Chapter 5
The Inn
Lambton
Noon
Five months earlier
Tuesday, 11th June 1811
“We should be back in two hours, my dear,” Madeline Gardiner said. “Enjoy your letters and your book.”
Elizabeth Bennet looked up and smiled at her uncle and aunt, who were dressed for walking. “Thank you.”
The pair departed, and Elizabeth pushed a chair closer to the open window of the sitting room, sat down on the chair, and happily broke the wax on her letter from her eldest sister. She spread the paper wide and began reading.
Longbourn
Dear Lizzy,
I was so thankful to receive your letter two days ago.
It sounds like your visits to Warwick and Birmingham were especially interesting.
I am glad that our aunt and uncle took you with them on their travels this summer.
Of all of us sisters, you are definitely the one who needed to be on this trip.
Kitty and Lydia, of course, would spend all the time looking for young men to ogle, Mary would be bored, and I would, frankly, be sick.
I can manage being in a carriage for a few hours, but day after day after day?
Everyone is well here, and I spend much of each day with our little cousins. They are such precious little souls! We play with blocks and read books and fly kites on occasion. Our little male cousins ask that on every nice day we visit the pond and inspect the frogs.
Mamma and Father and our sisters are very much as they usually are. There are rumors circulating that a regiment of militia officers and men will be quartering in Meryton over the fall and winter, but that is merely rumor, nothing more.
A Mr. Perkins came to tour Netherfield Park, and Mamma and Lady Lucas were terribly excited.
He was apparently single, and if he had leased the manse, well, there is certainly a dearth of available young men here!
In any case, it all came to naught. He decided against the estate, so Netherfield remains empty.
Daisy gave birth to a fine colt three days ago. He is a charming creature, mostly black like his mother but with white stockings.
This is quite short, I know, but my dear little cousins wish to visit the puppies, so I will draw this to a close.
With love,
Jane
Elizabeth folded the letter and leaned back in her chair. Jane was her favorite correspondent, and it was good to learn that everyone at Longbourn was healthy and as happy as they reasonably could be.
Her eyes wandered thoughtfully around the room where she sat.
It was a homey, comfortable sort of room, not exorbitantly expensive or ornately decorated, but clean, with checked curtains at the windows and a pot of flowers on the table.
Two doors led off to either side. One led to the bedchamber reserved for her aunt and uncle, and the other to her own.
The room was pleasantly appointed with two large, deep-cushioned sofas and an artful arrangement of chairs.
A round table sat in the middle of the room, drawing the eye immediately upon entry. A fresh white linen cloth covered it, and a vase of cheerful yellow flowers set in the center brightened the room. The overall effect was charming.
This little inn was a pleasant respite from traveling.
Elizabeth was a good traveler and had enjoyed her week away from home thus far, but neither was she sorry to leave behind the long days of traveling in the carriage.
Lambton was a lovely village, and Elizabeth was eager to explore where her dear aunt had grown up.
Many of Mrs. Gardiner's friends lived where they always had, and the next fortnight would consist largely of visiting these friends, and picnicking beside lakes, and touring one or two of the prominent local estates.
The foremost of these was called Pemberley, and all who spoke of it praised its beauty.
She was enchanted with Derbyshire so far, its forests and sharp hills wild and untamed in comparison to mild Hertfordshire.
Craggy hills climbing towards the sky, lakes and ponds with mirror-shine surfaces, profusions of wildflowers in fields and ditches, had all gladdened her heart.
She was eager to tramp through the lands surrounding Lambton, taking in all the glories of the locale at close quarters.
It was not that Elizabeth did not love her home county of Hertfordshire, because she did. It was not that Longbourn was not dear to her heart; it was home, of course it was. It was only…
Life at home could sometimes be wearing.
Jane was dear, sweet and good as the day was long, along with being sensible and kind.
The two sisters often found counsel and refuge in one another's company.
As for the rest of the family, well, Elizabeth always scrupulously honored her parents, and she loved her younger sisters.
This did not render her blind to their flaws, and being in company with her aunt and uncle Gardiner only threw the contrast into sharp relief.
Jane and Elizabeth both had learned a measure of refinement from Mrs. Gardiner that her sister by marriage, Mrs. Bennet, conspicuously lacked.
Mrs. Bennet was not unkind, but her perpetually overwrought nerves ruled her heart and mind alike, and by extension, her entire household.
Prone alike to loud outbursts of distraught hysterics and shrieking joy, whichever happened to fit her mood, Mrs. Bennet rarely saw any need to moderate her tone.
If that were not agony enough, her conversation in company embarrassed more often than it did not.
Mrs. Bennet saw no need to hesitate before speaking her thoughts, and her thoughts regularly ran along vulgar lines.
Her preoccupations consisted mostly of finding husbands for her daughters, and the entail on Longbourn from the female line, which meant that when Mr. Bennet died, Longbourn would go, not to his daughters, but to a distant cousin.
It was the way of the world that a mother wished to find good husbands for her daughters.
However, Mrs. Bennet had no idea how to go about such a delicate endeavor.
Instead of teaching propriety and refinement, she had brought each of her girls ‘out’ at the tender age of fifteen and had encouraged them all to be forward and flirtatious in company.
