Page 66 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

“Wickham?” Captain Denny asked.

Wickham looked up irritably from his very late breakfast at the Pig in the Poke, Meryton’s foremost drinking and eating establishment. “What is it, Denny? My head is throbbing like a horseshoe being beaten by a blacksmith.”

Denny grinned at this. “Drank a little too deeply last night, my friend?”

Wickham moaned miserably and took a careful bite of toast. The eggs looked as well cooked as always, but his stomach was churning. He had better stick to more benign food. “Yes, I did.”

“Well, I wanted to ask you about this Miss de Bourgh you mentioned last night while you were drinking yourself into oblivion,” Denny explained cheerfully, seating himself without invitation.

This caused Wickham to lift his head with some semblance of alertness. “What about her?”

“I believe she is at the bookstore here in town right now.”

Wickham felt a surge of excitement course through his veins at these casual words. “Why do you think that?”

“You said she is staying at Netherfield, and this woman arrived in the Bingley carriage.”

“What does she look like?” Wickham demanded eagerly.

“The lady is not very tall, thin, and expensively dressed. She has a narrow face, dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She is no great beauty, but I suppose a great heiress does not need to be especially handsome.”

“Yes, that is Miss de Bourgh. I assume she is not alone?” Wickham asked with trepidation. If Darcy was with her, there was not much hope he would be able to approach the heiress to Rosings.

“No, there is some dab of a female with her; based on clothing, a companion of some kind. Darcy is not with her, or Bingley either, if that is what you are asking.”

At these words, Wickham’s headache fled, and the lieutenant bounced to his feet. “Thank you, Denny.”

“For what?” his fellow officer demanded indignantly.

“I am off to casually meet her.”

“I did not tell you of her presence so you could make up to her, Wickham, but so that you could give me hints on how to best approach the lady myself!”

Wickham grinned unrepentantly at his friend and replied, “Give it up, my lad. You are a decent-looking fellow, but not nearly as handsome as I am. Besides, you cannot meet Miss de Bourgh without an introduction, whereas we are old acquaintances.”

Denny scowled and then phlegmatically pulled his companion’s eggs toward himself. “Very well. Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

***

“Mr. Wickham is approaching the bookstore,” Priscilla Colby murmured to her employer.

“Excellent,” Anne de Bourgh replied. Miss Colby drifted a few feet away, so that she was near but not too near, and Anne bent over a book of Shakespearean sonnets.

The door opened and quietly shut, and for several minutes, all was quiet save for the sound of male boots moving about casually. Anne waited patiently, reading and re-reading Sonnet Ninety-eight.

“Miss de Bourgh?” inquired a surprised voice.

Anne looked up and pasted on a haughty expression, which she maintained for some ten seconds before it disappeared in favor of a hesitant smile. “Mr. Wickham? Is it truly you?”

Wickham, not surprisingly, looked pleased. “Yes, Miss de Bourgh! This is a delightful happenstance! It has been far too long since I have looked upon your beautiful face!”

Anne produced a blush at these overtly flattering words and responded, “It has indeed. I believe I was but seventeen years of age when last we saw one another at Pemberley. It seems a lifetime ago.”

“You have only grown more lovely with time, Miss de Bourgh.”

Anne was far too gifted an actress to roll her eyes, but she was tempted to do so. She had a pragmatic view of her own looks, which were neither plain nor handsome. Her attraction to men like George Wickham would always be the extensive coffers of Rosings.

“Your red coat tells me that you are a member of the militia, Mr. Wickham,” she declared. “When did you start serving our king in this way? I had no idea that you were a military man!”

“In truth, it was only a few months ago,” her target responded, displaying even white teeth for her inspection. “It is not entirely what I expected for my life back when last we met, but life is full of surprises, is it not? My time here in Meryton has been full of pleasant social activities and I truly cannot repine my lot in life. But please, what brings you to Hertfordshire, Miss de Bourgh?”

“I am staying with Mr. Bingley of Netherfield, who is hosting my cousin, Mr. Darcy, as well. Mr. Darcy is courting a young lady, and my mother wishes me to spend time with Darcy’s potential wife to be certain that she is suitable.”

