Chapter Three #2
It began to snow as Elizabeth reached the village, and she was glad she had worn the thick woolen cloak, which she had chosen as the hood would allow her a certain degree of concealment should she happen upon the two unsavory officers.
Elizabeth wondered what their fate might be as she approached the little house the colonel had taken after his marriage.
Conspiring to rob a local family, and at Christmastime!
Fear and outrage mingled in her chest, and she hoped the punishment for the officers’ treachery would be severe enough to deter any repetition of such awful scheming.
A very curt footman informed Elizabeth that the colonel was occupied at present, and then she was left in a rather drab antechamber to wait.
A few minutes later, the thick oak doors that connected to the colonel’s private study were flung open, and two officers emerged.
Elizabeth had been perusing a shelf of books, and looked back over her shoulder at the sound of familiar voices.
She recognized the two retreating officers at once, for she had seen them not an hour earlier in the very same attitude, whispering together as they stalked away.
Elizabeth instinctively turned her back to them, fearing she would be recognized.
After they had gone, Colonel Forster called out to her from his large and cluttered desk, and the footman waved her over before hurrying away.
Elizabeth hesitated in the open doorway.
The colonel was an imposing figure, and she began to feel foolish.
Perhaps he had already disciplined the two officers for their wicked scheming—or perhaps he would not believe what Elizabeth had come to tell him.
If Jane was here, she would be assuring Elizabeth that it must all be some great misunderstanding.
As Elizabeth stepped into the shabby, rather unkempt office, her gaze landed on the colonel’s desk.
Amidst the stacks of books, letters, maps, and other debris, was a crumpled piece of paper with what looked like a smudged pencil sketch.
She shivered involuntarily; here was the diagram the villains had sketched of Longbourn.
The colonel rearranged the detritus strewn across his desk, shifting a thick folder of papers on top of the diagram as he looked up and greeted her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, what an unexpected pleasure. Do sit down—can I offer you some tea?”
Panic rose in her chest; she had never considered the colonel’s complicity, but sudden certainty crept over her now, and she knew she could not confide her distress in the man before her.
She managed to shake her head and say, “No, thank you. Perhaps there was some mistake—it was Mrs. Forster I had meant to call upon.”
“What a surprise that would have been for her, if she were at home. We had understood your family to be traveling north with the Bingleys.”
Elizabeth was not sure if she ought to offer an outright lie, or if a half-truth would suffice. “Oh—no—that is, my relations are expected to return to Longbourn this evening.”
“I do not think that likely,” Colonel Forster replied evenly.
He held her gaze for a moment before smiling.
“There is a storm headed this way—I understand it has already affected many towns not too far from here—the road north is quite impassable, and a great deal more snow is expected.” He tapped his hand on the almanac that rested atop the chaos of his desk.
As if to emphasize his triumph, a gust of wind whistled through the cracked windowpane, blowing the rapidly falling snow about. Elizabeth looked out upon the dismal landscape and sighed.
“Really, Miss Bennet, you have taken quite a risk on coming here, in such weather as this. If your family is away from Longbourn at present, perhaps you would do better to remain in the village. You might take a room at the inn—surely your father has credit at the Red Lion—if you must, you may tell Mr. Hawkins to send me the bill.” The colonel offered her a gracious smile, though it did not reach his eyes.
“It is the least I can do—I was not aware you were on such friendly terms with my wife.”
Elizabeth was not—she could not even recall Mrs. Forster’s given name.
Harriet, perhaps? Determined not to stammer her way through another weak falsehood, she matched his smug smile with one of her own and said, “My sister Lydia does tend to monopolize her time. When my family returns tomorrow, I am certain she….”
The colonel cut her off, giving a loud guffaw before fixing Elizabeth with an assessing gaze. “I think I know what you are really up to, Miss Bennet.”
He paused long enough for his words to rattle her, though Elizabeth squared her shoulders in defiance, willing herself not to be frightened of the villain who leaned back in his chair, posturing pompously.
