The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  “Of course, Mr. Wickham,” said Jane, not responding to the man’s obvious flattery. “I shall be pleased to dance with you.”

  A beaming smile lit up Mr. Wickham’s face, and he bowed and led Elizabeth to the other dancers. There was little doubt the man had spread his flattery a little thick in his praise of the Bennets, but Elizabeth, who had seen many men make fools of themselves over Jane’s imagined approval, could only look skyward as Jane once again proved her power over members of the other sex. That Mr. Wickham had asked Elizabeth to dance first was a surprise, for it was usually the opposite. To be compared to Jane was a compliment of the highest order.

  It seemed Mr. Wickham was, in addition to all his other perfections, a consummate dancer, for he was light on his feet, performed the steps with precision, and did not come near to treading on her toes. Elizabeth received many looks of envy as she partnered with the handsomest man in the room. But Elizabeth would have given up his company without hesitation. Though his conversation was interesting, and his handsome countenance was beyond dispute, he did not interest Elizabeth as anything other than a casual acquaintance.

  Soon after it became Jane’s turn to dance with the gentleman, and she did so with her usual poise. If there seemed to be some further conversation between him and Jane than he had with her, Elizabeth did not concern herself over the matter. She was not in love with the man, and neither was Jane. Let him attempt to charm the Bennets. Elizabeth thought she and her sisters were more than capable of withstanding his manners and comely features.

  Chapter II

  Between the Bennet and Lucas families, it was a custom to gather the day after an event of significance to speak concerning it. It was not gossip, though those of a particularly rigid moral bent might consider it as such. But their conversation was more of their observations, items of humor or interest, or nothing more than a discussion of unrelated topics. It was so innocuous that even Mary, the most pious of the Bennet girls, felt comfortable in attending them.

  That day there were few subjects to be canvassed which did not involve the militia regiment. More particularly, the Bennet sisters were curious concerning Mr. Wickham, for he was not the sort of man one forgot quickly. While they were familiar with all the principal officers of the regiment, none of them had made Mr. Wickham’s acquaintance before that evening.

  “It is my understanding Mr. Wickham was late joining the regiment here,” said Charlotte when Elizabeth asked. “My father does not know the details, but Mr. Wickham had been given a commission by Colonel Forster which delayed his arrival.”

  “I wonder what it might have been,” mused Elizabeth. “While the colonel might send men in advance to prepare a new camp, being left behind seems odd.”

  “It seems he must be highly trusted,” added Jane. “No one who did not have the complete faith of the commander would be sent on a task which would delay him for two weeks.”

  Elizabeth directed a long look at her sister, wondering what her comment presaged. Jane had not seemed enamored of Mr. Wickham the previous evening—had Elizabeth been mistaken? The opportunity provided by her elder sister was too much for Charlotte to resist, and she took advantage to the fullest extent.

  “Is that admiration I hear in your voice, Jane? If it is, I should not blame you—Mr. Wickham was deemed handsome by every woman in attendance last night.”

  “On the contrary,” replied Jane, her color suspiciously heightened, “I have no admiration for Mr. Wickham.”

  “But you must confess he is far more appealing than any other man in the regiment.”

  “Based on nothing more than a handsome countenance, I must agree with you,” said Jane, drawing her self-possession about her like a cloak. “I will own he seemed like a good man. But I hope I am no more turned by a handsome countenance than any other young lady.”

  “Good for you, Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “There are other qualities in a man a woman must take into consideration.”

  “Such as?” prompted Charlotte with good-humored mirth.

  “The ability to support a wife,” said Elizabeth. “Being a member of the militia, Mr. Wickham must not be a wealthy man. While he might receive some support from his father, these militiamen all seemed to be second sons or less.” Turning to Charlotte, Elizabeth fixed her friend with a curious look, asking: “Do you know anything of Mr. Wickham?”

