Page 19 of The Cat Who Loved Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
A week later, Longbourn was set for company. The dining room fire burned brighter than usual, and the table gleamed with its best linens. Mrs. Bennet oversaw the arrangements with anxious fluttering.
“For heaven’s sake, Hill—place the good decanter nearer Mr. Bingley’s end,” she hissed at the maid, barely lowering her voice enough to avoid scandalising the family. “And mind the gravy boat does not drip! I want no reason for complaint.”
Trying not to sigh too audibly, Elizabeth moved closer to Jane so as to avoid sitting directly across from the officer guests who had yet to arrive.
Jane leaned in and murmured a gentle plea. “Do try to look pleasant, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “I shall try to look civil, at least. That is all I can promise.”
Mr. Bennet stood in the doorway, watching this bustle with sardonic composure.
“I hope,” he said dryly, “that these famed Militia officers will not mistake our home for a recruiting office.”
Mrs. Bennet glared at him. “Nonsense. It is only prudent to know with whom our daughters might speak in public. You insisted on inviting them!”
“Indeed,” he agreed, crossing his arms. “If they must plague us in Meryton, I would rather examine them at my own table.”
Jane’s eyes widened in faint distress. Elizabeth bit her lip to hold back a laugh.
Just then, the sound of wheels on the drive announced their guests. Kitty and Lydia squealed in unison.
“They are here!” Lydia cried, spinning in place. “Oh! Oh, Lizzy, do stand up straight.”
Elizabeth rose slowly, smoothing her skirts. “Do calm yourself. We are not on parade.”
Hill showed in the party with appropriate formality. Mr. Bingley led the way, beaming with genuine delight.
“Mr. Bennet, ladies! Thank you for receiving me—and these gentlemen,” Bingley said with easy, generous warmth.
“As I was coming from Netherfield, I met them on the Meryton road. They were clearly headed this way, and I insisted they join me for the last part of the drive. I could hardly let them finish the walk when my carriage was quite empty.”
He stepped aside, revealing the two officers in their neat scarlet coats. Their boots were well-polished, though the leather was creased from wear, and the modest gleam of their sword-hilts hinted at care despite service.
Mr. Denny, stockier and with sun-browned skin, offered a brisk, practiced bow and wore an open, honest smile. His eyes crinkled with good humour at the corners.
Next to him, Mr. Wickham was leaner, with finer features, pale and carefully composed. His smile was quick, revealing even teeth, but his eyes had a brightness that did not quite match the warmth of his expression.
Mrs. Bennet, fluttering with satisfaction at being the link in this social moment, clapped her hands lightly.
“Mr. Bennet—allow me to make you known. This is Mr. Denny, who has been so polite to us in Meryton, and Mr. Wickham, lately joined to the regiment. Gentlemen, my husband, Mr. Bennet. And my daughters—Jane, Elizabeth. You know Kitty and Lydia already, I believe.”
Mr. Denny gave a courteous inclination. “Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—an honour, sir.”
Wickham followed with an elegant, if slightly more studied bow. “A very great pleasure, sir.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head dryly, eyebrows faintly raised as he surveyed them. “Welcome to Longbourn, gentlemen. I see my wife has been quite diligent in broadening her acquaintance in Meryton.”
Mrs. Bennet laughed in a flustered flutter of ribbons. “Nonsense, Mr. Bennet—it is only good manners to know the gentlemen of the regiment. They have been most obliging.”
Kitty and Lydia exchanged giggles at the back, whispering behind gloved hands as they eyed the officers with unconcealed delight.
Watching the introductions with a composed expression, Elizabeth noted the contrast silently. She took in Denny’s open, straightforward manner and Wickham’s polished charm that seemed almost too smooth.
Jane, gentle as ever, inclined her head with quiet civility. “You are welcome, sirs.”
Mr. Wickham’s smile broadened, but his eyes flicked quickly around the room, assessing with an alertness Elizabeth did not miss. She offered them both a polite curtsy, studying the latter closely. He was handsome, certainly—and altogether confident.
Mr. Bennet nodded once, expression unreadable behind his spectacles. “Welcome, gentlemen,” he said. “Pray be seated. I insist on good appetite tonight—my cook’s pride is at stake.”
“We shall do justice to it, sir!” Bingley said knowingly and laughed.
Lydia, perched too close to Kitty on the sofa, bounced in excitement. “Mr. Wickham! Mr. Denny! Were you at the drill today? We saw the colours on the green—so splendid!”
Wickham’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We were there indeed, Miss Lydia. Though it is not such fine work as dining in pleasant company.”
Lydia tittered. Kitty joined in, breathlessly approving.
