A bout mid-morning the following day, Elizabeth looked up and down the street, desperately hoping to see Mr. Darcy riding to her rescue. If it were not for the fact that she felt very much in need of a rescue, she would have laughed at her dramatic thoughts.
However, as it was, she would like nothing better than to be swept up onto Mr. Darcy’s horse before racing away with him to… somewhere. Anywhere. She really didn’t care where it was as long as it was away from Mr. Collins.
She would even be happy to be returned to Netherfield and be forced to endure the slights and barbs of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. At least they canvassed topics of some interest and did not do so in an incessant flow of pompous nothings.
There would be moments of silence with Mr. Bingley’s sisters as they shared looks and smiles over what they considered to be their own cleverness.
There were no pauses with Mr. Collins, nor was there any cleverness, whether it be only perceived or genuine.
“Oh!” Lydia cried. “There. Just passing the haberdasher’s shop. Do you see him?” She clapped her hands in delight and pulled Kitty forward toward the street. “We should intercept them, should we not, Jane?”
Jane paused a moment to look in the direction Lydia had indicated. “Do you mean Mr. Denny and his friend?”
“Yes, yes, of whom else would I be speaking?”
“I was hoping it would be Mr. Bingley,” Jane replied.
“Oh. Well. Yes. I do suppose that would be a hope for you, but it is not for me,” Lydia said.
“Does not Mr. Denny look divine in his regimentals? I am certain none of the other soldiers in Meryton look half so handsome as he. Though, if his friend were to be wearing a scarlet coat instead of that blue one, he would perhaps be more handsome than Mr. Denny.”
“Oh, not to me,” Kitty inserted. “I like Mr. Denny’s eyes.”
“If we were to cross, we might be able to compare his eyes with those of his handsome friend,” Lydia said.
“I see no harm in crossing.” Elizabeth leant her support to the plan, for it would bring them into conversation with someone other than Mr. Collins, and she had to admit that she was excessively curious about who Mr. Denny’s friend was.
“But we told Mr. Bingley we would be near this shop,” Jane protested.
“And we will be,” Lydia assured her. “We will only be directly across from here. I am perfectly certain that Mr. Bingley can see us on that side of the street from this side.”
“Meeting gentlemen on the street.” Mr. Collins clucked his tongue and shook his head. “It is not what I would call proper.”
There were a great many things that that man did not deem as proper. How many improvements had he suggested to his cousins both on their walk to town and interspersed in conversation at this shop or that?
Fripperies, as an example, were extravagances that indulged base desires and contravened his idea of how money should be spent.
A gown was just as useful without lace as it was with, and if it already had lace and that lace had not been eaten by moths or ruined by carelessness or some other accident, then no new lace was needed. It was a poor use of funds. They could be put to better use if placed in the tithe box.
Since this was an excursion to town for the very purpose of purchasing adornments for their ball gowns, his blathering about how unnecessary they were had been enough of a provocation to cause Mary – Elizabeth’s sister who was as uninterested in adornments of any kind as a lady could possibly be – to purchase three ribbons and two lengths of lace.
And apparently, Mary was still feeling rather put out, for, at Mr. Collins’s current reprimand, she stepped forward, took each of her younger sisters by the hand, and began to cross the street.
Not, however, before saying, “You do not greet friends when in town? How odd! And rather unfriendly of you. I would think a man holding your position would be more welcoming to friends and strangers.”
Elizabeth giggled softly at Mary’s words as she and Jane hastily followed their younger sisters, while Mr. Collins trailed behind them, pontificating on the willfulness of the younger generation.
As if he were a full generation older than Lydia, Kitty, or Mary!
He was only ten years older than Lydia, and Lydia was the youngest of their lot.
Mama would not have to worry about Mary being singled out by Mr. Collins as a possible wife after this trip to town. Indeed, Elizabeth was nearly certain that Mr. Collins would never consider offering for any of her sisters.
Unless, of course, he was the sort of gentleman who wished to congratulate himself on marrying an exuberant or defiant young lady and forming her into what he considered to be a proper wife.
She shuddered at the thought, because she could perfectly imagine that a fellow with as high an opinion of himself, as Mr. Collins seemed to possess, would wish to attempt just such a feat.
“Mr. Denny!” Lydia cried as they gained the pavement on the opposite side of High Street. “You have returned from London. Was it a good trip?”
“It most certainly was,” Mr. Denny replied after bowing a greeting to them all. “I acquired all I needed and even returned with a new member for our regiment.” He looked to Jane. “May I introduce him to you?”
“It should be a father’s –” Mr. Collins began to say from behind Jane and Elizabath, but Jane paid him no mind and said a pleasant yes over the top of his words.
“This,” Mr. Denny said with a wave towards his friend, “is Mr. George Wickham. We have known each other for a few years now, and I have just finally convinced him to join me in serving His Majesty, as it is about time he took up an honourable profession.” Both men chuckled at this taunt.
“Wickham, these lovely ladies are the Bennets. Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia.” He motioned to each sister as he said their name, and as they had been taught to do since they were capable of standing on their own two feet, each Bennet lady dipped a shallow curtsey in greeting.
“This is our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Jane offered when Mr. Wickham had finished expressing his delight in meeting them. From the pleasure that shone in his expression, he seemed to be a fellow who enjoyed meeting new people.
