Chapter 28
April 1810
“A moment, Colonel.”
Bennet continued to brush Eirene. Bill had spoilt the horse, and the Longbourn patriarch found he could clear his mind while grooming the beautiful mare. It was a perfect way to spend a temperate April afternoon day.
“Legget.”
“I seen a new wagon in front of the smithy.”
“What type?”
“Militia be my first guess.”
Bennet turned to face him. “So, five or six months before Meryton is inundated with young men swaggering about the streets in their fine red coats.”
“I imagine the very youngest of the ladies will be quite taken with them.”
Bennet raised an eyebrow. Legget was observant—and correct. He sighed. “Of course. Recommendation?”
“Stay as we are. You be wanting to arm yourself, should you leave the estate.”
Bennet agreed. “We shall see how many sons of the gentry purchased substitutes.”
Legget nodded and left. Bennet resumed grooming the mare.
Jane awoke, and as she did every morning, she began her medicinal ritual. Cautiously, she ran her oiled right forefinger down the ridge of her nose. She stopped at the halfway point; she felt her own touch through the scar ridge for the first time in years.
Not daring to hope, she cleaned her hand and reached for the tincture. She held her breath as she expected the dull ache to announce itself. She exhaled in relief; she felt no pain. Eyes wide, she pressed harder as she ran her fingers down the length of her scar.
“Can this be real?” she whispered.
Fear warred with excitement. She walked to her dressing table and pulled the shroud from the covered-looking glass. She sat but purposely averted her eyes. For years, she had dreaded her reflection. Taking a fortifying breath, she announced, “Now is not the time to be missish. I am the daughter of Colonel Thomas Bennet.”
She opened her eyes.
From behind his news sheet, Bennet welcomed his eldest. “Our birthday girl has decided to join us…”
Bennet’s quip was interrupted by a chorus of gasps. He allowed the right corner of the paper to fall as he looked towards Elizabeth and Mary and found them staring in wonderment. He lowered his reading material to see Franny, her hands pressing over her mouth, her expressions shifting from fear to hope and back.
He looked to his left and there was Jane. Without her veil. Bennet froze. A moment later, he stood.
“Jane, on the celebration of your majority, may I serve you tea?”
Jane’s smile was indescribable. The room erupted with joyful cries as her sisters surrounded her.
His wife closed the door to his book-room and sat. The joyful expression she had worn the past hours had changed to an anxious one. He joined her in the opposite chair and waited for her to open their conversation.
“I am worried,” she said. “Jane wishes to go to Meryton with her sisters. They plan to have tea and celebrate Jane’s majority.”
He nodded. “We must trust that Jane knows what she wants.”
Her concerned frown remained. “I fear unkind comments will give her cause to shut herself away again.”
“Her scars have greatly faded,” he assured her. “They are no longer her most prominent feature.”
“But—”
“Tell me your fears, love.”
“Jane has always been beautiful.”
“Without a doubt,” Bennet confirmed with a nod.
“That is our opinion,” Franny stressed. “The opinion of loving parents.”
“It is our honour to love our children; our duty to protect them.”
“We cannot protect them from unkind gestures and spiteful words.”
“That sounds like something jealous women would do,” he said.
“It is,” Franny’s expression grew angry. “Women can be vicious with their words. Jane’s scars are no longer flaws that society would reject.”
“No, and is that not a good thing?” When his wife’s countenance only darkened, he explained, “I can speak only as a man. No man disparages a beautiful woman.”
“No. But a man may see a flawed diamond and seek to procure it… by any means.”
Bennet stood. “Any man that makes Jane a dishonourable offer shall rue that day,” he replied, his anger a cold undertone. Franny grasped his hand.
“Peace, Thomas. I am sharing my fears.”
He patted her hand. “As you should. Allow me to think on this.”
“I shall. Until then?”
“Legget still accompanies them. Everywhere.”
The five Bennet ladies walked arm-in-arm, painting a pretty picture in the perfect weather. Legget, who had reconnoitred the road earlier that morning, followed. Colonel Bennet would collect them with the carriage in an hour’s time.
A horse cantered by and stopped, the rider pulling hard on his reins. Both were now facing them—the horse calm, its rider anything but as he stared with his mouth open.
“Move on!” warned Legget.
The rider continued to gape.
“Hie off, you bloody feck!” Legget pulled a belaying pin from his belt. The rider turned his mount around and rode off.
“I begs your pardon ladies.” He softened his voice. “Tis better to yell them off, you see.”
