The Angel of Longbourn

by Rowland Jann

  “I am surprised that you know Mr. Wickham,” interjected Miss Lydia. “We find acquaintances in the strangest of places, do we not?”

  “Indeed, we do. In fact, Wickham here is also acquainted with Darcy and has been for some time now.”

  If Wickham was pale at the sight of Fitzwilliam, his countenance became positively white at the mention of Darcy. “Darcy is here too?”

  “Indeed, he is,” replied Fitzwilliam. He acknowledged a little vexation to himself—Darcy was restrained and forgiving, yet Wickham had always seemed to fear Darcy more than Fitzwilliam himself, even though Fitzwilliam was the more physically menacing of the two, and definitely quicker to anger. “Perhaps you would like to see him.”

  “Uh . . . No, Fitzwilliam—that is quite unnecessary.” Wickham looked from him to the two girls and put on his most charming smile. “I really must away, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia. I hope we will meet again, very soon.”

  “A moment, Wickham,” said Fitzwilliam, his outstretched hand preventing Wickham’s flight. “You should understand that I will not only be speaking with your commanding officer, but also with the shopkeepers of this good town. I suggest you do not get up to your usual tricks in Meryton, or you may rouse the populace to chase you from town with sharpened pitchforks, tar and feathers.”

  “Here now, Fitzwilliam! There is no call to threaten me like that!”

  “I am afraid there is, Georgie.” Fitzwilliam stepped toward the other man, noting his hasty retreat. But he only smiled at him in a particularly mirthless way, saying: “Do not give me an opportunity to follow through with the threat I issued when we last met, Wickham. For once in your miserable life, behave yourself, or you will surely regret it.”

  Fitzwilliam straightened and favored Wickham with another predatory smile. “It has been an illuminating conversation, George. I hope we can do it again very soon.

  “Now, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia, since I believe your new friend has matters to attend to, perhaps I might escort you to wherever you are going.”

  “But we just made his acquaintance!” wailed Miss Lydia.

  A slight turn told Fitzwilliam that Wickham had fled as soon as the opportunity had prevented itself, leaving him alone on the street with the two girls.

  “Believe me, Miss Lydia, not only is Wickham not as charming as you think, but he is not the kind of man with whom you should associate. Besides,” said Fitzwilliam, favoring her with a winsome smile, “he is nothing more than a mere lieutenant, while I am a colonel. Would you not prefer to be escorted by a colonel?”

  “Perhaps I would,” said Miss Lydia, throwing him a sour look, “but you never wear your regimentals.”

  “That is because it is more comfortable to dress like a gentleman,” said Fitzwilliam, “and I am on leave. However, if you behave yourself, perhaps I might be persuaded to wear my uniform some day soon.”

  The girl brightened considerably at that.

  “Now, shall I escort you back to your aunt’s house?”

  “We wanted to visit some of the shops,” complained Miss Lydia. Oddly, Miss Kitty was subdued, and she watched him quietly, something he might not have thought possible.

  “Then let me accompany you there,” replied Fitzwilliam with eager gallantry. “I am at leisure myself this morning, and I came to town seeking amusement. I am certain you shall both be jolly companions.”

  Miss Lydia beamed at him, and she took his outstretched arm. With her sister on his other arm, they began to walk through the town, entering several shops. The girls did not actually make any purchases, but they looked a great deal, exclaiming or arguing over this and that, in what Fitzwilliam thought was their usual manner. It was, he thought, not an unpleasant way to spend a morning. Though Miss Lydia was a flirt with little in the way of serious thought, and her sister was not much better, they were agreeable companions, and he was not unhappy to leave such serious and disagreeable personages such as his aunt for a time.

  It was while Miss Lydia was much engaged with admiring a bonnet at the milliner—Miss Lydia seemed to be inordinately interested in bonnets—that Fitzwilliam discovered that Miss Kitty was perhaps a little more serious than her sister.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said she in a low tone which ensured her sister would not overhear her, “can I assume, from the way you spoke with Mr. Wickham, that you and he do not share a close friendship?”

