Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Meryton
George Wickham whistled as he walked down the street toward the Phillips’s house at the end of the row.
His friend, William Collins, had married Charlotte Lucas just the day before, and they had gone off to Hunsford after a beautiful wedding breakfast at Lucas Lodge.
Today, it was business as usual, and Wickham had just retrieved a document from a client that lived near the parish church.
Upon entering his employer’s place of business, George nearly collided with Mr. Bennet, who was on his way out the door. He tipped his hat to the older gentleman and stepped aside, allowing him to pass before entering the office himself.
“Ah, Wickham!” Mr. Phillips greeted him cheerfully. “Come, sit. We have much to discuss.”
“I have the packet from Mr. Stevens here,” George said, placing the sheaf of papers on the desk before him.
“Mr. Stevens can wait,” Mr. Phillips said.
“I have just had a most intriguing meeting with my brother Bennet. He has been investing with my wife’s brother, Mr. Gardiner.
And Bennet brought word that the returns on the investment have been greater than imagined.
My brother has contracted me to use some of the proceeds to purchase a small plot of land with a house on it.
The property is to be used for his wife and any unmarried daughters, should he predecease them.
Bennet has never shown any interest in such a scheme, and I fear if I hesitate to act on his wishes, he may change his mind. ”
George nodded, careful to keep his thoughts from showing on his face.
He had known Mr. Bennet for only two months, and it was abundantly clear that he was a disinterested husband and landlord at best. Wickham knew from Miss Lydia that her father spent most of his day sequestered in his library, a place that she had somewhat bitterly noted that she was not welcome.
The enthusiasm radiating from Mr. Phillips was infectious, and the two quickly compiled a list of properties in the area that might be suitable.
Mr. Bennet wished to purchase outright and then let the house until it was needed.
Notes were dispatched to various individuals and within two or three days arrangements had been made to view them all.
They narrowed the list down to two houses.
The first was situated near Meryton, on a plot of land large enough for a few animals and a garden.
It was a four-bedroom cottage owned by an elderly gentleman whose wife had recently passed; he wished to move to Brighton to be nearer his daughter and her family.
The second house was larger, but on less land, and it shared a part of its property line with Netherfield Park.
It had only three bedrooms, however, but the small study on the ground floor could serve as another room if need be.
This cottage was vacant and had been for some time and the owner was eager to sell if the agent was to be believed.
It needed some minor repairs, and the road leading to the home was a mess.
Mr. Bennet accompanied Wickham and Mr. Phillips on a final tour of both homes and ultimately decided on the first property.
It was nearer to the village, after all, which Mrs. Bennet would appreciate greatly, and it was newer and in better repair than the second.
The overall price was slightly more than the second property, but given the other inducements, it appeared to be the best choice.
Papers were drawn up and the owner consulted. The whole matter would be concluded by the end of the month. Mr. Phillips agreed to manage the business of finding a tenant, and that was that.
George was pleased to conclude that evening with a letter he had received from Darcy earlier that day.
Dear George,
I hope you spent your holidays in pleasant company.
I write to inform you that Georgiana and I will be arriving in Meryton on January fifteenth.
Bingley has asked that I stand up with him when he marries Miss Bennet in March, and I have agreed.
We will spend the time leading up to the wedding at Netherfield Park.
Miss Bingley and the Hursts will not be accompanying us; Bingley has asked if Mrs. Annesley might agree to be hostess, instructing Georgiana in the process. I have agreed to the plan, as has the lady. I can only hope the instruction proves fruitful.
Georgiana speaks to me only in monosyllables. I had thought these months would have had a hand in healing her from the events of last year, but instead she seems more morose and fractious. I have great hopes that the lively company in Meryton will draw her out.
I look forward to seeing you,
F. Darcy
George thoughtfully reread the letter twice more before putting it aside.
Though it had been some years since he had been much in Georgiana’s company, George had rather thought that such childish behavior was far out of character for the young Miss Darcy.
Perhaps her attachment to Mr. Jones had been deeper than Darcy had believed.
The lively company Darcy referred to would no doubt have a positive effect on Georgiana, and the Miss Bennets would surely enjoy making a new acquaintance. George looked forward to his friend’s arrival with pleasure.
George was in the company of Mr. Phillips, finalizing papers and discussing another business venture in Mr. Bennet’s library a little more than a week later when Bingley arrived at Longbourn with Darcy and his sister in tow.
“Shall we join the crowd in my drawing room?” Mr. Bennet asked. “It is nearly time for tea, and I could use some refreshments after all our labor.”
The three rose and left the library, traveling down the hall to a sunny parlor on the west side of the house. They entered just as introductions were concluding.
“Wickham!” Darcy said enthusiastically.
George acknowledged his friend and shook his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Miss Elizabeth’s brow furrow in confusion. Perhaps she had never seen this side of Darcy before.
“Miss Darcy,” George said, bowing to the young lady on his friend’s arm. “How good it is to see you again.”
Georgiana did not smile but dipped her head in acknowledgement. The expression on her face was blank, almost unnaturally so.
