The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  While Elizabeth might have expected to hear Mrs. Phillips’s protests, the only comment she made was to the effect that the officers were not so gentlemanly as those to whom she had been introduced when she was a girl. Uncertain what to do, the men in scarlet gathered together, and as there was no one of greater rank than Mr. Wickham present, no one seemed inclined to act as spokesman. Under Mr. Phillips’s watchful eye, they made to depart, most seeming bewildered.

  “And Mr. Wickham,” said Mr. Phillips. The lieutenant looked back with disdain and anger. “Do not return, for you—and any who call you friend—are no longer welcome in my house. I shall ensure you are not admitted to Longbourn either, or at any of the other estates, If I can manage it.”

  Mr. Wickham did not respond, instead taking the simple expedient of turning on his heel and departing. But as he was turning, Elizabeth saw his eyes rake over her. She had made an enemy that evening if she had not already done so.

  The rest of the evening—what there remained of it—was subdued. Not even their aunt, who could be counted on to express her displeasure in the loudest possible voice, had much to say, other than a few comments concerning the poor standard of men in the regiment. They partook of their dinner, as Mr. Phillips had promised, but most conversation was undertaken in low voices. Word of what happened there that night would be all over Meryton by first light tomorrow—of this, Elizabeth was certain.

  “I am worried, Lizzy,” said Charlotte as they sat to dinner. “It seems to me that Mr. Wickham is an implacable enemy once aroused.”

  “Perhaps he is,” replied Elizabeth, her anger still ruling her reply. “But he will discover that I am also an enemy he does not wish to make.”

  Charlotte laughed and embraced Elizabeth. “You are all that is fierce, Lizzy. Only take care, for with what has happened tonight, he may be prompted to act against you.”

  Though she did not say it, Elizabeth was determined to take Charlotte’s warning seriously. They had already curtailed many of their activities because of Mr. Wickham’s presence, so she had little idea of being hurt by him. But taking care was prudent.

  When the evening ended, the Bennet sisters gathered together to depart. Lydia, who had not been part of the excitement, complained loudly, but Mrs. Garret silenced her and shepherded her toward the carriage which waited out front, pulling Kitty along with her. Before they left the house, Mr. Phillips took Elizabeth aside to speak to her.

  “I do not know of what this Mr. Wickham is capable, but I believe we should act before it becomes clear. I have sent a man on to Longbourn with news of the evening’s excitement. Make him aware of all the facts and tell him to visit me tomorrow morning. Together we can approach Colonel Forster concerning the behavior of his officers.”

  “I will,” said Elizabeth. That she had already determined she would speak to her father, she did not mention. Mr. Phillips farewelled them and saw them all to their carriage, and soon they were off.

  Their arrival home saw Mr. Bennet waiting for them, having been alerted by the servant. Kitty and Lydia were taken above stairs by their companion—Lydia still complaining as she went—while Mr. Bennet invited the three eldest into his study to discuss the matter at hand. Soon they were sitting comfortably in his study, Jane appearing weary, while Mary had gained a measure of anger similar to that which Elizabeth felt.

  “Your mother has retired,” said Mr. Bennet in response to Elizabeth’s query. “Now, girls, your uncle’s servant informed me of the quick dissolution of the party this evening, but he was not explicit. Please explain what happened.”

  In a quick and concise manner, Elizabeth did so, with occasional help from Mary. Jane remained silent, as Elizabeth might have expected. When the explanation was complete, Mr. Bennet’s ire had also been raised.

  “It seems you were correct about this Mr. Wickham, Lizzy,” said he with a tight nod. “It is past time I spoke with the commanding officer of the regiment.”

  Mr. Bennet’s countenance softened as he regarded his eldest. “Are you well, Jane?”

  “I am,” was her simple reply. “For I have the best sisters in the world, sisters who will not allow any harm to come to me.”

  A chuckle comprised Mr. Bennet’s response. “I cannot agree more. You should all retire. By tomorrow, I hope this will all be resolved.”

