Page 61 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
For the second time in a few days, Darcy found himself staring through a carriage window at the lovely face of Elizabeth Bennet.
It was quite a cavalcade. In the first carriage, pulled by Bingley’s new chestnuts, were Miss Bingley, Miss de Bourgh, Miss Colby, and a maid. The two Miss Bennets occupied their Uncle Gardiner’s carriage, pulled by job horses. Phoenix shifted under his master and neighed softly, and Darcy realized that once again he was unconsciously directing his steed toward Miss Elizabeth. With a sigh, he dropped back behind the two carriages, just as Bingley did the same thing from the other side of the conveyance where he had, no doubt, been pining over the handsome countenance of Miss Bennet.
The two lovelorn men exchanged sympathetic glances before Darcy pulled himself together. “I appreciate your willingness to host me and Miss de Bourgh, Bingley.”
“It is my pleasure, of course. I pray that your courtship with Miss Elizabeth will prove successful and I confess my hopes are not merely on your behalf, but mine. If you and Miss Elizabeth make a match of it, inevitably Miss Bennet and I will be in company more often.”
“That is true enough. Do you intend to speak to Mr. Bennet of your intentions toward Miss Bennet?”
His friend hesitated for a few seconds and then shook his head. “I think that would be unwise, Darcy. Miss Bennet has made it clear that she is not willing to enter into a courtship with me. I intend to be courteous and attentive, but not obtrusive, and speaking to Mr. Bennet might well be construed as pressure.”
“That seems very sensible,” Darcy approved, even as he felt a surge of satisfaction at his own lot in life. Elizabeth was, at least, willing to enter a courtship with him. It was an odd situation for both of them, complicated by the need to take down Wickham and retrieve Georgiana’s letters from the rogue, but he could not repine the situation. He had thought Elizabeth lost to him forever, and now he had hope.
***
Edward Street
London
“I am looking for Mrs. Younge?” the woman said hesitantly.
Mrs. Younge cast an experienced eye over her visitor. The woman was in her forties, her face and dress worn, her silvered hair thrown into a simple bun, her eyes weary.
“I am Mrs. Younge,” she said coolly. “Who are you?”
The woman tightened her grip on her satchel and ducked her head. “I am Mrs. Jamison. I understand you let out rooms? I wish to rent one.”
Mrs. Younge, former companion to Miss Darcy until she had been thrown out on her ear into the street, considered the woman thoughtfully. She looked poor but harmless.
“I do have a room available for fourteen shillings a week.”
Her prospective boarder shook her head with surprising determination. “’Tis far too much. Eight shillings.”
“I might be willing to let you have the room for twelve...”
A few minutes later, with the bargaining complete, Mrs. Younge led her new boarder to a small room on the second floor, whose window opened out on an odiferous alleyway. It was one of her least favorable rooms, but it was good enough for this woman.
When her new landlady had retreated out of the room, Mrs. Jenkinson cast a jaded look around her new quarters. She had been in worse rooms during her work with the League of the Golden Daffodil, but her fastidious eye noted the dust in the corners and faint mildew on the coverlet. Ah well, she would not be here long. Once she had recovered Georgiana Darcy’s missing letters and Wickham was permanently defanged, she would be on her way.
***
Elizabeth, with Jane behind her, stepped into the drawing room at Longbourn, her family home, where her mother and three youngest sisters had congregated. Mary, the third Miss Bennet and the only one not to inherit her mother’s beauty, was sitting in a corner reading Fordyce’s sermons. Kitty and Lydia, the fourth and fifth daughters, were leaning over a hat, quarreling over the appropriate ribbon color with which to decorate it. Mrs. Bennet was lying on a couch, half asleep.
“Good afternoon!” Elizabeth said, causing her sisters to look up in surprise, and Mrs. Bennet to leap to her feet with delight.
“My dear Jane, how beautiful you look!” the lady of the house exclaimed, rushing up to peer into the face of her eldest daughter. “London obviously agreed with you well enough.”
“Yes, Mama,” Jane replied in a subdued tone, and turned toward her father as Mr. Bennet strolled into the parlor to greet his eldest daughters.
“Lizzy, Jane, welcome back!” Mr. Bennet exclaimed, reaching forward to embrace his two most sensible girls. “Longbourn has missed you.”
“It is good to be back,” Elizabeth replied, kissing her father’s cheek. For all that Mr. Bennet was not a particularly diligent husband and father, he had always treasured his second born daughter, and she was grateful for his love.
“But come, girls, come!” Mrs. Bennet cried out. “I was never so surprised as when the message came from the Gardiners last night informing us that you were coming home today. What brings you here a full week before you were expected? Jane, is it possible that you saw Mr. Bingley while you were in Town? Is he returning to Netherfield Park?”
Jane cast a pleading glance at Elizabeth, who nobly stepped into the breach. “In truth, Mama, Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield this very day.”
Mrs. Bennet squealed in thrilled excitement. “Oh Jane, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I have no doubt that once he has gazed upon your lovely face and form, he will be entirely enraptured. We will see you at Netherfield at last!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth responded, making her voice loud and her diction crisp. “Mr. Bingley is returning to the estate primarily so that he can host Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Lydia, the youngest, tallest, and most boisterous Bennet sister demanded. “Why would he wish to return? He is so cold and proud and distant. We will do very well without him!”
“He is here,” Elizabeth continued, keeping her spine rigid, “because of me. He has requested that he and I enter a courtship, and I have agreed.”
Silence fell for all of five seconds, to be broken by gasps of astonishment, dismay, and yes, excitement.
