The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  “Mr. Collins?” asked Elizabeth, curious in spite of herself. “You have never informed me when you receive a letter from him, though you have shared a few of the contents of many with the family. With great amusement, I might add.”

  The grin with which Mr. Bennet regarded her spoke to his continued mirth. “Indeed, I have. As I have informed you, his father was a miserly and hamfisted man, uneducated and bitter over his lot in life. The present Mr. Collins is, I suspect, much more ridiculous than bitter. Though you are correct that I have not shared the specifics of his letters in such a fashion before, his previous letters have not had the potential to affect the entire family.”

  “Affect the entire family?” asked Elizabeth. “How could he affect us? Unless ending the entail was not so legal as you have led us to believe.”

  “No, that was above the board. Longbourn no longer has an entail, and Jane is my heir. Nothing will change that.

  “I shan’t bore you with an exact recitation of Mr. Collins’s letter, for the man is the most verbose correspondent with whom I have ever exchanged letters. Though his letter is four pages in length, he could have completed it in only one and still conveyed everything he had to say!”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled, looking over the pages in his hand. Though Elizabeth knew her father used exaggeration for humorous purposes, Elizabeth thought in this instance he was being candid.

  “Why does he wish to visit?”

  “It is difficult to divine,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Though he spends a great deal of time forgiving me for cheating him of his due and talking of his patroness, who I suspect is a meddling and dictatorial woman, the gist of his letter is that he wishes to visit to ‘extend his forgiveness in person and heal the breach between our two branches of the family.’ Perhaps he wishes to see if he can reclaim his position as my heir.”

  Disgusted, Elizabeth huffed her annoyance. “He sounds like an absolute dullard. What did you reply?”

  “I allowed his visit, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. At her obvious surprise, Mr. Bennet added: “His grievance is understandable. It was my actions that led to the end of his hopes of one day being the master of an estate. It is the least I can do to accept his visit and allow him to say what he will to me.”

  “I suppose so,” said Elizabeth, with more than a little reluctance.

  “That is the spirit!” exclaimed Mr. Bennet. Then he leaned forward, as if to impart a secret, and added: “Besides, having such a ridiculous man as a houseguest will provide us ample amusement, do you not think?”

  Elizabeth could not help the laugh which escaped. It was so like her father to approve a visit so he could laugh at their guest. After agreeing with him and sharing some thoughts of how the visit might proceed, Elizabeth let herself out of his room.

  That morning saw the first visit of the officers to Longbourn. The Bennet family, having paid several visits to other families in the community the day before, were all at home that morning. Thus, when Mr. Hill announced several redcoat visitors into their sitting-room, they were all on hand to greet them. Even Mr. Bennet, who threw Elizabeth an expressive look, was present to welcome their guests.

  Besides Mr. Wickham, who took the lead in entering the room and greeting the family, Captain Carter, along with Lieutenants Denny, Sanderson, and Chamberlayn were present, all dressed in their crisp, bright uniforms. They were a fine sight, and Elizabeth hazarded a guess they knew it very well themselves.

  A squeal caught Elizabeth’s attention, and she turned her head to see Lydia almost quivering with excitement. Though the militia had been there for some weeks, the youngest Bennets had met them but little, and then only on the streets of Meryton. Chamberlayn and Denny were known to them, and they had met Carter and Sanderson, but it would be the first time they had ever met Wickham. With a sigh, Elizabeth pressed her fingers against her temples, hoping they would behave themselves.

  “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet,” said Wickham in that easy tone of his, one which suggested effortless civility, “how fortunate we are to find you at home today. How do you do?”

  “Very well, Mr. Wickham,” replied Mrs. Bennet. The way she looked at them, Elizabeth knew her mind was warring with their status as officers and the reality of their being naught but poor soldiers, none of whom were good enough for her girls. “I thank you for asking. How good of you to visit.”

