A Convenient Marriage Volume 1

by Meg Osborne

  Chapter Twelve

  “Well, Lizzy, the weather is certainly fine enough to allow for a visit to Meryton. Jane and Mary will accompany you?” Mr Bennet spoke cheerily, as if there were nothing at all unusual about taking breakfast in utter silence. His comment was met with a few polite murmurs from his three elder daughters, and the table lapsed once more into awkward quiet.

  “Do Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia not intend on joining you in Meryton, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr Collins asked, putting a simpering inflexion over her name.

  “You would have to ask them that, sir,” Elizabeth replied sweetly, before turning deliberately to Jane and attempting to engage her in conversation.

  Mrs Bennet sniffed loudly, and Lizzy glanced momentarily towards her mother.

  “Do you have a cold, Mama?”

  “My health is the least of my concerns at present!” Mrs Bennet cried. She sniffed still louder, shooting Elizabeth an angry glance, before very pointedly turning away.

  Well, there is some small improvement at least, Elizabeth thought, with a wry smile. Mama is speaking to me. Since Mr Collins’ disastrous refusal last evening, Mrs Bennet had not said a word to Elizabeth, but had insisted on being often near her, so that her daughter might experience the full depth of her annoyance. Her campaign of silence, now broken, appeared ended almost entirely.

  “Perhaps Mr Collins will be kind enough to accompany you to Meryton,” she ventured.

  “I am quite sure Mr Collins has better things to do with his time,” Jane said, swiftly forestalling the argument she could sense brewing. “And in any case, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy have already agreed to escort us.”

  “Oh.” Mrs Bennet’s features fell. “Does not Mr Bingley come with them? And his sister? Now they are a charming pair I do so wish you to be friends with, Jane...”

  Excluding Elizabeth once more from her conversation and her notice, Mrs Bennet fixed her attention on her eldest daughter, heaping praise on her for her choice of beau and general good-nature. “If only each of my daughters could be so good as you are, dear Jane!”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, and turned towards Lydia and Kitty, who were dozing in one corner of the table.

  “What are your plans for the day?” She asked, determined that she would no longer be confined to silence and seeking any conversation that might keep her safe from Mr Collins’ attention.

  “Sleep!” Kitty yawned.

  “Yes, for you and Jane will have a dull trip to Meryton planned, if I am not mistaken. I do not even imagine you intend to call on the regiment...”

  “In that case you are correct,” Elizabeth said, unduly relieved that her morning would not be spoilt by wrangling her younger sisters. “Although I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam intends on calling on them. I do not imagine we shall stay long, though, for he also has a desire to purchase some music.” Her eyes flickered to Mary. “And so we are taking our resident songbird with us for advice.”

  “Mary?” Lydia asked, scornfully. “And what does she know of fashionable pieces? You only play the airs and jigs we like when we beg you, everything you prefer is so dreary!”

  “Not all music is designed for dancing,” Mary countered, quietly.

  “More’s the pity!” Kitty observed. “For I do not think music worth a single consideration if one cannot dance to it.”

  “That is because you cannot play,” Mary replied, lifting her chin. “Your singing is dreadful and I very much wonder if you could detect a tune if it were presented to you on a plate.”

  Elizabeth could scarcely prevent an amused smile from creeping across her face. Well done, Mary! She thought, surprised and pleased to see her sister holding her own where before she would have simply sunk lower into her seat and worn whatever criticism her sisters thought up to throw at her. Something was different in Mary, although Elizabeth could not quite put her finger on it. She sat a little straighter, her features were a fraction more relaxed. It was almost as if she were more aware of herself, and less willing to shrink at the first hint of a slight.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam certainly seemed happy enough with Mary’s choices of music on the occasions he has heard her play,” Elizabeth confirmed. “So perhaps he wishes for music that is a little different to the airs and jigs you are so insistent on, Kitty.”