Tea was called for and everyone found a place to sit. Bingley and Miss Bennet had almost immediately taken themselves off to a settee in a quiet corner, where they sat whispering. Georgiana moved toward Miss Mary, who George was pleased to see was reading a book other than Fordyce’s sermons.
Miss Lydia approached him with a cup of tea, offering it to him carefully.
“Cream with a little sugar,” she said quietly. “It is just how you like it.”
“Thank you, Miss Lydia,” George said in surprise. “I had not thought you noticed my preferences.”
“I do notice,” Miss Lydia replied. “I notice everything about you.”
George shifted nervously. This conversation was not taking the direction he wished it to. “I see,” he murmured. “Again, I thank you.”
Miss Lydia seemed to be waiting for something else from him, and George was at a loss as to what. Thinking rapidly, he latched onto the first topic of conversation that he thought of.
“What think you of books?” he asked, knowing full well that the girl hated them.
Miss Lydia gaped at him. “I think they are dusty, dirty old things, save for the occasional sonnet,” she answered hotly. “Even novels are hard to focus on for an extended period. I would much rather adorn a dress or remake a bonnet.”
“I myself greatly enjoy the written word,” Wickham said in return.
“I have just read a very interesting book by A Lady I think you would enjoy. It is called Sense and Sensibility. Perhaps you might find it when you go to the circulating library next. Then, after you have read it, we may discuss it.”
Miss Lydia’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Well, if you will promise to discuss it,” she said, “I suppose I could be bothered to attempt it.”
“That sounds like a fine plan,” George agreed.
He happened to glance up just then and was startled to see Miss Mary directing a look of betrayal and anger in his direction.
When he lifted a brow in question, Miss Mary picked up her glass and sipped her tea, ignoring him.
How odd. He would have to speak to the lady later.
The rest of tea went by quickly and before much longer George and Mr. Phillips had departed to return to Meryton.
~
Mary Bennet was enormously pleased when out of all the young ladies in the room, the elegant Miss Darcy had chosen her to sit next to.
Her gown was the height of fashion- a pale blue creation with delicate white embroidery on the sleeves, hem, and neckline, it set off Miss Darcy’s eyes nicely.
The young lady also had a cashmere shawl in a cream and darker blue, with the same embroidery covering the edges.
Her hair was coiffed in an elegant chignon.
Miss Darcy was not only impeccably dressed, but she carried herself with grace and poise. Her movements were as if she was floating on a cloud, and she sat with such perfect posture! Her breeding was evident in every way.
“What are you reading, Miss Mary?” Miss Darcy asked quietly. Her voice was soft and silky.
“It is a book my sister Elizabeth recommended,” Mary replied. “I am attempting to broaden my understanding beyond my usual texts.”
“’Usual?’” Miss Darcy said.
“Yes,” Mary answered. “I have until recently relegated myself to religious texts, particularly the Reverend Fordyce’s works. It was brought to my attention that his sermons are somewhat outdated, and I would be better off pursuing knowledge from more beneficial source.”
“How interesting,” Miss Darcy said quietly. “I wonder who expressed such sentiments about Fordyce. My uncle, the archbishop, has very particular opinions about the good reverend. Might I ask, from whence did this advice originate?”
Miss Darcy raised her blue eyes and met Mary’s gaze, lifting her teacup slowly and sipping it. Mary felt confusion building inside her, and she looked over at Mr. Wickham, sitting across the room. How awful of the man to so mislead her!
Mr. Wickham raised a brow and Mary could read the confusion on his face. She lifted her own cup to take a sip, turning away from the traitorous man.
“From no one of importance,” Mary finally replied before abruptly changing the subject. “Tell me, Miss Darcy, do you play an instrument?”
Later that evening, Mary sat in her window seat, the worn copy of Fordyce’s Sermons in her hand.
She caressed the cover, its familiar texture a balm to her aching soul.
How could Mr. Wickham have misled her so?
For does not an archbishop have much more Godly knowledge than a lowly solicitor’s clerk?
A light tap sounded at the door and Lizzy entered the room.
“I have come for our nightly discussion,” she said cheerfully.
Mary said nothing, stroking the book in her hands and looking out the window into the fading light.
“Mary?” Elizabeth asked. “What troubles you?”
Mary blew out a puff of air. “I do not know,” she admitted.
“You know of my work to expand my horizons. I set on this course under the assumption that my choice of literature was wanting, that there was no value to be found in my pursuit of one book in particular. And then I find out today that an archbishop has strong sentiments about said book. What am I to think?”
“Have you felt your horizons expand as a result of your broadened study material?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well, yes,” Mary admitted. “But I feel… deceived. Betrayed. It is as if I were lied to so that I would go in a specific direction. I do not know what to do now. Do I return to the familiar or continue in the direction my path is taking me?”
“Is there any harm in proceeding as you are?” Lizzy asked.
“No,” Mary answered.
“Then perhaps, if this direction is aiding you in your quest for greater understanding, you ought to continue on,” Elizabeth said gently.
“No one is asking you to completely disregard the old and familiar. But there is wisdom, however, in seeking out greater understanding to add to what you have previously learned.”
Mary nodded, undecided. She stood and followed Lizzy across the room and out the door, determined to think on the matter after her discussion with her sister.