“Was that because of me, Mr Legget?” asked Miss Bennet softly.
“A grouping of pretty ladies always grabs a man’s attention.”
Miss Bennet nodded and the ladies continued walking towards the town. Once there, they stopped to admire the gowns in Mrs Taylor’s window. Mrs Harrington stopped upon seeing them. Her eyes narrowed; she offered no greeting. Miss Mary sniffed. Miss Elizabeth smiled at her younger sister, then raised her chin and turned her back. “Come, sisters,” Miss Elizabeth announced loudly.
The group walked off to audible gasps. Legget saw observers from across the street pointing and whispering behind gloved hands. The girls continued towards their destination before suddenly Miss Lydia squealed and dashed into the milliner’s shop, followed quickly by Miss Catherine.
“Lydia and Kitty ordered ribbons,” Miss Mary said.
Legget was not happy. “Ladies, please wait ‘ere.”
Miss Elizabeth took her elder sister’s arm; Miss Mary stood aside them. Legget stepped into the shop. The two younger sisters tapped their feet as they waited at a table.
“Ladies, you oughtn’t run off.”
“It is but a moment, Mr Legget,” Miss Catherine assured him.
His gut told him otherwise.
Jane, Mary, and Elizabeth waited outside the shop for their sisters. As Jane stared at her shoes, Elizabeth watched three militia men walk directly towards them. She grasped Jane’s hand and reached for Mary’s to pull her closer.
“Well, now, who knew such beauties existed in this speck of a village?” the first man said.
“Who secreted you two away?” asked the second, his mocking tone evident.
Elizabeth stepped in front of Jane. “I suggest you be on your way,” she warned.
“We only seek an introduction to the one behind you,” offered the first man. His compatriot sneered, “Unless you think you are above us.”
At his taunt, Jane looked up. All three stepped back, awe on their faces.
The militia man to the left grunted, then sagged to the ground, a baton bouncing next to him. Two separate clicks of pistols cocking split the air.
“Step away!” shouted Legget, his voice thunderous.
No one moved. A dozen eyeballs ricocheted about. Bennet stepped forward; he kept his pistol pointed at the militia man on the right. “Make room for the carriage!” barked Legget; his pistol remained fixed on the left-most soldier.
Both militias took two further steps backwards. Legget glanced at Bennet.
“Girls, gather behind me,” Bennet ordered. Elizabeth, Jane and Mary rushed behind him. Kitty and Lydia stood behind Legget.
The spectacle emptied the shops.
“I am the former Colonel Bennet of the Royal Horse Guards.” The soldiers stood to attention. “Good, you understand.” They nodded repeatedly.
“Return to your camp,” he ordered.
The two standing militia officers hoisted the third and dragged him off. Bennet carefully un-cocked his weapon and handed it to Legget.
“Papa!” Lydia and Kitty ran to their sisters. Bennet guided them towards the carriage. Legget climbed up the side and the vehicle headed back towards Longbourn.
“Kitty, Lydia.”
“Yes, Papa.” They did not look at him.
“Let this be the punctuation mark on the subject of escorts.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Mrs Bennet and the elder three girls, in company with Legget, began walking to Meryton each Tuesday after tea. They returned early from their third visit and Franny came directly to the book-room to speak to him. Her countenance concerned him. He led her to her favourite chair by the dormant hearth and sat adjacent.
“What has upset you, my dear?”
Franny narrated the foolish actions of those attending the village on the high street. As Elizabeth had noted on previous walks, people stopped and stared. Men gaped. Young men walked into doorways. Women glared at them; their daughters hid behind their mother’s skirts.
“Do even the horses bow?”
Franny was in no mood for his joke, so more seriously, he asked, “Did you sense cruelty in their looks?”
Franny shook her head. “The women, yes. It is as we feared.”
“And the men?”
“They seemed to be struck dumb. Jane has not been seen, truly seen, in three years, and it appears her beauty had been forgot, or never known by some.” Franny tried to smile. “It would be encouraging if it were not so...so overwhelming. It is almost frightening.”
“I see.” Bennet refrained from offering his agreement to avoid alarming his wife.
When she left his study, he asked Hill to find Legget.
Legget sat with his commander, knowing full well what the conversation would entail.
“You have a problem, Colonel.”
“Do you foresee additional trouble?”
“I do. Our good fortune is that the militia departs to Brighton in June.”
Colonel Bennet pursed his lips. “Until they depart, do we require additional men?”
“You’ll want to have two more men to watch the other ladies until the curs get on.”
“Carry on, Sergeant.”