by Jann Rowland
“You are too modest, I am sure.” Mr. Wickham once again favored her with his devastating smile. “As I have seen your protective nature myself, I know Collins departed terrified of your ability to flay him alive with naught more than mere words!”
“That is an . . . interesting turn of phrase, Mr. Wickham.”
“I have always been blessed with the ability to speak in an interesting manner,” said Mr. Wickham. Then he became serious. “But I will own that I do feel for Mr. Collins’s predicament.”
The man’s eyes widened and he added: “Oh, I would not have you think I disagree with your father’s actions, for I understand he proceeded with great integrity and foresight. I would not have you misunderstand me.”
Jane did not respond, though Mr. Wickham paused to allow them to state their support. For Elizabeth’s part, she watched the man, wondering what manner of falsehood he intended to ply with them next. Their lack of response did not disconcert him in the slightest.
“You see, I had been intended for the church—it was specified in the will of an excellent man, a man who was my godfather and mentor. But after his death, the living which had been designed for me was given elsewhere, leaving me to fend for myself.”
“How unfortunate for you, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth. “To spend those years in the seminary studying to be a clergyman, and then have it wasted by the actions of a man without scruple. I am surprised you did not find another parish or take a position as a curate.”
Mr. Wickham coughed slightly. “I did not study at a seminary.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, her tone conveying a wealth of meaning.
“No,” replied Mr. Wickham, once more in control of his confidence. “I was still young when he passed, and as I was not to benefit from the living, it did not seem worthwhile to study. Instead, I decided to do something else with my life.”
“Then your call to the church was lukewarm.”
Again Elizabeth had the distinct impression of Mr. Wickham’s annoyance with her. “It was real enough, Miss Elizabeth. But a man must have something upon which to subsist. Not only was there no position available to me and no knowledge of when one might be forthcoming, but my circumstances were depressed, and I needed to go about supporting myself.”
“That is understandable, replied Elizabeth. “Then you have been in the militia for some time? I had understood you have only just donned the scarlet.”
“Yes, I have. I had other means of supporting myself until I joined the regiment.”
“If you were of distressed circumstances, how did you ever have the ability to purchase a commission? Would it not have been beyond your means?”
“God provides, does he not?” asked Mr. Wickham, though she thought his asperity with her questions was growing. “In this case, an acquaintance of mine was willing to assist me. And to him, I am forever grateful.”
“That is fortunate,” said Elizabeth, her tone indicating she did not quite believe him. Mr. Wickham noted it, for whatever else he was, Elizabeth knew he was not a stupid man.
“What say you, Miss Bennet?” asked Wickham, eager to avoid any further questions on Elizabeth’s part. “Do you not think it is reprehensible to deny another man a boon left to him by a generous benefactor?”
“I cannot say,” replied Jane quietly.
“Surely your opinion cannot be that powerful men should be allowed to act in whatever manner they please and trample on those who find themselves in their path.”
“What Jane means,” said Elizabeth, once again pulling the annoyed lieutenant’s attention back to her, “is that we cannot judge with no actual knowledge of the events in question.”
The man’s eyes fixed on Elizabeth and bored into her. “Have I not spoken of it?”
“What is our knowledge of you other than what you have told us yourself?” asked Elizabeth.
“I would hope we have become good friends at least.”
“The fact of the matter is we do not know. Perhaps this other man had some good reason for denying you what you believe is your due. If you believe you were treated unfairly, then you should have asked him to explain himself.”
“I understand his reasons,” snapped Mr. Wickham. “There is no need for me to ask after them.”
“That is fortunate for you, Mr. Wickham,” replied Elizabeth reasonably. “However, you must consider this matter from our perspective. Our acquaintance with you is of short duration, and we know nothing of this other man—not even his name. It would be improper to pass judgment when we know nothing of the situation.
