Chapter 9
His men had waited patiently as they stepped into the carriage, but once he had seated himself, the footman gave him a report of their observations and assessments of those who had gathered.
After he had finished, he had only one last tidbit to inform them of.
“That mother o’ hers and a girl she called Lydia demanded that they be escorted home in your carriage, m’lord.
I laughed at them and Mr. Bennet forced them to join him in that dilapidated bit they had brought.
They were very displeased and they demanded to see how comfortable your own crested carriage might be; the new one was taken to Longbourne as no other orders had been given. ”
Lingley thanked him and settled in beside his bride, reaching for her hand and squeezing it comfortingly.
She looked mortified, but he had promised never to lie to her, so he did not attempt a polite fiction to comfort her.
She knew what they were, as did he. The single mile to Longbourne passed quickly, and Mary grew more and more tense with each foot they traveled.
“We will not stay if you do not wish it,” Lingley offered. “You owe these people nothing.”
“I do, though,” she sighed. “I was born, grew up, and came out here. These are my childhood playmates and family friends. They view me as they do because my family regards me that way.”
“Just because something is, does not mean that it always has to be,” he replied as the carriage came to a stop before the door. He stepped out and assisted her to the ground before wrapping her hand about his arm and pulling her close to his side.
No words were spoken as they entered the house, but a great cry went up when Mr. Hill, the butler, announced their arrival.
Every person seemed to push forward at once, attempting to greet and congratulate the now Viscountess and her husband.
Mrs. Bennet’s cries rose above it all, exclaiming over her daughter’s elevation and demanding praise and adulation for herself.
“Come in! Come in! We have eight fine new cows, can you imagine the wealth? Come and enjoy our feast!” She gloated.
The great cacophony of sound overwhelmed poor Mary, and she began to look about for an escape.
Lingley immediately noticed her discomfort and declared in his most pompous voice that he and his bride would sit at a table and enjoy a repast while the neighborhood formed a line to greet them.
None of the Hertfordshire denizens had ever heard of such a thing, as the usual practice was for the bride and groom to circulate amongst the room, but Sir William, the local authority on all things London, as he had once gone there to receive his knighthood at St. James, commented that it must be the way of the aristocracy for he remembered the King and Queen doing the same at his own elevation.
Thus, it was accepted with all the éclat of a proverb, and a small table was prepared for the newlyweds, to which they were led with great pomp to take their places where the receiving line soon began.
Two plates of food appeared from some helpful soul, and Lingley ordered his wife to eat while he held court.
Sir William stood at his shoulder and performed introductions while all the admiring multitude milled about as they awaited their turn.
Every man and his wife wished to be able to declare that he had made the acquaintance of an actual viscount, and Lingley was certain that this wedding would be feted for many years to come as the day their collective consequence increased by making his acquaintance.
As the line of well-wishers thinned, he turned his attention to his bride, hoping to raise her spirits, or at least hear her voice.
His efforts produced a small smile on Mary’s sweet lips, but she had no desire to draw attention to herself anymore than it was by laughing.
Her hopes were dashed when Lydia swanned up beside them, leading her simpering husband.
Lingley barely suppressed a snarl at the look of terror on his bride’s face.
“Sister dear, we must speak together one last time while you we are still at Longbourne! Come! We shall gather Kitty and have a comfortable coz and laugh about our lives as we used to.” She giggled gratingly and tipped forward to display her décolletage.
Her laugh grew even more shrill as she stuffed her breasts back into the small bodice of her dress, which had been unable to support her flesh as it burgeoned forth, revealing all.
Lingley’s sneer of disgust made her roll her eyes and giggle even harder. “Come! Do not dawdle, Mary!”
Langley lay a staying hand on his wife’s arm. “I think not. You will have to forgive my selfishness, but I refuse to give up her companionship on this day of all days.”
Lydia began to pout and screech out her demands, refusing to lose the opportunity to apply further pressure to her mousy sister. Wickham then joined the fray, leaning against the wall and sneering down at Mary, whose color was rising as her mortification grew.
