Page 4 of I am Jael (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“I do not remember this Jael,” Mary fretted aloud, her hands fingering the Bible she held. Jane, Mary, and Elizabeth were hiding away in Elizabeth’s room, perched on her bed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and forced herself to be patient. Her own mind was whirling with the confrontation she had witnessed only an hour previously, and she was inclined to be abrupt with Mary.

“I believe Miss Darcy said that Jael is in the Book of Judges,” she commented.

“Judges,” Mary murmured, opening the Bible and beginning her search.

“Surely there must be some mistake,” Jane said worriedly. “Perhaps you misunderstood Miss Darcy’s words!”

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head as she gazed at her beautiful elder sister fondly.

Jane was a truly handsome woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and the perfect height.

She also had the gentlest and kindest personality in the world.

Jane was inclined to believe the best in everyone, and sought desperately to excuse those who were found wanting.

“There is no mistake, Jane,” Elizabeth stated firmly.

“According to Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy cheated him of a living bequeathed to him in the elder Mr. Darcy’s will.

According to Miss Darcy, Mr. Wickham received a princely sum of 3000 pounds in lieu of the living.

One or the other is not telling the truth. ”

Jane frowned, though even the minor wrinkles in her forehead did not mar her loveliness, “You said Miss Darcy seemed quite young? Perhaps she misunderstood the situation between her brother and Mr. Wickham!”

“I think not,” Mary said unexpectedly, stopping her frantic search through the pages of Judges. “He looked quite vicious when he threatened her.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise, and Jane looked startled.

“Threatened her?” the eldest Miss Bennet asked in a horrified tone.

“Yes,” Mary continued determinedly. “He said that he would ruin her if she spoke against him. He had such a cruel expression on his face. Surely you saw it, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth shook her head numbly, “I was watching Miss Darcy. But his tone – you are correct, Mary, he sounded quite savage.”

“If so,” Jane said, her eyes dark with sorrow, “perhaps Mr. Wickham is not the good man we believed him to be. He lambasted Mr. Darcy terribly when he spoke of the latter’s perfidy towards him. It grieves me to think that a man would slander another so vigorously.”

Elizabeth nodded as she contemplated, ruefully, that this was one time when Jane was being more critical than she was inclined to be herself.

Mr. Darcy had insulted her before he had formally met her, and every interaction between them had been marred by those first hurtful words.

His cruel speech reverberated in her ears from their initial meeting at an assembly in Meryton:

“She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, had singled her out for attention the first time they had met a few days previously.

He had obviously found her charming, and his ease of manners, handsome face, and noble demeanor had made her all too willing to listen to his tales of woe at the hands of the cold and stern Mr. Darcy.

Belatedly, Elizabeth was forced to admit that Mr. Wickham’s defamation of Mr. Darcy had been entirely inappropriate.

She and Mr. Wickham had only just met at a small card party given by Mrs. Phillips, Elizabeth’s maternal aunt.

It was unconscionable that Mr. Wickham had condemned Mr. Darcy to a recent acquaintance, even as the militiaman claimed that he would not defame the younger Mr. Darcy for the sake of the elder.

She shook her head. She had been blind, it seemed.

Mary suddenly started reading aloud, her eyes wide with shock, “Then Jael Heber's wife took a nail of the tent, and took an hammer in her hand, and went softly unto him, and smote the nail into his temples, and fastened it into the ground: for he was fast asleep and weary. So he died.”

“What?” Jane asked in a bewildered tone, leaning over to look at the Bible in Mary’s hands.

“Jael murdered a Canaanite general named Sisera. She drove a tent nail through his head while the man slept!” Mary exclaimed.

“That is quite violent,” Jane agreed with a grimace of distaste, “but how does it pertain to our current discussion?”

“Miss Darcy said, more than once, that she is Jael!” Mary replied with horrified eyes.

“I am certain that Miss Darcy does not plan to murder Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth stated calmly.

“Then why did she claim to be Jael?”

Elizabeth frowned down at the passage in question. She read it carefully, and then lifted her head to stare blankly out the window of Jane’s bedroom. It was raining again.

“I don’t know, Mary,” she admitted softly, “but based on her speech in the bookstore, she plans to use verbal means to attack Mr. Wickham, not physical.”