Elizabeth watched him with wary amusement. Charming, to be sure—but too well-rehearsed, she thought, then glanced at Jane, who was flushed with shy pleasure to see Bingley’s gaze so warm on her.
“So, Mr. Wickham. You are newly come to the regiment? My wife suggested that,” Mr. Bennet said, then cleared his throat.
Wickham inclined his head with easy politeness. “Yes, sir. Newly joined at Meryton—but not new to the service, if I may say.”
“Oh?” Mr. Bennet’s brows rose, mild interest lighting his gaze.
Wickham’s smile sharpened just a little, but he kept his tone light. “I have been stationed in several places, and met a good many people along the way.” He gave a brief, courteous nod toward Elizabeth without elaborating further.
Elizabeth blinked, feeling something uncertain twist in her stomach at the evasiveness, but she kept her tone smooth.
“Indeed? That must be...varied company.”
“Varied—and always educational,” Wickham agreed, his smile returning with easy charm. “Though never so fortunate as tonight.”
Elizabeth frowned faintly at the compliment, but Mr. Bennet chose that moment to clear his throat, steering the conversation on.
“And do you intend to make Hertfordshire your residence for long?”
Wickham spread his hands. “That depends on the regiment’s orders—and, of course, the hospitality of the county.”
“Well, here you will find plenty of talk and little money. So spend both carefully.” Mr. Bennet added with dry gravity, his mouth twitching.
Mrs. Bennet clucked her tongue at him. “Mr. Bennet! Really.” She turned, fluttering at Wickham. “Do forgive him, sir. He prides himself on such remarks.”
“On the contrary, madam,” Mr. Wickham said with a smooth laugh, “I consider it sound advice.”
Dinner was soon announced, and the company moved to table with the usual shuffling of chairs and rustle of skirts.
Elizabeth fell in beside Jane, offering her arm a quick squeeze.
“He is here for you,” she murmured, glancing toward Mr. Bingley.
Jane blushed but could not hide her shining eyes.
Elizabeth’s own gaze drifted briefly to Wickham, who scarcely glanced at Lydia—even though the girl’s eyes never left him. ‘Silly child,’ she thought with quiet exasperation. ‘And you, sir? What exactly are you here for?’
Mr. Bennet led them all with grim satisfaction to the head of the table, gesturing them to sit with solemn courtesy.
“Well,” he announced once they were settled, surveying his guests with a kind smile, “let us see if you can all eat as well as you talk.”
The meal began with polite laughter and the low murmur of new introductions, while the November wind rattled at the windows, and candles flickered gently against the darkening glass.
Dinner began well enough, with the roast steaming and the candlelight brightening every glass and silver edge.
Mr. Denny quickly proved the more comfortable of the two officers in polite company, answering Mrs. Bennet’s eager questions with good-humoured patience.
“Indeed, ma’am,” he said, sipping his wine with measured care, “the colonel expects the regiment will remain quartered in Meryton through the winter. From time to time, the men will be very glad of the local hospitality.”
Lydia’s eyes danced. “Oh! Then there will be time enough for plenty of assemblies.”
Mr. Denny smiled indulgently. “I dare say we shall make ourselves agreeable, Miss Lydia.”
Mr. Bennet’s gaze flickered to Elizabeth, one eyebrow twitching in amusement as she hid her answering smile behind her napkin.
Across the table, Mr. Wickham sat at ease, but with an attention that Elizabeth found just a little too studied.
When Mrs. Bennet gushed, “And you, Mr. Wickham? How do you like Hertfordshire?” he smiled with a warmth that felt slightly rehearsed.
“Very well indeed, madam. The landscape is most inviting—though the company even more so.” His eyes landed on Elizabeth, and he offered her a quick, charming bow of the head.
Lydia looked cross at him.
Elizabeth inclined her own slightly in return, but there was a measured coolness to her look.
Mrs. Bennet, leaning forward with avid interest, inquired gently, “And where do you gentlemen call home?”
Mr. Denny answered first with cheerful directness.
“I am from Farnham, Surrey, ma’am. I lost my mother when I was young, so I help my father look after my two younger sisters—Helen and Kate.
Very sweet girls, though quite a handful.
Whenever I can obtain leave for a few days, I hurry home to see them. ”
Mrs. Bennet beamed at this. “How very dutiful! Your sisters must be delighted to have such an attentive brother.”
Mr. Wickham, lounging back a little more carefully, gave a polished smile. “As for myself—I was born in Lincolnshire, grew up largely in Derbyshire, studied for a time at Cambridge, lived a while between London and Lincolnshire—and now find myself here in your lovely county.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him over his spectacles with dry interest. “With such an education, I should have thought you might secure a post more settled than that of a Militia officer.”