Page 13 of I am Jael (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Elizabeth settled back into the carriage across from Jane and let out a slow breath. A moment later, the carriage jerked into motion, and they were on their way to Netherfield.

Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who was smiling dreamily.

Mr. Bingley had been at church the previous day and Miss Bingley, clearly at his instigation, had invited both Jane and Elizabeth to an early dinner at Netherfield for the following day, leaving Jane in a haze of delight for the subsequent hours of Sunday and early Monday.

Elizabeth herself was far less cheerful, though she hid it stringently for Jane’s sake.

Mr. Collins had departed Longbourn for his parish early on Saturday, and she, along with the rest of her family, had sighed in relief at his departure.

Only an hour later, however, Elizabeth’s friend Charlotte Lucas had appeared for a visit, and had imparted to a stunned Elizabeth the incredible news that Mr. Collins had proposed marriage to Charlotte and been accepted.

Elizabeth recalled, with a sense of shame, her immediate outcry of horror at Charlotte’s announcement.

It had been incredibly rude, and she regretted it.

Nonetheless, the news came as a most disagreeable shock.

Mr. Collins was a fool and it was hard to imagine that Elizabeth’s dear friend was willing to sacrifice her own self-respect to wed a clumsy, ingratiating, irritating man like Mr. Collins.

“You mustn’t dwell on it excessively, Lizzy,” Jane said aloud from the opposite seat.

Elizabeth flinched in surprise and smiled reluctantly, “I suppose it is impossible for me to hide my dismay about Charlotte, but I pledge I will not allow it to interfere with tonight’s time with Mr. Bingley.”

Jane sat up straighter, her brow thoughtful, “Given that Charlotte is entering the marriage with her focus on security, perhaps she will find it easier to be happy than you imagine.”

“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth stated angrily, “is a sycophant and a thoroughly ridiculous man. I cannot imagine that Charlotte could ever be happy as Mr. Collins’s wife.

Furthermore, Lady Catherine will, I fear, prove a most challenging patroness.

She sounds haughty and intrusive. No, Jane, I cannot be hopeful.

I will only marry for love, and I know you agree with me. ”

The other girl frowned thoughtfully, her eyes faraway.

“What is it, Jane?” Elizabeth asked, surprised at the look on her sister’s face.

“I wonder if … if Father entered into his marriage with Mother believing that it was a love match.”

Elizabeth gazed at Jane in silence, astonished that her warmhearted sister would even think about such a complicated question, much less voice it aloud.

“I suspect he did,” Jane continued softly. “Mother must have been very beautiful in her youth.”

“As you are, Jane,” Elizabeth interpolated quickly as her brain skipped from one thought to another.

“Mother has often decried my impertinence and tendency to clever speech, as she puts it,” she mused aloud. “She has told me more than once that I should smile and hold my tongue because that was how she won Father.”

“Clearly,” Jane said carefully, “Mother longed for the security of marriage even if she must have known that Father’s character and interests were very dissimilar to her own.”

Lizzy looked down at the smooth wood of the carriage floor, suddenly filled with pity for both her parents.

Her father, blinded by the beauty of young Fanny Gardiner, had married and been disappointed within a short time.

Mr. Bennet was a highly intelligent man, and Mrs. Bennet was neither bright nor quick in her understanding.

The subsequent birth of five daughters and no sons to break the entail had washed away all that was left of the fun loving girl of Mrs. Bennet’s youth, leaving a frenetic, anxious woman who imparted chaos upon her family.

Elizabeth found her mother extremely trying at times, but she also knew Mrs. Bennet’s famed nerves did not merely discomfit her family, but herself as well. There was no doubt Mrs. Bennet was not a particularly happy individual.

Elizabeth roused herself from her reverie and looked outside the carriage. They would be at Netherfield shortly, and she mustn’t give way to melancholia.

“Our parents’ example encourages us to seek true love and respect in our own partners,” she averred firmly.

