The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  “It would be agreeable to the ladies, to be certain,” said Mr. Bennet, directing a fond, though stern look at his youngest. “However, I will remind you, Lydia, you are not yet out, and as such, would be unable to attend.”

  “But, Papa,” said Lydia, her voice little more than a whine, “surely a ball such as this, given by a good man of the neighborhood cannot be inappropriate for us to attend. In fact, it would be good practice for when we come out.” Lydia looked to the other girls for support. “I am sure Kitty and Georgiana would be eager to attend too.”

  While Kitty’s agreement was a foregone conclusion, Georgiana appeared startled when Lydia included her in her scheming. Elizabeth noted the surreptitious glance she directed at her brother, who grinned at her in response, but the girl said nothing to support her new friend.

  “In this instance,” said Mrs. Garret, “I believe I might agree with Miss Lydia. Under certain conditions. You are not out yet, Lydia, and certain proprieties must be observed.”

  The beaming smile which Lydia had shown was dimmed when conditions were mentioned, but she seemed to think they were better than denial. Thus, she nodded to Mrs. Garret, as if giving her permission to make her case.

  “Dancing only with those of our party and bed after dinner?” suggested Mr. Bennet.

  “Yes, sir,” said Mrs. Garret. “It will give them experience in a situation which will not be difficult or intimidating, and it may, in fact, be safer than leaving them at home.”

  “But then we shall only have a few dances,” said Lydia.

  “It is better than none at all, is it not?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  Though Lydia pouted, she glanced about the room, noting the gentlemen consisted of her father, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and seemed to understand this was the best offer she was likely to receive.

  Mr. Hurst, who seemed to understand her glance, laughed and told her: “If it is for such a cause, I suppose I can be persuaded to dance, though I am not fond of the activity.”

  “But what of the officers?” asked Kitty. “Surely we shall be allowed to dance with them?”

  “Are the officers part of our party?” asked Mr. Bennet, his tone mild but pointed.

  Lydia, who had nodded to agree with her sister was brought up short, and a glance at her father seemed to suggest resignation. For his part, Mr. Bennet turned a questioning look on William, who was the only other one in the room with an underage ward. William, in turn, looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam, with whom Elizabeth understood he shared guardianship of Georgiana, and the colonel shrugged his indifference.

  “If you have no objection, I shall agree,” said Mr. Darcy, turning back to Mr. Bennet.

  “Then I believe you may plan your ball for whenever you please, Mr. Bingley. The entire Bennet clan will be in attendance, though I shall beg to allow my youngest daughters to stay the night since they will not attend to the end.”

  The girls squealed their delight, and even Georgiana appeared excited at the notion of participating in the amusement. For several moments there was no talk of anything else, and even Miss Bingley was speaking on the subject with composure, though perhaps not enthusiasm, with her sister. Since it was the two ladies who would be tasked with planning the event, Elizabeth could well understand her hesitance. What she could not quite make out was Miss Bingley’s general behavior that morning.

  “Am I seeing things or is Miss Bingley much changed?” asked Elizabeth quietly of Mr. Darcy.

  The gentleman shook his head. “If you are seeing things, then I am as well, Miss Elizabeth. Since our return, it has seemed to me that Miss Bingley has been more genuine and less insistent, either with myself or her compliments to Georgiana. It seems perhaps something has happened to mellow her disposition.”

  “Will wonders never cease?” said Elizabeth. “I had not thought it possible.”

  “Nor had I, Miss Elizabeth. Nor had I.”

  The next several days saw much congress between the two estates, with nary a day passing without one company visiting the other. As it was a time when there was a lull in the local society, they were not in wide company with other families, though the normal visits proceeded apace. As one who was not fond of company and on the watch for Wickham’s next move, Darcy found himself unmoved by that lack. It was enough for him to be in Miss Elizabeth’s presence as much as possible.

  Wickham’s continued absence was a source of concern. As Fitzwilliam had said, it would be better to have the confrontation at once rather than wait for it, as Wickham controlled the timing, leaving them all tense and irritable.

