Darcy turned to Elizabeth who had now joined the trio, “I had thought none of your hobbies provided entertainment or beauty. It seemed you were very entertaining just now, and with that level of realism, you can certainly create beauty.”
“A hobby is something one does for enjoyment, Mr. Darcy. I enjoyed sketching as a child but once I learned how to read, sketching felt more like a chore my mother insisted upon.”
“Darcy,” Bingley said, “I am rather surprised you recognized a man we met only briefly yesterday and were able to recall his name.”
“I have met Mr. Wickham on previous occasions.” Darcy made note to later explain to his friend that Wickham’s character was not to be trusted. Bingley would not press for details, but he would use the warning to protect his sister, and Caroline would almost certainly imply Wickham was an unsavory character to the town at large.
“Are you speaking of Mr. Wickham?” Lydia called from across the room, suddenly very interested in her older sisters’ conversation.
“No. We were speaking of the game,” Elizabeth replied. Lydia lost all interest in their conversation, and she and Kitty returned to their whispers and giggles. Elizabeth turned to the gentlemen in her party. “Since we met the gentleman yesterday, he is all they have talked about. Had she known you were acquainted with him, Mr. Darcy, you would be interrogated endlessly.” Darcy’s expression darkened.
“I am sure it is merely because he is still a mystery, Lizzy. They will get to know him better when we see him tonight, and once he loses his intrigue, he will lose some of his appeal.”
Bingley did not like the idea of Jane seeing a man so well thought of. “You will see him tonight, you say?”
“Yes. My aunt has invited some of the militia over for a game of chance.” Noticing Mr. Bingley’s uncharacteristic pout, Jane wished to assure him she had no interest in going because of the red coats, “My aunt has invited us to join them, for she wishes to get to know our cousin better.”
Mention of Mr. Collins made Bingley’s pout turn into a scowl. Elizabeth noticed and felt Mr. Bingley was a better judge of character than she had given him credit for. “Your cousin is the man who was with you in town yesterday, is he not?” Bingley asked.
“Yes,” Jane answered. Darcy watched Bingley with fear. “His name is Mr. Collins. You may have the opportunity to meet him at your ball.”
Lydia and Kitty both heard mention of the ball and turned for news. “Have you selected a date, Mr. Bingley?” Kitty asked.
“Yes, invitations will be distributed tomorrow. It will take place next Tuesday, although Caroline is the one doing all the planning and such.”
“Lizzy,” Lydia called with a smirk and evil glint in her eyes, “If it is taking place so soon, you will need to save two dances for Mr. Collins.” She and Kitty laughed and turned around. Lizzy blushed and both gentlemen noticed.
The men left soon after: Mr. Bingley with a much lighter heart and Mr. Darcy with a heavier one.
The Bennet girls had a wonderful time at their aunt’s dinner party, and Elizabeth learned more of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham’s relationship. What she learned, of course, was Mr. Wickham’s version of his relationship with the Darcys. While it did not occur to Elizabeth at the time, every story was like a cut gem. There were endless colors and varieties. If two people were to examine the same story, different imperfections would be noted and when the light danced off the many facets the viewer’s position would result in small alterations to his observations. Mr. Wickham had examined and displayed this story repeatedly. Like a seasoned shop purveyor, he had found the particular angle through which his story looked most favorable and would yield the best return. Thus, Mr. Wickham gained Elizabeth’s sympathy and support while promoting the lady to issue one more strike against Mr. Darcy’s character.
Chapter 15
Caroline watched as Mary Bennet finished singing the second song. Had the girl stopped singing after one, she might have thought the performance was meant as some type of joke, but with the length of the performance it had become perfectly clear this talentless girl was simply as much of a jay in peacock feathers as her younger sisters.
“If we were not leaving for London tomorrow, I would build a moat around Netherfield to protect us from the Bennets,” Caroline whispered to her sister.
“Would it not be wiser to build the moat around Longbourn?” Louisa asked. The sisters chuckled.
Louisa had been sorry her brother had not won the heart of a lady he so treasured, but this evening had made it perfectly clear Jane Bennet’s family was an absolute embarrassment. Her brother’s escape from uniting himself with such a menagerie of characters was indeed a silver lining.
Caroline took in the look of gravity and contempt on Darcy’s face and was assured he too had taken note of the atrocious behavior on display. No pair of fine eyes could counter such impropriety. “Did you see when that cousin of theirs introduced himself to Mr. Darcy?” Caroline asked.
“Yes. It seems the rules of society are lost on even their distant cousins.” Louisa washed a bite of ham down with a sip of wine. “But I would not advise him to have behaved any other way, for the look on Darcy’s face during that interaction will provide me with hours of entertainment.”
“And to think, we were concerned Mr. Wickham might be the man to spoil the evening,” Caroline mumbled as she listened to Mr. Bennet shut his squawking daughter up with words of relinquishing the floor to other young women. “Speaking of Mr. Wickham, I tried to warn Miss Elizabeth off the man, but she seemed determined to ignore me.”