“Mr. Collins,” Mr. Wickham offered a bow, “are you from the area?”
“No, not at all,” Mr. Collins answered curtly. “I will be one day, but for now, I hold the living at Hunsford, which is in Kent.”
Mr. Wickham looked quite surprised by this information. “Hunsford, you say?”
“Yes.” The fact that Mr. Collins’s answer was only one word was rather shocking to Elizabeth.
“I had not heard that it had come open.” Mr. Wickham smiled easily, as if everyone in his current group of acquaintances were old friends. “At one time, I, too, was destined for the church until the opportunity was snatched from me. How is Lady Catherine?”
“Do you know her?” Delight suffused Mr. Collins’s face.
“Not personally, no. But I have heard of her since I was a young child through a friend of my father.”
“Ah! She is a wonderful woman. Quite generous and condescending. I have actually come to visit my cousins at her request.”
To Elizabeth, it appeared as if he was about to say more, and had it not been for the approach of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, he might have. However, as it was, their arrival forestalled him, if only for a moment.
“Mr. Darcy!” he cried in delight. “We have just met someone who knows your aunt.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes moved from Elizabeth to Mr. Wickham and the smile he had given her fell away as his features hardened and his face grew red.
Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, seemed to pale, and the ease which he had exuded earlier fled.
That the two men knew each other was apparent to anyone who was paying attention – which left out Mr. Collins, for he continued to ramble on.
“I did not think,” that man trundled on, “that I would meet two people in Hertfordshire who are familiar with my esteemed patroness. I am happy to have done so however, and I am sure she will be delighted to hear her name is known beyond her home.”
“Did you find all the things which you were hoping to find?” Mr. Bingley asked as he moved his horse slightly ahead of Mr. Darcy’s and in front of Mr. Wickham.
“Oh, yes!” Lydia cried. “We shall be elegantly attired for your ball.”
“I am happy to hear it.” He spared a look for Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham. “I believe an invitation has been sent to Colonel Forster for members of the regiment. Are you part of that group, Mr. Wickham?”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. It appeared that both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy knew Mr. Wickham.
“He is indeed,” Mr. Denny replied.
“Well, then, perhaps we shall see you at the ball.” There was a touch of something not quite Mr. Bingley-like in Mr. Bingley’s tone.
“My cousin plans to attend.” The stoney look that had settled onto Darcy’s face upon seeing Mr. Wickham remained firmly in place and coloured Mr. Darcy’s words with a coldness equal to the harshness of the expression. “My sister will be with him.”
“And we are all eager to meet her,” Lydia effused. “Kitty and I, in particular. Though, I suppose Lizzy is nearly as eager.”
Mr. Wickham’s gaze moved to Lydia before resting on Elizabeth. “Is that so?” he asked as a smile tipped one side of his lips into a sly half smile.
“Oh, yes. I would not say it if it were not true. Kitty and I love making new friends, do we not, Kitty?”
“We most certainly do,” Kitty answered.
Mr. Darcy dismounted his horse and extended a hand to Elizabeth. “Are you ready to be escorted home?”
Mr. Wickham chuckled softly. “I had not thought it possible for Darcy to find a lady willing to have him.”
“Shall I extend your greetings to Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Perhaps once you are settled, you can send me a message about where you are lodging so that he can call on you at his leisure.”
“I would not wish to bother the colonel, but if your sister would like to visit…” Mr. Wickham’s voice trailed off, and pleasant was no longer a word that Elizabeth would use for him, for there seemed to be some hidden meaning designed to harm or anger Mr. Darcy in the unfinished comment.
“Oh, she will not be calling on anyone,” Lydia inserted, “except maybe us. She is not out, you know. It is not what I would expect, but it is how it is. However, since Kitty and I are not gentlemen, I do think that we will be allowed to call on her and have her call on us.”
“I would be happy to have my sister call on you, with either or both myself and the colonel as chaperones,” Mr. Darcy said.
Lydia waved his words away with a laugh. “It is we who shall have to be yours and Lizzy’s chaperone, I should think.”
Bingley laughed along with Lydia. “Miss Bennet and I may also need your services.” He had joined Darcy in dismounting and was now holding his horse’s reins and had Jane’s hand on his arm.
“If everyone has acquired everything that is needed, may I suggest we head towards Longbourn? I, for one, would love a cup of tea.”
“I am afraid we cannot go to Longbourn directly,” Jane replied. “We must first stop at my aunt’s house, as she is expecting us to join her for tea before we walk home.”
“And Kitty and I already told her before we stepped foot in a shop that you and Mr. Darcy would be joining us.” Lydia looked expectantly at Mr. Bingley as if waiting to be praised for a job well done, and she was not to be disappointed.
“As long as tea is involved that is excellent news,” Mr. Bingley said. “Do you suppose we can have tea at your aunt’s house and again at Longbourn?”
Kitty giggled as Mr. Darcy whispered, “He does love tea and biscuits,” to Elizabeth.
“I would be surprised if we did not have tea in both places,” Mary assured Mr. Bingley as she once again took her younger sisters by the hand and began walking towards the edge of Meryton that was closest to Longbourn.
“But we have not taken our leave,” Lydia protested.
Mary released her hand. “Then, walk with Mr. Collins if you wish.”
Lydia lifted a hand and waved to Mr. Denny. “I am so happy to know that you have returned safely,” she said before scampering to catch Mary’s arm.