“I agree, Lizzy,” Jane said, leaning forward and clasping her sister’s hands in her own. “But if one is to enter a marriage of unequal abilities, perhaps it is best to be clearly aware of your spouse’s faults before the marriage.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly, “Perhaps you are correct. At least Charlotte is entering her marriage with her eyes wide open.”

/

“Will I see you at the tables tonight?” Lieutenant Pratt asked George Wickham, slapping the other man cheerfully on the shoulder. It was mid-afternoon and the men of the militia were finished with their light duties for the day.

Wickham smiled charmingly and bowed at Miss Maria Lucas, who was leaving the bookstore with a maid, “Miss Maria.”

The girl curtsied, “Mr. Wickham.”

“You are a breath of cheer on a cold and dreary day, Miss Maria.”

The girl blushed deeply, murmured a few words, and then excused herself. Wickham waited until she was a few yards away before turning to glance at Pratt, shaking his head dolefully, “I will not be playing tonight, Pratt. I’m afraid my luck has been bad of late.”

“Come on, Wickham! This might be your lucky night! Surely the cards are eager to show you their favor.”

Wickham made a show of considering, then shrugged, “Perhaps I will, at that. Don’t wait for me, but I may come later and try my luck.”

“Excellent, Wickham. We’ll see you tonight.”

The other man strode off in one direction and Wickham, after a winsome bow and smile at another lady, walked slowly toward his own quarters.

He would not, in fact, be gaming tonight.

He would be leaving this pathetic town and its tiresome, uncouth people.

He would be leaving Fitzwilliam Darcy and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam behind.

He would not be going to Marshalsea prison as a debtor, but to London, where he would disappear into that city’s great and glorious underbelly until Darcy gave up searching for him.

He needed money, of course. He always needed money.

Two nights ago, he had drunk a little and gambled more.

He had watched carefully to see who was winning and who was losing.

Tonight, when the men were gaming and eating and drinking enthusiastically after the quiet Sabbath Day, he would creep into the quarters of the richer members of the militia and steal their ready money.

And then he would snatch Colonel Forster’s horse, and take to the London road.

His first stop in the metropolis would be at the home of Mrs. Younge, who had assisted him in his failed attempt to elope with Georgiana.

She was still attracted to him and he knew she could be twisted around his thumb easily enough.

After that, it would behoove him to penetrate more deeply into the twisted streets of London, as Darcy might possibly think to contact Mrs. Younge.

Perhaps. Darcy would probably be thankful to have a reason to let his father’s favorite go, so likely there wouldn’t be any pursuit. But given the horrors of Marshalsea, Wickham intended to be more careful than usual.

He smiled unpleasantly to himself as he reached the door of his quarters.

Across the street, on the second floor, a figure stared intently out of a darkened window at George Wickham.

/

Georgiana Darcy was shy.

Elizabeth was truly shocked at this realization.

Given that the girl had entered the bookstore with the mien of a warrior woman of the Bible, Elizabeth had expected Miss Darcy to be a bold, confident individual.

But here, nestled in the bosom of her family and listening to the irritating blandishments of Miss Bingley, the girl looked uncomfortable and meek.

At least Jane sat next to Miss Darcy, and Jane could soothe a wild kitten with her kind demeanor and cheerful speech.

Elizabeth swallowed a chuckle as she took a bite of potatoes.

She had no doubt that Miss Bingley had toiled long and hard in the seating arrangements around the dinner table.

Jane sat between Mr. Bingley and Georgiana, no doubt because Mr. Bingley insisted that he be seated next to the woman he admired.

Elizabeth was seated between Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Darcy, seated between Miss Bingley and Mr. Hurst, was as far away from Elizabeth as was possible.

The absurdity of it all tickled Elizabeth’s always ready sense of humor.

She respected Mr. Darcy, but she had no intention of pursuing him as a husband.

Nor was Mr. Darcy remotely interested in her, as evidenced by his words on the first day they had encountered one another at the assembly in Meryton.

Miss Bingley had no need for jealousy, nor any hope in becoming the new mistress of Pemberley either, at least as far as Elizabeth could tell.

