Page 24 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Longbourn

“This way, sir,” the Bennets’ butler said.

Darcy nodded and followed the man down a corridor and into the drawing room, which he scanned quickly and with a small breath of relief. Bingley, unsurprisingly, was present on the settee close beside his fiancée, whose hand he was holding. Miss Mary sat beneath a window, with Fordyce's Sermons open on her lap. Adjacent to her and also in the blocks of sunlight falling through the panes, Miss Kitty bent over swathes of needlework. Of the mistress of the house and Bingley's sisters, there was no sign, and Darcy could only be grateful. It had been a fraught several days, and he had no wish for his return to be heralded by histrionics or sneering comments.

“Mr. Darcy,” the butler announced, which provoked a cry of excitement from Bingley.

“Darcy!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and hurrying over to shake his hand. “Do you have any news?”

Darcy turned and watched as the butler retreated out of the room and shut the door, and then deliberately walked over to the fire, both to warm himself and to move as far away from the door as possible. Given the upheaval at Longbourn, it was not beyond possibility that a curious servant might choose to listen at the keyhole.

“The news is good,” he said softly to the four anxious countenances facing him. “Miss Lydia and Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet are likely in Kympton by now, and Alexander Wickham will be marrying Miss Lydia as soon as possible.”

This, not surprisingly, provoked shocked expressions on the part of his entire audience, and it was a short time before Bingley, his brow scrunched with confusion, said, “ Alexander Wickham? I understood that it was his brother, George, who had…”

He trailed away, and Darcy said carefully, “There was a good deal of bewilderment over the matter, I fear. After all, identical twins are a rarity. But it is Mr. Alexander Wickham who is engaged to Miss Lydia, not Lieutenant Wickham, who just returned from London a few hours ago.”

The ladies exchanged puzzled glances, and Jane Bennet said, rather hesitantly, “I suppose that is good news?”

“I do not, of course, approve of Mr. Wickham’s decision to run away with Miss Lydia in such a way, but he is an honorable man, and Miss Lydia will be well cared for in Kympton.”

“But why would Lydia wish to marry Mr. Alexander instead of Lieutenant Wickham?” Miss Kitty demanded. “Militia officers are so handsome in their red coats, and parsons are so very dull!”

“Alexander Wickham is blessed with a living which provides him with almost three hundred pounds a year,” Darcy explained, “whereas the lieutenant will earn around eighty pounds a year in the militia. Miss Lydia, as a gentleman’s daughter, will doubtless enjoy the pleasure of having several servants, along with good food and clothing and the like.”

Miss Bennet was watching with thoughtful eyes, and she now rose and said, “Well, this is truly marvelous news, and I am confident Mamma wishes to know of it as quickly as possible. Girls, shall we tell Mother?”

The other Bennet women nodded eagerly and proceeded towards the door, while Miss Bennet held back and said, “Mr. Darcy, I hope you will stay for dinner?”

“Thank you, I would be honored,” he said with a nod of his head.

She smiled her glorious smile and glided gracefully out of the room, shutting it firmly behind her.

Bingley waited until the two men were alone and then gestured toward a chair. “Sit down and tell me everything, Darcy. I am well aware that there is far more to this story than what you have said.”

Darcy obediently sat down and, after Bingley had done the same, explained the entirety in detail. His friend, while loquacious and congenial, could be trusted to hold his tongue. Moreover, he was marrying Jane Bennet and deserved to know the whole truth.

When he had finished his explanation, Bingley shook his head in wonder. “The Bennets and I owe a great deal to Alexander Wickham for his willingness to marry Lydia. Do you think she will accept him?”

Darcy hesitated and then said, “I think so. Bennet was absolutely furious at his youngest daughter’s behavior, and we agreed that if she refused to marry Alexander, she would be confined to a small cottage on the Pemberley estate, potentially for the rest of her life. I am confident she will wisely choose to marry Alexander who, after all, looks exactly like him. It is not as if she is actually in love with George.”

“And do you truly approve of Mr. Alexander’s offer to marry Miss Lydia under such circumstances?”

Darcy turned his face toward the crackling fire, and for the tenth time in the last day, the lovely image of Elizabeth Bennet rose in his mind’s eye. Alexander had noticed his interest in the second Miss Bennet, and while Darcy had not confessed to his fascination with the lady, his old friend was entirely correct. He admired Miss Elizabeth very much, and the thought of her being ruined because of her stupid sister was a devastating one.