  Refraining from snorting in disdain took considerable willpower. “You assume correctly, Miss Kitty. In fact, I cannot think of a single person of my acquaintance who maintained Wickham’s friendship, once they discovered the extent of his character.”

  Eyes wide, Miss Kitty blurted: “He is a bad man, then?”

  Fitzwilliam smiled at her; her innocence was refreshing, though it might be dangerous, with Wickham prowling about. “He is, Miss Kitty. He grew up on Darcy’s estate as the favorite of Darcy’s father. I would not offend your sensibilities by laying before you the extent of his crimes, but let us just say that he is no respecter of person or property, and that he would consider pretty young gentlewomen such as you and your sister quite the conquest.”

  Miss Kitty gasped, and she looked at him with shock. She was a gentlewoman, sheltered as one of her station often was, but she was also a country girl, and it seemed she had a little more knowledge than he might have expected.

  “You would do best to stay away from him, Miss Kitty, and ensure your sister does likewise.”

  A glance at her younger sister told Fitzwilliam who was the dominant sibling. “Lydia does whatever she wants. Nothing I say deters her in the slightest.”

  “Then simply be watchful,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I will be speaking with his commanding officer, so hopefully his proclivities will be curtailed. I will also speak with your father and allow him to take action.”

  Miss Kitty nodded vigorously. “I will do as you ask.”

  Nodding, Fitzwilliam favored her with a smile. “All will be well. Just do not let your guard down around Wickham.”

  A few moments later, Miss Lydia had declared the bonnet too plain for her tastes, and they departed from the shop. Fitzwilliam noted the exasperated look the proprietor shot at the girl, informing him that this was a scene which played out with great frequency. He shook his head; Lydia Bennet was all fearless determination, but she had no true harm in her. There were worse qualities for her to have.

  His escort duties ended a short time later, when he delivered the girls to their aunt’s house and went away. The aunt, a woman of startling resemblance to her sister, and an even more startling penchant for vulgarity, entreated him to enter and take some refreshment with them, but Fitzwilliam refused, claiming a previous engagement. It was not a falsehood—he had a great desire to put a spike—or several—in the wheel of one George Wickham. With any luck, perhaps he could catch the man in some mischief and ensure he was gone from their lives forever.

  Elizabeth was surprised, to say the least, when her father sent a message to his youngest daughters, requesting their presence for dinner that evening. In actuality, only in the politest terms could it have been considered a request—in fact, an order might have been closer to the mark. Kitty and Lydia were not opposed to dining at Longbourn. At the very least, they had not yet ruined their reputations while staying at their aunt’s house.

  Before long, however, Elizabeth began to realize that though Lydia was the same as she ever was, Kitty was quiet by comparison, and she often looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam, a searching quality to her gaze that Elizabeth did not think she had ever witnessed before.

  As for the colonel, he had arrived back at Longbourn that afternoon after a well-deserved break from his aunt and the tension she had brought over the house, but with a firmness of purpose evident in his very stride. Could he have met with her younger sisters in Meryton and been disgusted with their behavior? Had it been enough to prompt him to speak with her father concerning the matter? Elizabeth had attempted to speak with her fa
ther several times about Kitty and Lydia’s behavior, but he had just waved her off, assuring her that they would improve once they had gained a little maturity. She could not imagine him taking criticism from a man who was not even a member of the family.

  At dinner that night, the usual inanities flowed. Lydia was at her vocal best, and Lady Catherine had never found a silence she did not wish to fill. Mrs. Bennet was silent and watchful, which was a change from her usual behavior, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was once again happy and agreeable to all. One silver lining was the absence of Mr. Collins—Mrs. Bennet was not of mind to invite the man to dinner, and though he often came to call, he was reminded of the usual length of a visit, and was forced to depart before he could bore them all too long. Elizabeth neither knew nor cared how he spent his days. As for Elizabeth, she was quiet and observant at dinner that evening, finding herself a little out of sorts. That malady she attributed to the fact that she had had little opportunity to be in Mr. Darcy’s company since his aunt had arrived at Longbourn. How quickly she had come to rely on his presence!

