Page 5 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

On the Road to Meryton

Tuesday, 19 th November, 1811

It was, in Elizabeth’s opinion, perfect walking weather, crisp and cool, without too much of a breeze, the dirt underfoot hard-packed and solid and not too dusty. It had been gray recently, but the clouds had now reluctantly parted to show blue sky and watery-weak winter sunlight. Elizabeth took a deep breath of the sharp air, relishing the brisk exercise.

There had been no time for pleasure walks the last week. Mrs. Howell, one of the tenant farmers’ wives, had been delivered of a very small son a full month early. One of her older urchins had rushed up to Longbourn to bring the news and had sent the household into a flurry of activity. Jane and Elizabeth had promptly donned their cloaks, while Mary saw about gathering together blankets and food to take, and Mrs. Bennet bustled off to reassign Sally’s duties for the time being so the sturdy girl could go help the new mother and her family.

The three eldest Bennet girls had each made sure to visit at least once a day, bearing food and clothes and baby blankets for the little mite and comfort for the anxious parents. But despite expectations, the small boy had started nursing well and gained weight, and he now showed every sign of surviving to his parents’ and siblings’ jubilation. The Bennet girls were equally glad, but tired, and had taken this day to rest themselves. Mary had stayed home, eager to play the pianoforte without interruptions, while her four sisters walked into Meryton to visit their aunt Phillips for tea.

It was not proving a relaxing walk, and Elizabeth exchanged a wry glance with Jane. Ahead of them a few paces, Lydia and Kitty were giggling together in a rather besotted manner over the prospect of Captain Denny’s return from London, whence he had repaired on militia business the previous week. The two girls were being incredibly silly, in Elizabeth’s opinion, and dismayingly boisterous. But since their parents refused to rein in their youngest girls, there was little enough that Elizabeth or Jane could do, save remonstrate the younger girls when they were being particularly vulgar or stupid.

The buildings on the edge of Meryton loomed in front of them, and soon the four girls were in the heart of the city, headed for their aunt’s house. Men in red coats strolled the streets, and the youngest two Bennets watched them like hawks for any sign of their favored officers. A squeal from Lydia heralded some news, and Elizabeth and Jane both looked across the street as their younger sister gesticulated excitedly. “Kitty, look! Captain Denny is back. And who is that man with him?”

“I do not know, but he is very handsome,” Kitty said dreamily.

The young man certainly was well-favored. He bore the air of a gentleman in his posture and his gait and his pleasant expression and in the modulated pitch of his voice as he spoke with the captain. Nature had been kind to him, for his every feature and very form seemed designed to please. Elizabeth observed him with interest and could not help feeling a rush of pleasure when, upon Denny seeing the ladies and bowing to them, the newcomer lit up in a most becoming smile.

Lydia waved back enthusiastically and seized Kitty’s arm to trip across the road, saying brightly, “Do come along, I would like to look at the bonnet in the milliner’s window over there!”

Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who looked back with a longsuffering smile, and then the two older girls followed their sisters across the road, their shoes clicking across the cobbles. They had only just attained the walk in front of the milliner’s shop when Captain Denny and his friend, having turned back, arrived at the very spot.

“Good morning, ladies,” Captain Denny said warmly, with a special smile for Lydia. The Bennet girls returned their own greetings and curtseys, and Denny said, “May I introduce my friend, Mr. George Wickham, who returned with me from London to join our regiment. Wickham, this is Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia, of Longbourn.”

Bows and curtseys were once again exchanged, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to examine Mr. Wickham at closer quarters. It was just as well, she decided whimsically, that he was to join the militia, for he needed only red regimentals to complete the picture of his perfection. Already, he was engaging the fascinated youngest Bennets with a gentle jocularity that did him credit, Elizabeth thought.

“Mr. Wickham, Captain Denny,” Lydia squealed. “Will you not join us at our Aunt Phillips’s house for tea? It is just down the street a little way, and I am certain she would be very pleased to see you!”

“Thank you, Miss Lydia,” Wickham said with easy courtesy. “I am most grateful for your invitation, but I must speak to my new commander, Colonel Forster. Perhaps another time?”

“Oh, indeed,” Lydia replied, fluttering her eyelashes. “The officers are invited to all the parties and amusements. I am certain we will see you often!”

“I look forward to it, ladies,” Wickham said and walked away with Denny, leaving the Bennet sisters to make their way in the other direction to their aunt’s house.

Mrs. Phillips greeted them with cries of delight and immediately ordered a maid to bring in tea and muffins for her nieces. Once the ladies were settled, with cups in hand and muffins on plates, Lydia exclaimed, “Aunt Phillips, what do you know about that wonderful young man we just met?”

“Which young man, my dear?” her aunt returned, her faded blue eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

“His name is Mr. Wickham,” Kitty declared, her face aglow with excitement. “He is very handsome. Do you not think so, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. “He is indeed a very handsome and charming young man, not only in his appearance, but in his voice and gestures. I hope we will be able to see him soon.”

“Well, as to that, my dears, I will charge your uncle to find this Mr. Wickham and invite him to a little dinner party I plan to have tomorrow night, if you girls will be available, that is.”

“Oh, we will, we will!” Lydia exclaimed, “I am certain of it, and I will sit next to him at dinner and dance with him at the Netherfield Ball!”

Elizabeth, while she winced at her youngest sister’s noisy boasting, could not help but be pleased at the prospect of spending more time with the handsome Mr. Wickham. He was, without a doubt, one of the most remarkable young men she had ever met.

***

The Pig in the Poke Pub and Inn

Two Hours Later

George Wickham nodded as a young woman deposited a plate of ham and eggs onto the rough table in front of him, and said, “Thank you, Miss.”

The girl, a buxom individual of some twenty summers, smiled widely, showing white teeth, and said, “Your ale will be along shortly, sir.”

