Chapter Twenty-five #2
The colonel stepped to one side, and Wickham felt his eyes upon them as they left, their shoulders tight. The cart trundle after them, followed by the two militia corporals serving as their batmen.
Wickham wished that Darcy’s cousin would go to hell, but he dared not do or say anything further.
He wondered if this result had been what Fitzwilliam had been hoping for.
Bloody bastard. Being cashiered would mean utter ruination.
As he thought about the change from the militia to the regulars, he realized he would have money left over from his sell out.
Several hundred pounds, at least. Cheered by that realization, Wickham felt his spirits rise.
There may be something better for me in the regulars.
I have heard that the 1st battalion of the Northumberland 5th Regiment of Foot is resting in Devon and Somerset this winter, looking for recruits.
I may be able to use my charm to good advantage there.
They are a northern regiment but not stuck in the north.
That location would suit me to the ground.
I will use my charm to good effect in Bath, or in a coastal resort.
I can still improve my situation in spite of Darcy’s machinations!
*
After reassuring her exterior animals, Lizzy entered Longbourn through the orangery doors, dismissing their farm manager with her thanks. She gave Harry a treat and praise before she left to find her father. In the entrance hall, she found Mary pacing.
“Have you seen Papa?” Lizzy asked. Mary jumped. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Mary waved away her apology. She folded her arms tightly about herself and stared at the outer door.
“What is the matter, Mary?” Lizzy asked, closing the distance between them. “What worries you so?”
In a whisper, Mary said, “Papa is in the front garden…with Oscar.”
“Oh, I see,” Lizzy said, smiling a little. “What did Papa say when you told him about Oscar?”
Mary covered her pale cheeks with her palms. “He told me he had known which way the wind blew for years.”
“Truly?” Lizzy chuckled. “I am still occasionally surprised by our father’s perspicacity. So often it seems as though his thoughts remain firmly fixed upon his books.” Lizzy put an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Everything will be well. I promise you they will.”
“You have no power to promise anything of the sort, Lizzy,” Mary stated numbly.
“I suppose that is true. But Papa wishes his daughters to be happy in their married state. As long as we do not choose bounders, he will approve of our choices. Oscar has always been a fine individual. He is kind and attentive, hard-working and intelligent. There is nothing in his character for Papa to disapprove.”
“There is a lack of money,” Mary pointed out.
“He is a doctor. His future looks promising. Papa knows this.”
Lizzy saw that Mary could not concentrate on her reassurances.
They stood together, arm-in-arm, waiting for the front door to open.
Lydia and Kitty came bouncing down the stairs at one point.
Then, Lydia said, “Oh, Lord, not Mary,” and they retreated back up the stairs.
Lizzy shook her head and patted Mary’s arm.
“I care nothing for the opinions of my younger sisters,” Mary stated.
Her hand strayed to her mouth, her thumb extended. Mary looked to Lizzy like she intended to chew on her thumbnail. Then, her sister folded her thumb into her fist and pressed the fist to her lips.
“You know, Mary, it has occurred to me that we were all born too close together,” Lizzy stated.
Mary looked at her, startled. “What can you mean?”
“You are my next younger sister but I do not remember your arrival into our family because I am only fourteen months older than you. If I had been three years old, I could have marveled at your arrival. I miss that opportunity to marvel at you.”
Clicking her tongue, Mary said, “You are being foolish beyond permission. Do you recall marveling at Kitty’s birth? She is three years younger. Or at Lydia’s, who is five years your junior?”
Lizzy wrinkled her nose. “I barely remember Kitty’s arrival into our family circle, but I remember Lydia’s. She cried incessantly.”
Mary sighed and looked back toward the door. “I expect she had colic.” Her arm squeezed Lizzy’s even tighter. “What is taking so long?”
“Listen, someone is on the outside step,” Lizzy said, pulling Mary closer to the door in anticipation of greeting their father—and hopefully Oscar.
The door opened at last and their father entered.
He checked himself on the threshold. Behind him, lit braziers adorned the night with golden, dancing halos.
“You are anxious to know the result, no doubt, dear Mary. I invite you to go outside and ask the young doctor. I asked him inside—as I hope you know—but he refused, on the grounds of typhus.” He shrugged and moved to one side so as not to be bowled down by his middle daughter.