There was a sudden, loud rap at the door, and a moment later the youngest Miss Bennet, Lydia, bounced in, with the second youngest daughter, Kitty, at her heels, “Jane, Lizzy, Mary, Mother wants you down in the parlor to entertain Mr. Collins!”

There were soft sighs and the three women rose to their feet.

/

“Georgiana!”

Georgie relaxed in relief as her brother handed her down from the carriage.

In a moment, she was in his arms, relishing the smell of wood smoke and soap.

She had not been entirely sure whether her brother would be upset about her sudden trip to Netherfield; given that she had just confronted the Darcy nemesis, she didn’t feel emotionally capable of an argument with her beloved brother.

“My dear, what a pleasant surprise,” Darcy said, smiling tenderly at his younger sister. “I was truly startled when Fitzwilliam appeared on horseback almost two hours ago. We were growing slightly worried as you are thirty minutes later than our cousin expected.”

Georgiana put her arm in Darcy’s and began walking up the steps of Netherfield Hall, “We stopped briefly in Meryton, Brother. I forgot to bring my drawing pencils and we purchased some at a local shop.”

She felt her brother’s arm stiffen under her hand, and she looked up at him inquiringly.

“You stopped in Meryton?”

“Yes,” the girl replied carefully. “It seems a pleasant town.”

“Indeed, it is,” Darcy replied, his body relaxing.

Georgiana hesitated, then decided now was most definitely not the time to discuss Wickham. It seemed, based on her brother’s anxiety, that he was aware that Wickham resided in Meryton. Georgiana had not been at all certain that that was the case.

“It seems a pleasant home, Netherfield Hall,” she commented with a glance around the front edifice of the building.

“Yes,” Darcy agreed, guiding her into the hall as the door was opened by Bingley’s butler. “Mr. Bingley is finding it an excellent situation for him in terms of its distance from London, its acreage, and the size of the home.”

There was a flurry of skirts to her right, and Georgie halted, firmly pasting on a polite smile as Miss Bingley surged into view. As usual, the woman was dressed expensively, if not tastefully, and her smile was relentless.

“My dear Miss Darcy, what a delight to welcome you to Netherfield Hall!”

/

Georgiana thanked the maid assigned to assist her.

The girl, named Betty, carried away a pitcher of water and departed the sitting room, allowing Georgiana to sink down with relief next to the fire.

The weather had turned again, and rain poured down from the eaves onto the sodden ground.

She was thankful that they had made their trip from London early.

Lunch had been somewhat uncomfortable. Miss Bingley, as was her wont, hung on Darcy’s every word, and Darcy in turn grew only more taciturn throughout the meal.

It was surprising, in some ways, that her brother’s affection for Bingley was sufficient that he was willing to put up with the unmarried sister’s cloying ways.

The other attendees at lunch were Mr. Bingley, of course, with his sister Mrs. Hurst, brother-in-law Mr. Hurst, and Mrs. Annesley.

Mr. Hurst was a man of few words, and Mrs. Hurst joined Miss Bingley in criticizing the society of the surrounding area.

Mr. Bingley had nobly deflected their negativity, and he and Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a little help from Darcy and Mrs. Annesley, had managed to maintain a flow of conversation. Georgiana had mostly remained silent.

She was tired physically from the early journey and tired emotionally from her confrontation with Wickham. She was enormously grateful that the opportunity had arisen so quickly to confront the wretch. Nevertheless, it had been hard to stare into that once beloved, now despised face.

Georgiana knew that she needed to tell her brother about her meeting with Wickham. But she was weary. Surely she could wait until tomorrow morning.

There was a soft tap on the door, and a moment later Fitzwilliam walked into the room. Georgiana knew, from the look on his face, that there would be no delay in what would no doubt prove to be a most uncomfortable discussion.

She rose to her feet and turned to face her beloved sibling, her face determined, “John the footman told you, I assume?”

“My valet, Percy, told me. John told him.”

“I see.” She did see. John was a retainer of the Darcys, not Georgiana. Of course he would tell a superior servant about what had transpired in the bookstore in Meryton.

“Why, Georgie?” Darcy demanded, his face more incredulous than angry. “What possessed you to converse with Wickham, of all people?”

Georgiana bit her lip and lifted her chin, “I confronted Mr. Wickham, Brother. I did not converse with him. I challenged him about the lies he told about you.”