  Mrs. Bennet invited the officers to sit, which they all did with alacrity. Sanderson and Denny attended Kitty and Lydia, with Mrs. Garret nearby and looking on like a mother hen watching her chicks. Chamberlayn sat down with Mary, for they were of a similar bent with respect to religion and literature, while Carter approached to pay his respects to Jane and Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet rang for tea, and they all began the business of a morning visit.

  “What a lovely home this is, Mrs. Bennet,” began Mr. Wickham. “Though I have never visited Longbourn before, I can understand why your neighbors speak of your home with such reverence.”

  There were few subjects which could garner Mrs. Bennet’s approval like complimenting her on the arrangements of her home. Though Elizabeth was certain her mother did not even think of it any longer, the fact was that she had not been born a gentlewoman. Being reminded of her rise in position was a boost to her vanity, which Mr. Wickham no doubt intended.

  “I can see you have done much to it,” said Mr. Wickham, when Mrs. Bennet thanked him. “The quality of the home is far superior to any other I have seen in the neighborhood. You must be proud of your work.”

  While Mr. Wickham continued to flatter her mother, Elizabeth looked at her father, arching an eyebrow when she caught his eye. Mr. Bennet turned his eyes heavenward and shook his head, chuckling to himself. Heartened by his response—for even if he still thought Jane was in no danger, it was clear Mr. Bennet had recognized Mr. Wickham’s words for the fawning they were—Elizabeth turned back and attended the conversation.

  For a time, Mr. Wickham continued to speak with her mother, his statements never reaching the ridiculous. In fact, they were all measured and delivered with warmth and sincerity. While he was doing this, Elizabeth and Jane were busy speaking with Captain Carter and Mr. Denny, who had joined them in the interim. It was a chance comment by the latter which revealed more than perhaps the speaker intended.

  “I see your attention toward Wickham has not abated,” said Mr. Denny. Elizabeth, who had been watching Wickham in his attempts to charm her mother, turned to the lieutenant with some surprise. Mr. Denny laughed. “It has been quite marked, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Nothing of the sort, Mr. Denny,” said Elizabeth. “It is just that Mr. Wickham puzzles me.”

  Mr. Denny laughed again. “There is no need to dissemble, Miss Elizabeth. In fact, I have seen it more times than I care to count. The man has a gift and no mistake.

  “But let me give you some advice,” continued he, turning a speculative eye on Elizabeth. “There are many who seek to claim Wickham’s attention, but few succeed. When he has made his choice, there is little to stand in his way.”

  “Is that so?” asked Elizabeth, feeling her temper well up within her.

  “I have seen it many times, as I have said.” Mr. Denny shrugged and added: “You may test it for yourself, but you are destined for disappointment. Now, if you like a man in a red coat, you are in luck, for there are many others who will fill that requirement.”

  “Yes, it seems like the neighborhood is swimming with men who wear scarlet,” said Elizabeth. The words she flung at him were filled with sarcasm, a fact Mr. Denny did not seem to recognize. “Men often judge their worthiness and desirability by the most trifling measurements. Perhaps you officers boast your prowess with each other, both your ability to attract ladies and the shininess of your buttons, but such matters mean little to me.”

  “As they should,” said Captain Carter, his attention returned to them after being distracted by something her father had said. “It may be best to refrain from speaking of such subjects,
Denny, for Miss Elizabeth is correct. Though Wickham’s intentions are clear, it seems to me that Miss Bennet’s are equally so.”

  The meaning of his words was not misunderstood, for a glance told Elizabeth Mr. Wickham had come closer while she sparred with Mr. Denny and was now attempting to elicit a response from Jane. His success appeared to be less than inspiring, for Jane was, as her custom, saying little, even when he prompted her.

  “I believe it is time we departed,” continued Captain Carter, with a glance at his watch. He turned and directed a genuine smile at Elizabeth. “As a member of the militia, I am grateful for the welcome we receive from those of the neighborhood. It would be unwise to tax that welcome by overstaying.”