“I did not encourage Alexander to marry Miss Lydia,” he said carefully, turning back toward his friend, “but after speaking to him at length, I am both grateful and understanding of his, well, I will call it what it is, his sacrifice. I fear Miss Lydia will not be a particularly good wife, but Mr. Bennet has arranged to pay Alexander one hundred and fifty pounds a year for Lydia’s upkeep, and I promised to have George sent to the Peninsula as a foot soldier so that he can no longer harm anyone here.”

Bingley nodded soberly and, after a moment of contemplation, said, “I would be glad to assist with that financially, Darcy. I obviously am grateful to Mr. Alexander for his offer to Miss Lydia, as it will allow me and Jane to enter our marriage without scandal.”

“Thank you, Bingley, but that will not be necessary. Alexander is a sensible man and already has a good living. As for Wickham, I will be sending a letter to my cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, who last I knew was in London. He loathes George Wickham to the very core of his being and will doubtless enjoy escorting our mutual enemy to Brighton, where he will be trained to fight for England.”

Bingley mulled this over and then nodded. “Very well. Our wedding is scheduled for a few days from now. Do you know when Mr. Bennet will return? Jane would, of course, like him to give her away.”

Darcy grimaced and said, “I think you might need to delay the ceremony. Alexander intends to wed Miss Lydia as quickly as possible, but he will need to purchase a common license, and without a doubt, there must be some traveling time to take into account. The other option is for Mr. Phillips to walk Miss Bennet down the aisle. Mr. Bennet asked me to tell you that, while he would like to be at his eldest daughter’s wedding, he understands if you do not wish to wait for him to return to Hertfordshire.”

Bingley blew out a breath and said, “I believe Jane will wish to wait until her father returns, but I will ask her. Given how badly this could have turned out, I am at ease with waiting a few additional days.”

“That seems perfectly reasonable,” Darcy agreed, just as the door opened and Mrs. Bennet flew in, her expression delighted.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, how wonderful to hear that Lydia will be well married to Mr. Alexander, such a fine man and with a good living?”

“Yes, an excellent living,” Darcy agreed.

“Oh, it is entirely glorious, so long as Lydia is not the heiress of Longbourn. I suppose that Mr. Bennet did not say anything to you on that subject?”

Darcy pinched his lips at this question and was relieved when Miss Bennet said, “I am certain Father will explain all that when he returns. Now Charles, I know you wished to return to Netherfield for a time before dinner?”

“Indeed,” her fiancé replied. “Darcy, would you care to come to Netherfield with me?”

“Thank you, yes,” Darcy replied with a mixture of enthusiasm and uneasiness. He wanted to change his attire and read his mail, but of course, he did not look forward to speaking with Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, both of whom doubtless would share their noisy views of Miss Lydia’s folly.

***

Darcy Carriage

On the Road to Netherfield

“My sisters and Mr. Hurst have returned to London,” Bingley said as the carriage pulled onto the main road which led through Meryton. “We had a towering argument over my marriage, as my sisters wished for me to break the engagement with Jane. I threw them out of Netherfield and will not welcome them back.”

Darcy stared at his friend incredulously. Of all the surprising aspects of the previous week, this was perhaps the most remarkable. Bingley had always been a gentle soul and, in Darcy’s opinion, rather too meek in the face of his sisters’ demands.

Or perhaps, he mused, it was not meekness so much as indifference. Charles Bingley did not care to be at odds with those around him, and he was not a fastidious man. He was generally amenable with going along with his more strong- willed companions, but in this case, it seemed he had asserted himself.

“Are you very shocked?” Bingley asked in some concern.

“No, no,” Darcy said quickly and then smiled a little. “I am surprised, yes, and I will confess, pleased. I have been traveling hard for some days and was not looking forward to listening to Miss Bingley’s questions and haranguing about Miss Lydia.”

“Well, you need not worry about that,” Charles said, his eyes narrowed with most unaccustomed irritation. “I love Jane with all my heart, and I will not permit my sisters to persecute her in any way. I think it will be some time before I see them again.”

***

The Pig in the Poke Pub and Inn

Meryton

George Wickham took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and plastered on his most charming smile. His hand did not shake at all as he pulled open the door to his tiny garret bedroom and stepped out into the hall. The clock on the wall informed him that he had passed many hours in slumber and that evening had arrived. He felt no compunction for this; the past few days had been exhausting and discouraging at best. To then arrive and be held in Colonel Forster's office as his commanding officer shouted at him had been a dreadful shock and humiliation.