“Besides,” continued Elizabeth, peering at him and attempting to understand him, “what can our opinion matter to you? Why is it so important we give credence to your words? Do you seek our approval by relating irrelevant matters to us in the hopes it will raise you in our estimation?”
“That is exactly it, Lizzy.”
The new voice caught her by surprise, and Elizabeth turned to see that her father had entered the room and was now watching Mr. Wickham with some curiosity—and perhaps even suspicion. Mr. Bennet had departed that morning to see one of Longbourn’s tenants. He must have returned in the interim.
“I cannot say you are incorrect,” replied Mr. Wickham. The nonchalant manner in which he spoke, whereas a moment ago he had seemed eager to be believed, once again whispered to her of his untrustworthy nature.
“Then let us leave such discussions, sir, for they are neither proper nor constructive. And they are certainly not suitable for discussion in sitting-rooms during morning visits.”
Mr. Wickham agreed and turned back to Jane. While he had focused on her and attempted to wield his charm as a weapon, Mr. Bennet’ presence stifled that intention, and before long the officers excused themselves. Elizabeth and her eldest sister stood close together, watching the officers as they made their goodbyes, accepting their well wishes as they excused themselves. Mr. Wickham attempted to be gallant, but he was clearly still cross at Elizabeth’s presence. In the end, he bowed to Jane, though his hand twitched as if he wished to take hers, and he departed. The glare he directed at her while he was turning, however, was enough to freeze water in an instant.
“Their behavior was not improper, was it?” asked Mr. Bennet when they had left the room.
“No, Papa,” said Jane. Elizabeth was forced to agree with her sister that their behavior had not been overtly improper.
“Very well,” said Mr. Bennet. And he turned and departed for his room.
The rest of the day passed the same as many other such days. Feeling a little out of sorts herself, Elizabeth spent some time in her room, considering the matter of Mr. Wickham and Jane. One unwelcome suitor had already decamped in defeat—Elizabeth considered how they might affect the same result with the other. It was unfortunate, but nothing came to Elizabeth’s mind. After a time, Elizabeth slept, something she was not accustomed to during the day. She awoke to the sound of a knock on her door.
When the door opened at her call, her sister Mary appeared in the doorframe, peering in as if unsure of her reception. Though surprised, Elizabeth welcomed her sister into the room and rose from her bed to greet her. Mary, belatedly realizing that Elizabeth had just arisen, could only stammer an apology.
“Oh, Lizzy, I did not know you were sleeping.”
“It is no trouble,” said Elizabeth. “I do not often sleep in the afternoon and was on the verge of rising anyway.”
It appeared Mary was unconvinced, but she nodded, though it was tentative. She entered the room and stood for a moment, discomfort radiating from her in her wringing hands and quick glances at Elizabeth. Perplexed at this behavior, Elizabeth beckoned her forward, saying:
“What is it, Mary?”
“I . . . Well, I wished to know . . .” Mary paused and took a breath. “Was what Mr. Collins said about me true?”
Nonplused by the question, Elizabeth stared at her sister. Then Mary seemed to realize her blunder, for
she shook her head.
“Mr. Collins said I am silly and that I speak where I know nothing.” Mary directed a pleading look at Elizabeth. “Is it true? I have done my best to study the Bible to be a good person. My study of Fordyce has also allowed me to understand how a female should behave. Have I been mistaken?”
All at once understanding her sister’s concerns, Elizabeth beckoned Mary again, and this time she came, though not without hesitation. Elizabeth had never felt close to Mary, though she had not disliked her sister. This was an opportunity to share some insights to help Mary grow and become a more active member of society. But Elizabeth knew she needed to tread carefully.
“First, Mary, I believe you should discount everything Mr. Collins says. For a man so little acquainted with proper behavior himself to be commenting on others is hypocrisy of the highest sort. He is a vile, mean sort of man, and I would not wish you to be confused because of him.”
Mary regarded her for several moments, her scrutiny suggesting Elizabeth’s explanation had not satisfied her. Seeing this, Elizabeth laughed and put an arm around her sister’s shoulders.