  The girls filed from his room, returning above stairs. Their disquiet and anger were such that none of them wished to be alone that evening, and after preparing for bed in their separate rooms, they gathered together in Jane’s and all snuggled together under the counterpane.

  But sleep was difficult to attain for Elizabeth, though she thought her sisters were not similarly afflicted. In her mind, she kept running over Charlotte’s words, and she was forced to agree. Mr. Wickham was a dangerous man to have as an enemy.

  Chapter XI

  Anger had not been a constant companion to Henry Bennet. In fact, he was judged to be a mild-mannered man, one who delighted in laughter, loved his children, and dealt with all of his fellows with fairness. Rarely did Bennet find his dander raised to the point of fury. The morning after his girls returned from the Phillipses’ party, full of tales of insistent soldiers and improper threats, found him as angry as he could ever remember being in his life.

  It was with a sense of impatience he waited for the hour to progress enough that he could reasonably depart for Phillips’s office. In that, however, he was surprised when the man himself arrived on his doorstep long before visiting hours began.

  “Bennet,” said Phillips, his gruffness a testament to his own state of mind. “I might have thought you would beat on my door as soon as it was first light.”

  “Trust me, Brother,” replied Bennet, “I considered it. But I thought to maintain some semblance of my status as a gentleman rather than rushing in with guns blazing.”

  Phillips barked a laugh. “Then you are much more patient than I am. Mrs. Phillips finally demanded I depart, for she accused me of wearing a hole in her parlor floor.”

  “Did you note anything of Wickham’s behavior during the evening?”

  “Not enough, it seems,” said Mr. Phillips with disgust. “His attempts to speak with Jane I easily marked, though Lizzy and Mary’s constant attendance seemed to deter him. The confrontation in question escaped my notice, though there were several others present who saw something of it.”

  Phillips paused and grimaced. “Though I have heard nothing but rumors, it seems this Wickham and his coterie have attained something of a reputation in the community. No other young lady rivals Jane’s position as heiress of Longbourn which appears to have protected them, but the manners of these officers are overly familiar, it seems. As I was passing by the blacksmith this morning, the man said he had heard something of what had happened. A few days ago he banished Wickham from his shop and threatened him should he ever speak to his daughter again.”

  “The arrogance of this man is beyond belief,” said Mr. Bennet with a disgusted shake of his head. “Do you think the colonel will be up and about by now?”

  Phillips flashed him a sardonic grin. “If he is not, he is no military man worth his salt. Let us wake him if he is still abed.”

  As it turned out, Colonel Forster was awake, and if the expression with which he greeted them was any indication, he had heard something of what happened the previous night and was unhappy because of it. While Bennet did not know much of the colonel, he had wondered if he was nothing more than a man eager to avoid active duty, entered into the militia for a life of leisure and society with no real work, his first words disabused Bennet of that thought.

  “I expected you to visit me, Mr. Bennet, though if you had not, I would have waited on you at your estate.” Then the colonel turned a questioning glance at Phillips.

  “My brother by marriage,” said Bennet, introducing him. “It seems obvious you have heard something of what happened last night. Phillips’s wife was hosting the party in question.”
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  “Ah,” said Colonel Forster. “You were next on my list to visit, sir. It is not often several of my officers return to quarters long before they are expected. I could pull little explanation from them, though I noted several dark looks at one of their number. Then Mrs. Forster heard something of the matter in the village and brought those reports back to me.”

  Bennet gave him a tight nod. “Are you aware of the recent behavior of several of your officers?”

  Colonel Forster sighed. “The militia, as you are no doubt aware, is populated by lesser men than the regulars. Most are good men, but they are not, as a rule, a diligent bunch. There are many I would say are not eager to see to their duties, and as such, no one of them stands out. I have been attempting to instill greater discipline, but there are still issues to resolve.”