  “It is a pleasure to have you, Captain Carter,” said Elizabeth, certain the captain had received her message. Lieutenant Denny only seemed confused—the man had little understanding of any undertones of the conversation it appeared. “Should the French invade Hertfordshire, I know we can count on the regiment to defend us.”

  Captain Carter laughed. “We shall do our best. Should Bonny himself stride our streets, I have no doubt we shall make him pay for every inch. And should he come too close, I trust you will do your part by kicking his shins.”

  “Anything for the support of England, Captain Carter,” said Elizabeth.

  The captain gathered up his men and departed, though Elizabeth noted that Mr. Wickham was reluctant, throwing more than one reproachful glance at his superior officer. Mr. Denny, on the other hand, appeared lost in thought, as if still trying to understand Elizabeth’s comments. The lieutenant, Elizabeth decided, was like a puppy attempting to behave like a wolf. Mr. Wickham, however, was the alpha predator. Perhaps Elizabeth was overstating the danger he posed. That would not keep her from vigilance.

  Chapter V

  London in autumn was a dreary sort of place. While it could be said it was not as bad as the summer months when disease sometimes ran rampant and a foul miasma hovered over the city like a plague of locusts, the damp and gloom of gray days, coupled with the lack of any society, left much to be wanted.

  Darcy chuckled at his own thoughts. There were many in society who would be shocked if they knew he had repined the lack of association, even in an oblique sense. In fact, Darcy little approved of most society, and being of a reticent nature, one which experienced difficulty in speaking with those he did not know—and those he did, but of whom he did not approve—it was rare he thought of any absence of parties, balls, and the like. When he did, it was more likely to be with relief, or at least indifference.

  There was, he supposed, the little season, but there was a dearth of society to be had of the level he inhabited, and what there was, he did not care for. Hertfordshire had been Darcy’s destination—he should have been there for almost a month already—but his departure had been delayed unexpectedly. Why the departure had been postponed, Darcy was not certain, as his friend had been rather uncommunicative concerning it. It was some business concern or another, as Bingley had been anticipating his residence in Hertfordshire and the opportunity it provided for him to learn estate management from his experienced friend.

  It was fortunate Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was also in London for he provided companionship while Darcy waited. That was not without its drawbacks, of course, for Colonel Fitzwilliam, especially when he thought he was being clever, could be difficult to bear. There was also another matter which had been occupying him, a matter which Darcy would much rather had not arisen.

  “Still no sign of Wickham,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam one evening while they were sitting together in Darcy’s study. Fitzwilliam preferred Darcy’s company when in town, for it was quieter, and he was allowed to come and go as he pleased. When staying with his parents at the earl’s house, that freedom was not guaranteed, for there were immediate family members—particularly his mother—to satisfy.

  Darcy grunted, the disdain for his former friend an old acquaintance by now. “Being a snake, Wickham must be at home in the underbelly of London. No doubt it will take you many weeks to discover his lair.”

  “It would not be necessary if you had listened to my advice even two years ago.” Fitzwilliam sipped from his glass. “Wickham should have been hanged from the highest tree or shipped off to Botany Bay before he was allowed to wreak such havoc.”

  It was an old argument, one Darcy would not repeat. All his life Wickham had plagued him, first with his rough play as a child, then as a young man attempting to goad Darcy into a fight or frame him for some misdemeanor, then as an adult, running up debts, playing false with young maidens’ sensibilities, or demanding that which he had not earned. More than once it had been the memory of Darcy’s father that had stayed his hand, though he knew Fitzwilliam was correct. Then had come the final betrayal . . . .

  “Have you no indication as to a where he may be hiding?” asked Darcy.

  “None at present. There have been reports he has left the city, but rumored destinations have been varied, and some are downright nonsensical. I suspect he is skulking around the slums somewhere, though I suppose it is possible he may have fled.”

  “It is fortunate he did no damage.” Darcy paused and stared morosely into the fire. “Georgiana showed some greatness of mind in seeing through his presence in Ramsgate.”

