss Bennet accepting an offer on entirely pragmatic grounds,” his sister remarked with a pucker between her brows. “My admittedly limited understanding of her character is that she is an honorable woman who is sincerely attracted to you.”
“Caroline said …” Bingley began, and then trailed off.
Louisa Hurst scrunched her nose irritably, “Yes, of course. Caroline said whatever she could to discourage you from the Bennets. I urge you to no longer consider her advice in matters of matrimony. If I may make an additional suggestion, Charles, you should offer for her very soon.”
He smiled gratefully, “Thank you, I believe I will rise early and make my offer in the morning.”