by Jann Rowland
The footmen must have been under instructions to intervene without delay or they had been ready regardless, for they surged forward and caught Mr. Wickham’s arms, twisting them around his back. The sword fell away from Wickham’s fingers and landed with a soft thud in the turf, as the man fixed Bennet with an incredulous glare. Then Bennet, in a highly insulting fashion and with exaggerated slowness, stepped forward and raised the sword, wiping the tip on Wickham’s coat. The scratch was so light that there was little blood. Then he reached down and retrieved the other sword.
“Thus I have defended my daughters’ honor,” said Bennet quietly. “I suggest we send a letter to Colonel Forster informing him of where to find his missing officer. If there is anything left of this cur when they have finished with him, Mr. Darcy can prosecute him for his debts. For myself, I never wish to see him again.”
Then with a final glare at the pale officer, Bennet turned and walked away. Elizabeth and even Lydia were quiet as he directed them toward the carriage, the former watching him with surprise, while the latter with something akin to awe. He would deal with them later. For now, he wished to find a place he could rest. This gallivanting across the country and fighting in duels was a young man’s game!
Chapter VII
Mr. Darcy’s carriage conveyed Mr. Bennet, along with Elizabeth and Lydia, back to the inn, while the gentlemen stayed behind to deal with Mr. Wickham. It was a subdued trio who made the short journey there, Mr. Bennet thoughtful, likely considering the violence in which he had just participated. For Lydia’s part, she seemed to have had her eyes opened, perhaps a first for the foolish girl, for she looked on Mr. Bennet with wonder and seemed to have difficulty restraining her astonishment.
As for Elizabeth, she was contemplating what she had just witnessed, considering the new information she had learned of her father. The possibility that Mr. Bennet might ever fight a duel was a shock, as was the knowledge that he even possessed the tools necessary to do so. Several times as they rode, Elizabeth thought to ask her father where he acquired the skills which had allowed him to dispatch Mr. Wickham. But something held her back. She suspected she would know by the end of the day.
The carriage pulled in front of the inn and the passengers disembarked, and when they had removed their trunks—they had brought Lydia’s from where it sat next to the chaise, though it contained little—Mr. Bennet sent it back for the gentlemen who would take Mr. Wickham to the town’s jail for the first day of his many years of incarceration. Given what a waste of a man Mr. Wickham had proven himself to be, Elizabeth was grateful he would never again be in a position to wreak havoc upon anyone.
It was clear the innkeeper had only just risen, the morning still being early. The surprise with which he regarded them could also not be mistaken when her father asked concerning rooms for the day and the following night.
“You wish to take rooms at the break of day?” was the man’s curious query.
“We do, my good man,” said Mr. Bennet. “We have traveled through the night and would like to stay at your excellent establishment throughout the day, leaving tomorrow morning. If you have them available, I should like four rooms—one for myself, one for my daughters, and two more for gentlemen who will join us shortly.”
The innkeeper eyed them as if he thought Mr. Bennet was making sport with him. Then he nodded, opening a ledger and scanning its contents.
“I can only just accommodate you, sir, depending on how soon your friends arrive. There are three rooms available now, and one where I expect the current occupants will depart before long.” The man paused and smiled apologetically. “If you want rooms situated together I can do it with two, but the others are separate.”
“That will be fine,” said Mr. Bennet. “My daughters and I will take the adjacent rooms.”
Gathering their trunks to them, the Bennets followed the innkeeper up the stairs and down a hallway to the back of the inn where they were shown into two rooms. The chamber Mr. Bennet chose for himself was the smaller of the two, instructing his daughters to use the other. Elizabeth did not appreciate the necessity of sharing a room with her youngest sister, for experience had informed her that Lydia was not a quiet sleeper and had a tendency to kick. But there was no other choice, so she kept her own counsel.
When the innkeeper turned away, leaving them to their own devices, Mr. Bennet turned to his daughters. “Further conversation can wait until later. For now, you should lie down and rest.”