Her pet, Lydia, the youngest of the Bennet girls, followed her lead in all things, and where Lydia went, there went Kitty also.
The two youngest Misses Bennet were hoydenish, uncontrolled, boisterous, as vulgar as their mother, and eager to fling themselves at any young man who looked their way.
In vain had Elizabeth and Jane sought to impress upon their younger sisters the disgracefulness of such behavior.
Mrs. Bennet encouraged their volatility, and that was good enough for them.
In vain had Jane and Elizabeth besought their father to involve himself in the education of his youngest children.
“No, my dears,” he had said firmly, his open book in his hand tugging at his attention. “I have little patience to spare for such silly widgeons.”
It was a Providential mercy that so far the two youngest girls had not brought scandal and disgrace to the family.
With Mary, that was not a danger, at least. Solemn, plain Mary, who had neither the wit nor the liveliness nor the beauty of her sisters, worked earnestly to make up for these lacks with accomplishments.
Of all the sisters, it was Mary who could sing and play the best, and she studied books more than even Elizabeth.
Alas, poor Mary! All her industry did not avail her, for it could not garner the attention she desired.
Mrs. Bennet, when she gave thought to Mary at all, mostly deplored the girl’s lack of beauty, while Mr. Bennet was entirely uninterested in his most sober-minded, earnest daughter.
Elizabeth frowned at the thought of her father.
She enjoyed his company, and sometimes his wit, even as he enjoyed hers.
They shared a sardonic view of the world, a keen intelligence, and a deep love of books.
Mr. Bennet was fond of Jane, but Elizabeth was his favorite.
This preferential treatment did not incline Elizabeth to overlook his failures, however.
The state of their family could be laid at their father’s door.
Mrs. Bennet, not overly burdened with intelligence, would perhaps always be silly, but if her husband set himself to soothing her rather than entertaining himself by teasing and vexing her, all of their lives would be much improved.
It was a sad marriage, Elizabeth reflected.
Young Mr. Bennet had fallen in love with a very beautiful face and unwisely took no thought to the brain behind it.
It had not taken long for the husband to become disenchanted with his vivacious but absurd wife.
It made Elizabeth more than ever grateful for her aunt and uncle Gardiner.
She admired the Gardiners’ wisdom, their temperance, and their very real and earnest love for each other and the Lord.
She wished to be like her aunt, quiet and poised, refined and kindly, not gossiping about the neighbors and spreading with relish every breath of scandal, like Mrs. Bennet and her cronies in Meryton.
After the barely controlled chaos of daily life at Longbourn, it was refreshing to spend a few weeks in the prudent company of the Gardiners.
“’Tis a hanging matter if we are caught, Wickham,” a rough male voice said from outside her window.
Elizabeth blinked and frowned. What?
“We will not be caught, I assure you,” another male voice, this one far smoother, declared. “She is not expected back at Pemberley for some hours, and by the time she is missed, it will be too late to catch us up, especially as they will have no idea where to look for her.”
“Will it not be obvious?” the rougher voice demanded.
A confident laugh was the response, followed by, “Not at all. Darcy has no idea I am back in town, and his dear little sister thinks of me as a playmate from her childhood, nothing more. We will give her laudanum so she sleeps, and if we change the horses frequently, will be in Gretna Green in three days’ time.
Do not worry. In a few short days, I will be master of her dowry, and you will have a tidy three hundred pounds in hand. ”
“Very well, Wickham. But if this goes wrong, I will entirely blame you.”
“I would expect nothing else! Now let me explain carefully how we intend to proceed. I will meet Mrs. Younge and Miss Darcy at the tea shop and…”
Elizabeth was on her feet now. She quickly snatched her hat and gloves and tore out of the room, down the stairs which were generally used by the maids, and then stopped at the side door which led to the adjacent alley.
She opened it a few inches and forced herself to breathe softly, even though her heart was hammering in her ribs.
“…in twenty minutes,” the silver-tongued man said.
“As you wish,” said his older companion. “We will need to change horses in…”
Elizabeth gulped and considered. She could try to alert the landlord of the inn that an abduction attempt was in the offing, but there were obvious problems with that. She was unknown here in Lambton, and if she tried to explain the situation, she might well sound like a lunatic.
She took a deep breath, tied her hat under her chin, adjusted her gloves, opened the door wide, and stepped out.
The two men standing in the alleyway turned a startled look on her. One was a shockingly handsome gentleman, dressed neatly, with a finely tied cravat. The other was older and attired in a livery of green and blue.
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed in the brightest tone she could muster, lifting a gloved hand to her mouth. “My apologies, sirs. I was merely … that is, can you point me towards the main street of this charming little town?”
The younger man smiled at her, displaying even white teeth. “But of course, Miss.”
He turned and pointed toward the street to his right. “If you enter that street and turn left, you will find Main Street quickly.”
She curtsied, smiled, and said, “Oh, thank you very much!”
She made her hasty way out of the alley and onto the directed street, her mind whirling.
This man, Wickham, apparently intended to meet his target in a tea shop, and she hoped that the shop would be on Main Street.
It behooved her, therefore, to make her way to the street and try to find the shop in question.
Barring that, she could stare into another window and keep checking for Mr. Wickham, then follow him to where his hapless prey awaited.