Wickham’s bright eyes quickly met with the elder Bennet’s as he reached for her hand. “Indeed, Mrs Bennet, I have found that no other household in the area boasts such fine company,” Mr Wickham murmured.
Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks flushed slightly due to the blatant flattery, and she moved to allow him passage into the house. “Please, do come inside, Mr Wickham,” Mrs Bennet invited cordially. “Shall we take tea in the parlor? I am positive my daughter, Elizabeth, will be down shortly, and you can meet another of my elder daughters,” she stated with satisfaction.
“It would be my pleasure, Mrs Bennet. How many daughters do you have?” he asked her curiously.
As he followed her through the foyer, Mrs Bennet turned and smiled. “I have five daughters, Mr Wickham. Jane, Lizzy, Mary, Lydia, and my beloved, Kitty,” she stated with pride.
“Why is it that I have yet to have been introduced to the two elder daughters, Mrs Bennet?” Mr Wickham asked curiously as Mrs Bennet flung the door open. There, in the parlor, sat her four daughters; Elizabeth, Mary, Lydia and Kitty, whose face held a fondness for Mr Wickham that even she could not deny.
“Ladies, please greet Mr George Wickham. He will be having tea with us today,” Mrs Bennet urged.
Elizabeth’s eyes immediately shifted to the man standing in the doorway, and it took all the strength she had not to gasp in surprise. Indeed, Mr Wickham was handsome beyond words; possessing a fine countenance, and equally decent figure; two things that Elizabeth had wholly not been expecting. Feeling her cheeks tinge pink, Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered to the ground as she struggled to her feet. She had no way of knowing he was a cad in a handsome disguise.
“Good day, Mr Wickham. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth muttered, as she rose to curtsy graciously.
Wickham’s eyes darted over her, sweeping down her body from head to toe as he took her in. His lips seemed to twist with mild satisfaction as he approached her, first, of all her sisters.
“Good day, Miss Bennet. Are you the Elizabeth I have heard so very much about?” he asked curiously. Mr Wickham’s hand reached forward, grasping Elizabeth’s tenderly as he lifted his eyes to meet with hers, and with a genteel grace, pressed his featherlight lips to her nimble fingers. The action alone was enough to send a shiver straight from Elizabeth’s fingers, down her arm, and to the core of her heart immediately. She sucked in a quick breath and smiled. Her lips twisted into a delighted grin, even she had not known she was capable of.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes flickered across the room, as if she could feel a shift in the air; a magnetism that had ignited between her daughter and Mr Wickham in but the blinking of an eye.
***
Several weeks passed, and Mr Wickham became a regular guest at Longbourn. With much care, he befriended both Mr and Mrs Bennet and quickly became a favorite of all sisters.
Even more, the entire Meryton admired him, and all young ladies had a peculiar inclination toward him.
As for the gentleman himself, he seemed to have chosen the recipient of his attention in the person of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
They spent much time together, and Elizabeth tried to keep her entire attention on him, in order to forget about Mr Darcy. She found herself thinking of the aloof master of Pemberley often and in a most improper way, considering he had been engaged to be married soon, and in some strange and hardly proper circumstances.
Mr. Wickham with his charming manners and enchanting smiles, was a certain palliation to her distress.
They became close friends, and he opened himself to her, inducing her to do the same. At times, she found something worrisome in his voice, or in his words, in his small gestures or in his looks. But she could not name what was troubling her, so she dismissed her concern. Everybody liked Mr Wickham, and she tried to be happy that he preferred her.
His income as an officer was not enough to support a family, and Elizabeth had little dowry, to compensate. And still, their conversation moved toward the subject of a certain future. Elizabeth knew she had to be prudent in such a decision, and found several barriers to stop her. And yet, since no other better choice was ahead of her, and since her betrothed and her family seemed to encourage such union, Elizabeth slowly became less opposed to it.
***
“Mother! Mother!” Kitty’s voice echoed through the foyer as she came rushing into the parlor, her eyes wild with an unspoken joy that Mrs Bennet had not expected.
She whirled around to face her daughter and tilted her head curiously. “Yes, Kitty? What is it?” she asked.
“He finally asked her! He finally asked!” Kitty exclaimed, smiling widely.