“I see that you do not trust her not to disgrace you with her lack of gentility. How ever will you allow her to be seen in town?” He teased meanly, the handsome smile he flashed, not doing as much to blunt the insult as he assumed.
“You are entirely correct!” Lingley widened his eyes as he purposely misunderstood him.
“I would not allow that chit alone with my spaniel, let alone so precious a thing as my wife. Is she always like this, my dear?” He turned to Mary, who had lost all color when he at first appeared to agree.
“Every time she opens her mouth it is like the braying of an ass! How on earth have you put up with her all these years, love? The distance to Newcastle must have been a blessed relief.”
Mary choked on her drink while Lydia began to screech.
Her husband did not require an answer, as he was still contemplating the child before him with all the interest of a botanist with a new and particularly noxious plant.
“She is worse, even than Miss Bingley! That one at least knows the expected actions; she just chooses to disregard them. But this… person. I do not believe she has even a passing acquaintance with propriety. It is honestly quite impressive how absolutely stupid she has remained despite being raised in a gentleman’s household.
Your father must have been particularly determined to see the family ruined.
How unfortunate that Darcy bought what little respectability that he could and ruined all his carefully laid plans.
Mr. Bennet must have been severely disappointed to fail at the finale hurtle. ”
There was a great wave of laughter which echoed through the room as the neighbors listened keenly to the implosion of the Bennet’s character so politely expressed.
Mary was so surprised that a snort of laughter snuck through her reserve as Lydia screamed in outrage and demanded that Wickham uphold her honor. One look from Lingley had that man turning to make his escape and abandoning his wife to the field.
One flick of Lingley’s finger brought a footman to their side. “See this… child to a seat far away from us and ensure that she stays there, Gregory,” he ordered.
The man dragged the still complaining girl from the room without a word, and the newlyweds sighed in relief as her cries became muted at least. Unfortunately, the size of the house prevented them from fading away entirely, but it was enough for them to pretend deafness along with the rest of the attendees.
Only a quarter of an hour later, Lingley regretted not assigning a man to keep the brat under control as she used her natural canniness and a young man’s desire for acknowledgement from a pretty girl to express her pique from afar.
The couple had been approached by a contingent of neighbors hoping for invitations to London as they petitioned for a private ball in celebration of the marriage after the couple returned from their wedding trip, when several boys pushed one of their friends forward, apparently in encouragement.
He cleared his throat and began to chant, “Viscount Lingley had a cow, traded for an ugly wife! Viscount Lingley’s married now, he’ll be sorry all his life!”
There was a titter of laughter which tinkled awkwardly through the crowd, but when Lingley rose to his feet, the other boys scattered, leaving their friend standing alone with all the false bravado of youth.
Lingley’s hand snaked out, grabbing the boy by his cravat, while he used the other to box his ears before he gave him a mighty shake, rattling his brain box.
“You are much too young for me to kill in a proper duel,” Lingley growled, shaking him again. “Point me to your father, you cur, and he may die on your behalf, as he has completely failed in raising you to be a gentleman!”
Snot was rolling down the young man’s face, mixing with his tears as he bawled and begged for relief from his mother. “It was Miss Lydia,” he cried. “She offered me a crown to learn her ditty to tease you both! Please do not kill my father!”
Lady Lucas, hearing the boy’s words, cried out and collapsed into a faint, bringing her husband to debase himself before them. He apologized profusely for his failures and offered any restitution which they demanded, in order to salvage the honor of his family.
Lingley was disinclined to be generous, and after sending Mary off with her Aunt Gardiner to prepare to depart, let him know it in no uncertain terms. “I do not understand how such behavior could be acceptable to you. I do not blame the boy, or even Mrs. Wickham, who is not much older. It is clear that this conduct, such as mortifying a bride on her wedding day for the entertainment of her neighbors, has been practiced so long in Meryton that it is not given a second thought by the impressionable youth hereabouts. How dare you? How dare any of you tolerate such behavior?”