“Well, that is too bad. As uncouth as her family may be, I do not wish them ill tidings. And even without knowing the particulars, I am certain an association with Mr. Wickham will come to no good,” Louisa felt a twinge of genuine concern for Miss Elizabeth.
“Indeed. I fear for her safety above all others in Meryton. Sooner or later, her obstinance will put her in the gravest of dangers.”
∞∞∞
Little did they know it was Betsy Barton, not Elizabeth Bennet, who was currently in need of rescuing. Joshua had lured her away from the crowd with ease. She had been returning from the necessary, and he convinced her to have a quick private word before she hurried back to work. Now she was on her way to London, hidden under a tarp in the back of a wagon. As Betsy started to regain consciousness, she discovered she was restrained. She went to scream only to realize she was also gagged. Any grogginess she had initially felt quickly disappeared as panic and fear settled in. A sack covered her head but the way in which her body was jostled and tossed about told her with certainty she was in a moving cart on the well-worn path leading away from Meryton.
“It seems sleeping beauty is finally awake,” Joshua called over his shoulder while he guided the horse forward. “If you thrash about too much, I’ll need to tether you tighter to the cart. I can’t have you kicking off the tarp and getting noticed, now can I?” Joshua thought about it for a moment and decided to give Betsy a little incentive to heed his advice. “We have a long road ahead of us. You will be much more comfortable if I leave you as you are now. But if you don’t calm down, you will leave me no choice but to confine you more securely.”
Betsy stopped thrashing. What was the point, she thought. Based on the sounds around them, there was no one else here to help her and it was almost certainly still night.
∞∞∞
Mrs. White huffed indigently. When Mrs. Butler had told her she was responsible for feeding half of Meryton at this ball, she had been promised an extra set of hands. The party was drawing to a close, and so far all she had gotten was a complaint sent back from the mistress that the gazpacho was cold. "Bloody soup is supposed to be cold," muttered Mrs. White under her breath. "You'd think a body'd know that seein’ as she chose the menu."
Marianne came into the kitchen. “I’m exhausted,” she exclaimed. She went to sit down but the scathing look Mrs. White gave her stopped her in her tracks.
“There are sti
ll dishes to be washed, young lady,” Mrs. White said nodding her head in the direction of the sink.
David walked in and caught Mrs. White’s words. He looked at the pile of plates sitting on the counter and asked, “Why didn’t Betsy take care of those yet?”
“Probably because she wasn’t here. I ain’t seen that girl all evening.” Mrs. White sat at the table and pulled out a second chair. She put her feet up on her makeshift ottoman and stretched out her back like a cat.
David’s face grew concerned. “Mrs. Butler sent her down here to help two hours ago.”
“Well she is sure taking her sweet time showing up,” Mrs. White mused as she began eating a leftover slice of ham.
David, with the image of Agnes still fresh in his mind, flew to Betsy’s room and banged on the door. When he received no response, he threw the door back to find the bed still perfectly made and no sign of the girl anywhere. He ran back to the kitchen to announce she was missing, but Mrs. White just laughed and explained people did not simply disappear.
Marianne, fearing David had grown a little sweet on Betsy had remained silent, but seeing the panic in his eyes, she resolved to share what she knew. “She’s been seeing a private in the militia. I think I saw him in the gardens earlier. Maybe they ran off together.”
David considered the possibility but dismissed it. Why would she choose to sneak off in the middle of the night? If she planned to elope, she had no reason to hide her decision, and he believed she would have scheduled it on her day off rather than cause an unnecessary scene and worry. But David’s chief reason for refusing to accept Marianne’s explanation was a feeling in his gut. He had felt it once before, when Agnes had gone missing, but he had ignored it. He refused to make the same mistake twice. Without saying a word, David went in search of Mrs. Butler.
“I would like to depart as soon after breakfast as possible,” Miss Bingley explained to the head housekeeper. “I will send word when we are in London as to how long we will be gone.” Caroline had every intention of abandoning this country estate but she needed to work on her brother a little more before she announced her plans and fired most of the staff. Given Charles’ newfound friendship with all the rabble, who knew how he’d react to letting them all go?
“Will that be all ma’am?” Mrs. Butler received her answer when Caroline silently turned her back to her and walked up the stairs.
Once the mistress was half way up the stairs, David told Mrs. Butler that Betsy had gone missing. Caroline smiled upon hearing the news. Surely, Charles will not try to protect such disloyal staff. It was unfortunate they would not all just disappear.
∞∞∞
The following morning, the trunks and bags were packed and loaded onto the coach. Bingley was sorry to be leaving, but as he expected to return soon, he kept his farewells to a minimum. Caroline was the last to leave. As she collected her fan, she turned to Mrs. Butler and handed her a letter she had been inconspicuously holding. “One more thing,” Caroline she said, “please be sure to dispatch this letter as soon as we are gone.”