“Who finally asked who what, Kitty? I do not know what you are rambling about,” Mrs Bennet stated.
“Mr. Wickham, Mother! He just asked Elizabeth for her hand! I heard him, just now, in the garden!” Kitty muttered.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened as she parted her mouth slightly. “Oh, Kitty!” she announced excitedly. “You should not have been spying upon your sister when Mr Wickham is visiting!” she admonished.
“But, mother, is this not good news?” Kitty asked, feeling a bit disheartened by her mother’s scolding.
“Only if Lizzy has actually chosen to accept, Kitty. Remember, your sister has a reputation for doing the exact opposite of what I would have her do,” Mrs Bennet admitted.
“But that is the best part, Mother!” Kitty said, smiling coyly. “I overheard her say yes, as well!”
Mrs. Bennet’s face went white as all the color drained from her cheeks, and Kitty realized her mother was most certainly as shocked as she had been.
“Oh, could it be? Could it be she has finally found someone who is at least agreeable to her?” Mrs Bennet asked, shaking her head as she smoothed out her skirt. She coughed slightly, and looked up at her youngest daughter with a smile. “Now then, we should act surprised, lest we truly upset her and cause her to change her mind. You simply must act as if you know nothing. Do you hear me?” Mrs Bennet asked.
“Of course, Mother. I would not dare to disrupt such a thing!” Kitty stated matter-of-factly. Elizabeth and Mr Wickham’s voices were suddenly heard as they entered the door behind them, and Kitty peered over her shoulder as they drew closer. “Here they come, Mother!” she stated, moving into the parlor.
Elizabeth and Wickham entered the drawing room, arm in arm. If the family’s delight had been less, they would have noticed that Mr Wickham seemed happier than Elizabeth. But nobody paid much attention to such detail, when Mr Wickham stepped further and bowed to them.
“Good day, Mrs Bennet,” Mr Wickham’s warm voice flowed over her ears, “Elizabeth and I have news to share!” he stated.
“Oh, is that so?” Mrs Bennet asked curiously.
Elizabeth smiled and stepped forward, tilting her head slightly as she looked back at George. “Yes, mother, we do,” she agreed.
“Well, please do hurry and share,” Mrs Bennet urged.
Elizabeth smiled as Mr Wickham announced, “I have asked Elizabeth to be my wife, and she has accepted.” He squeezed Elizabeth’s hand slightly as they both smiled joyfully back at her.
“Oh, congratulations, Lizzy! Oh, how lovely! Will it be a spring wedding?” Mrs Bennet asked; her excitement nearly bursting from her.
“If that is what my beloved wishes, then, yes, it shall be,” Mr Wickham stated.
Elizabeth grinned as she thought quietly that a spring wedding was as good as any other. And since her engagement had brought such pleasure to her family, and her betrothed was such a handsome, amiable man, she had no reason to repine.
***
Strangely, Mr Wickham preferred to keep the news about their betrothal as private as possible. Of course, the family and the entire Meryton were aware of it, but no announcement in the papers appeared.
And even stranger, once engaged, Mr Wickham appeared to be busier with business that kept him away, spending considerably less time with Elizabeth than before.
Time was a delicate thing where matters of the heart were concerned, and lately Elizabeth had wondered if the constant absence of her fiancé would be a customary experience? Will the regiment keep him from me so often that we scarcely see one another? She thought. Kitty had reminded her that George had never ceased speaking about her since the moment they had first met, and she did not think that his absence was due to his lack of interest; but Elizabeth was not so convinced. Even worse, she found herself not missing him as much as she expected, and again she wondered about her upcoming marriage.
It had been three months since she and George Wickham had first gotten engaged, and, in that time, she had only seen him four times. The first three had been within the first month of their engagement. Lately, however, it seemed that even George’s letters had grown fewer and farther between. It sent a wave of anxiety through her blood the more she thought on it, and she had heard that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy would soon be visiting the area again; leading her to be hopeful that, perhaps, Mr Darcy could be of assistance regarding Mr Wickham’s lack of communication, or visits. Elizabeth had learned, much to her dismay, that George Wickham was the godson of Fitzwilliam and Georgiana Darcy’s father, making Darcy and Wickham family, of sorts. I was most certainly inhospitable the last time I saw them both, though. She thought.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice broke through her thoughts as she strode into the library where Elizabeth had chosen to take her tea that afternoon.