“Lizzy, how could you?! Mr. Darcy was so cruel to poor Mr. Wickham. You cannot...” Lydia yelped.
“My dear Lizzy, are you mad?” Mr. Bennet demanded, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. “Have you not always hated the man?”
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet screeched happily, “Mr. Darcy has ten thousand pounds a year and a large estate. Elizabeth is being very sensible...”
“Please, please, do let me speak,” Elizabeth insisted loudly. “I know this is a tremendous surprise and it will take some time to explain. Might we all sit down?”
“Of course, my dear, of course! Sally, do bring tea in for us! Oh, Lizzy, what pin money you shall have!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said gravely, sinking onto a couch and drawing Jane down next to her, “we are not engaged, merely in a courtship. We both have yet to determine whether we are truly compatible.”
“My dear Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet said, his face grim, “I do beg you, with all my heart, that you not enter into a marriage with a man you dislike, even if he is rich and handsome.”
The unaccustomed fervor in Mr. Bennet’s voice silenced even Mrs. Bennet, who stared at her husband with open confusion.
“I do not necessarily dislike Mr. Darcy now,” Elizabeth stated, lifting her chin up. “He is a far more admirable man than I previously thought; he is not perfect, of course, but then none of us are.”
“What of poor Mr. Wickham?” Lydia cried indignantly. “Mr. Darcy stole the living from him, the one that the elder Mr. Darcy intended for his godson!”
Elizabeth compressed her lips into a fine line and took a deep breath to calm her outrage. “Mr. Wickham deceived us in that regard. Mr. Darcy was willing to give him the living, but Mr. Wickham chose not to obtain orders and received three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the living. He was also given an additional one thousand pounds from the elder Mr. Darcy’s will.”
There was a soft gasp of astonishment from Mary. “Four thousand pounds! That is an enormous sum!”
“How do you know this?” Kitty demanded, coughing anxiously.
“Mr. Darcy told me.”
“You cannot believe Mr. Darcy,” Lydia insisted. “He was probably lying because he wishes you to think better of him.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom I met in Kent, confirmed the truth of Mr. Darcy’s claims in the matter. Indeed, now that I think back on my interactions with Mr. Wickham, I see that he was indelicate to make such accusations about Mr. Darcy to a new acquaintance. I was eager to listen to gossip about Mr. Darcy and accepted Mr. Wickham’s lies with shameful enthusiasm.”
“The words of a talebearer are as dainty morsels, and they go down into the innermost parts,” Mary pontificated. “Proverbs 18:8.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly at her next younger sister. She found Mary’s quotations generally off the mark but in this case, she was completely right.
“You are entirely correct, Mary,” she admitted, “but now I know better. Mr. Darcy is intelligent, well read, and a good master to Pemberley. I would be foolish to disdain at least the possibility of a marriage between us.”
“Yes, you would!” Mrs. Bennet suddenly shrieked. “My dear Lizzy, I do beg you to make yourself entirely agreeable to Mr. Darcy. Ten thousand pounds a year and a large estate in Derbyshire! We would be entirely saved, even if Mr. Bingley does not come up to scratch for Jane.”
Jane, who had been sitting quietly by Elizabeth, grimaced at this statement and then flinched as her mother and sisters focused their stares on her. To her surprise and gratitude, Kitty suddenly spoke up, drawing the attention of her family away from her.
“Three thousand pounds does sound like a substantial sum,” the fourth Bennet daughter remarked, her brow furrowed thoughtfully, “but in truth, if it is a good living worth three hundred fifty pounds a year, that is only nine and a quarter years of the value of the living. Furthermore, Mr. Wickham would be living in the parsonage, which would save him the value of the rent or purchase every year, plus there is the glebe to consider, which would have produced extra income. Perhaps Mr. Wickham felt, in retrospect, that three thousand pounds was not nearly enough.”
Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet stared at Kitty in astonishment and Lydia exclaimed. “Yes, that was not nearly enough! Mr. Wickham is young and could have held the living for decades, though admittedly he would not have worn a red coat, which would be a great pity. But still…”
“But still,” Elizabeth continued, recovering from astonishment at Kitty’s surprising mathematical skills, “a living is held by a parson until his death or retirement, and there was no guarantee, when Mr. Wickham accepted the money, that the living would be available within a few years or a decade or two decades, even! No, my dear sister, three thousand pounds was an extraordinary sum, and based on my conversations with Mr. Wickham, and his subtle complaints about his poverty, he spent it all, plus the additional thousand pounds, within a year or two, which indicates he has profligate, spendthrift ways.”
“He is so handsome, Lizzy. This cannot be true!”
“Now Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet snapped, stepping forward to glare into the eyes of her youngest and favorite child, “I will not permit you to destroy this opportunity. In truth, what happened between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham is not our concern. You know that when your father dies, Mr. Collins will inherit Longbourn and we will be thrown into the hedgerows. My portion is not enough to support us all. Mr. Darcy is extremely wealthy, and he would not allow his wife’s family to starve. You will not say anything rude to Mr. Darcy, is that entirely clear? If you bungle this for our family, I will banish you back into the school room, and you will have no new dresses for the next two years!”
Lydia, whose face had been set truculently, now paled noticeably. “But ... but Mama!”
“No, Lydia! None of you were kind enough to be boys and thus break the entail, and thus one of you must marry well. I never expected Elizabeth to attract a man like Mr. Darcy but she has, and we will thank God for it, rejoice in it, and encourage it as much as possible.”
Elizabeth was torn between relief at her mother’s approbation and worry at her mother’s exuberance. She knew that Darcy found Mrs. Bennet quite objectionable; would he be more or less disturbed if she tried to be agreeable to him?