Page 8 of A Tale of Two Suitors

Two more days passed before Mr Ash seemed to regain his usual calm.

Mr Bingley kept his word and began the preparations for the ball while calling at Longbourn every other day.

In Meryton, every event was centred around the officers of the regiment.

In her visits to the town, Elizabeth met Mr Wickham again.

He did not resume the conversation about Mr Darcy, but he showed Elizabeth a peculiar partiality, which puzzled her exceedingly.

Although prudent and restrained with him, Elizabeth could not deny that Mr Wickham was the most pleasant gentleman she had met.

His handsome figure matched his easy manners, his smile was charming, and he seemed to know exactly what to say to please.

Everybody in the neighbourhood admired him, and Elizabeth seemed to be the recipient of his attentions.

She was somehow flattered but not impressed.

Mr Darcy’s warning kept her alert, but even without it, there was something in Mr Wickham’s small gestures that concerned her.

In a certain way, he appeared to be too much.

Just like Mr Collins’s tendency to praise Lady Catherine and Rosings Park, Mr Wickham was too pleasant, a notion that Elizabeth could hardly explain even to herself.

His company was delightful, yet she did not enjoy it.

And his constant attention towards her — for which Lydia declared every woman in Meryton was jealous of Elizabeth — soon became tiresome.

She was tempted to keep her distance from him, but curiosity defeated her common sense.

Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy had made some significant accusations towards each other, and she was determined to discover where the truth lay.

She attempted to ask him a few times, but he seemed to deliberately change the subject.

“Lizzy, I hope you will allow us to dance with Mr Wickham at the ball too,” Lydia said one evening when they were gathered in the drawing room before dinner.

“You have taken all his attention. It is not fair! You had Mr Darcy courting you, and now you have Mr Collins and Mr Wickham! How do you have so many suitors all of a sudden?”

As silly as the statement was, Elizabeth would have been amused if she had not spotted Mr Collins staring at them from the doorway, his countenance horrified. Her cheeks heated in mortification.

“I shall have dinner with Sir William at Lucas Lodge tonight,” the clergyman declared, then hurried out before anyone had time to comment.

Mr Wickham and Mr Denny returned at Longbourn for a second visit when Elizabeth, Jane, and Mr Bingley were taking a stroll in the garden.

Elizabeth was trying to allow her sister and her suitor some privacy so was walking some distance behind them, with Mr Ash following her.

She heard Lydia calling, and when she turned, she noticed her younger sisters waving to her, with the two officers at their side.

Mr Ash’s mewing startled her; but before she had time to respond, the cat jumped directly onto Mr Wickham’s chest, emitting a deep growl.

The officer struggled to free himself from the animal’s claws, but finally he managed to grasp him and throw him to the ground, but the scratches remained visible on the officer’s handsome face.

“Damn cat!” he mumbled, rubbing his cheek.

“Dear Lord, I am so sorry!” Elizabeth whispered. “Please let me help you!” She took out her handkerchief and gently tried to remove the spots of blood that had appeared.

“It is only a superficial scratch. It will heal quickly. I am so sorry…” Elizabeth mumbled.

Jane and Mr Bingley approached too, while Lydia and Kitty were fawning over their favourite officer.

“Do not worry, Miss Elizabeth. Wickham will not die from a mere scratch,” Mr Denny said, laughing. “I am sure he has suffered worse scratches, and not all from cats!”

Mr Wickham smiled too. “Yes, do not worry, Miss Elizabeth. I am not fond of cats, and probably the feeling is mutual. But for this, you owe me a second set at the ball.”

“Gladly,” she answered. “I am truly very sorry. I really cannot understand what happened to him.”

“He is insane — that is what happened to him,” Lydia interjected. “The only man he seems to like is Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth felt disconcerted as she tried to conjure a reply, but Mr Bingley responded first.

“It must be because his sister had a cat just like that. He purchased the animal for her a few years ago. He told me the first day we called at Longbourn that he was surprised by the likeness.”

“That cat was a little bit darker in colour and certainly not so wild,” Mr Wickham responded absently while brushing the fur from his coat.

Elizabeth stood still, gazing at him; he looked up, and a shade of distress passed over his face.

“I know because I saw that cat once…a long time ago. But I do not remember it well.”

