Page 19 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)

Elizabeth slipped into the small back parlor of Longbourn and halted in astonishment at the sight before her. Her mother was weeping and her father actually had his arm around her, both most unusual.

“What is the matter?” Elizabeth demanded fearfully, stepping quickly into the room and shutting the door behind her.

“Father told Mr. Bingley about the tulips,” Mary explained, her lips tight with anger, “and Mr. Bingley, in turn, told others, and now all of Meryton knows.”

“That is not true,” Jane insisted with unexpected steel in her tone.

“Mr. Bingley, in a moment of distress, spoke of my augmented dowry in the hearing of the servants. Many know of our wealth now, which explains the throngs of gentlemen who attended us today. No one knows about the tulips save Mr. Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy knows?” Kitty asked softly. “Why was he told?”

“Mr Darcy is an intelligent gentleman and realized we were spending far more than Longbourn could possibly earn through rents,” Mr. Bennet declared. “Bingley told him to mitigate his concerns that we were French spies, or free traders, or something of the like. I trust Mr. Darcy to keep silent.”

“It does not matter,” Mrs. Bennet cried out, her voice suddenly shrill with distress. “All these years we have kept the tulips quiet and now, when our daughters are on the cusp of their Seasons, of making good marriages, the whole world will know we are in trade. We are ruined!”

Jane and Elizabeth both drew in quick breaths of alarm and looked at their father, who rarely dealt well with hysterical females. “Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bennet said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “My dear wife, I do beg you not to trouble yourself so.”

“How can I not? All I have dreamed of for our girls …”

“Will still come to pass,” her husband finished firmly.

“I have spent the last years aligning myself to your wishes regarding the tulips, but that was due to apathy, not conviction. Look at our daughters, will you not, Mrs. Bennet? They are beautiful, intelligent, healthy, and vibrant. They are your daughters and thus they already have ties to trade. As your daughters, they have also inherited your beauty and gifting with the tulips. My dear, any man would be privileged to marry one of our daughters, and while it is possible an occasional duke’s son will hold up his nose to our children, I am confident that the vast majority of the gentry will know they are privileged to welcome a Bennet into their family ranks. ”

Mrs. Bennet looked up into her husband’s face, her still handsome features softening at these propitiating words. “Do you truly think so, Mr. Bennet?”

“I do, most definitely.”

Jane and Elizabeth watched wide eyed as their sardonic father drew his wife close for a most unaccustomed embrace, and Elizabeth gestured for their younger sisters to leave the room, allowing their parents to be alone.

“Well, that was quite extraordinary!” Lydia declared once they were mostly out of earshot.

“It was,” Mary agreed. “Do you think Father is right, Lizzy?”

“About our welcome in society? I do. Society is changing, and men like Mr. Bingley, and women like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who are not even the children of gentlemen, are finding their way into the upper classes through their wealth and education. Mother has always been preternaturally sensitive to the issues of our ties to trade, and as Father said, it has seemed too much work to combat her great desire for secrecy.”

Kitty sighed dramaticallyas the girls climbed the stairs toward their bedrooms. “I hope you are right, but what are we going to do about all these tiresome gentlemen calling on us? I cannot paint or draw if we are surrounded by avaricious men all day!”

“Mr. Bingley has invited us all to Netherfield for the day tomorrow,” Jane declared. “He is most contrite over his verbal misstep, and assured us that we can hide at Netherfield as much as we like in the coming days.”

Lydia’s face lit up at this news. “Oh, how wonderful! I do wish to speak to Miss Darcy more about Shakespeare and acting! I just finished reading Hamlet and the mad scenes are fascinating, especially since Ophelia’s madness is different from Lady Macbeth’s.

Oh, I can hardly wait to go to London and learn from an elocutionist! ”

/

Lieutenant Pratt, dressed in civilian clothing, strode into The Blue Boar , a small pub located in the outskirts of Meryton.

The pub served cheaper food and drink than the Pig in the Poke , where most of the officers congregated, which was entirely reasonable.

The Blue Boar was housed in a dilapidated building and was thoroughly dingy inside, with an uneven floor, and, in a less than charming devotion to its name, sported the occasional smell of pig wafting through the kitchen door.