Lydia appeared to wish to say something, but Mr. Bennet silenced her with a look. With a shaken head and an inaudible mutter, Lydia hurried into the room, leaving Elizabeth alone with her father. They exchanged a look and a few chuckles.
“You have my apologies, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “for leaving you with your sister. I hope she will sleep, for she cannot have slept during the night.”
“Is that not why I have come?” asked Elizabeth with a wan smile. “Do not concern yourself, Papa—I will handle Lydia.”
“You are a good girl, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Should she give you any trouble, please summon me. If she cannot behave herself with you as her minder, then she will sleep with me.”
“All will be well, Papa,” said Elizabeth. Then she excused herself and entered the room.
In the end, her sister gave Elizabeth little trouble. Lydia had already removed her gown and lain down in the bed in nothing more than her shift. Though Elizabeth thought her sister was still awake, she said nothing, and as Elizabeth was still annoyed with her, she did not bother to speak. Instead, she followed her sister’s example, removed her own dress, and lay down on the other side. Whether Lydia was too tired to move about or Elizabeth was too tired to notice, she slept well, not stirring until that afternoon when her father knocked on the door to summon them for a meal.
“Do you suppose Papa is truly angry with me?” asked an apprehensive Lydia as Elizabeth was assisting her with her gown.
Elizabeth sighed. While she did not wish to frighten her sister, the fact remained that Lydia had not behaved well and had not used the intelligence with which she had been blessed since before the militia came to Meryton. Furthermore, Elizabeth was convinced that all her protests to the contrary, Lydia would have given her virtue to that man on the promise of being married if he had pressed her. How was she to help her sister understand what she had escaped by the slimmest of margins?
“I believe much of Papa’s anger has dissipated,” said Elizabeth. “We have found you and extracted you from Mr. Wickham’s clutches, and that is the most important factor. But do not think that will allow you to escape punishment.”
“Oh, I never would have dreamed of it,” was Lydia’s sarcastic reply. “What do you think he will do?”
“Do you wish me to speculate? Or perhaps you wish our father to ask for my opinion on the matter? You well know that I have not appreciated your behavior of late. I would be harsher in assigning punishment than our father.”
Lydia shot Elizabeth a sour look in the mirror before which they stood, but she did not speak. Instead she continued to look at Elizabeth, pleading for her opinion., Elizabeth sighed and gave it to her.
“In this instance, I cannot predict Papa’s response. It seems he has been . . . Well, perhaps more decisive is the word for which I am searching. Will that affect his actions? I cannot say.”
“I would never have suspected my father of calling another man out,” said a disgruntled Lydia. “Even less of him prevailing.”
“Then you see the problem,” said Elizabeth. “Whatever happens, I suggest you meet your fate with acceptance, for it will only be worse for you should you protest.”
The grunt with which Lydia responded was the only answer Elizabeth was to receive. Within a few moments, they had completed their preparations and left the room, descending the stairs to the lower floor of the inn. There, a servant directed them to the private dining room the gentlemen had requested for their use. They found th
eir father within, standing with his back to the door, looking out the window to the scene beyond. The windows on the other side of the room had been opened to allow the breeze, as the day was hot. Had they been closed, Elizabeth was certain the room would be stifling.
“Ah, Elizabeth, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, turning as he heard them enter. “Please, sit down, my dears, so that we may speak. The gentlemen will join us in another half hour, for I deemed it prudent to keep what we can of this business within the family.” Mr. Bennet paused and barked a laugh. “It is, I suppose, a futile gesture, for they already know all.
“But I wished to speak to you, Lydia, with respect to the future. As we have averted disaster by the thinnest margin, it seems I must take action to ensure last night’s adventure will not be repeated.”
“I do not know why you are here,” grumbled Lydia. “Or Mr. Darcy or that other man, for that matter. Had you all left me alone, I would be Mrs. Wickham by now.”
“Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, the hardness of iron in his voice which neither daughter could miss, “I should hope you do not think that—not now after what happened this morning. Can you still think Mr. Wickham intended to marry you after what he said?”
“He was under duress,” said Lydia, though her argument sounded weak. Elizabeth suspected Lydia did not even believe it herself.
“No man under duress is required to disparage a woman he claims to love, Lydia.” Though still unhappy, Lydia nodded. “Then let us dispense with any argument of Mr. Wickham’s worthiness or intentions. All were lacking. What we must discuss is how we will move forward.”
Though dreading this conversation, Lydia sighed and looked at her father, waiting for his judgment. Mr. Bennet seemed to understand his daughter’s apprehension, for he smiled and lifted his hand, caressing her cheek, something Elizabeth was certain he had not done in years.
“It seems recent events have reminded me that my youngest has gained the appearance of a woman full grown.” Lydia smiled, heartened by her father’s words. His next statement dashed whatever hope his words have given her. “While you look like a woman, you are yet only fifteen, Lydia, just a girl in the eyes of society. It is time you acted like the girl you are.”
“What do you mean, Papa?” asked Lydia, her tone full of trepidation.
“What I mean is you must begin to behave like a gentlewoman, not like half woman, half child. And to do that with credit, you must have instruction. For that, I have decided to engage a companion to shepherd you through this most trying time.”
“A companion!” exclaimed Lydia. It was nearly a screech. “Why would I have need of a stodgy old woman leeching all the fun from my life?”
“Because your idea of fun gets you into trouble, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “You have come within a hair’s breadth of ruined yourself and all your sisters. Your mother is not equipped to see to your education. While I can assist, I believe a companion would be the best solution.”
Lydia gaped at her father, tears rolling down her cheeks. But Mr. Bennet was pitiless, and well he should be. Elizabeth did not think they would reach Lydia any other way.
“Furthermore, Lydia, as of this moment, you are not out any longer, and you will not be until you are eighteen years of age.”
“Eighteen!” gasped Lydia. “Why, that is more than two years from now!”
“Yes, it is, is it not?” Mr. Bennet smiled at her as if he found her amusing. “Since I was on hand for your birth, I am well aware of your age.”
“But Papa, it is not fair!” wailed Lydia. “Jane and Lizzy did not have a governess!”
“No, but they had your Aunt Gardiner to help guide them, and they never showed the propensities you have. Is it fair to ruin your sisters with your imprudent, I dare say thoughtless, actions?”
Lydia’s mouth clamped shut, but her mutinous glare never wavered. It was all Elizabeth could do not to sigh—this was likely to be a battle of wills, and Elizabeth did not know if her father possessed the patience to endure Lydia’s petulant protests. Her sister had a will of iron, as Elizabeth knew, and if her father capitulated, she would be even worse than before.
“There, there,” said Mr. Bennet. “Do not be distressed. Kitty is no longer out either, and while I am of a mind to allow her to come out again when she turns eighteen, I will require her to prove she is ready. Thus, you will have company with your companion.”
“But you mean to allow Kitty to come out a full two years before I will be allowed again!” Lydia’s resentment was in equal proportion to her assurance that she was being treated unfairly. “I shall be the only one left at home when my elder siblings are having fun and dancing. It is not fair.”
“It is how our society works, Lydia. By the strictest interpretation of societal norms, even Elizabeth should not be out yet, as Jane is not yet married.”
“Jane will never marry,” spat Lydia, her voice dripping with spite. “Mama goes on and on about how Jane is the most beautiful, but even she cannot keep a man’s attention.”
“And yet the return of Mr. Bingley tells me your sister will almost certainly marry before the end of the year.”
Lydia gaped at her father, causing Mr. Bennet to chuckle. “It shall not be as bad as you think, Lydia, and perhaps you will come out the better for it. Regardless, I shall not hear another word of the matter. The gentlemen are to rejoin us soon, and I do not wish to speak of it further.”