  When the dinner was complete and they retired to the sitting-room, Lady Catherine kept up her habit of speaking without needing a response, and for the most part, those in attendance allowed her to pontificate. No one felt the particular need to sit and listen to her, so there were several other conversations carried on quietly while the great lady continued to speak. She did not seem to mind.

  At length, however, Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and began to speak himself. “You have my apologies, Lady Catherine, but I have a matter about which I must speak with my family.”

  Though Lady Catherine appeared affronted at being summarily interrupted, she only waved him off. Mr. Bennet shot her a sardonic smile.

  “It has come to my attention that today, my youngest met with a newly arrived member of the militia.”

  “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Lydia. “Mr. Wickham is so handsome and charming. I felt I had known him all of my life within minutes of making his acquaintance.”

  “Mr. Wickham, you say?” demanded Lady Catherine. “Is he not that young man your Uncle Darcy elevated without regard to his station in life?”

  “Indeed, he is,” confirmed Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But please, Aunt, allow Mr. Bennet to speak. You and I may confirm his words once he is finished.”

  Little though Lady Catherine was accustomed to allowing another to take the floor, she subsided.

  “Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Bennet. “Girls, I have learned that Mr. Wickham is not a good sort of man. He goes about, leaving debts and ruined lives in his wake, and he especially enjoys targeting silly young women who are taken in by his charm and manners. I must insist that you all stay away from Mr. Wickham.”

  Lydia shot a disgusted look at Colonel Fitzwilliam. “The colonel said much the same thing, but I must say that I saw little harm in Mr. Wickham, and much to admire. You cannot take the word of a man we hardly know without some proof.”

  “Are you questioning the honor of my nephew?” demanded Lady Catherine.

  “Peace, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Bennet, before turning a stern look on his youngest. “And you, Lydia, would take the word of a man we know even less without proof?”

  Lydia flushed, but she continued to fix her father with a mutinous look, though she did not speak. Kitty, however, essayed to speak her mind.

  “There is no harm in taking care, is there, Lydia?”

  “You have the right of it, Kitty,” said Mr. Bennet, smiling at his second youngest. “Whether you believe or not is irrelevant. You are young gentlewomen and there is a certain standard of behavior expected of you. This Mr. Wickham will hiss his sibilant whispers in your ear and attempt to induce you to behave in ways you ought not. He is to be avoided, and when that is not possible, you must be wary of him.”

  “I fear I must speak as well,” said Mr. Bingley. “Though much of what I know of this Mr. Wickham is from Darcy, I have also heard of him from other sources. He is not at all well thought of in Cambridge, where I attended university. There were suggestions that he left debts behind, not to mention other, more objectionable, behavior.”

  “Debts that Darcy settled,” added Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Darcy did not wish for Wickham’s behavior to reflect poorly on his father, so he has cleaned up after the man several times. When last they met, Wickham was informed that Darcy would not provide his assistance again. I do not doubt Wickham intends revenge, should the opportunity present itself.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s gasp and look of consternation at Elizabeth suggested that she, at least understood the thrust of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words, and Elizabeth herself felt a little ill at the implications. She was fortunate, however, that Lydia continued to complain, and that Lady Catherine’s attention was directed at her, rather than the byplay about her.

  “But, Papa!” exclaimed Lydia. “I do not think—”

  “It is quite obvious that you do not think,” interjected Lady Catherine. “You may be assured that everything my nephews tell you is the absolute truth, as they are both honorable and upright men. I have known of this Wickham for some time. He has been given advantages he did not deserve and has proceeded to squander them. Anything he tells you should be treated with suspicion, if not disbelief.

  “Furthermore,” said she, her eyes fixed on Lydia, “you should know that foolish young gentlewomen who are taken in by scoundrels cannot expect to live happy lives. Listen to your father and behave yourself accordingly. It is true you have little to recommend yourself, but a young gentlewoman of lively manners can expect much, if she learns to temper her exuberance. You are at an age that you should be preparing yourself for marriage to a worthy young man.”

