Page 10 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

Pig in the Poke

An Hour After Noon

Wickham glanced around the interior of the pub in satisfaction as he descended the stairs. The rush of the midday meal had come and gone, and his fellow officers with it. The dining room was thus almost deserted, just as he had hoped, and he was able to sit at whichever table he pleased.

He chose a small table in the corner, commanding a wide view of staircase and front door alike, and smiled winsomely at the pretty barmaid, whose name was Bertha, across the room. She smirked back flirtatiously and ducked into the kitchen to fill a plate for him of whatever was left from the midday meal. Wickham sat patiently, mouthwatering, until she reappeared a few minutes later and tripped daintily towards him.

He stood to take it with a bow and a smile. “Why thank you, miss, this smells – and looks – delightful.”

“Oh, la, sir!” Bertha replied, setting the mug of ale on the table while Wickham cast an appreciative eye over the heap of ham and eggs on the sturdy plate. “I’m sure it looks no different from any other inn! ”

Wickham sat down once more, smiling up at her admiringly. “I find many of the sights in Meryton more appealing than the sights elsewhere.”

Bertha giggled again, charmed by the overt flattery. “Well, I am glad you are finding it to your liking, sir.”

He took a bite, heaved out a rapturous sigh, and said, “This is delicious .”

It was quiet now, with only a few customers, so it was no surprise when Bertha chose to linger by his table to talk for a few minutes.

“It is, sir,” the girl replied with a coquettish toss of her hair. “Maybe ‘tis not quite as fine fare as London pubs, but we are proud of our food here at the Pig in the Poke.”

Wickham took a bite of ham, chewed, swallowed, and produced a beatific expression.

“It is the best ham I have ever eaten in my life,” he vowed. “Have you lived here all your life?”

The girl proved to be a fount of information, and Wickham soaked it in as he ate and carefully charmed her into revealing more. He was skilled in the art of directing the conversation, and it did not take much prompting to bring her around to the Bennets and, by extension, Miss Stowe. Bertha had a cousin who worked at Longbourn as a maid, and sometimes, when their days off permitted it, they visited one another.

Thus, he learned that Miss Stowe was quite popular with the servants, always kind, always generous. She walked a great deal, necessitating that her hems be well-scrubbed, but she often wore dark skirts to walk. One of her most common destinations was the circulating library, and she was rarely seen exiting it without at least one book. The Bennets, too, were well-liked by their servants. Mrs. Bennet was frivolous and silly, but unfailingly kind, always willing to let a maid go home for a day to assist an ailing mother, and eager to visit new mothers and sick children as needed. Miss Bennet was all that was kind and good, far more sedate than her cousin. Miss Mary was pious and devout and sensible. The younger two girls were silly and energetic, but like their mother, there was no meanness in them. Wickham gathered that they were perhaps a chore to wait upon, but unspiteful, and he smiled to learn about Miss Stowe’s family. The more he knew about her, the better. It was, after all, always easier to charm a lady when one was familiar with her background.

/

Drawing Roo m

The Phillips’ House

Meryton

Two Evenings Later

Elizabeth glanced longingly towards the door, wishing she could come up with a reasonable need to depart this room. She had come with the Bennets to their Aunt Phillips’s house to be spend time with a large group of militia officers who were now settled in Meryton. She had deliberately chosen a seat away from the fire, seeking to avoid a swarm of attention from men hunting her modest fortune.

Her attempts to avoid flattering scrutiny were a complete failure. Several officers clustered around her, plying her with tea and scones and empty flattery and vapid nothings until she felt both crowded and irritated. She was well aware that, despite her own contentment with her looks, her cousins were considered far lovelier. Lydia and Kitty, excited by the attention of two handsome officers in their grand scarlet coats, scarcely noticed that they were relatively neglected. But Jane and Mary, older and soberer, could hardly help but notice how many of the men were hovering over Elizabeth compared to themselves.

Only one gentleman sat conversing with the two sisters, Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips, who were seated by the fire. The man, whom Elizabeth considered the most elegant of all those present, bent solicitously over the older ladies and listening intently to them, his expression winsome. Elizabeth watched him with approval, taking in his fine figure, his courteous demeanor as he spoke with the older woman in the room, with not a glance cast towards the heiress or the pretty young ladies.

Captain Denny, apparently noting her curiosity, said, “That is my friend Lieutenant Wickham, who recently took a position in the regiment. Might I have the honor of introducing you to him?”

“Yes, please,” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet. Lieutenants Pratt and Smythe, who had been fortunate enough to sit closest to her, immediately stood up as well, and Smythe had the good taste to move out of the way so that Denny could make his way through the crowded room to fetch the newcomer.

Two minutes later, the introduction was made between Miss Stowe and Mr. Wickham, and when the former had risen from her curtsey and the gentleman from his bow, Elizabeth found that closer up, there was even more to admire. Mr. Wickham’s figure was set up to perfection in his red coat, his hair was an attractive dark blond, and his eyes sky blue.

“Miss Stowe,” he said, his smile showing white, straight teeth, “it is a pleasure to meet you. I believe I just had the opportunity to talk to your Aunts Bennet and Phillips?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, and in spite of herself, her heart leaped within her. The lieutenant spoke with such a well-modulated tone as to make it amusing to speak even of insipidities.

“Yes,” she repeated and sat down, while Lieutenant Wickham gracefully took a seat across from her. “How do you like Meryton, Mr. Wickham?”

“I like it very much,” Wickham replied, inclining his head. “I arrived recently from London, you know, and the clean air and fresh breezes of the country are welcome indeed.”

“I entirely understand. I like visiting Town but am always eager to return home. Were you born and raised in London, then?”

“Oh no! I have lived there for some years, but I was born on a great estate in Derbyshire, and raised there as well.”