They all returned to the house together, but the officers refused to enter; Mr Wickham recalled he had a prior engagement and took a hasty farewell.

A storm of thoughts was spinning in Elizabeth’s head.

She did not even dare to try to connect them, but they seemed to pull together and solve the puzzle by themselves.

Could it be true? Or was she assuming too much?

After all, Mr Ash had been aggressive in the past, but not in such an extreme manner.

Could he have attacked Mr Wickham on purpose?

Could he have been the man who had hurt him?

Even if he was, could a cat remember his attacker and hold a grudge for so long? Surely not.

And Mr Wickham — there was such an appearance of goodness in his face!

Even if he had somehow acted inappropriately in the past, was he capable of harming a girl’s beloved pet?

Why would he do such a thing? What could he have against the cat or against Miss Darcy?

Everything seemed an enormous mystery that Elizabeth did not dare to look at too closely.

But if Mr Wickham was truly capable of such a vicious act, he must be a dreadful and dangerous man who should be avoided and even feared.

What was she to do? Could she tell her father about Mr Darcy’s warning?

She could not possibly mention her suspicions about the cat to anyone, as even her father would question her sanity.

Perhaps she should ask Mr Bingley to write Mr Darcy a few words from her, something that only he would understand.

If he returned, she could ask for his advice; he would surely know what the best course of action would be.

Back in the house, Lydia related to Mrs Bennet all the details of Mr Ash’s attack, setting off a flurry of whining, cries, and curses against the cat.

Then suddenly, Mr Bingley removed himself from their presence and returned a few minutes later with their father.

“My dear,” Mr Bennet addressed his wife, who was still grumbling, “in case you have finished mourning Mr Wickham being scratched by a cat, I have a bit of news to share. Mr Bingley just asked for my blessing to marry your daughter Jane. That is all — now you may continue whining.” With that, Mr Bennet returned to his library, far from the din of his wife’s cries of joy and disbelief.

That evening and the following day, Mrs Bennet cared for nothing else. Having her daughter happily married to such a handsome, amiable man had been her lifelong dream, and it would now finally be fulfilled.

However, when Mrs Phillips called, she brought two pieces of disturbing news.

One was that the whole of Meryton was appalled by Mr Wickham being attacked by Lizzy’s cat.

And the second was that Mr Collins had proposed to Charlotte Lucas, and they were to marry in six weeks.

Both reports provided Mrs Bennet with reasons to scold Elizabeth for ruining her chances of marriage and to remind her once again that she would end up a spinster.

“You had two suitors, and now you have lost both of them. One of them was scared away by your wild cat and the other by your wild temper! Well, missy, you will see when you are old and end up homeless. Then you may spend the rest of your life with just cats!”

There was no use in convincing Mrs Bennet to see reason, so Elizabeth did not even attempt it.

Jane masterfully drew her mother’s attention to other, more pleasant, events, reminding her that Mr Bingley would officially announce the engagement at the ball.

Furthermore, the gentleman had asked Mrs Bennet to come to Netherfield and supervise the preparations, a prospect that flattered and delighted her beyond anything else.

Two days prior to the ball, Mr Darcy returned unexpectedly; he appeared at Longbourn when the family and Mr Bingley were dining together.

Mr Bingley and Mr Bennet immediately invited him to join them, and he sat to Mr Bennet’s right. From there, he threw repeated glances at Elizabeth, who could not remember when she had ever felt so cold and so hot at the same time.

Mr Bingley lost not a moment in informing him about the engagement, and congratulations ran freely during the evening.

Mr Darcy suggested that Mr Bingley procure a common licence, and the thought that her daughter might marry before Charlotte Lucas was like sweet palliation to Mrs Bennet’s distress at not having longer to make the arrangements.

Elizabeth had no time to speak to Mr Darcy privately, but he stole a moment near the end of the evening and asked, “Miss Elizabeth, do you think this cold weather will still deem it appropriate to take a morning ride?”

She felt her fingers and lips trembling as she replied, “Very much so. I still enjoy a morning walk to my favourite piece of woodland whenever I have the opportunity.”

With that, he returned to Mr Bennet and Mr Bingley, while Elizabeth began to count the hours till morning.