Wickham had retired from the office in disorder when he was finally dismissed and had trod the old familiar path to his dingy little barracks room. It was not what he deserved as the godson of George Darcy, but it was at least familiar, and it was a safe place where he could hide from his colonel’s temper. He had long known that under Darcy's haughtily righteous manner lived a vindictive soul, but he had never suspected that the colonel's mild disposition could disguise such wrath.

He had wasted a full half-hour upon waking, lying on his thin mattress, with fruitless plotting. The idea of becoming a common infantry soldier on the Continent was so hideous as to be nearly ungraspable. He had heard tales of the horrors endured by the soldiers; wet and mud; ungodly early mornings; long, arduous, slogging marches; filthy, rotten food; endless drills; disease and vermin. It was enough to wring a whimper from his lips.

Wickham had – feverishly, desperately – considered alternatives. He still had a handful of carefully hoarded coins left from the money that Lydia had entrusted to him when they set out together. He could rise now and flee, could hire a horse at the livery, perhaps, and ride to London. It would be easy enough to lose himself in the city's seedy underbelly, though unpleasant. Possibly an extended stay with his former paramour, Mrs. Younge? She ran a boarding house now and would enjoy the pleasures of his company. Only for a time, though ... but would not Darcy – blast him! – think to inquire with her first?

But no, it was not worth the risk, as Colonel Forster would doubtless react unpleasantly to yet another disappearance on his part. The man was clearly not as easy-going as Wickham had assumed. Based on the man’s vitriol, he would take offense to Wickham's vanishing and order a search to be made. If he were caught as a deserter, he would be court-martialed and hung, like a common criminal!

Wickham wondered peevishly what it was about silly, loud Lydia Bennet that had inspired all these men to so resent the besmirching of her dubious honor, when her own father could scarcely be bothered. He had encountered enraged fathers before, of course, after pleasurable trysts with farm girls and yokel hostelry maids, but he had always been ready to leave town swiftly and found these indignant men more a source of amusement than fear.

He had thought himself so very clever in stoking Miss Lydia’s fears of being forced to remain unwed for the sake of the nervous, whining Mrs. Bennet. The combination of his open admiration and her desire to escape such a fate had allowed him to seduce the girl in a few short days. Once she had agreed to the journey to Gretna Green, it had been the work of a few minutes to convince her to bring all the money she could lay her hands on, even as he plotted to delay their trek so that Mr. Bennet could catch up with them and be compelled to pay well to salvage his youngest daughter’s reputation.

Instead, Darcy had gotten involved and the master of Pemberley and Colonel Forster, in combined force, were genuinely terrifying. He could not endure debtors’ prison, and a court martial would likely see him swinging at the end of a noose! Thus, Wickham had, with great reluctance, come to the conclusion that acquiescing to Darcy's cruel plan was his only feasible option.

Dusk had fallen over the bustling streets of the small town when Wickham stepped out of the door, the western sky painted in shades of mauve and lavender and indigo. Warm amber light spilled welcomingly through the windows of the inn across the street. He could see, through the glass, the other officers clustered around one of the front tables, eating and drinking and laughing together. Another deep, bracing breath, and Wickham pulled open the heavy oak door and stepped over the threshold.

“Wickham!” Captain Denny cried out. “We were just talking about you! The news is all over Meryton that your brother ran away with Miss Lydia Bennet. Is that true?”

George Wickham forced himself to smile genially and said, “It is true, yes, though I only now learned of it myself, as I have recently returned from London.”

“I confess to astonishment,” Lieutenant Pratt remarked, gesturing toward a servant girl, who hurried over to take drink orders. “I thought your brother, as a man of the cloth, would not be so bold as to run off in such a way.”

George produced a lopsided grin and said, “I am surprised but think it rather more likely that Miss Lydia was the impetus behind their flight. Alexander has always lived in my shadow and has never had much luck with the ladies. I would imagine he was bowled over when a pretty girl preferred him to me, and thus ran off without thinking about it sufficiently.”

“Do you think he will actually wed the girl?” Denny asked lazily.

“Oh, of course he will,” George replied. “My brother would never run off with a woman and not marry her!”

“That will make Bingley happy,” Lieutenant Smythe remarked. “He is intending to wed Miss Bennet soon, and the last thing he needs is a scandal.”

“Quite,” George replied through gritted teeth and then lapsed into silence as the servant girl placed his meal on the table in front of him.

The conversation became general, and he ate with alacrity. It was excellent fare, and it was an unhappy thought that he would soon be relegated to far poorer food, but there was nothing he could do about it.