Page 35 of Out of His Wits (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“Plain meals, modest portions. No rich sauces, no excessive quantities. Your body must learn to function without the constant assault you have subjected it to.” Mr. Louden stood and began gathering his things.
“I will leave instructions with your valet for a proper diet. You must walk daily, beginning with short distances and gradually increasing. Fresh air and exercise will help restore your strength.”
“Walk? But I rarely venture…”
“Indeed, you do not. Mr. Hurst, you have been given a second chance at life. Few men receive such a gift. What you do with it is entirely your choice.” The physician paused at the door. “I shall be available in town to assess your progress. I trust you will make the right decision.”
Alone in the sudden quiet of his chamber, Hurst lay back against his pillows and contemplated the physician’s words. Two years. The thought was sobering in ways that went far beyond his customary morning-after regrets.
He thought of his wife, fluttering about the house in her endless quest for attention and sympathy.
He thought of his brother-in-law’s barely concealed disdain for his indolent ways.
He thought of the years that had passed in a haze of alcohol and rich food, whilst life itself had somehow escaped his notice.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Mr. Hurst was entirely sober—and entirely determined to remain so.
Elizabeth stood at her bedroom window the following morning, watching the mist rise from the fields as she considered how to learn more about Bet and her mysterious gentleman.
Mr. Bingley had called and reported on Mrs. Nicholls’s examination of the girl.
It was not Elizabeth’s place to examine another’s servants.
But there were other ways to gather intelligence.
The village was full of eyes and ears. Bet may have been seen walking out with this man.
Such things did not pass unnoticed in a place like Meryton.
Perhaps a visit to the shops, some casual conversation with the local women, might yield useful information.
Servants gossiped, and kitchen maids were not immune to boasting about their admirers.
She could also speak with Mrs. Nicholls directly—as a lady concerned for Tibby’s welfare, it would be perfectly proper to report on the girl and perhaps inquire whether any new information had come to light.
The housekeeper might be willing to share anything else she had learned from Bet, particularly if pressed about inconsistencies in the girl’s story.
Yet even as she planned her approach to the investigation, her mind kept returning to the more pressing matter of Mr. Darcy.
She moved to her writing desk and took up her pen, ostensibly to make notes about questioning Bet, but instead wrote down the arguments she would need should Darcy ignore her request and approach her father. The list grew quickly:
The disparity in our stations - Pemberley requires a mistress familiar with the highest society.
His connexions to the nobility—grandson and nephew to an earl, whilst both of my uncles are considered to be in trade.
Mamma’s behaviour, Lydia’s wildness—they could never be seen in his society.
My dismal accomplishments—abysmal French, just a glancing understanding of Italian, indifferent at the pianoforte, reluctant with the needle.
The burden such a connection would place upon his standing. His family’s expectations?
Each point felt like a small knife turned in her own breast, yet she persisted. Better to wound herself now than to endure the slow agony of a marriage built on nothing but his misplaced sense of honour.
The entail— he would feel obligated to take responsibility for my mother and sisters.
I would come to him with nothing- barely a decent gown, no dowry to speak of- he could easily marry a woman with a fortune.
She was only distressing herself with these thoughts. Better she should do something. Perhaps the business of investigating Tibby’s plight would provide sufficient distraction.
In the drawing room, the Bennet ladies sat at their usual places, desultory conversation lagging. “Lydia, Kitty,” Elizabeth called as she descended the stairs, her reticule firmly in hand. “I need some ribbons from the village. Would you care to accompany me?”
The invitation was met with immediate enthusiasm. Kitty dropped her embroidery with unseemly haste, whilst Lydia let out a cry of delight that could probably be heard in the stable yard.
“Oh yes! I have been positively dying for something to do,” Lydia declared dramatically. “I require new shoe roses for the Assembly at Michaelmas. And there are always officers about the village at this hour. Perhaps we shall encounter some of the handsomer ones.”
“I hope we might see Lieutenant Wilkins,” Kitty added with a giggle. “He is so very agreeable and always has such charming things to say.”
A chill ran down her spine. “Lieutenant Wilkins?”
“Oh yes, the newest addition to the regiment,” Lydia said airily. “Such a handsome man, and so charming in his address. All the young ladies in Meryton are quite taken with him.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice casual. “How long has this Lieutenant Wilkins been with the regiment?”
“Some weeks, I believe, but he has made himself quite popular. He has such stories of his travels, and he speaks so well.” Kitty sighed romantically. “He even mentioned being acquainted with some of the great families in Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth’s heart began to race, but she forced herself to maintain an air of mild interest as her mother encouraged them to visit Mrs. Philips whilst in town.
“She will know the best gossip!”