Wickham eyed her intently. “Ah yes, I do remember some mention of that at Longbourn last night; your cousin is interested in Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I believe.”

“Yes, quite,” Anne returned, hardening her tone slightly.

“A most attractive young woman,” Wickham commented nonchalantly.

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth is very attractive,” Anne said in a rather wooden tone. “She is not wealthy or particularly accomplished, of course, but apparently that does not matter to Darcy.”

“Yes, he is a fortunate man to have no need for additional funds,” Wickham said carefully.

“Yes, he is,” Anne answered, biting her lip dramatically. “It was quite a surprise since … but I must not complain. Life is full of shocks, but not all shocks are unpleasant.”

“Today’s surprise is entirely pleasant, Miss de Bourgh,” Wickham said with a winsome smile. “Indeed, I can only be thankful for Darcy’s courtship if it brought you to Hertfordshire.”

“Thank you,” Anne gushed, blushing again. “May I ask … do you plan to attend the ball at Netherfield next week?”

Wickham hesitated for a moment and then admitted, “I had not heard there was to be a ball at Netherfield.”

“Oh, Mr. Wickham, I do apologize,” Anne fluttered anxiously. “Miss Bingley did tell me the invitations have not gone out yet. All the officers will be invited, however, and I hope you will come! It has been so long since we last were in company. I have such fond memories of my last visit to Pemberley and would enjoy speaking of our happy times again.”

Wickham bowed again. “I will be there, I promise.”

“Until then, Mr. Wickham. Miss Colby, would you be so kind as to purchase this volume of sonnets?”

“Of course,” Miss Colby replied, scurrying forward to relieve Anne of her book.

Anne widened her eyes a little and fluttered her lashes. “Good day, Mr. Wickham.”

“Good day, Miss de Bourgh.”

***

“I hope I did not overdo it,” Anne mused as the Bingley carriage wended its way back to Netherfield.

“You did not, Miss de Bourgh,” Priscilla Colby declared. “Mr. Wickham is the kind of man who assumes every woman of marriageable age in the kingdom wishes to fall at his feet.”

Anne considered this and then nodded. “I believe you are right. I do hope he has the courage to come to Netherfield even though he knows that Darcy will be in attendance.”

“I believe that the dream of winning the heiress of Rosings will draw him like a moth to a flame,” her companion asserted cynically.

“I expect so,” Anne murmured, blowing out a long breath. “With the regiment moving to Brighton soon, we have little time to retrieve those letters.”

“When Wickham and the other officers are at the ball, I will infiltrate the barracks and find them,” Priscilla vowed.

***

Mr. Bennet stared gloomily at his youngest daughter, who was seated across from him in the library, her brow set in a truculent glower. His discussions with Kitty and Mary had been most encouraging, and he had entertained the hope that his talk with Lydia would be similarly fruitful. It had taken all of three minutes to realize that Lydia would not prove nearly as tractable as her older sisters.

“La, Father,” Lydia declared insolently. “You know I find playing the pianoforte and reading Shakespeare to be incredibly dull. I have no intention of being like Lizzy or worse yet, like boring Mary. I am beautiful and lively and Mama likes me the way I am!”

Bennet opened his mouth to say something sarcastic and then forced himself to change tacks. Berating Lydia would do no good at all.

“Lydia, you have inherited your mother’s handsome features, but a gentleman wishes his wife to be accomplished as well.”

The girl tossed her dark curly hair and smiled triumphantly. “The militia officers do not care about such things, Father. I am the favorite of all of your daughters. They all say so, and I intend to marry an officer in a red coat.”

Again, Bennet had to swallow angry words, but he managed to reply calmly, “But Lydia, the regiment will be departing for Brighton in a few weeks, and then there will be no officers for you to marry.”

“Oh, but I am going to Brighton with Mrs. Forster, Father,” his daughter said cheerfully.

Her father’s hands clenched dangerously. “Of what are you speaking?”

“Mrs. Forster and I are such good friends, and she does not wish to leave me behind when the regiment moves, so she is speaking to the colonel tonight and if he says yes, which I know he will, I am going to go with her. Oh Father, just think of Brighton on the sea, with officers everywhere! It will be paradise!”

