Page 65 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

“Charles.”

Bingley had been daydreaming and jerked in surprise, nearly toppling off his desk chair. He had retired to his study after dinner with the laudable intention of looking at the estate ledgers, but inevitably this activity had proven too dull to keep his mind from wandering to a vision of Miss Bennet’s angelic features.

“What is it, Caroline?” he asked, reaching out a few agitated fingers, which he used to move some papers in an entirely random and useless manner.

Caroline trod gracefully over to the desk and gazed down at her brother. “Charles, I was most distressed by Miss Bennet’s attitude toward you today. My dear brother, is it not obvious that she is quite set against you?”

Bingley opened his mouth in outrage, and she lifted a protesting hand. “I accept that your actions, and mine as well, were exceptionally hurtful. I acknowledge that. But if she is firmly, irrevocably decided against you, is it sensible to continue to pursue her? Dear Charles, I hate to think of you striving and suffering to win a woman who no longer has any interest in you!”

Bingley leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I know you strongly oppose my desire to wed Miss Bennet, but I will not give up until I am confident that I have no hope of winning her. After all, you have been pursuing Darcy for years without any encouragement from him in the least, and that has not discouraged you. I was once the recipient of Miss Bennet’s attachment and foolishly threw it away. If I am blessed to reignite her love for me, I will consider myself the most fortunate man on Earth.”

Caroline Bingley had flushed deep red at her brother’s reference to Darcy, and she shook her head in despair. “It is quite unlike you to cling like a leech to a woman who no longer has an interest in you!”

Bingley heaved out a long, slow breath. “Yes, it is quite unlike me, Caroline,” he agreed quietly. “For far too long, I have been content to drift aimlessly through life. I daresay I am no worse than many of my fellows, but I am no better than they are, either. It is true that Miss Bennet may never accept me, but I truly love her, and if I lose her due to my own cowardly behavior last November, it is no more than I deserve. But it has only been a few days since I offered for her and was refused. I will continue trying to win back Miss Bennet’s affections, even as Darcy seeks to win Miss Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”

Caroline Bingley snorted in an entirely unladylike way. “Do not be absurd, Charles; Miss Eliza is Mr. Darcy’s for the asking. If … if Mr. Darcy does propose to the girl, she will not let two seconds go by before she accepts him most enthusiastically.”

Bingley straightened the papers on this desk and rose to his feet before answering, “You are quite out, Caroline. Darcy proposed to Miss Elizabeth in Kent and was refused, though she did agree to a courtship. The lady is not entirely certain that they are compatible as marital partners, you see.”

His younger sister actually swayed in her place before collapsing onto a nearby chair. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had refused Mr. Darcy’s offer of marriage? Miss Elizabeth, second daughter of a mere country gentleman? Miss Elizabeth, who traipsed around in the mud and had no dowry? Miss Elizabeth, with her country clothing and minimal beauty? Miss Elizabeth, who would be lucky to win an offer from a solicitor or butcher? The entire world had indeed gone mad!

***

The drawing room at Longbourn was already filled with beautiful Bennet daughters and red-coated officers when George Wickham stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping the space in search of his target. A moment later, he spied the woman whom he had longed to see tonight.

“Miss Elizabeth!” George Wickham called, striding toward the beautiful young lady standing near the fireplace. “It is such a pleasure to see you again.”

Miss Jane Bennet was standing next to Miss Elizabeth, and Wickham turned his practiced smile on them both, though he let his eyes linger on the second Bennet daughter longer. The eldest Miss Bennet was one of the most handsome ladies of his extensive acquaintance, but he found her too serene to be interesting. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, it is a delight to see you both looking so well.”

“Mr. Wickham,” both ladies chorused, curtseying slightly. Wickham bestowed an unctuous bow on them both and straightened, only to feel a peculiar twinge of worry wriggle up his spine. Both women were gazing at him with peculiar expressions on their faces. Miss Bennet’s face was oddly blank, and Miss Elizabeth, though a slight smile was pinned on her lips, was not looking at him with the admiration which he expected and was, indeed, due. How very strange!