She didn’t pretend to know Mr. Darcy well, but she thought he was not attracted to his friend’s unwed sister – or perhaps he was. It was of no concern to her.

“Are you musical, Miss Bennet?” Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired, turning to her after doing his duty in conversing with Mrs. Hurst.

“I am, though I confess I do not practice on the pianoforte as often as I should.”

“Miss Elizabeth performs admirably, Colonel,” Mr. Bingley commented, focusing on Elizabeth for a few seconds before his attention swung back to the lovely Miss Bennet as a moth drawn to a flame.

“Perhaps I will have the honor of hearing you perform then, Miss Elizabeth,” Fitzwilliam continued. “Who is your favorite composer?

“I enjoy Beethoven, though I confess I find playing his music difficult. Mozart, too, is a pleasure.”

“Do you enjoy operas, Miss Elizabeth?”

“I do, though I have only been to the opera three times in company with my aunt and uncle from London.”

“I had the privilege of watching ‘The Barber of Seville’ in winter quarters on the continent. Both the leads were excellent singers.”

Elizabeth sighed, “I envy you, Colonel, though I do not envy the more challenging aspects of your wartime experience.”

The Colonel smiled back sadly, “I try to remember the positive aspects of my service, Miss Elizabeth, instead of dwelling too heavily on the harder times.”

“We are grateful for your service,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Richard replied, then turned in surprise as a servant cleared his throat behind him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, I have an urgent message for you.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam snatched the message, read it quickly, and lifted his eyes to seek those of his cousin, “Darcy, may I have a few words?”

“Is something wrong?” Miss Bingley cried out.

“There is no danger to you,” Richard explained quickly, “but I do need to apprise my cousin of a situation.”

Darcy was on his feet and after bowing to the ladies, exited the room with Richard at his heels. Once they had achieved the comparative privacy of the hall, the Colonel gave Darcy the message.

Darcy frowned down at the words, and then lifted his face to stare into his cousin’s face, “You think he is running?”

“Of course he is.”

“He is a member of the militia! Desertion carries a possible death sentence!”

“He has never paid for his crimes before, Darcy. He assumes that he will slither out of any nasty repercussions as he always has in the past.”

“What should we do?”

“Do? Go after him, of course, and arrest him for desertion and, apparently, theft based on the note.”

Darcy sighed as he nodded, “Let us saddle up then, and pursue him. I have to admit, Richard, that I truly thought you were being paranoid to assign watchers to Wickham. He’s an idiot to run.”

“Wickham is an arrogant fool,” Richard said grimly, “but he will not escape the noose this time.”

Darcy opened his mouth in protest, and then closed it as Bingley stepped into the corridor, his brow furrowed in worry.

“Darcy, Fitzwilliam, is there a serious problem?”

Richard shook his head, “Wickham is creeping around Meryton, apparently breaking into the homes of militia men who are currently carousing in the local pubs. He almost certainly is planning to make a run for it. Darcy and I and several servants will join some other temporary employees in tracking the man down.”

“Shall I come with you?” Bingley asked nobly. He would much rather stay here with Miss Bennet, but ...

“No,” Darcy said firmly, stepping forward to grasp his friend’s shoulders. “Please stay here and keep the ladies safe. Warn the servants to guard the doors. I doubt Wickham would attempt an attack on my sister, but it is barely possible.”

Bingley’s eyes widened but he nodded vigorously, “You may depend on me, Darcy. But what about the Miss Bennets? Ought they to travel home by carriage if a dangerous man is loose?”

The cousins glanced at each other and Darcy shook his head slowly, “The chance of mishap is small, but I would rather not risk it. He may be desperate, and he has attacked women before. Did they bring a footman?”

“No,” Bingley said gravely, “and their coachman is rather elderly.”

“It would be safer if they stayed here for the night. Perhaps you could send a couple of stout servants to Longbourn to explain the situation to Mr. Bennet?”

“I will, Darcy,” Bingley assured him. “Good luck, and stay safe.”