Pratt knew, because he had been here before, that the pub owner kept a boar, a cow, and a few chickens directly behind the pub, which was also his residence.

Obviously the clients of this less than elegant establishment were indifferent to foul odors while they ate.

He glanced around casually and was pleased to observe brothers Edward and Robert Harrigan, local ruffians of ill repute, sitting at a corner table with a loaf of bread and half-full glasses of beer.

A moment later, Pratt stiffened in alarm as his eyes fell on another familiar form seated at the bar, that of Lieutenant George Wickham. What was he doing here?

Edward Harrigan lifted a wavering hand toward him, causing Pratt to frown and shake his head as he tipped his chin toward Wickham. The Harrigan brothers both glanced at the militia man with a frown, and then deliberately turned back to their drinks.

Pratt hesitated a moment before sauntering over to join Wickham at the counter. He needed to know why his fellow lieutenant was hanging out at a place like this one.

“Wickham!” he said heartily, slapping the other man on the shoulder.

Wickham jumped and turned, his mouth hanging open in shock, his red rimmed eyes astonished. “Pratt. What are you doing here?”

Pratt gestured to the waitress to bring him some ale and turned his focused attention on Wickham. “I might ask the same thing of you, Wickham? I thought you’d be at the Pig in the Poke tonight, as usual, playing into the wee hours.”

The other man fingered his glass nervously before speaking,“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

Wickham swallowed down the rest of his liquor in one hearty gulp, coughed, and slurred. “I am rolled up, Pratt.I’ll have to join the Fleet or put a period to my existence. The dice, and the cards, have quite despised me of late.”

Pratthad long prided himself on his quick thinking, and within a few seconds, he allowed a tremendous scowl to contort his face. “Rolled up? You owe me more than one hundred pounds, Wickham!”

The man paled before his very eyes and jerked his head nervously. “I know. I will get you the money, I will! I just need some time and for the cards to fall my way. My run of bad luck cannot last forever, I assure you!”

Pratt had gambled with Wickham several times, and the man was a wretched card player. There was no hope that he would ever win the money to pay the officers and tradesmen of the town.

“You had better,” he growled. “I understand that Lieutenant Davies is rather quick to call out his fellow officers over matters of honor, and he is an excellent shot, and of course the tradesmen will gladly send you to Marshalsea if it were discovered that you cannot pay your debts.”

Wickham actually swayed in his chair and his eyes were desperate. “Please, Pratt, do not tell anyone of my ... my monetary difficulties. I will find the money! I will earn it! Just ... just give me some time.”

Pratt took the ale from the girl and slowly drank down the glass, deliberately giving his companion time to stew in his fears.

“I have a way for you to earn some money, Wickham,” he finally announced.

Wickham looked bewildered. “Money? How?”

Pratt hesitated for a moment and then slapped the other man’s back with one hand. “Not now, my friend. You are drunk and not capable of rational discussion. But if you are truly interested in earning a substantial sum ...”

“I am! I would do anything, Pratt!”

“I will speak to you tomorrow morning. Now go home and put yourself to bed.”

Wickham nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet. He threw a few coins on the counter and staggered out the door.

Pratt followed his departure and allowed himself a smile.

The Harrigan brothers were useful enough minions for brute force work, but Wickham was a fine figure of a man with gentle speech and an air of command.

He would be a useful colleague, and Pratt had no doubt that the man would be eager to grasp at the opportunity of earning a hundred pounds for the apparently minor crime of digging up tulips.

Not that Wickham would live to get the money, but the lieutenant did not need to know that . ..

/

“Are you angry with Mr. Bingley?” Jane asked timidly. Night had fallen, the house was quiet, and the two eldest Bennet girls were curled up on Jane’s bed to discuss their eventful day. Elizabeth, whose eyes were heavy, considered her sister’s question thoughtfully.

“I am, if not angry, at least profoundly irritated,” she admitted.

“It was careless of Mr. Bingley to speak of our dowries. On the other hand, it is obvious that Father cares little about the matter, and in the end, I trust no great harm will be done. What about you, Jane? Are you quite enraged with your suitor?”

As intended, Jane chuckled at this, since the eldest Miss Bennet had not given way to open fury since she was a toddler.