  “Nothing at all,” replied Charlotte. “Before last night I had never made his acquaintance, and even my father, whom you must confess knows most of the local gossip, could say nothing more than that Mr. Wickham was a friend of Mr. Denny. It was on Mr. Denny’s recommendation that Mr. Wickham joined the local regiment.”

  “Then perhaps Mr. Denny has more information concerning Mr. Wickham. Thus, you need only apply to him, Jane, if you wish to know more of your future beau.”

  Once again Jane colored, though it did not affect her glare at Elizabeth. “I have already said I have no admiration for Mr. Wickham.”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” said Charlotte, sotto voce.

  The friends laughed together and her sister, who almost never looked on anyone with censure, was peering at them with an expression resembling annoyance. This did not halt their amusement—quite the contrary.

  “Even if I did,” said Jane, “I do not believe Mr. Wickham possesses any admiration for me.”

  “Though I believe you when you say you have no admiration for Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, gazing at her sister with affection, “the reverse is not true, Jane.”

  “Mr. Wickham asked for your hand first,” challenged Jane.

  “Perhaps he did,” replied Elizabeth. “But when my dance ended, he then danced with you, and for the rest of the evening, he could not be moved from your side.”

  “The fact of the matter, Jane,” said Mary, who had heretofore remained silent, “is you never think any man has singled you out. We, however, always know when a man is singling you out, which is almost always!”

  The three ladies laughed at the shamefaced Jane, who soon joined them, though with not nearly as much mirth. Their conversation brought Mrs. Bennet’s attention, as she entered the room, looking on them with some interest. Elizabeth smiled in greeting to her mother, beckoning her to join them.

  “You are speaking of last night?” asked Mrs. Bennet, aware of the ladies’ habits.

  “Yes, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “More particularly, we were speaking of Jane’s future courtship with Mr. Wickham.

  Once again, the friends collapsed in laughter while Jane stammered her mortification. Mrs. Bennet appeared amused at the scene, entered and laid a commiserating hand on her eldest daughter’s shoulder.

  “I see your sister is at it again, Jane.” Then she sat next to her daughter and added: “Mr. Wickham is, indeed, a handsome young man. I dare say he is even more handsome than Lieutenant Balderee, who was the talk of the regiment that camped here when I was a girl. Many a young lady liked him very well, indeed.”

  A dreamy look stole over her mother’s countenance such as to make her appear many years younger. Elizabeth stifled her chuckles, sharing expressive glances with her sisters and friend. Their mother was so uncommonly improved in her comportment since the threat of the entail was removed and Mrs. Garret arrived that when she displayed an echo of her former behavior, it provoked a measure of mirth in them all. As a woman of more than forty years, to see her wistful sighs over the memory of some officer from many years ago struck Elizabeth as hilarious.

  “I know you girls find my introspections amusing,” said Mrs. Bennet, turning a pointed look on Elizabeth. “But I hold such remembrances dear. As Mr. Wickham focused more on you girls, I did not speak much with him. He seemed to be a very pleasant man. The question is, whether Jane likes him.”

  Jane smiled at her mother, her usual serenity returned. “While I agree with you, Mama, I found Mr. Wickham to be a pleasant man and no more. I was not enamored with him.”

&nbs
p; “That is not the issue we were discussing, Jane,” said Elizabeth. When her sister glared at her, Elizabeth leaned forward and, grasping her hand, squeezed it. “I do not tease, Jane. It was obvious to us all that Mr. Wickham admires you, even on such a short acquaintance.”

  “That much was clear,” said Mrs. Bennet, prompting Jane’s frown. “But there is more to consider than whether a young man is amiable or possesses a handsome countenance.”

  That was not a statement Elizabeth might have expected to hear from her mother. Then again, Mr. Bennet was not what most women would refer to as exceptionally handsome, though Elizabeth did not think her father was in any way ill-favored.

  “That is true,” said Mary. “A man must have something with which he may support a family.”