The letter was addressed to Miss Jane Bennet and expressed regrets the family had been unable to bid her farewell prior to their departure. It further indicated they had no immediate plans to return to Netherfield as Mr. Darcy had announced his sister would be joining him in London. She went on to explain that Charles had a particular attachment to the young lady and would be loath to miss an opportunity to spend time with her.
Chapter 16
Charlotte walked down the stairs on her way to the library. She would be going to Longbourn today, and Lizzy had asked to borrow a volume of poetry. She passed by her father’s study but did not happen to notice the door had been left slightly ajar until she heard her mother’s voice drifting through the air.
“When Mr. Bingley asked her to dance, I was so hopeful. But alas, he appears to prefer Jane Bennet. Is there anything further we can do? Our Charlotte is not getting any younger.”
“No, she is not. I fear that is a large part of the problem. Perhaps, I should have considered taking the Bennets’ approach and allowed her to enter society as a child.”
“Well, the Bennets have not yet married off any of their daughters either, so I do not think their approach provides the best model…” The voice of her mother trailed off.
“I would not say the Bennet girls are unmarried for want of offers. In speaking with Mr. Bennet during the ball last night, it seems Miss Elizabeth is likely to receive an offer of marriage quite soon. But her father is certain she will decline,” Sir William replied.
“He is simply boasting. It is very easy to make such claims without offering proof.”
“I am certain he did not mention this prospect in an effort to boast. He seemed to be dreading the inevitable fallout the event will cause. Further, he did not deem the man worthy of boasting over. I suggested he discourage the young man but seems the gentleman refuses to be dissuaded.” Sir William reflected on the prior evening’s festivities, “I witnessed the young man’s attentions myself and his objective seemed very clear.”
“But how could Mr. Bennet predict his daughter’s response to such an offer?”
“If a father ever knew his daughter better than Mr. Bennet knows Miss Elizabeth, I should think him a mind reader.”
“Well, who was the young gentleman so wholly unfit for marriage?”
“It was her cousin. You must remember him. They danced the first together.” He considered if this was a fair description. “If you could call it that. He stepped on her feet repeatedly nearly in time to the music. Now, what was his name? Mr. Collins, perhaps?”
“Why, he is to inherit Longbourn! And as I understand it, he makes a very comfortable living at present. She could not possibly be thinking of turning him down. I would be overjoyed for our Charlotte to land such a match.”
“I cannot speak to the young lady’s mind, but Mr. Bennet seemed to object to the man’s intellect. It seems he is a bit of a simpleton compared to Miss Elizabeth.”
“All the better! If she were truly smart, she would know how to use this to her advantage.” Lady Lucas observed the look on her husband’s face and quickly added, “Of course, I do not speak from experience, only observation. But many a wife is able to control how much of her life is taken up by her husband, especially if her mind is stronger than his. A small inconvenience of a few hours a week would be well worth the prize of security in life. I hope our Charlotte is not so foolish.”
Sir William considered his daughter’s circumstances, “I suppose you are right. Not all couples can be as lucky as we are. Charlotte could find happiness even if the match was not ideal in every respect. Perhaps, we should lease a home in London for a while. She would have more prospects in a larger city, would she not?”
Charlotte could not stand to listen any more. She felt like a disappointment to her parents, and she needed to face the facts. She was firmly entrenched in spinsterhood. Had she been too choosy? Her family had never spent a great deal of time dwelling on marriage or romance in general. It was assumed eventually the children would grow up and appropriate mates would be found.
But Charlotte had spent much of her youth with the Bennets, and in that family, the topic was a daily discussion. The younger sisters had resolved to go on the offensive to secure husbands. Charlotte felt certain their diligence would pay off. Several gentlemen admired both Lydia and Katherine and the girls were magnanimous enough with their attentions so no one felt the pursuit was pointless. Charlotte had always admired their bravery and self-confidence, but she knew she could never be so bold. Jane and Elizabeth had both decided at a young age they could feel complete without a husband if they had each other and nieces and nephews to enjoy. Although such a path would cause their mother distress, it did not appear to matter to Mr. Bennet if his daughters decided not to wed. Until this moment, Charlotte had convinced herself she was like them. She was brave enough to withstand the social stigma of becoming an old maid, she had her parents�
� support should she proceed on such a path, and she could find sufficient distractions to stave off loneliness. But the conversation she had just overheard disabused her of one of these facts, and she was beginning to think the other two had merely been wishful thinking on her part.
Charlotte did wish for security. She did long to be mistress of her own estate. And, more than anything, she wanted to be a mother. As Charlotte scanned the shelves of books looking for the volume of poetry she had promised Lizzy, her eyes scanned the names of great authors. Men who had not stood in the shadows of life passively waiting for what life was to serve them, but rather men like Thomas Paine who went forth and took what he knew he wanted. Of course, the shelves were littered with the occasional work of romantic drivel, but those were not the volumes that changed the world.
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