“Good morning, Jane,” Elizabeth muttered.
“I came to share some news with you,” Jane remarked.
Elizabeth perked her brow and tilted her head in question. “What is it, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.
Jane slowly walked inside, and moved to sit alongside her sister, bending her head to gaze upon her. “Do you remember the argument we shared at Lady Catherine’s?” she asked her.
Elizabeth sighed and gave a nod. “Yes, of course,” she stated sorrowfully. “It is not something I would be likely to forget.”
“You and I have never argued like that before, but I recognize now that you were hurting, and I think I know why,” Jane murmured kindly.
Elizabeth raised a brow inquisitively. “What do you mean, Jane?” she asked.
“I have come to tell you that you were wrong. Mr Bingley and I are to be wed. I accepted his proposal just this morning,” Jane announced.
Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, congratulations, Jane! I am so happy to hear it!” she stated joyfully.
“Yes, but that is not all. I think you may be making a mistake, Lizzy,” Jane began. “When Mr Bingley said he thought you and Mr Darcy would make a fine pairing, I think he was right. I do not feel that you should marry Mr Wickham,” Jane remarked.
Elizabeth scoffed. “Do you mean to offend me, Jane? Is this your way of seeking revenge for the pain I brought you?” she asked.
Jane shook her head slightly. “No, not at all, Lizzy. I would never dream of hurting you in any way, but I would be foolish not to share my wisdom with you, dear sister,” she muttered. “Did you hear what Caroline Bingley told Lady Catherine that evening?” she asked.
Elizabeth tilted her head and looked away, feeling a sudden wave of apprehension. In her mind, she felt the subject was in dire need of closing, not further discussion.
“Jane, I do not think what your future sister-in-law has shared with Lady Catherine is relevant any longer. I am not sure what such information could do for me, and for that reason alone, I do not feel it is important,” Elizabeth said softly.
Suddenly, Kitty came scurrying into the library, interrupting Jane before she could utter another word. “Lizzy! Lizzy!” she exclaimed as she stepped in.
“Yes, Kitty?” she asked, frustrated at being disturbed.
Kitty’s eyes flashed to her eldest sister as she nodded, then hurriedly returned to Elizabeth. “Good day, Jane. Lizzy, I just overheard Mother reading a letter addressed to her and Father. It was from Mr Wickham,” Kitty announced.
“A letter from Mr Wickham?” Elizabeth asked. “Why did he address it to Mother and Father, and not me?” she added. “Where is this letter?” she asked in concern.
“Because it holds the most misfortunate news! That Mr Wickham is a scoundrel, Lizzy! A ruffian!” Kitty stated.
“Kitty, do not state such a thing! What an awful way to speak of Elizabeth’s fiancé,” Jane scolded her.
“But that is just it, Jane! Mr Wickham has gone and eloped with Victoria Brewton in Brighton! Just this past Saturday,” Kitty stated smugly.
Jane’s jaw fell open as she snapped her gaze back toward Elizabeth.
“He did what?” Elizabeth asked, her rage beginning to show as her cheeks reddened to a bright and angry scarlet. She arose, clutching her eyes closed, and she balled up her first. “How is it possible? Where is the letter?” Elizabeth yelled, running to her parents, followed by her sisters. All of them were in complete astonishment, but except Elizabeth, the others were overtaken by a pained and awkward silence.
“Oh, Lizzy, he has tarnished your reputation!” Mrs Bennet cried when she entered. “He abandoned you for another! We are ruined forever! What a horrible man, what a disaster for us,” Mrs Bennet continued, shaking her head in shock, forgetting that she had been Wickham’s biggest supporter.