  “He has not returned to the lodge?” asked Darcy of his cousin the next day.

  “Mr. Pearce has kept a close watch,” said his cousin. “I rode to his estate this morning to ask him about it. It is possible Wickham has found some other hole in which to hide, or it might even be possible the coward has not left London.”

  “I wish he would show himself,” said Darcy. “This waiting is wearing on us all.”

  “Which is why he is waiting,” replied Fitzwilliam. “At the moment, our vigilance is at its apex. The longer he waits, the more complacent we become.”

  “It also raises the chances of his capture,” Darcy pointed out.

  “It does,” agreed his cousin. “That is why it is a delicate balance—if he moves too soon, we will anticipate him and increase the chances of his failure, while if he waits too long, he might lose all chance of getting what he wants. If you ask me, nothing will happen this week. I would expect him to try something on Monday or Tuesday.”

  Darcy grunted and allowed the subject to drop. At least his men from Pemberley had arrived—a contingent of six footmen, all chosen for their burly frames, their pugilistic skill and familiarity with arms, and their loyalty to the Darcy family. Though he was not on hand to greet them when they arrived at the estate, Darcy met them during his morning visit and instructed them as to their tasks. The increase in security was a relief, for the estate was now under constant watch both day and night.

  Eventually, as Fitzwilliam had predicted, the tension began to diminish, and after the Sabbath, Monday and Tuesday passed without incident. A report arrived from London of a possible sighting of Wickham, but the snake still eluded his pursuers.

  “I think I shall not go to London this time,” declared Fitzwilliam after he received an express notifying him of the incident. “The men in London may pursue—I was pulled away last time, and I still wonder if we arrived before he could act.”

  Darcy nodded, grateful his cousin’s support would continue to be available. “It is possible he staged it to focus our attention on London and away from here.”

  “If he did, it was a dangerous way to do it,” said Fitzwilliam. “They might have captured him and ended all his pretensions. The men looking for him are professionals.”

  At Netherfield, plans for the ball continued apace, Mrs. Hurst proceeding with growing interest and excitement. Miss Bingley, while not showing her sister’s enthusiasm, still appeared to be a willing participant. And when the Bennet ladies were present, they offered their assistance whenever asked. Soon the plans began to take shape, and the invitations were dispatched to the families of the neighborhood.

  The latter part of the week continued to pass away, and complacency began to settle in, as Fitzwilliam had predicted. For his part, Darcy began to wonder if Wickham had made his escape—he was a greedy man, one supremely confident in his abilities and convinced of the wrong done to him. But eventually a man must bow to the inevitable, and for Wickham, that conclusion must be the longer he persisted in remaining, the greater his chances of being captured.

  Of further interest was the arrival of word that nothing had been found in Kent to bring anyone suspicion. After being removed from Longbourn, Mr. Collins had returned to Kent and stayed there, and there was no sign he knew anything of the intrigues in Hertfordshire. Satisfied, Darcy allowed any thought of the parson�
��s complicity to rest.

  On Friday, Darcy and the rest of the Netherfield company visited Longbourn as was their wont, and as the day was mild, they proposed to go to the back lawn to enjoy the sun and fresh air to be found there. Elizabeth, he knew, could be convinced without difficulty, and the rest of the party were also eager. Soon they were scattered about the lawn, laughing and talking, the youngest Bennets along with Georgiana clustered about a rough swing hung there, Fitzwilliam pushing them each in turn. Darcy stood with Elizabeth, walking about the grounds, stopping for a few moments every so often to speak to one of the group. After a short time, they found themselves on a distant corner, with the woods looming beyond.

  “This is idyllic,” said she, removing her bonnet and raising her face to the sun, welcoming its warmth on her skin. As she did so, Darcy watched, mesmerized, for her countenance seemed to glow with health and vitality.