“What makes you think that I will permit you to go Brighton, Lydia?” her father demanded sternly.

Outrage filled Lydia’s pretty features. “You … you must, you must! How can you even think of denying me such pleasures! It will be horribly boring here at Longbourn with Lizzy being courted by that tiresome Mr. Darcy. Jane is crotchety because of Mr. Bingley, Mary is a dead bore, and Kitty coughs all the time. You must let me go to Brighton!”

Mr. Bennet stared at his youngest with genuine horror. Jane was right – Lydia was entirely out of control! She was rude, disdainful, and entirely selfish. He had been a dreadful father indeed.

He opened his mouth to rebuke Lydia and then thought better of it. He would not, of course, allow Lydia to run off to Brighton to expose herself foolishly to masses of officers, but to deny her now would merely provoke a major tantrum. He could, he believed, handle a tantrum from Lydia, but Mrs. Bennet would no doubt wail and fuss about how Lydia would disturb Mr. Darcy, and he was not sure he had the strength of will to work with Kitty and Mary and also cope with a particularly anxious Mrs. Bennet.

“I believe you do not yet have an invitation in hand,” he pointed out.

Lydia, who had been gearing up to howl, openly relaxed. “Oh, but I will be invited, I am quite sure of it!”

“We will discuss it when the invitation is actually extended. Now I believe Kitty will be here in a few minutes to help me with the accounts, so run along.”

His youngest daughter bounced to her feet eagerly and commented, “Accounts are so very dull! Poor Kitty!”

“When you are grown up and married, you will also need to pay attention to the accounts, or you will exceed your income.”

“I will marry someone rich, like Mr. Darcy, though far more interesting, of course, and I will never have to worry about money!”

Bennet watched as his youngest child skipped out of the room and then leaned back against his chair with a groan. Lydia would, it was obvious, be a far more difficult nut to crack than her older sisters. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking furiously. He could send her away, of course, to a boarding school, though it would have to be one with a very diligent headmistress. He could also hire a governess of some kind…

He would puzzle out something. He would not allow Lydia to ruin her own life or the lives of her sisters.

There was a timid knock at the door, which swung open to reveal a nervous Kitty.

“Come in, my dear,” Mr. Bennet invited. “Are you ready to analyze the rents for last quarter?”

“Yes, Father!”

***

Elizabeth sank gratefully onto a wooden bench and smiled at Mr. Darcy as he lowered himself next to her.

They had settled under a shaded tree in the back garden of Netherfield, and it was quite an idyllic scene with chirping birds and beds of flowers that tossed in the gentle breezes. In the few days since the party had arrived at Netherfield, the newly hired gardeners had been toiling away to root out weeds and bring order to the beds of sweet smelling blooms.

“The scenery is beautiful, is it not?” Elizabeth inquired of her companion.

Darcy, whose eyes were fixed intently on her face, said, “Yes, it is exceedingly beautiful, Miss Elizabeth.”

She blushed at this and chuckled. “I meant the flowers, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy started dramatically and looked around. “Oh, the flowers! Yes, they are well enough, I suppose. My attention was fixed more agreeably on the fine eyes of a beautiful young woman.”

Elizabeth shook her head and laughed openly. “You should not flatter me so, sir, or it will go quite to my head.”

“I do not think that is possible,” her suitor declared, “but we can talk of something else if you wish. Do you know where Anne and Miss Colby are at the moment?”

“They are off to Meryton to encounter Mr. Wickham again,” Elizabeth explained calmly.

Darcy started again, this time in genuine concern. “There has been an assignation made? That is hardly safe for Anne’s reputation.”

“No, no, not at all. Anne declares that if she goes into Meryton, Wickham will find her, supposedly by chance, and will flatter and charm her. It is the way of such men, she says.”

“I daresay she is entirely right,” Darcy admitted, “though I confess to some concern. He is not a good or honorable man.”

“No, he is not, but keep in mind that Anne has a knife and Miss Colby a knife and a pistol. They will stay in public areas, and it is quite certain even Mr. Wickham would not dare to openly attack them. If he ever does, Miss Colby declares she will shoot him through the heart.”

Darcy eyed her with genuine awe. “Miss Colby is quite intimidating, is she not?”