  “Which Mr. Wickham would obtain should he marry Jane,” observed Charlotte. “Jane is your father’s heir now.”

  “Is showing such a quick interest in Jane not a sign of a fortune hunter?” asked Mary. “Since Papa dissolved the entail, Jane has become the most eligible young lady in the neighborhood.”

  “I think it is yet early to ascribe such self-interested motives to Mr. Wickham,” said Jane, as always, determined to think the best of everyone.

  “That is true,” said Elizabeth. “There is no indication that Mr. Wickham even knows of Jane’s good fortune. He has only been here for a few days.”

  “Actually, he does,” said Charlotte, her manner faintly apologetic. “When he was speaking with my father last night, the subject arose, and my father was not hesitant to share his knowledge.”

  “It would have become known regardless,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It is no secret in the neighborhood.”

  Charlotte smiled in thanks, but Mrs. Bennet was already considering the matter further. “It would be my preference,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that Jane did not marry a penniless man. It would be beneficial for her to connect herself with a man who already has some means. But if Jane truly liked him, I should not stand in her way.”

  “Which is exactly as it should be,” said Elizabeth. “Look for a man of more means, but if Mr. Wickham is the man you wish to wed and he is a man of good character, there should be nothing to prevent you from following your heart.”

  “Thank you, Lizzy, Mama,” replied Jane. “But to repeat myself, I am unmoved by Mr. Wickham. A handsome man he is, and he seems to be a good man. But one meeting does not leave me in love with him. While that may change, I suspect it shall not.”

  “Then the matter is settled,” said Mrs. Bennet, rising from her chair. As she stood she smiled at her eldest, caressing her cheek with one finger. “I hope, my dear, that the disposition of Longbourn means I shall have your company after your marriage, but I would not have you married to a man for whom you do not possess any esteem.” Mrs. Bennet turned to Elizabeth and Mary. “While I understand your wishes, your situation will not allow you to be as fastidious. Let us find good men for you, but your dowries will mean you must take the best available.”

  “My sisters are welcome to stay with me as long as they wish, Mama,” said Jane.

  “Of course, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But the best a woman can hope in our society is protection in marriage. I wish that for all of your sisters.”

  Then Mrs. Bennet nodded toward Charlotte and excused herself and left the room. It did not take long for the sisters to exchange looks and descend into chuckles, though they took care to remain quiet.

  “It seems there are some things about Mother which shall never change,” said Mary with a shaken head.

  “At least she does not throw us at gentlemen.” Elizabeth turned an arched brow on her elder sister. “Do you not remember Mama’s comments as she prepared you for your grand coming out when you were fifteen?”

  “Without a doubt,” said Charlotte, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I remember thinking many times that dealing with my mother was hard—being required to withstand your mother would be more than I can bear.”

  “I remember it too,” said Jane, sighing and shaking her head with regret. “But she is uncommonly improved.”

  “Aye, that she is,” agreed Elizabeth. “Believe me, Jane, I can endure these lectures concerning the superiority of the married state far better than I could being propelled toward any man with more than a penny to his name.”

  “She was not that bad,” protested Jane.

  “Yes, she was, dearest sister.” Elizabeth rose, approached her beloved sister, and kissed the top of her head. “Though I do not say it to criticize, I must disagree with you. Mama was much worse than I said.

  “Come, Charlotte,” said Elizabeth, turning to her friend. “Do you fancy a walk on the back lawn?”

  Charlotte smiled and agreed, and the two women excused themselves.

  A little later, Elizabeth found occasion to visit her father’s study. It was a handsome, bright and airy chamber, one Elizabeth had always found comforting, especially in the years of her mother’s increasing manic lamentations about the evil of the entail. Whereas then she had been the only one her father would allow into the room on a regular basis, now all the girls were welcome to come and select a book or to speak of what they read with their father. Mary and Elizabeth were the ones who most often availed themselves of the privilege, though the other girls did so occasionally. It was a wonderful change, and the entire family had had some engaging discussions in that room.