Having been given no other option, Lydia fell silent, though her glare did not diminish. Her displeasure did not have the effect she likely hoped, for he continued to laugh under his breath and shake his head. It was best she was offended, for she refused to speak again, which was agreeable to Elizabeth.
True to Mr. Bennet’s prediction, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy came to the dining room soon after, welcomed by at least two of those who waited for them. Both men were wary, likely having some notion as to the young girl’s disposition and expecting fireworks. When they did not materialize, the gentlemen seemed to relax.
Soon, dinner was served, and they began to partake, conversation largely eschewed in favor of breaking their fast—in the urgency of the events of the morning, they had not even eaten breakfast, leaving them all hungry. When they had sated their immediate need, conversation once again began, and to no one’s surprise, a certain topic was foremost in everyone’s mind.
“If I may, Mr. Bennet,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I would like to ask after your skill with the sword. I have been in the cavalry for some time, and I believe even I would have been hard-pressed to defeat you this morning.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Bennet, smirking. “I had wondered when someone would bring up this morning’s excitement.”
“The skill you showed was not of the common variety,” said Mr. Darcy, “though Wickham has allowed his own to erode to a shocking degree.”
“I suspected as much,” said Mr. Bennet. “Even when I still thought well of the man—when I thought of him at all—he seemed soft, one who enjoyed his diversions rather than his work.
“The truth is, gentlemen, that I have extensive experience with the weapon. Though I have not used it regularly in many years, I still practice when I have the chance. I was in the army myself when I was a young man and was generally accounted the best of my regiment with the blade.”
“I have never heard of it!” said Elizabeth. “And I have never seen you practice.”
“That is because I do not talk of it, my dear,” replied Mr. Bennet. “And I practice when I can be assured of privacy. Your mother does not like it, you see. My elder brother was the master of Longbourn, but he died childless, and I returned to take up the reins of the estate. Before that, I was in the regulars. First, I learned to fence in university and then honed the craft when in the regulars. I did not think Mr. Wickham would pose much of a challenge.”
“But what if he had chosen pistols?” demanded Colonel Fitzwilliam. “This was all a very chancy business.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged. “I
am not unfamiliar with a pistol either, Colonel. But I judged Mr. Wickham to be a man who would wish to press any advantage he perceived he possessed. As I was nothing more than a bookish landowner, he naturally assumed I would be unfamiliar with a sword and would, therefore, present little threat. He learned, to his detriment, never to judge another on so many assumptions.”
While the gentlemen thought about what her father had said, Elizabeth looked on him with a new form of respect. That he was clever had never been in doubt. But she had not thought him capable of exerting himself enough to have manipulated Mr. Wickham so thoroughly, and to display all the other talents she had never known he possessed left her astonished. What her mother would think of the new man her husband had become, Elizabeth could not say, but it would be an interesting time—of that she was certain.
“Now,” said Mr. Bennet, “that is enough of my exploits, such as they are. Will you not inform us all the state of Mr. Wickham?”
Even Lydia perked up at Mr. Bennet’s question, and she had alternated between ignoring them all and trying to glare holes in Mr. Darcy’s coat.
“Wickham is in prison in the town’s jail, though he did not go easily. It is well I brought Thompson.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “That man is as large as any I have ever seen. Did his mother dally with a bear during a long Derbyshire winter?”
“One might think so,” agreed Mr. Darcy with a grin. “Either way, Wickham awaits his commanding officer, and given the state he was in when we left, I suspect he knows payment for his sins looms on the doorstep. I would expect Colonel Forster late this evening, or tomorrow morning, if he could not get away today.”
“Colonel Forster is a good man,” rumbled Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I have a slight acquaintance with him. He will arrive tonight.”
“And what will be your involvement with Mr. Wickham after the regiment has finished with him?”
“It will be my task to see him in prison, assuming there is anything left of him when the army has finished their punishment.” Mr. Darcy turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Do you think they will simply flog and discharge him?”