“I trust your sojourn in Kent was a pleasant one?” Wickham continued, deliberately infusing his voice with warmth.

“It was indeed,” Elizabeth Bennet replied crisply. “Not only did I enjoy a pleasant few weeks with my friend, Mrs. Collins, I found myself entering a courtship with a gentleman of some renown.”

Wickham was aware of a twinge of disappointment. He would never marry any of the Bennet girls, of course – they were far too poor to be a worthy wife to the godson of Mr. George Darcy – but he had thoroughly enjoyed his friendship with Miss Elizabeth. He had even hoped that the opportunity would arise for a more intimate relationship with the second daughter of Longbourn, though that seemed unlikely; Miss Elizabeth, while rather unconventional, would not give up her virtue easily.

“Congratulations!” he enthused. “Might I inquire as to the gentleman’s name?”

Elizabeth took a tiny step forward and glared up into the lieutenant’s face, declaring, “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Ice suddenly filled Wickham’s veins, and he dimly heard himself gasp in horrified shock. For a long moment, he merely stared at the girl, vaguely aware that Miss Bennet had stepped protectively nearer to her next younger sister.

“Mr. Darcy?” he repeated numbly.

“Yes, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy. It appears that the man is far more pleasant and noble an individual than I was led to believe. In fact, it appears that someone chose to fill my foolish ears with a quite ridiculous story about a denied living, when in fact that someone had accepted three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the parish in Kympton. It is really quite an astonishing thing, and a sad one, that a man of my acquaintance could be such a manipulative, ungrateful reprobate .”

Wickham took a horrified step backwards just as Lydia Bennet rushed up and grabbed his arm. “Oh, Mr. Wickham, how wonderful to see you this evening! The bell will ring within the minute, and my mother says we can sit together at dinner. Please do come, Mr. Wickham.”

The lieutenant managed a slight nod toward the glaring elder Bennet girls and stumbled away in shock. What had just happened?

***

Wickham could only be thankful that the two eldest Miss Bennets were seated near the head of the dining table, which had been lengthened considerably to accommodate the officers, and he was near the foot next to Miss Lydia.

“Mr. Wickham, are you quite all right?” Lydia asked innocently. “You are hardly eating at all!”

“My apologies, Miss Lydia,” Wickham replied, and realized, to his relief, that his brain was starting to work again. It was quite unconscionable of the universe to give him such a shock. He took a bite of well-dressed meat, chewed, swallowed, and then asked, in the most casual manner possible, “I understand that Miss Elizabeth has attracted a most impressive suitor.”

Lydia glanced up from the table at her sisters and nodded. “Oh, I see! You are upset about Lizzy and Mr. Darcy! I do hope you will not take it too much to heart, Mr. Wickham; Longbourn is entailed away to that tiresome Mr. Collins, and we will be quite poor when Papa dies. Mama is insistent that all of us try to find wealthy husbands, and Mr. Darcy is very rich!”

Wickham tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Yes, a substantial income is a most attractive quality for any man.”

“Yes, it is,” Lydia agreed warmly. “Lizzy is quite angry that you did not tell her about the three thousand pounds Mr. Darcy gave you for the church living, but Kitty is right – that was not nearly enough compensation for a valuable living!”

Wickham winced and then tried to cover his wince by moving his silver slightly on the table. “That is quite true, Miss Lydia. I was young and foolish when I accepted Darcy’s money for the living; he took advantage of my lack of experience.”

“Poor Mr. Wickham!”

“I feel I must say,” he continued with a little more assurance, “that I find it surprising that Darcy would give your sister even the hope of marriage. I understand that Darcy is nearly promised to his cousin, Miss de Bourgh, heiress of Rosings.”

Lydia had taken a bite of ragout and could only shake her head until she swallowed it. “No, no!” she insisted when she was capable of speech. “I do not believe that Miss de Bourgh is interested in marrying Mr. Darcy. He is such a proud, irritating man, after all, and she is rich. Miss de Bourgh is staying at Netherfield Park right now, and she and Lizzy are on good terms.”