  That day nothing in particular brought Elizabeth to her father. There was nothing of which she wished to speak to him of a literary bent, nor did she have a problem she wished to discuss or an anecdote to relate. Being in there calmed her, allowed her to set her worries aside and lose herself in the written word. But she did none of those things on that day. Instead, she walked along the bookshelves so lovingly attended to by her father, ran her fingers along the spines of the books, relishing the feeling of the leather on her skin. It was an action borne of nothing more than love for the written word, though her mind was not on it. She felt at peace.

  “It seems, my dear, something weighty is on your mind. Would you care to talk about it?”

  Turning, Elizabeth smiled at her father and shook her head. “There is nothing troubling me, Papa. All is well.”

  “Yet you have been deep in contemplation since you entered, and I have not seen you walk around my room in such a manner for some time. When you do, it is almost always a result of you either contemplating something or worrying a problem over in your mind. Since you have declared you have no concerns . . . .”

  Elizabeth easily understood the inference, smiled, and sat in the chair in front of his desk. Mr. Bennet put the book in his hand down and turned his full attention on her. It was attention which might have been foreign to him only a few years ago, even when confronted by his favorite daughter. More than just Mrs. Bennet had changed in recent years.

  “When Charlotte visited this afternoon, we spoke about several matters, one in which Mama took part.”

  “Your mother,” said Mr. Bennet, a chuckle betraying his amusement. “I had thought she was past worrying you girls, but she backslides from time to time.”

  “It is not that, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “The subject was marriage—or at least it was to some degree. But Mama did not discompose us.”

  Then Elizabeth proceeded to explain the subject they had discussed, while her father listened intently. He made no comment while Elizabeth was speaking, then after she fell silent he leaned back in his chair and considered the matter for some moments. Then he sighed and leaned forward.

  “Though I am certain you already apprehend this, your mother is not incorrect. Provided a woman can find a good man for a husband, the protection of marriage is the best way to live your life. On the other hand, I know your wishes and I cannot say you are incorrect.”

  “I am aware of that,” said Elizabeth.

  “Of course, you are,” replied Mr. Bennet. “When Jane marries, I can include articles in the contract which
guarantee the support of you, your mother, and any remaining unmarried sisters. If her future husband does not agree to your support, I can change my will to make you my heir, or one of your sisters. And you will all have some money—not much, perhaps, but enough to support yourselves. But yes, I would like to see you all in fulfilling marriages when the time comes.”

  “As would I, Papa,” replied Elizabeth. “But I do not wish to settle for a man for the sole purpose of attaching the title ‘Mrs.’ to my name.”

  “That is understandable. I do not wish any of you to be miserable in marriage.” Mr. Bennet bestowed a singular smile on Elizabeth, one which had always made her feel treasured and special. “Especially you, Lizzy. It has always been my thought your disposition is such that you would never be happy in a marriage with a man you could not respect.”

  “That is true,” said Elizabeth. “And I do not wish for it. I wish to love and respect my partner, to find fulfillment in the state of marriage. Perhaps I wish for too much—I know many would abuse me for having such fanciful notions. But I want it all the same.”

  The smile fell away from Mr. Bennet’s face and he leaned forward again, bracing his arms on his desk and fixing Elizabeth with his expressionless eyes. “I know it is what you want, Lizzy. But let me also caution you, for the pangs of infatuation can sometimes mislead us into thinking our hearts are engaged, when, in fact, they are not.”

  Elizabeth knew her father was speaking of his own experience. While it had all turned out well, she knew her father might have made a different choice if he had been a little wiser, understood her mother a little more. He was not unhappy now, but those years in which her mother had betrayed the worst parts of her character had been a trial on his temper.

  “Furthermore,” said her father, “I must ask you to be careful in choosing a man, to look through to his heart and see him for what he is, rather than what you might wish him to be.”