  Her younger sister pouted, and returned to her meal, but Mary shot her a grateful smile, and the sisters shared a moment of silent affection in the midst of the chilly silence that once more descended over the breakfast table.

  “Mr Collins,” Mr Bennet announced, with great effort. “Perhaps you would give me the honour of your presence in my study this morning. There are a few matters of business I wish to discuss with a...ah...a gentlemanly mind, such as your own.”

  Mrs Bennet turned almost purple with irritation at her husband’s insistence in undercutting her plans. She, Lizzy felt certain, had intended on Mr Collins’ accompanying them, by accident or design, to Meryton, and somehow being afforded the opportunity to state his desire once more to marry Elizabeth. How this would work out in his favour, Lizzy was at a loss to understand, for Mr Collins would appear still less desirable in company with three intelligent, handsome gentlemen such as Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. This idea brought another smile to Elizabeth’s features as she was forced to acknowledge, not for the first time, that in comparison to Mr Collins even Mr Darcy was a desirable gentleman. In fact, Elizabeth was forced to realise that even without Mr Collins to offer so damning an alternative, Mr Darcy would not be so terrible a prospect. This suggestion caught in Elizabeth’s throat, and she coughed, suddenly, drawing the attention of her mother.

  “Oh, Lizzy! Must you always find reasons to laugh at things that are not remotely amusing?” She threw down her napkin and marched out of the room, which allowed all of its occupants to let out a hushed sigh of relief.

  At last, I must admit Mama is correct! Elizabeth thought to herself, pushing the remainder of her food around on the plate, her appetite gone. The idea of finding Mr Darcy a good prospect for marriage - for my own marriage! - with or without Mr Collins to offer an alternative is not amusing in the least...

  IT WAS STILL RELATIVELY early when three gentlemen’s horses were recognised on their approach to Longbourn.

  “Here they are!” Jane cried, happily, as she, Lizzy and Mary hurried out to meet them.

  Mary felt a flicker of nervousness, but Lizzy grabbed her hand and pulled her alongside her before she was able to devise a reason to escape the visit.

  “Ladies!” Mr Bingley said, dismounting from his horse quickly and hurrying forward with an exuberant bow. “How elegant you all look.”

  “You are too kind, Mr Bingley!” Jane said.

  “And too generous!” Lizzy called. “All of us could do with an hour’s additional sleep after last night’s entertainments, but nonetheless we will thank you for your compliment.”

  Everybody laughed, although Mary’s was awkward and forced. She was intrigued to see Mr Darcy, too, appeared merely to grimace rather than actually to laugh and wondered at how different his manner was to his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam followed suit after Mr Bingley and clambered off his horse, in order to greet the ladies with a polite bow. Mr Darcy joined the group with his feet on the ground last of all, and after a polite bow that was almost as stilted as his laugh had been, he asked where they might stable their horses for the afternoon.

  “That is, if you ladies remain content to walk?”

  “Certainly we do!” Lizzy said. “Meryton is but a mile and I, for one, am eager for the exercise.”

  Her easy smile fell fractionally when there was a noise from within the house, and Mrs Bennet’s voice could be heard declaring,

  “I do not see why I must wave them off, Mr Bennet. Lizzy is so contrary and disobedient that I might happily not have her for a daughter at all!”

  Mary was shocked to hear her mother speak so, and further embarrassed that her voice must have carried enough
that the gentlemen all heard. Lizzy’s face flamed with colour, and, wanting to spare her sister any embarrassment she could, Mary threw herself into the breach, her nerves forgotten in her desire to aid her sister.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said, desperately. “Have you - have you seen much of Meryton since your arrival in Hertfordshire?”

  “I have not, Miss Mary.” He smiled, and seemed utterly delighted to be drawn into a conversation about the merits and flaws of their nearest town, which Mary found herself discussing with more enthusiasm than she ever had before.

  There was another sound from within, and at last, the door opened to permit Mr Bennet, who looked bemused by the pretty tableaux unfolding before him.