“I am not angry with him at all,” Jane insisted.

“He was defending me against his sister, which I appreciate. He also is most apologetic. We all of us stumble at times, and I appreciate a man who is willing to admit he was wrong. That too, it quite different than Mr. Brisbane, who thought he was always right about everything.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disgust. “Mr. Brisbane is a louse, and I am extremely glad he is not my brother by marriage.”

Jane, with a furrowed brow, spoke again, “I also find it appealing that Mr. Bingley was courting me before he knew of my dowry. I confess that today’s mob of gentlemen was not inspiring in the least. We both wish to be married by men who appreciate us for ourselves, not exclusively because we will bring wealth into marriage.

But I do feel badly for you and our other sisters.

It is presumably well known that Mr. Bingley is courting me; you four are on the market, so to speak. ”

Elizabeth groaned. “Today was quite dreadful. Mother and I will need to discuss the situation. I am entirely capable of putting the gentlemen in their place, and the younger girls can be swept away as needed for lessons. Perhaps Mr. Darcy will be kind enough to visit on occasion; he is rich and well connected, and I can trust him to speak of matters of substance, not of the supposedly exquisite color of my cheeks.”

Jane tilted her head curiously. “It sounds like you and Mr. Darcy enjoy one another’s company.”

“Yes, we do. He apologized, you know, for his insult at the Meryton assembly. Yes, I quite like Mr. Darcy.”

“Do you think ...?”

“That he will even consider making me an offer? Charlotte asked me the same thing, and I will tell you what I told her; there is absolutely no possibility of such a thing! Mr. Darcy is rich and handsome and his uncle is an earl! He is not as haughty as I thought he was, but still, he can reach very high for his bride, and I have no doubt he will, for reasons of the succession if nothing else. It is the way of the world for high borne men and women to seek mates from the highest echelons of society. I do not wish to even consider ... I do not wish to be disappointed, Jane.”

Jane frowned and nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you are correct, Lizzy. Besides, I believe Mr. Darcy is somewhat engaged.”

This provoked a smile from her favorite sister along with a question. “How can someone be somewhat engaged?”

“Mr. Collins claims that Lady Catherine’s only child and heiress, Miss de Bourgh, is engaged to Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth was alarmed to realize that she felt a sudden throb of disappointment. Could it be that while her mind had accepted reality, her heart was not ready to give up all hope of Mr. Darcy?

“How old is Miss de Bourgh?”

“She is five and twenty, I believe.”

Elizabeth’s heart leaped rebelliously, and she sought to tamp down excitement. “It seems rather unlikely, I confess. If Mr. Darcy desires to wed his cousin, would he not have done so already?”

“Perhaps,” Jane mused, “though I understand Miss de Bourgh’s health is uncertain. Perhaps they are delaying the wedding while she grows stronger.”

Elizabeth was growing quite tired of these periods of excitement and discouragement, so she firmly turned the topic. “That seems very likely, Jane. But let us speak of you; I do believe that you and Mr. Bingley will be happy together, truly.”

Jane hesitated and then murmured softly, “I admit that I am quite ready to accept a marriage proposal from Mr. Bingley. I find myself daydreaming about him and a beautiful wedding. Do you think me foolish and rash?”

“I do not,” assured Elizabeth. “I am glad that the fears from your past experience are fading to be replaced by appreciation and love for a man who is far more worthy of them.”

“And tomorrow we will be at Netherfield for the day,” Jane added, smiling into the candlelight.

Elizabeth too was glad that they were going to Netherfield; it would be pleasant to avoid annoying visitors, and she very much liked Mrs. Younge, Miss Darcy, and yes, Mr. Darcy.

“Today could have been worse,” she murmured softly as she rose to her feet preparatory to seeking her own bed.

“How?” Jane asked drowsily.

“Mr. Collins could have been here, spouting inane chatter at our multitude of visitors. I do not entirely approve of Charlotte’s welcome of Mr. Collins’s attentions, but I do find that his penchant for departing early to Lucas Lodge and returning late to be entirely welcome.”

Jane opened her mouth to say something sweet and then closed it. She found Mr. Collins thoroughly wearying, and the thought of their foolish cousin interacting with a horde of avaricious gentlemen disturbed even her gentle soul.