  “The officers of which I speak are led by Mr. Wickham, and they include Mr. Denny, Mr. Chamberlayn, and Mr. Sanderson.”

  Colonel Forster’s jaw worked, indicating annoyance. “I am not surprised. Wickham is the leader of the most troublesome group, which includes the names you have mentioned. Please, Mr. Bennet—tell me what you came to say, for thus far I only have fragmented accounts which make little sense.”

  Bennet complied as the colonel asked, informing him of the officers’ visits to his home and how Wickham pressed his attention on Jane for what he believed were mercenary purposes. He informed the colonel of his actions in banning them from the estate the last time they visited and, finally, of what had happened the previous night. No detail was spared in the interest of ensuring the colonel knew the situation without cause for misunderstanding. As he spoke, the colonel’s gaze became flintier, his manner angrier, and by the time Bennet concluded, he thought the man was ready to chew rocks.

  “I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Bennet.” The colonel paused and shook his head. “In the past, I have been a member of regiments that wore out their welcome in certain towns because of the behavior of the men. As colonel, I have always striven to uphold a certain standard. Meryton has been very welcoming, indeed, and I would not have you turn against us.

  “Unfortunately, I have heard something of this behavior of Wickham’s in the past.”

  “Oh?” asked Bennet.

  The colonel nodded, an abrupt motion. “In our last location, a man accused Wickham of similar behavior. As he had only been a member of the regiment for a few weeks at the time and claimed it was a misunderstanding, I allowed the matter to rest with a reprimand. Until recently, I thought his behavior was much better.”

  “You refer to the blacksmith’s daughter?” asked Phillips.

  Colonel Forster glanced at him and grimaced. “That is one account I have heard. There is one more.”

  Though Bennet was curious, he decided it did not signify. “Does Mr. Wickham not think word of his actions will not become known? Even if my daughter was inclined toward him, I would not approve of a betrothal—which is obviously his aim—with such accounts of his behavior.”

  “That is his fatal flaw, I believe,” said Phillips. “He seems to think we will all be charmed by his manners.”

  “He has certainly seemed frustrated by his lack of success with Jane, according to Lizzy.” Bennet barked a laugh. “I must own that Lizzy has shown her typical good judgment, for she saw through him from the beginning. It was I who said there was no harm in him. More the fool was I, it seems.”

  “Please wait,” said Colonel Forster, rising to his feet. “I shall have Wickham summoned and we shall confront him together.”

  The colonel stepped out of his office into the room beyond and spoke a few words to the junior officer waiting there. Within a few moments, the lieutenant arrived and was admitted to the office. As he entered, Bennet watched him, looking for any hint of embarrassment or remorse. There was nothing to be had. In fact, the man appeared to possess an arrogant confidence, much as Phillips had described him only moments before. Bennet could not help but shake his head in disgust.

  “Do you know why you have been summoned, Wickham?” asked the colonel, leaving the man standing at attention.

  “The reason quite escapes me, sir,” said Mr. Wickham.

  “It does?” said Colonel Forster, his voice more of a snarl. “Do you not recall being removed from Mr. Phillips’s house last night, of making veiled threats to the Bennet sisters, neglecting your duties to impose upon a young woman who has no interest in you?”

  Though he continued to look straight ahead, the muscles at Mr. Wickham’s temple flexed. “That was nothing more than a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?” demanded the incredulous colonel. He turned to look at Bennet and Phillips, shaking his head. Phillips appeared about to plant a facer on the man where he stood, and for Bennet’s part, he was not certain he would not hold Wickham down while Phillips pummeled him.

  “Just like Brighton was a misunderstanding?” spat Colonel Forster. “I begin to think nothing you say should be believed. There was no misunderstanding, Wickham, not with the woman in Brighton, and not with Miss Bennet. You should also know I have accounts from the blacksmith and the innkeeper which provide additional evidence against you. Are they also misunderstandings?”