Lizzy waited until her father closed the door, leaving them alone in the entrance hall. “Well, Papa? Are we well-pleased?”
He nodded, walking toward her with his hands behind his back. “I am. Are you?”
“I am, indeed,” Lizzy said, grinning and grasping his arm when he reached her. “Will Mama be pleased?”
“That is another matter entirely,” Papa said. “However, since she seemed to be happy with a rector’s income, she should be happy with a doctor’s potential.”
“It is not quite the same,” Lizzy reminded him. “Oscar will not inherit Longbourn.”
Her father grimaced. “As you say.”
“Papa? I think Mary and Oscar should be married soon.”
“Before Jane and Bingley?” Papa asked, his eyes widening.
Lizzy grinned. “Is there any real sense in worrying which of your daughters is married first?”
“I care nothing for the order,” he protested. “But your mother will.”
“Jane will not,” Lizzy avowed.
Her father pinched her chin. “You are trying to get me into trouble.”
Lizzy shrugged. “Mary and Oscar may not wish to get married before Jane, but if they like the idea, will you support them?” She endured a moment of his scrutiny and then Lizzy added, “Mary wants a small wedding. The sooner she is wed, the less teasing she will need to endure from Lydia and Kitty.”
“That last argument is true,” Papa mused. He nodded. “Very well. I will support them if they wish to marry soon. Nothing too hasty, mind. I do not wish to endure even a whisper of our neighbors wondering why they are marrying so swiftly.”
“I will suggest February,” Lizzy said. “Four months is a respectable length of time.”
“Do not badger her into it,” Papa warned.
“I will steer, only,” she promised. “Oscar’s mother is sure to have an opinion on the matter.”
Her father nodded, patted her hand, and walked off in the direction of his bookroom.
*
Caroline looked toward an opening door as she crossed the well-lit entrance hall at Netherfield. The door led to the rear of the house. She spied Douglas closing the door and stopped to smile at him. Her smile turned to a worried frown, and her heart leapt into her throat.
“What is this?” she demanded, taking a few steps in his direction. “What has occurred to give you that bruise?”
The colonel placed his bicorn under his arm, tugged off his gloves, and gingerly touched his chin and cheek with his bare hand. “Is it horrid? It feels like the devil.”
“You need a cold compress on that,” Caroline said, breathing deeply a few times in an attempt to calm her racing heart. “Your uniform is dirty as well. Did your assailant knock you down?”
“He did,” the colonel admitted. His lips twisted into an odd grin. “I confess, I wished him to do just that.”
Caroline placed her hands on her hips and glared fiercely at him. “Who did you wish to hit you?”
He raised his eyebrow in a rakish manner and said, “Wickham,” with relish.
“Wickham?”
“He ought not to strike a superior officer, you know,” he said, chuckling and then hissing a little in response to the discomfort his humor caused him.
“I have no patience with your pain,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “Go upstairs and get Laman to doctor you.”
Douglas unexpectedly took hold of her upper arm in a gentle grip and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I would much prefer to be nursed by you, Caroline.”
His warm breath stirred the hairs on the nape of her neck, producing delightful shivers over her shoulders. She sighed in pleasure.
“You forget yourself, sir,” Caroline whispered. His knowing chuckle made her feel dizzy. She struggled to regain the even tone of her mind. “Uh…you have dirt on your clothes.”
“Indeed,” he murmured. Before pulling away, Douglas pressed his cheek against hers. “I love you, Caroline. Will you marry me?”
With knees suddenly gone weak, Caroline pulled back a little and baldly asked, “Why?”
He appeared puzzled, his brows pulling together. “Why?”
“Why do you love me?”
He lost his frown and took hold of both her hands. “Caroline, you are an intelligent, beautiful woman, who knows her own mind.”
“Some people might believe me incapable of loving anyone,” she replied, smarting inside at this truth.
“That is patently untrue,” he asserted. Then he kissed the back of her hands.
“You love your family, and you love Basile. Every time you speak of your maid, I hear the affection you have for her.” He rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands.
“I hope…nay…I pray… you will find it in you to love me.”
Caroline bit her lip and gently tugged her hands out of his. Douglas glanced around the entrance hall and cursed beneath his breath.