“That would be delightful, Miss…”

“Polly, sir.”

He grinned and allowed his eyes to rake her from head to toe. “Thank you, Polly.”

The girl giggled and tripped off to collect Wickham’s drink, and he turned back to his four fellow officers, who were regarding him with varying degrees of irritation.

“Denny,” Lieutenant Pratt said, turning a beady eye on the captain, “What were you thinking inviting Wickham to join the regiment? What chance do the rest of us have with the ladies now? He is already intriguing and attractive, and when he is wearing his regimentals, I daresay he will be irresistible! I am inclined to challenge you to a duel for such treachery!”

This provoked laughs from the other men, and Wickham felt his chest puff out at these words, though he did not deny them, either. Denny was glib of tongue but not particularly good looking, while Pratt and Smythe were both reasonably handsome, but uncomfortable in company. The last of the party, Lieutenant Chamberlyne, was cheerful enough, but rather ugly. No, Wickham was the most enticing of the lot, and he intended to make use of his attributes.

“Tell me, gentlemen,” he said as he took a bite of ham and then a sip of ale, which had appeared at his elbow. “How many gentle families are there about? How many pretty young ladies?”

This was a popular topic, of course, and the other four men spoke exuberantly of the local families with daughters, and it was not long before Wickham learned that the most popular family was the Bennets, whom he had met only a few hours previously. Given the beauty of all four women, he was not at all surprised, though there was one important detail which had not yet been discussed.

“So the Bennet ladies do not have a brother?” he asked.

“They do not,” Denny agreed, busily cutting up his ham with fork and knife. “Fortunately, there is no entail, so Miss Bennet is heiress of Longbourn.”

“Indeed?” Wickham inquired, his eyes lighting up, which caused Smythe, seated at his left, to slap him gently on the arm.

“I know what you are thinking,” Smythe said with a grin, “but the lady is two and twenty and has not yet accepted an offer, though rumor has it that more than one has been made. She is a lovely creature, is she not?”

“She is,” Wickham agreed, the enchanting face of Miss Bennet appearing in his mind’s eye. “Well, we must hope that the lady prefers regimentals to civilian attire.”

Denny shook his head despondently. “I have also heard that Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet are courting, unofficially at least.”

“Mr. Bingley?” Wickham demanded with a frown. “Who is he?”

“A young man of some five and twenty years,” Pratt remarked. “Quite handsome and, more importantly, rich. He has leased nearby Netherfield Hall, starting about a month ago, and Denny is right; Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley spend a great deal of time together.”

Wickham sighed. “Well, what of the other ladies? Do the other three Bennet daughters have dowries?”

“There are four other daughters, actually,” Chamberlaine said. “The middle daughter is not a beauty like her sisters, though she plays the pianoforte well. Regrettably, none of them have much in the way of a dowry, though.”

Wickham sighed at these words, and Smythe frowned and said, “There is Bingley right now, Wickham, on the bay. He is a pleasant young man and…”

Wickham missed the rest of the sentence because his entire body was suddenly frozen in shock and horror. Surely that could not be...?

“Wickham? Wickham!”

He jerked and turned toward Denny, who was staring at him with bemusement. “Yes?”

“What is it, Wickham?” the captain asked. “You just turned white as if you had seen a ghost!”

Wickham blew out a breath and managed a slight smile. “I will confess to some surprise. There was a gentleman riding with Mr. Bingley who looked familiar, though it seems impossible that my ... my acquaintance would be here.”

“His name is Mr. Darcy,” Smythe said. “He is a close friend to Mr. Bingley and, if rumor is accurate, master of a great estate in Derbyshire, which garners a full ten thousand pounds per annum.”

Wickham’s throat was even drier now, and he poured half the glass of ale down his throat. When he lowered his glass, it was to find the other officers staring at him with varying degrees of curiosity.

He was adept at keeping his expression neutral, and he allowed himself a few seconds of thought before saying, “I know Darcy rather well, but we are not on good terms. It is a great pity, as I had hoped to find myself welcome here.”

The other men exchanged glances, and Denny said, “I would not worry too much, Wickham. Darcy has not made many friends here in Meryton.”

Wickham’s chest eased at these words, and he cast his eyes heavenward. “Allow me to guess. Darcy is cold, and silent, and overly proud in company.”

Smythe chuckled. “You do know him, Wickham! That is precisely it. He is haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, are not at all inviting, while you will doubtless win the hearts of the local matrons and their daughters within minutes of your introduction.”

“And if it is Miss Bennet you wish to pursue,” Pratt remarked, “you need not concern yourself that Darcy is pursuing the lady, only Bingley.”

“Darcy?” Wickham snorted. “There is not a chance in the world that he, of all men, would marry a country miss. He is very well connected, you know; his uncle is an earl! Rumors are that he will marry his cousin, a Miss Anne de Bourgh, who is heiress of a great estate in Kent.”

“Why are you and he on bad terms?” Denny asked.

Wickham hesitated dramatically and donned a sorrowful expression. “It is a sad story, really. I am the son of a former steward of Pemberley, and old Mr. Darcy, gone these five years now, was very kind to me and stood as my godfather. I think the current Mr. Darcy was always jealous of his father’s affection for me. It has made us enemies. Not on my part, because I can never denigrate the son while honoring the father, but he looks upon me with dislike and disdain.”

“That is a pity, but you and he will not likely often be in company,” Pratt remarked, “so I would not worry about it.”

Wickham was, indeed, worried about meeting Darcy again, especially after his failed attempt to run off with Darcy’s younger sister only a few months previously, but Darcy would not wish to have Georgiana’s name bandied around. He should be safe enough so long as he avoided Darcy as much as possible.

“I will not worry about it,” he promised his fellow officers.