  “I do not need to do any such thing,” said Lydia with a vague wave of her hand. “I shall marry an officer, so it is of little matter.”

  “Then you are a foolish young girl, to wish to quit the sphere of your upbringing and marry where there will be hardship and deprivation.” Lydia looked on with horror, but Lady Catherine’s words were like an inexorable tide. “And you will not even be able to marry such a man, if you continue on in such a manner. Young gentlewomen who are persuaded to engage in behavior such as your father has warned you against will invariably find themselves abandoned when their abductor tires of them, possibly with child, and with nowhere they can turn. Do not follow this fate, Miss Lydia. There are better things in life to which you can aspire.”

  And the lady fell silent. Lydia, for her part, looked uncertain of herself, a rare enough occurrence that it was noteworthy. For the rest of the evening she was quiet, far from her usual loud self. Elizabeth was astonished—none of her admonishments had ever managed to curb Lydia to any great degree, but this lady, with her bluntness and forthright manner, had somehow managed it.

  Later, Elizabeth found herself in proximity with her father, and though she might have thought he would be angry with Lady Catherine for speaking in such a fashion, he appeared more amused than anything.

  “It is a wondrous thing, is it not, Lizzy? Your sister appears to be almost thoughtful after Lady Catherine’s dressing down.”

  “It is most unlike her,” replied Elizabeth, as she watched as Lydia stared at something only she could see.

  “I might not have done it in exactly the same way. Lady Catherine’s manner was far blunter than we might consider proper, but it seems like it has its advantages.”

  “True,” replied Elizabeth. “Given Lydia’s character and lack of anything resembling caution, perhaps it was the only way to reach her.”

  “It appears that Lady Catherine is actually good for something, is she not?” Mr. Bennet winked outrageously. “I would not have thought it, but there it is.

  Elizabeth laughed. Trust her father to make a joke out of such a serious matter. But Elizabeth could not dispute the results, regardless of how skeptical she was of Lydia’s ultimate reformation. No doubt the girl would shrug it off by the following mornin
g.

  But perhaps she would actually remember some of what she had heard and use it in a critical moment. The girl could not have grown much worse without forcing them to keep her under lock and key for the rest of her life. Maybe this would temper her to some small extent.

  Chapter XI

  Lady Catherine’s advice was no less than ubiquitous. There was simply no other adjective which could do the woman’s predilection to involve herself in the affairs of others any justice.

  Darcy had known this about his aunt for many years. One could hardly miss it, after all, as no more than ten minutes in the woman’s company could pass before she started sharing her wisdom. If it had been designed with an interest in another, with a desire to help, Darcy might have been able to explain it away, but he had always thought it proceeded from an unshakable belief in her own infallibility and a desire to ensure those around her did exactly as she instructed, likely proceeding from some sort of deep-seated need to always be correct.

  But what Darcy had never quite understood before was the sheer volume, the indefatigable violence with which she pursued her favorite pastime. In the past, their meetings had always been at Rosings, or on occasion at either Pemberley or his uncle’s estate Snowlock, and in those situations, the woman could be ignored in favor of other concerns. Most of the time Darcy—and the rest of his family—preferred to forget about Lady Catherine as much as possible, to shunt her to a metaphoric dark corner to be ignored.

  At Longbourn, Darcy found it necessary to watch the woman, and what he found startled and offended him. It was customary to make polite conversation with one’s hosts when in their company, to adhere to subjects approved for general discourse. It was not polite to dispense unwanted—and often nonsensical—advice all the hours of the day, most of which was delivered in an authoritative manner of one who was an expert on every subject at hand.

  Looking at the woman from the perspective of those who had opened their lives, arms, and hearts to him in his hour of need, he found that the woman’s behavior shamed and humbled him. He had heard of her encounter with Mrs. Bennet the first full day of her stay at Longbourn, and though he had no great opinion of the woman, in some ways he was proud of her. Not many women stood up to Lady Catherine and prevailed against her, no matter where the confrontation occurred!