  “A veritable paradise,” said Darcy, more for lack of anything intelligent to say.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes and gave him an impish smile, ducking a little further away into the waiting branches. The house remained in sight, but most of those out on the lawn were now hidden from view. A memory of the previous months crossed Darcy’s mind, and he glanced about the woods. There was nothing there—only the trees, bereft of their summer mantle, swaying in a gentle breeze.

  “Are you now suggesting Longbourn is the equal of fabled Pemberley?” asked Elizabeth, pulling his attention back to her. “I have only heard you refer to your own home as a paradise.”

  “I think, Miss Elizabeth, the presence of paradise often coincides with one’s company, and not a specific location.”

  Elizabeth regarded him, a half smile playing about her mouth. “Then, yes, I suppose we may call this little patch a paradise. The question is, what do you intend to do now you have found it?”

  “What should I do?” replied Darcy lazily, enjoying these games with his love. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Oh, I do not know,” said she, sauntering away from him a short distance. “Perhaps we should return to the others, for this situation in which we find ourselves is improper.”

  “There is nothing improper about it. We are within shouting distance of the house, and anyone may discover us with a cursory search. Or do you not trust me?”

  “I trust you as much as any man I have ever met,” said she, her words full of feeling.

  “Then I am grateful for your trust,” said Darcy.

  Stepping close, he looked down into her beloved face, drinking in the sight of her button nose, her glorious eyes, and from then to the plump, red lips which framed her mouth. And with great care, he lowered his mouth to hers, stroking her lips with his, a kiss deeper and more exciting than the last time he had attempted it. A soft sigh was the only sound she made as she melted into his arms, breaking the connection, but creating a new one when she laid her head on his chest. For a moment they stood thus, each cherishing the closeness of the other.

  “You said there was nothing improper, William,” said she, still standing in the circle of his arms. “That kiss was not proper, nor is our current attitude. What shall I do when you are continually pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable?”

  “Marry me,” replied Darcy.

  Darcy felt the change in her stance and instinctively knew she now sported a wide smile. After a moment, she pushed away, looking up at him, her eyes framed with happy tears, a slight tremble about her lips. Darcy once again lowered his head to kiss the trembles away.

  “Is that a proposal, sir?”

  “It was an answer to a question,” said Darcy. “I believe, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, you asked me what we could do to make this situation proper. If you will consent to marry me, it shall never be improper again.”

  “I agree. But a woman cannot answer unless given the opportunity to do so. Would you have me answer an answer?”

  “Of course not,” said Darcy. “It is in every way unthinkable.’

  Grasping her hands, Darcy said: “Miss Elizabeth, it would be my great honor if you would consent to marry me. I have not flowery words or grandiose statements to offer you—what I have is my undying devotion, my heart, and my commitment to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you do me the honor?”

  “I will,” replied she. “Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”

  Darcy leaned down once more to seal their agreement with a third kiss, to which Elizabeth responded and with more of the passion Darcy knew existed deep within her. The moment was perfect.

  Then it was not perfect. The sound of clapping interrupted that wonderful moment, and as one Elizabeth and Darcy looked up. It was Wickham. And he held a pistol pointed at them.

  Chapter XXXIII

  Elizabeth might have expected the sight of a weapon pointed in her direction, where a slight movement could end a life, would induce a sense of panic deep within her breast. When confronted by the reality of the situation, however, she felt nothing of the sort. Mr. Wickham was a dangerous man, for he had proven it time and again—but he was also a worthless man, and all she felt for him at that moment was contempt.

  The first movement was William’s as he put himself between them, an action Elizabeth knew a gentleman would take, but which still irritated her. Everything within her shouted at her to confront the man, to bludgeon him with the knowledge they would never be intimidated by anything he could muster. Knowing any sudden move may cause him to release the deadly ball of lead contained in his pistol, Elizabeth refrained from provoking him.

  “I will own, I did not think you had it in you, Darcy,” were the first mocking words out of the man’s mouth. “A colder man I have never met—to be honest, I was uncertain you would know what to do with a woman, even if you caught her.”