“I suspect this is about Lieutenant Wickham,” he said, giving her a wink. “My wife has told me of George’s popularity with all the ladies of Longbourn. In your sisters’ absence, you might put yourself forward with one of my favorite officer, eh? I am told you are clever.”
Elizabeth’s stomach turned over. She had once been partial to the poor lieutenant, finding his company as enjoyable as their shared complaints against a certain gentleman who scarcely deserved the word—but that had been before Mr. Wickham had diverted his attentions to Miss King and her ten thousand pounds.
Something else nagged at her—had not the miscreants she knew only as Harry and Marv mentioned being in cahoots with someone called George?
The colonel laughed again, taking Elizabeth’s silence for coquettish concurrence.
“Perhaps I can do you a good turn, Miss Bennet. When you go to the Red Lion to take a room for the night, you are sure to see Lieutenant Wickham there, and I have some instructions to communicate to him. I shall spare my messenger and send the missive with you—I trust you shall respect the need for secrecy, and it will give you some opportunity to speak with your beau.”
Elizabeth would have agreed to anything, at such a moment, that provided a timely escape from the colonel.
She allowed her growing ire to flush her cheeks and affected the sort of flirtatious yet bashful demeanor Lydia so frequently exhibited with the officers.
The giggle that followed was genuine, as she considered her own absurdity.
“Well then,” the colonel said with a nod as he drew a fresh sheet of paper before him and began to hastily scrawl out the note. Elizabeth regretted that she had come no further into the room than the doorway, for she could not at all make out what he was writing.
When he had sanded and folded the letter and sealed it with wax, he handed it off to Elizabeth, looking just as relieved as she was that they were to part company.
“If you see my wife in the village, do remind her that she possesses enough ribbons and bonnets for a lifetime.” He again attempted a modicum of innocent mirth. “How expensive pretty wives are!”
Elizabeth was fuming as she departed the colonel’s house and hurried across the snowy thoroughfare.
She had often wished that she were a man—generally so that she could attend university or inherit Longbourn or travel the world—or remain unmarried and be thought eccentric rather than pathetic.
Today, she cherished such a desire for more violent reasons, and she imagined the satisfaction it would have given her to punch Colonel Forster in his deceitful, despicable face.
She shook the snow off her cloak with furious vigor as she strode into the Red Lion.
She had no intention of taking a room there, when she would either have the satisfaction of seeing her family return for her, or the rare delight of enjoying her home in peace and quiet.
She did, however, intend to have a word with George Wickham.
At least, that was her plan, until she saw the company he kept.
At the back of the tavern, he sat laughing and drinking with the two men she recognized—officers she had laughed and danced with over the past few months.
Lieutenant Harrington and Captain Marveston.
A lump formed in her throat. Harry and Marv.
Elizabeth reflexively took a few steps back, fearful of the would-be thieves spotting her, until she collided with a girl of about Lydia’s age.
“Oh! Miss Lizzy! Distracted by the pleasant scenery, eh?” Young Susan Hawkins grinned at Elizabeth, her eyes darting back to Mr. Wickham for a moment.
Did the whole village really think her to be so enamored with the man? Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Oh—no—I was just looking for….”
“Mrs. Hill? Aye, she’s here. She and Mamma are in the kitchen, gabbin’ away,” Susan said with a good-natured laugh.
A wave of relief washed over Elizabeth upon hearing that one of her staunchest allies in all the world was so near. “Perfect,” she breathed.
It had not occurred to Elizabeth that her coming to the village should cause her housekeeper such distress, but she was obliged to reassure the kindly old woman that all was well with herself, as well as Alice and Johnny.
“It was kind of you to look in on them,” Mrs. Hill said. “I’ve just come for one of Helen’s special concoctions—she’s promised to make a poultice for poor Johnny. Perhaps some special tea for you, young lady—you’ve got that look about, as if a megrim is coming on.”
“Aye, I’d be happy to brew you up a little something,” Mrs. Hawkins agreed. “Just as soon as I’ve finished getting the stew ready. We’ve a full house tonight, and I reckon the travelers will be hungry.”