“We, none of us, are perfect, Mary. There are always weaknesses which we may improve.”
“I have read the Bible, Lizzy,” said Mary with an impatient huff.
“Of course, you have,” replied Elizabeth. “The problem is sometimes you quote scripture—or even Fordyce—and those listening take it as a criticism.”
“Is it not proper to criticize improper behavior?” asked Mary, her impatience changing to confusion.
“It can be,” replied Elizabeth. “But to do so too often and at the least provocation suggests a judgmental attitude. That is also wrong, is it not? Are we not told not to judge others?”
“I had not thought of it that way,” said Mary.
“I know. As for Fordyce, it may be best for you to put that book away, Mary.” At Mary’s questioning glance, Elizabeth replied: “Fordyce’s words were considered old-fashioned when he uttered them. While his overall message may be sound and we should behave as properly as we can, do his words not sound judgmental? If Mr. Collins is an adherent of Fordyce’s words, do you wish to emulate him?”
Mary’s eyes widened such that Elizabeth almost laughed. “I had most certainly not thought of it that way!”
“Mr. Collins is not wholly bad,” replied Elizabeth. Then she winked at Mary and added: “Just mostly.”
This time Mary joined Elizabeth in laughter. “What I would most like to see, Sister dearest, is for you to shed some of your attitude and become more involved in our society. There is no reason for you to sit to the side and be a witness rather than a participant.”
“But I am not of an open temperament as you are.”
“And you do not need to be. Being more inviting will serve you well, I should think. There is no need to attempt to change your character—just to be more welcoming of others. If you like, I would be willing to assist wherever I can.”
A shy smile came over Mary’s countenance. “I should like that, Elizabeth.”
Chapter IX
Several things happened in the next few days. The first was regarding Mary, who was more often found in the company of her elder sisters than had heretofore been. For a time, she was hesitant when with them, unwilling to share her opinions or even speak much at all. But over time, she lost her reticence, as if reassured that they did wish for her company.
While Mary’s improved confidence was not immediately seen, there was an improvement in her behavior. The first few times Mary had the opportunity to share the homilies which had been a part of her conversation for some years, she had done so without hesitation. Elizabeth took care in those times not to admonish her, instead encouraging her to stop and consider the matter first before speaking—there were times, after all, when such comments were acceptable and even encouraged. After a few times of this, Elizabeth began to see her sister following her advice, and soon thereafter it began to be noticeable to the other members of the family, as did her change in reading material.
“Have you come again to borrow a book from my study, Mary?” said Mr. Bennet when they went to retrieve a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “By my count, this is the second time in as many days. Come to think of it, I have not seen Fordyce in your hands of late.”
Mary blushed and looked at Elizabeth, who nodded her encouragement. “I have not been reading it as much of late, Papa,” said Mary. “Lizzy is helping me choose other subjects to broaden my mind.”
“She is, is she?” asked Mr. Bennet. The wink with which he favored Elizabeth when Mary looked down at her feet belied his serious look. “I am delighted to hear it. Should you desire to speak with me about what you read, I should like to exchange opinions.”
With surprise, Mary looked up, and seeing her father’s warm smile, she returned a shy one of her own. “I would like that, Papa. Perhaps Lizzy could join us?”
“What, are you afraid of your old Papa?”
It seemed Mary was taken aback until she saw his teasing grin. Relaxed again, serious Mary attempted to return his tease.
“One can only fear you when she does not know you. It seems to me your terrifying qualities fade the closer one approaches.”
“I am pleased you see it that way, my dear,” replied Mr. Bennet. Then he shooed them on their way. “Please speak to me later, Mary, for I am interested in hearing your opinions.”
Later, when Elizabeth was away from Mary’s company, Mr. Bennet had occasion to question her on the matter, which he lost no time in doing. Elizabeth explained what had happened, and he remained thoughtful for a moment before nodding.