Elizabeth read the letter, in the middle of her family’s scrutiny. Shame, anger, despair – all trapped her like in a cage of ice that she struggled to bear in order to move. Unable to bear the burden of her emotions as they began to swirl within her mind, Elizabeth suddenly dropped the piece of paper and rushed out of the library, then out of the house. She ran from Longbourn as swiftly as she could. She simply could not, would not, listen to another word of her parents or sisters. No matter how good their intentions may have been, she blamed them as much as she blamed her for the horrible situation she found herself in. He has ruined me! Kitty is right; he is a scoundrel, indeed! But what does this say of myself? How foolish had I been, to accept such a man? What had come to me that I have lost my mind completely? I certainly deserve my fate!”
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth continued to run until she was well past the lake, spinning about as she came to stand beneath the canopy of the leaf-bare grove of trees that had long captivated her since childhood. It was a place she had kept to herself, for moments like this. Sinking to her knees, Elizabeth lowered her head to her hands, and sighed anxiously. This is what you get for agreeing to your mother’s whims. She thought. Indeed, Mr Wickham would have been a decent husband when it came to matters of providing, but it was easy to see why he had run off with someone like Victoria Brewton. Worse yet, Elizabeth knew that the Brewton family was rumored to be in close affiliation with the Bingleys. In fact, Elizabeth knew that Victoria and Caroline had been closely conversing the very night of the Netherfield Ball. How could he humiliate me so? If he were any sort of real gentleman, he would have taken the time to end our engagement! She thought angrily.
The wind seemed to pick up just then, nipping slightly at her skirt. Elizabeth lowered her hands to hold it in place, and glanced out across the silvery water. Why can my life not return to the simplicity that was my childhood? Though, Elizabeth had no way of knowing for certain, she suspected that George’s eloping with Victoria Brewton was not merely a rumor. In fact, it seemed fitting that Mr Wickham would go after a younger woman, especially with consideration to the way he looked at Lydia. What surprised her, if she were truly honest with herself, was that she had chosen to ignore such things in the first place. But it was the hope that Mr Wickham would be the one she had been waiting for which made her blind to her usual instincts.
Thinking more on it, Elizabeth huffed aloud, “I should have known better! This is what I get for ever choosing to compromise!” she bellowed. With nobody around, Elizabeth felt safe in releasing her rage by roaring into the canopy of the trees, where the wind could quickly carry her words off in an echo that no other would hear, or could repeat. She spun around and began walking in a straig
ht line; wanting nothing more than to get closer to the lake, where she hoped she could finally bridle her own feelings yet again. A deep regret had begun to form within her belly, and though Elizabeth felt the urgent need to cry, she simply would not allow the tears to form. No, he is not worth one single tear. Not a single one! She reminded herself as she lifted a dainty finger to wipe at the sides of her eyes. Mr Wickham had truly executed her reputation, her hopes, and her dreams in one quick motion, and he had not even possessed an ounce of decency enough to warn her before doing so. Is this how all noblemen behave? Or is it simply those with connections to the Darcys whom seem to think such intolerable behaviors are acceptable?
More than that, why would her mother allow Kitty to be the first to tell her instead of calling directly for her? Instead, her mother had chosen to open a letter from Elizabeth’s fiancé and read it aloud to her father, audibly enough for Kitty to eavesdrop upon, no less. How could she betray Elizabeth in such a way? It seemed the more Elizabeth walked, the angrier she became, and though her heart seemed to be shattered, she was not entirely certain if the cause was Mr Wickham’s scandalous behavior or how her family members had chosen to handle it. She could not return home any time soon. There was no simple way she could handle it. Even as the wind began to tear at her petticoats, Elizabeth continued to stroll down the trail, her head held high and proud, eyes dashing around her surroundings as she held her balled fists at her sides.
A spring wedding? There will be no wedding at all, ever! She thought, Jane will run off and marry Mr Bingley, and I will be left to help with Lydia and Kitty while Mother works on finding a suitable husband for Mary. She should have exercised more discretion with her heart. After all, it had been the very thing she had warned Jane to do where Mr Bingley was concerned, and now, it seemed, the only person who appeared to be a fool where matters of the heart were concerned was Elizabeth herself. How strange, I argued with my beloved sister over protecting her heart and fell for the biggest ruse a man can pull over a woman’s eyes! Elizabeth scoffed loudly as she moved to curve around a trail. She lifted her arms slowly and crossed them across her chest as the wind whipped a few loose strands of her hair across the front of her face.
Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth Page 8