“Derbyshire, you say?” Elizabeth asked, leaning forward with interest. “I recently met a man who owns a great estate in Derbyshire.”

She was watching Wickham carefully because he was very attractive to look at. She was thus surprised to observe a peculiar expression on the man’s countenance. Surprise? Distress?

It lasted but a few seconds, and the lieutenant produced a gracious smile and asked, “Have you indeed? What is the name of the man?”

“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley,” she replied, and now the alarm on her companion’s face was obvious. “Do you know him, perhaps?”

Wickham was silent for a full ten seconds and then said, “Indeed, I do. I was referring to Pemberley when I spoke of my place of birth. My now deceased father was the steward at Pemberley for many years, and the elder Mr. Darcy was my godfather. He was the best man I have ever known, and my dear friend.”

“But the younger Mr. Darcy is not quite so dear a friend, perhaps?” Elizabeth asked.

Wickham released a mournful sigh and said, “You are very insightful, Miss Stowe. No, we are not on particularly good terms, but maybe that is not so great a surprise; two young men, raised on the same estate; one the heir, the other the godson, and with two very different temperaments. I think perhaps that there was some jealousy on his side, because my godfather did favor me a great deal, whereas Darcy, while a fine young man, was never able to bring the same cheer to old Mr. Darcy. But I am surprised to hear that you recently met Darcy. Is he staying nearby, by chance?”

This was said with outward calm, but Elizabeth thought her companion’s eyes were anxious.

“Yes, he is staying at Netherfield Hall with his friend Mr. Bingley, who is currently leasing the estate.”

“And what do you think of my old playmate?” Wickham inquired archly.

“Why, I like him very much! He is certainly a quieter gentleman than you are, and Mr. Bingley as well, for that matter, but he seems well informed and very well read.”

“Indeed he is,” Wickham said heartily. “He was a celebrated scholar at Oxford, you know, very clever and bookish.”

“I did not know that, but I am not surprised. Well, I daresay you will meet him in company, as he and Mr. Bingley often attend dinners and parties.”

“How delightful,” Wickham replied, but his face was, if Elizabeth did not mistake herself, slightly pale.

At this moment, Lydia rushed up and declared that her aunt was setting up tables for lottery tickets and whist, and after some discussion, Elizabeth and the officers made their way to one of the two tables .

The ensuing games were enjoyable, but Elizabeth, at the back of her mind, found herself wondering about Lieutenant Wickham and his mysterious relationship with Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

/

On the Way to the Barracks

Meryton

Later

The gibbous moon hung in the sky like a great silver coin with the edges shaved, spilling milky light along the pale dirt road through Meryton. Amber lanterns hung beside house doorways and shops, glinting like giant fireflies and winking in and out of sight as the merry band passed by. Mrs. Phillips had served largely tea, with only a bit of wine for her guests, and every man among them was sober enough to keep his laughter low to avoid waking the sleeping residents of the town.

“What did we tell you, Wickham?” Captain Denny said jovially. “Are not the Bennet ladies beautiful? And as for Miss Stowe, while she is not as pretty as her cousins, she is a charming young woman, do you not think?”

“She is, and they are,” Wickham replied. “Tell me, do any of you know Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy?”

“Of Netherfield Hall?” Smythe asked. “Yes, of course! That is to say, we have been introduced to both gentlemen. I understand that Bingley has leased Netherfield Hall, the largest estate in the area, and Darcy is visiting. Why? Do you know either man?”

“I know Darcy, yes. Indeed, we grew up together, as my father was steward of Pemberley, Darcy’s estate, for the last thirty years of his life,” Wickham said. “Unfortunately, Darcy and I are on rather poor terms.”

This provoked exclamations from the various officers, and Denny said, “I am sorry to hear that, Wickham.”

“It is unfortunate,” Wickham agreed. “Does he attend many local functions?”

“I have seen him twice at dinners and the like,” Pratt remarked. “He is a quiet man but seems pleasant enough. Why are you and he on poor terms?”

Wickham considered rapidly. He would not, of course, mention his attempt to run away with Georgiana, as that would likely outrage his fellow officers; many of them had young sisters of their own .

“His father was my godfather and treated me with great favor. I believe that, most unfortunately, his only son was rather jealous of me, and once the older Mr. Darcy died, the current master of Pemberley decided that he wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“That is a pity,” Smythe said.

“Quite,” Wickham agreed unhappily.

There was silence for another couple of minutes, and then Denny said, “Do not worry, my friend. Miss Stowe has a substantial dowry and thus does not need to wed a rich man. I do not see why Darcy’s enmity would keep you from winning Miss Stowe’s favor.”

The officers turned onto the road which led to the Pig in the Poke and their beds, and Wickham said mournfully, “If she is like most ladies, she will not pay any of us attention while two gentlemen of means are living nearby.”

“I have heard that Bingley is pursuing the eldest Miss Bennet,” Smythe remarked, “and Miss Stowe is reputed to be an unusual lady in some ways.”

“In what ways?” Denny demanded.

“She apparently likes to walk a great deal,” Wickham commented, “or so says Bertha, one of the girls at the Pig in the Poke. She is also an enthusiastic reader. I share neither of those attributes, regrettably. ”

“One does not have to enjoy something to participate in the activity, surely,” Denny said with a chuckle. “Come, Wickham, would it be so terrible to call at Longbourn and escort Miss Stowe for a turn on the lawn, or even along one of the paths? You are a handsome and likable fellow, after all, and while I have no quarrel with Darcy, he is not particularly congenial.”

They had reached the pub by now, and Wickham opened the door for his fellows and then passed within, his spirits rising. It was true enough that he was blessed with far more charm than Darcy, who often sat around like an imposing block of wood.

Perhaps there was some hope that he could win the heiress. In any case, it was worth trying!