Once in the village, she made a pretence of examining ribbons at the milliner’s shop whilst engaging Mrs. Sims in conversation.
“Such excitement we have had lately,” she remarked to the shopkeeper. “You know there was some trouble at Netherfield?”
“Oh yes, miss, terrible business,” Mrs. Sims replied eagerly.
“Tibby Morrison is a little mouse of a thing. I cannot imagine her having anything to do with such devilment. I must say, though, I was not entirely surprised about that Bet having a hand in it. Always putting on airs, she was, thinking herself better than the other girls.”
“Indeed? I am not well acquainted with her.”
“Sharp-featured thing, very managing in her ways. Been walking out with one of the officers, or so she claimed. Boasting about her gentleman friend, though some of us wondered if he was quite as attached as she pretended.”
Elizabeth leant forward with apparent interest. “How curious. Was this a recent attachment?”
“Oh, been going on for a few weeks. She was quite boastful. Claimed he was gentle folk and saw her worth.” Mrs. Sims sniffed disapprovingly. “Now, I noticed she has stopped talking about him after that business at Netherfield.”
“How strange,” Elizabeth murmured, selecting a length of blue ribbon with hands that trembled as they moved.
“Very strange indeed, miss. She was so proud of her gentleman friend, and then suddenly would not speak of him at all. Makes one wonder what happened to change her mind.”
Elizabeth certainly did take her meaning, and the implication filled her with growing dread. She completed her purchase and rejoined her sisters, who had wandered towards the posting inn where several red-coated figures could be seen lounging in the afternoon sun.
“Lizzy, look!” Lydia called excitedly. “There is Lieutenant Wilkins now. You simply must meet him.”
Elizabeth stiffened as she followed her sister’s pointing finger. There, standing with easy confidence among a group of officers, was a tall, handsome man with fair hair and an undeniably charming smile. He was regaling his companions with some tale, his manner showing complete ease and confidence.
“Girls,” Elizabeth said uncertainly, “perhaps we should return home.”
“Return home?” Lydia protested. “But we have only just arrived! Lieutenant Wilkins is coming this way.”
Indeed, the officer was now walking towards them with an easy, confident gait. His smile seemed practised, though Elizabeth could not say why that impression struck her so forcibly.
“Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty,” he said with a sweeping bow, his voice carrying considerable charm. “What a delightful surprise to encounter you here. How charming you both look today.”
Lydia practically preened under his attention.
“Lieutenant Wilkins! How wonderful to see you. I was just telling my sister Elizabeth about you. She has been away from Meryton for some days and has not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Elizabeth, this is Lieutenant Wilkins!” Lydia fairly gushed at the chance to present the handsome man to her sister.
The officer’s gaze fixed on Elizabeth with a boldness that made her oddly uncomfortable. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I am honoured to make your acquaintance at last. I have heard a great deal about your accomplishments.”
“Have you indeed?” Elizabeth replied carefully. “I cannot think how. What tales could have reached your ears, Lieutenant Wilkins?”
“Oh, merely the usual village talk,” he said smoothly. “Your reputation for intelligence and independence precedes you. What is more, I believe we may have a mutual acquaintance from Derbyshire. I have had the honour of knowing the Darcy family for many years.”
The casual mention of the name sent a shock through Elizabeth, though she struggled not to show it. “How interesting that you should mention the name Darcy. Mr. Darcy is presently a guest at Netherfield.”
The officer’s expression hardened—a tightening around the eyes that his smile, more of a smirk, could not quite conceal. “Is he indeed? How providential. I am eager to renew our acquaintance.”
“You are acquainted with Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity genuinely piqued.
“Oh yes, we have known each other for many years,” he replied smoothly. “Since boyhood, in fact. It has been some time since we last spoke.”
“You must tell me,” the officer continued, his tone light despite the tension she could sense beneath it, “how you find Mr. Darcy’s disposition? He was always rather dour in his temperament.”
Elizabeth felt as if she was navigating a field strewn with snares, every word seemed fraught with hidden meaning, every smile a potential trap. “I find him much as one would expect a gentleman of his consequence to be.”
“Quite so, quite so,” he murmured. His eyes continued to study her face with uncomfortable intensity.
Lydia, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, chattered on about a party whilst Kitty hung on the officer’s every word. Elizabeth endured several more minutes of this excruciating conversation before finally managing to insist that they must return home.
As they walked back towards Longbourn, Elizabeth could not say why she was troubled by the encounter.
Nothing had been said out of the common way, but there had been something in Lieutenant Wilkins’s manner that had made her uneasy—perhaps the intensity of his gaze, or the way his charming smile had turned rather brittle when he spoke of Mr. Darcy.