“She is,” Elizabeth agreed, “but she is also kind in her own way. I know neither Jane nor I am particularly adept at self-defense, but she is patient and accommodating to our limitations. I know I feel far better able to protect myself already.”

“I am glad,” Darcy said sincerely. “Shall we make a closer inspection of the progress on the flower beds?”

Elizabeth flashed a smile. “Yes.”

***

“Miss Bennet, good morning,” Bingley said hesitantly.

Jane, who was seated some twenty yards away from Darcy and Elizabeth on a bench under another tree, looked up at the master of Netherfield with a glint in her eye.

“Mr. Bingley,” she acknowledged. “Good morning.”

Bingley hovered for a full thirty seconds, growing more and more uncomfortable as he did so, before his mouth managed to initiate his planned topic of conversation. “I was wondering, Miss Bennet, about your mother’s role in working with the tenants of Longbourn. Darcy tells me that usually the lady of the house is involved in the lives of the tenants’ wives, but since at Pemberley Miss Darcy is too young and Lady Anne sadly passed away many years ago…”

He trailed off, aware that he was babbling, took a deep breath, and started again. “Does your mother work with the farmer’s wives, Miss Bennet?”

Jane inspected him thoughtfully and then gestured to the open seat beside her. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes, please,” Bingley replied, and sat down happily though carefully, being cautious not to encroach rudely on her space.

“My mother has not done much with the tenants, no,” Jane explained, “but that is largely because she had no training regarding her role on the estate. Her father was a solicitor, you see. Elizabeth and I have, for many years, fulfilled that role at Longbourn, and now Mary is starting to work with those who depend on the estate for their livelihood.”

Bingley was briefly distracted by Miss Bennet’s sapphire eyes but forced himself to focus on the topic at hand.

“I am more and more aware of my own failures as landlord of Netherfield,” he admitted, “and I wish to provide my tenants what they need and deserve. Would you be willing to instruct my sister on how to fulfill her duties towards the dependents of the estate?”

He watched in fascination as Miss Bennet lifted one sardonic eyebrow. He was entirely incapable of lifting one eyebrow, or of wiggling his ears either. Not that Miss Bennet probably wiggled her ears…

“Miss Bingley has shown that she entirely despises our family, Mr. Bingley, in spite of the fact that the Bennets have dwelled at Longbourn for generations. I have no doubt that any help to the tenants would be interspersed with disdainful remarks. The local farmers are fine people and they no doubt would prefer to dispense with help from the Bingley family if such assistance is accompanied with contempt.”

Bingley slumped in resignation. Miss Bennet was entirely right; Caroline would enjoy playing the part of mistress of the manor, but she would do it in an entirely offensive way.

Jane continued in a softer tone, “Mrs. Blythe, your housekeeper, is an upstanding, local woman with significant ties to the community. You could authorize her to find out which tenants genuinely need assistance and provide monetary support.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Bennet,” Bingley gushed nervously. “That is a marvelous idea.”

Silence fell between them for another minute before the gentleman screwed up his courage to ask the most pertinent question of the day.

“Miss Bennet?”

“Yes?”

“We will be hosting a ball in six days time, and I hoped … I hoped that you would honor me with the … the first dance.”

“A ball?” Jane repeated in a frigid tone. “How extraordinary. I confess that my memories of the last ball at Netherfield were pleasant, but the aftermath was not. I doubt that I will be available to attend, Mr. Bingley.”

Bingley blinked in horror and found himself rushing into speech. “Miss de Bourgh requested that we hold the ball, you see, to bid farewell to the militia. I am not sure why, but I wished to accommodate her…”

“Oh!” his companion returned thoughtfully, turning to stare absently into the distance. No doubt the dance had something to do with taking down Mr. Wickham.

“I will give you the third dance, sir, and only the third dance,” she declared, rising to her feet and shaking out her skirts. “The first would provoke too much comment among my acquaintances, but one dance is a reasonable way to show that we are casual friends and nothing more.”

Bingley also stood up, his heart beating hard in his chest. He wanted more, so much more, but he must allow her to set the boundaries of their relationship. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I look forward to the third dance very much.”