  “Just because I do not consort with the sort of women you prefer, does not mean I do not enjoy their company.”

  Mr. Wickham laughed and shook his head. “The ladies always preferred me, Darcy. And for good reason.”

  “I cannot imagine any woman preferring you, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, her voice dripping with scorn. “Any woman who puts her trust in you must inevitably expect betrayal.”

  “I care little for the trust of a woman, or anyone else,” said Mr. Wickham, unaffected by her words. “I suppose I must give you your due, Darcy, though it pains me to do so.”

  Again Mr. Wickham laughed, and the weapon he held dipped ever so slightly toward the ground. “It seems you do possess exquisite taste. In some ways, Miss Elizabeth is finer even than her sister—had it been she who was the heir of her father’s estate, I might have succeeded.”

  “You would be incorrect,” snapped Elizabeth. “It was I who saw through you first. Jane has a good heart and has difficulty seeing the ill in others’ motives—I counseled her against you from the beginning.”

  “It is of little matter,” was Mr. Wickham’s negligent reply. “Had I succeeded with your insipid sister, it would have tied me to this miserable hovel with an inadequate income. Instead, I have a much better plan, one which will ensure I have everything that is my due.”

  “Are you thinking this through properly, Wickham?” asked William.

  The way he motioned with his hand suggested he wished Elizabeth to cease baiting their attacker. Though Elizabeth would have preferred to continue to inform Mr. Wickham just how little his bravado and threats affected her, she obeyed.

  “On the contrary, my dear Darcy—I believe I have thought of everything.”

  “If you kill me, Fitzwilliam will pursue you to the ends of the earth. If you attempt the same with Miss Elizabeth, you can ensure I will stop at nothing to see you pay for your crime.”

  “That is the problem with you, Darcy,” mocked Wickham. “All you could ever see was the narrow view before you. You worry yourself over whether I will murder you where you stand, yet you do not see how much more advantageous it is for me to leave you ali
ve. Why should I kill the one who will provide me with the means of living my life the way I was meant to? Kill you, indeed!”

  “Ah, so your desires run toward ransom.” William made a guttural sound in his throat. “Typical. Not content to earn your bread as an honest man, you grasp for every penny you can extort, knowing it will all slip through your fingers in no more than a few weeks. I cannot imagine what it must be like to live like this, to be nothing less than a parasite on society, a desperate, avaricious, selfish caricature of a man.”

  “You may as well save your breath, Darcy,” said Mr. Wickham. “Now, if you please, I believe the time has come to depart. If you will step this way, Miss Elizabeth, we shall leave this place at once.”

  Elizabeth did not move, instead fixing Mr. Wickham with a contemptuous stare. “And why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Wickham, his tone all that was pleasant, “you are my means of gaining what I want. You shall come with me to a location I have prepared for you, and when the time is right, Darcy may have you back—for a price. Then when I have what I deserve, I shall leave and you may reunite with your stodgy and uptight gentleman, to live as happy a life as you can muster. I, you may be sure, shall be very happy with the money Darcy will provide me. It was not even he who earned it, so I am certain he shall not miss it.”

  “And what is my assurance I shall be unharmed?”

  Mr. Wickham bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. “You will have to trust me, Miss Elizabeth.”

  A derisive laugh was Elizabeth’s response, followed by her scornfully said: “I would be better to put my hand in the mouth of an adder, for I would trust it more.”

  “Oh, I am far more dangerous than a simple adder, Miss Bennet. It seems to me, however, you have little choice.”

  “Come, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, “you have already said you would not harm Mr. Darcy as you are hoping to extort money from him.”

  “Perhaps I did,” said Mr. Wickham. The man moved in a circle, his pistol still held in a threatening attitude, staying out of range, but assuming a position where he could more easily fire on Elizabeth. “Or perhaps I shall kill you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, for there are other ways by which I may procure that which I desire from Darcy.”