“Though I am inclined to follow my cousin to Kent and administer some well-deserved chastisement, I believe you have handled it appropriately, Lizzy.”
“Mary only wants for confidence, Papa. I only wish I had approached her earlier.”
“What you have done is more than sufficient, Lizzy. I commend you for seeing the need.”
What shocked Elizabeth was a confession Mary made later that day. It was interesting, Elizabeth thought, but Mary had taken to Shakespeare as if she had been reading it all her life and had hungered for more. Elizabeth suggested she start with the comedies before moving to the more serious of his works. When Mary set the book she was reading aside, Elizabeth thought her sister wished to say something but could not quite find the words. Thus, when she blurted it out a little later, she caught Elizabeth by surprise.
“If Mr. Collins had asked me, I would have accepted him.”
Aghast, Elizabeth could not speak for a moment. When she did, she could only demand: “Accept Mr. Collins? Mary are you out of your senses?”
Far from being offended by Elizabeth’s outburst, Mary was amused instead. “I suppose it might seem that way. Despite his deficiencies, you must own that Mr. Collins is an eligible match.”
“How eligible do you call him, Mary?” Elizabeth could not help the fierce scowl, though she took care not to direct it at her sister. “Mr. Collins is a member of the clergy, which is a respectable profession, but given his . . . limitations, there is no possibility of advancement. This means he will always be a parson. While it would be no scandal to marry such a man, you must consider what marriage to Mr. Collins would entail.”
Mary tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I cannot imagine him being a good husband,” replied Elizabeth. “Think of what he said, how he treated us all. Though he seems to be the essence of servility at times, at others he is brimming with arrogance, especially when he spoke to us. Then he informed me I would not be allowed to remain at my home when it became his, all because I championed Jane’s interests. I suspect he would be uncaring of a wife’s feelings and abusive at worst. You cannot consider Mr. Collins eligible.”
Nodding her head slowly, Mary said: “Yes, I can see your point.”
“Mary,” said Elizabeth, grasping her sister’s hands and sp
eaking intently, “please do not devalue yourself such as to consider William Collins a good match. You are a gentleman’s daughter, and while none of us will be as blessed as Jane, we will have small fortunes of our own. Do not settle for any man as a husband, as the years of your life may be long should you choose amiss. Instead, search for a man who will suit you, one who will cherish you for the exceptional woman you are. Make him prove he is worthy of you, not the reverse.”
Though Mary was silent for a moment, Elizabeth was certain her words had found fertile ground, for she was contemplative. When she spoke at length, it was in a voice quiet, yet accepting.
“You have given me much to think on, Lizzy. I believe I shall retire to my room for a time.”
Elizabeth squeezed her hands once and allowed her to depart, hoping for her sister’s future. Hope for the future was a precious commodity, and Elizabeth now understood Mary had not possessed it. If their time together and Elizabeth’s words changed Mary’s outlook, she would consider it work well completed.
It would not be accurate to say Jane was not involved in Elizabeth’s attempts to assist her younger sister, for Jane was a kind soul, one who accepted others without reserve and loved with all her heart. The unfortunate fact was that Jane was immersed in her own struggles, which often consumed her attention, leading her to sequester herself in her room more often. It was, of course, due to the presence of Mr. Wickham and his continual insistence on paying court to Jane. Though Elizabeth advised her sister to tell him with no hint of ambiguity that his actions were not welcome, Jane—dear sweet Jane—did not have it in her speak so forcefully. Thus, she was reduced to enduring him, without the prospect of his attentions ceasing.
During those days, it hardly seemed two days would pass without the officers visiting Longbourn and imposing themselves on the Bennet family. That, coupled with other events of the area the Bennet family attended and their frequent presence in Meryton, meant it was a rare day when Mr. Wickham was not importuning Jane with his ever-increasing ardency. The rest of his friends in the regiment were clearly in his confidence, for they often went to great lengths to separate the other members of the family from Jane’s side.