  Though Bennet might have expected Mr. Wickham to further attempt to extricate himself, he seemed to understand the dangerous note in the colonel’s voice. While fury roiled within him, he remained silent. The colonel himself appeared to have enough knowledge of Wickham’s character that he did not expect him to remain silent either, for he waited to see if Wickham would make some other comment. He did not.

  “Very well,” said Colonel Forster after a moment. “You are hereby docked two month’s pay and are ordered to stay away from the Bennet sisters. If I hear anything more of your escapades regarding them, or anyone else in the neighborhood, it will be fifty lashes and the loss of your commission. Do I make myself clear?”

  It was then Wickham made some reaction, for he turned to look at the colonel, fury smoldering in his eyes. Had he been any more belligerent, Bennet though he might have induced the promised future punishment at that moment. It seemed, however, that he retained some measure of discretion. The expected defense finally arrived.

  “There is no need for that,” said Mr. Wickham. “If Miss Bennet does not wish to speak to me, she should have said something to me. I have rarely had more than a few words from her. From what everyone in the neighborhood says, she is reticent. How was I to know she did not welcome my presence?”

  “That does not cover your actions last night,” said Bennet. “Can you explain your threats to my daughters without resorting to the unbelievable claim it was all a misunderstanding?”

  Wickham’s mouth clamped shut yet again.

  “You knew she did not wish for your presence,” said Bennet. “It did not make any difference, for you wished to gain control of her future inheritance. It was Lizzy’s vigilance which prevented any further misbehavior from you.

  “You should know, Lieutenant, that I would never allow my family’s estate to fall into the hands of one such as you. Even if you did somehow force my daughter into a marriage, there are safeguards in my will which would prevent you from ever gaining control of the estate. I have four other daughters who can inherit in their sister’s stead.”

  Wickham glared at Bennet. “It seems you think little of your daughter if you would disinherit her with so little provocation.”

  A snort was Bennet’s response. “As you are nothing more than a selfish, grasping sort of man, I would not expect you to understand. It would bring me no joy to cut my eldest daughter off, but she would understand my reasons. Though you know nothing of my past struggles to ensure the estate is protected, I did not save it for my family’s posterity only to have a man such as you bleed it dry.”

  There was little to be said in response, and Wickham made no attempt to reply. Colonel Forster nodded and took control of the conversation again.

  �
�It seems we are finished here. I will say it once again, Wickham—do not approach the Bennet sisters, and do not go to Mr. Bennet’s estate. And you should tell your cohorts the same, for you have all become persona non grata to the Bennet family.”

  “And I will publish your untrustworthiness far and wide,” added Bennet. “Though I would not besmirch the colonel’s reputation, for he has proven himself to be a good and decent man, I will not have any of my neighbors taken in by you. The events of last night have permanently stained your name—when I am through with you, no one of the neighborhood will admit you to their homes.”

  “Dismissed, Wickham,” said the colonel. “Do not go far from the encampment, for I want to keep my eye on you.”

  Wickham turned on his heel and stalked from the room. After he had gone, the colonel sighed and turned back to Bennet and Phillips.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. I am sorry that it has come to this. Given what has happened here, it is obvious Wickham cannot remain in Meryton. I shall inquire as to the possibility of transferring him to another regiment. Perhaps when he goes, we can regain our honor.”

  “In my eyes, you have lost no honor,” replied Bennet. He clasped the colonel’s hand tightly. “There is little you can do to ensure men of only the highest moral fabric are admitted to your regiment. I thank you for hearing us and acting accordingly.”

  “It was the least I could do.”

  Bennet and his brother soon took their leave. But as he farewelled his brother and rode toward his home, he could not help but speculate that Mr. Wickham was a vindictive man. The girls would need to be warned to take care until he was gone from the area for good.

  While Elizabeth was gratified by what her father revealed of the conversation with Colonel Forster, she could not help but suppose the matter was not at all closed. For the present, Mr. Wickham remained in the area, and she could only conjecture he was not a man who was apt to surrender that which he wanted.