Wickham felt an ember of hope kindle in his heart. He had not seen Miss Anne de Bourgh since Lady Catherine and her daughter had visited Pemberley eight years previously, but he remembered her as a feeble non-entity. If he could entice, or force, Miss de Bourgh to marry him, he would be set up for life!

***

“Mary,” Mr. Bennet said nervously, and gestured for his third daughter to sit down across from him. He had been encouraged by Kitty’s immediate enthusiasm about working on the estate books, but he was less certain how to relate to Mary, who was the only one of his daughters to not inherit Mrs. Bennet’s handsome features. Lacking beauty, the girl had turned to accomplishments to shore up her position in the family. Her attempts had been met with indifference from her father and disdain from her mother, who considered comeliness to be the primary accomplishment of any young woman in need of a husband.

Mr. Bennet had spent some time in thought and had an idea of what might work with his rather inscrutable third daughter, but it remained to be seen if his attempts would be met with even a modicum of success.

“Mary,” Mr. Bennet announced, reminding himself to use a gentle tone, “I have realized that I have entirely neglected the education of Kitty and Lydia such that both girls have a limited understanding of good literature. Since you are by far the most diligent of my daughters, I hoped you could tell me about your own methods for setting aside time for studying and learning, though I do not expect either of your younger sisters to be as devoted as you are.”

To his relief and surprise, Mary flushed a little and smiled at him. “I would be happy to assist. I believe diligence is the key, Father. Neither Kitty nor Lydia seems willing to set aside her own pleasure for true instruction.”

“That is entirely true,” her father admitted. “Of course, their temperaments are not as resolved as yours, but even small changes can add up to substantial improvement in the long term. I know that you have learned much from books, but do you think it would help if we hired a few masters to assist the girls in their pursuit of more knowledge than ribbons and dresses? Perhaps we should hire a music master so Lydia and Kitty could learn to play the pianoforte, or is it pointless to think they would wish to put in the necessary effort to acquire such skills?”

Mary chewed her lip thoughtfully. “In truth, I believe that unless they wish to play, it would be quite pointless. Playing the pianoforte is hard work and requires commitment and devotion to practicing. You could ask them, of course.”

“I believe I will, and Lizzy as well; of course, Elizabeth does play, but she has admitted that she does not play exceptionally well. I would be pleased to hire a master for you, if you would care to augment your skills with the instrument. Lizzy tells me that Miss Darcy, who plays exceptionally well, frequently works with a master; I suppose one can always learn more.”

Mary felt a leap of hope at these words. She knew, though she did not understand why, that gentlemen and ladies alike preferred Elizabeth’s playing to her own, though her own was more technically proficient. Perhaps if she had lessons from a master, she could discover what she was doing wrong.

“I would like that very much,” she assured Mr. Bennet, smiling again.

“Excellent, excellent!” her father said heartily. “Now, there is one other matter that is on my mind; namely, that Jane and Elizabeth have been elsewhere these last two months, and thus the tenant farmers’ wives have not been receiving their usual visits. I fear that your mother is not of a mind to think of such matters at the moment, and Elizabeth is spending time with Mr. Darcy, and Jane ... well, she has her own trials. I was hoping that perhaps...”

“I would be willing to visit them?” Mary asked eagerly. “Oh yes, it would be a great pleasure, Father. We are called by God to minister to those around us, after all, and this time of year is a busy one for the local families.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Mr. Bennet responded with a mixture of pleasure and guilt. It was clear that Mary had longed for attention and useful tasks for her busy hands, and he had neglected her for eighteen long years. Indeed, Mary would likely have thrived far better in a home like Lucas Lodge; the current Charlotte Collins, formerly the eldest Miss Lucas, had been raised by a practical mother who taught her daughters how to cook and bake and clean and manage a home. Mrs. Bennet, clutching frantically to her views of the appropriate activities of gentlemen’s daughters, had never allowed her own children to learn practical skills. It was a great pity. An even greater pity was that he, the patriarch of the family, had been too lazy and preoccupied to combat his wife’s foolish beliefs and prejudices.

“Thank you, Mary,” he said again.