  “She did so,” said Fitzwilliam, “because you informed her of your dealings with the snake. Had you not, we may be coping with a very different outcome.”

  Darcy shook his head. “I doubt he would have duped her regardless.”

  “It is difficult to say,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Arming her against his schemes was one of the best decisions you ever made, regardless of your speculation now as to what might have happened.”

  “It saved her much heartache. The thought of her attached to George Wickham fills me with disgust.”

  Fitzwilliam scowled and tossed back the rest of his drink, holding his glass out for more. “Do not even suggest such a thing, Darcy. I shudder to even think of it.”

  “She is safe,” Darcy said with a slight upturn of his lips while he poured for his cousin. “Wickham will never be a threat to her again. I shall make certain of it.”

  “As will I.” Then Fitzwilliam changed the subject. “I understand you are to go to dinner at Bingley’s house tomorrow. Were you not to stay at his rented estate for several months?”

  “I was, but Bingley was required to stay in London for a time.”

  A grin settled over his cousin’s countenance. “There is one bright side: your time spent with his harpy of a sister under the same roof has been delayed. It also leaves you with more time to devise means of avoiding her certain attempts to compromise you.”

  “Fitzwilliam, you misjudge her,” said Darcy, the mock-sternness of his countenance providing mirth for his cousin. “It is well known that Miss Bingley will never resort to such measures.”

  “If you think that, you are naïve. That woman will do anything to become the mistress of your estate.”

  “She would if she had any doubt of her eventual success. To the narcissist, their designs are inevitable. Miss Bingley is nothing if not confident.”

  “I do not know that I have heard you speak of her in such unflattering terms,” said Fitzwilliam. Glass raised, he said, “Bravo!”

  Shaking his head, Darcy added: “No, I do not fear for Miss Bingley engineering a compromise. Not only is Snell careful to ensure there is no possibility, but I doubt Miss Bingley believes I would be moved even she should succeed”

  “That is well, Cousin. Then I shall leave it to you.” Fitzwilliam stood and drained his glass. “As I have an early morning tomorrow, I shall retire. If there are any developments concerning the search for Wickham, I shall inform you.”

  Though his cousin’s portrayal of Miss Bingley was, improper, Darcy could not discount its veracity. Miss Bingley was, in the words of more than one of his friends, the most determined social climber Darcy ha
d ever had the misfortune to meet. Bingley’s fortune had originated in trade, his forebears having built their wealth over several generations. It had been Bingley’s father’s intention to purchase an estate and raise his family above their common origins, but he had passed away without realizing that dream. Thus, it had fallen to Bingley to finish what his ancestors had begun.

  It was likely for the best. Though a good man with many sterling qualities, Charles Bingley was not a businessman, though he was not deficient either. Bingley was more prone to becoming distracted, usually by a pretty face, and his attention to detail was lacking at times. While this was an unfortunate lack in a gentleman, it could be remedied by hiring a competent steward to attend to all the minutia of an estate. In a man of business, however, such failing might lead to loss of income and property and possible insolvency. Bingley still had relations who managed the family business, but he had liquidated much of his investment in it, allowing him the opportunity to use that wealth toward the purchase of an estate.

  While Miss Bingley was not deficient in understanding and understood the limitations of her descent, she was also adept at ignoring anything she did not like. Having been educated at an expensive seminary, Darcy could confess she was competent and poised, and if her humor was biting, there was nothing overtly amiss in her behavior. Her comportment, that of a high society lady, was not accompanied by the connections and breeding which would make it, in certain circles, acceptable. Then there was her unfortunate tendency to look down on those of her family’s level of society, and even those who were their superior by most measurements. She was, in a word, difficult to tolerate.

  “Mr. Darcy, dear Georgiana!” exclaimed she as soon as they arrived for dinner the next evening. “How wonderful it is to see you both. Come in, come in, for we have been expecting you.”