  “Good morning, gentlemen!” he said, with cheer. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I thought I heard your voice. How are you, sir?”

  Mary smiled to see her father singling out Colonel Fitzwilliam. Of the three, she understood he was the least well-positioned and certainly the least wealthy, yet with a few words his father had elevated his position to one of welcome, suggesting the two were far closer friends than Mr Bennet was with either Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy.

  “Quite well, thank you, and all the better for our plan to walk to Meryton,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “Your daughter has just been informing me of all the delights that await us.”

  “Indeed!” Mr Bennet laughed. “Well, I should not allow my hopes to soar too high if I were you. Meryton is pleasant enough, but beyond hair ribbons and tea, and that infernal regiment - no offence intended to you, sir, whose rank and record speak for themselves - Meryton is hardly a place I seek to spend any more time than I must.”

  “You are wise to say so, Mr Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam continued. “And I do not doubt if I had a study as fine as yours in which to spend my time I should be of the same opinion.”

  Mary was surprised to see the effect this warm compliment had upon her father, whose eyes twinkled, until he threw back his head and laughed.

  “Well, you are welcome to join me in it should you wish to after your trip.” As if suddenly recalling the rest of their party, Mr Bennet waved his hand over the other young men present. “Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, you are of course also welcome to call upon your return. I do not doubt my women-folk will be eager to see you.” He paused. “It is still rather early for the more delicate of my daughters, and my dear wife. Her head aches...” He trailed off, as if this were explanation enough for Mrs Bennet’s poor manners and even poorer commentary on the arrivals.

  “Oh dear!” Mr Bingley was concerned. “Ought we not to have come so early?”

  “It is of no consequence!” Mr Bennet waved away his comment. “And as you can see, the three ladies you desired to take with you are all happy to be taken!” He smiled. “I do not doubt the quiet will afford rest to those of us that require it.” His gaze met Elizabeth's with a gentle smile, and Mary felt a flash of affection for her father. Clearly, he agreed with her and Jane that Elizabeth was acting as she must, to avoid a marriage to a man she disliked. It was only Mama who was so stubbornly wedded to the idea. “Are these your horses? Fine animals. Come, I shall call my groom...”

  Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley took the horses after Mr Bennet, leaving Colonel Fitzwilliam and the three ladies to wait for their return.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, after a moment. “I do hope you are recovered after last evening. My cousin, in particular, was concerned for your health.”

  “Your cousin?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. “Mr Darcy?”

  Something approaching a smile flickered across her face, but soon collapsed in favour of a hard frown.

  “I am sure he had no end of comments to make on the poor character demonstrated by my behaviour. It was merely the heat and exertion, for I had danced too often without a rest. Please do assure him that I am quite, quite well this morning.”

  “You may assure him yourself!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “For here he comes. Shall we begin our walk?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was more by chance than design that Richard found himself walking beside Mary towards Meryton. He had, of course, fully intended to design it if necessary but by happy coincidence, Mr Bingley and Jane walked with determination at the head of the group, and Elizabeth, in desiring to speak with them walked after them. Darcy had let out one short sigh but then fallen into step beside her, and the four were engaged in a lively conversation of which Richard could hear only the occasional word or phrase. He happily accompanied Mary, and she continued to speak of the delights of Meryton as if it were quite unlike any other town in all of England. A slow smile crept over his face as he deduced, correctly, that it was anxiety rather than any personal enthusiasm for Meryton that gave energy to her words, and he allowed her to run on for some minutes before she paused for breath and evidently struggled to think of any more to say.

  “Well, Miss Mary! That is a very thorough account of what lies before us in Meryton.”

  “Oh!” She smiled. “Well, it gives a little idea at least. I imagine you have seen many more interesting places on your travels.”

  “Yes, if you count mountains and the backs of other soldiers’ heads as interesting.” He laughed. “I am sure Meryton will be a very welcome change, for I was last in London and am eager for a little quieter pace of living before I move on to Kent which is, I am afraid to confess, quite deadly quiet by comparison.”

  “I have never been to Kent,” Mary said, shyly. “Although I have on occasion visited London. My aunt and uncle live there.”

  “Oh?” He hoped she might take his question for a prompt and offer some description of her relatives and what part of London they resided in, that he could see if they had any connections in common. She merely nodded, and he was compelled to ask the question outright.

  “And what part of London do this aunt and uncle Bennet live?”

  “Gardiner,” Mary corrected. “Their name is Gardiner. And they live -” she darted a glance up the road towards her sisters and looked back at him as if daring a challenge. “They live in Gracechurch Street.”

  Richard ran through his knowledge of London society and understood, almost immediately, the motive for her glance towards her sisters. Gracechurch Street was not the most elegant part of the city. In fact, Richard had been there often, although naturally without his own cousin’s company.

  “I know it well,” he said, smoothly. After a moment's silence, he ventured to speak a little more. “If I may be so brave, Miss Mary, I must invite you not to draw a direct comparison between my cousin and I. I value Darcy highly, we are cousins after all and have been good friends all our lives, but our lives and our circumstances are quite different.”

  Mary looked at him, curiously.

  “I am not as wealthy as he, nor possess the properties he does. As you may have gathered by my title, it was down to me to earn my fortune, and I have, albeit a modest one, by comparison to my two friends up yonder.”

  “You speak as if that were something to be ashamed of!”

  “It is not - and I am not, but I am eager that you understand my circumstances, because -”

  “Mr Darcy?”

  The shout from some distance down the street caught Richard’s ear and prevented him from finishing his words, but before he had time to rue the stranger who disturbed them, he saw his cousin’s back stiffen.

  “It cannot be -” Bingley muttered.

  Darcy glanced over his shoulder, and Richard understood the look in a moment. As the man drew nearer he recognised him, and his own blood began to boil. George Wickham. He had heard the man was in Meryton but never dreamed their paths might cross.

  “Good morning! What a party you are!”

  “Good morning,” Darcy replied, stiffly. “I see you are alone.”

  “Will you not introduce me to your friends?” Wickham asked, with a smile as he watched Darcy uncomfortably acquiesce to his manners.

  “Mr George Wickham, this is Miss Ja
ne Bennet, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary Bennet.”

  “Delighted,” Wickham said, with a deep bow.

  “And you remember Charles Bingley and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy had put an emphasis on Richard's title and he, like his cousin, was gratified to see Wickham flinch, his expression dropping almost imperceptibly.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Wickham nodded. “It has been quite some time.”

  “Indeed it has, Mr Wickham. I hear that you are part of the regiment here at Meryton.” He fixed him with a glare. “That is headed by Colonel Forster, is it not?”

  “That’s right.”

  “He is a good man. I am well acquainted with him.”

  “Oh?”

  Richard could see the sheen of desperation that settled over Wickham’s forehead.

  “Well, I will not delay you further, gentlemen,” he said, with a hurried bow. “Good morning, ladies.”

  The party stood to one side to allow Wickham to pass, and Richard could almost have laughed to see the careful way he continued on his path. How it contrasted with the jaunty way he had approached, determined to undermine Darcy’s happiness and instead having his own precarious position rendered still more unsteady by Richard’s presence. He still intended to alert Colonel Foster to the past behaviour of his newest recruit. There would be no mentioning of names, no detail, merely an acknowledgement that their paths had crossed, and a suggestion that Forster keep a tight watch on Wickham, for the man had a reputation as a scoundrel. It would not undo the damage he had wrought on poor Georgiana, or on Darcy, who had been bound by honour and by old Mr Darcy’s promise of care to see Wickham well, but it might encourage the man to keep his head down and behave better in future. Richard sighed. He doubted Wickham would be capable of behaving well in future. How many opportunities had he already had for learning his lesson, and yet he persisted?