Page 18 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

The Phillips’ Residence

Meryton

The Next Evening

Elizabeth stepped down out of the carriage and released the footman’s hand, looking around the street. The area had been prone to multiple rain showers throughout the day, but now the skies were partly clear.

Coachmen and stableboys lounged on their conveyances, talking and laughing together.

Behind her, Jane and Lydia alighted as well, adjusting pelisses and skirts before moving towards their aunt and uncle’s house.

Sounds of laughter and conversation could be heard as they approached the front step, and Elizabeth’s heart lifted a little.

Their father had insisted the three of them attend tonight and take a break from the work they were doing at Longbourn, and she was grateful.

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she entered, enjoying the smell of dinner wafting faintly through the house.

She grimaced a little to herself; never before had she been aware of how much work was involved in providing excellent food for the table.

For her entire life, the cooks and their minions had toiled away in the kitchen, and food had appeared at regular intervals, all prepared beautifully since Mrs. Hanson was a gifted cook.

Now Mrs. Hanson was preparing food at the hunting lodge for Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Kitty, and the undercook, Mrs. Carter, was managing to provide food for the Bennets as well as the numerous servants and tenants who were toiling away at the manse.

The food was sufficient but dull compared to their usual fare, and Elizabeth was thankful, once again, that her mother was staying at the lodge and thus would not fall into histrionics over the lack of pudding and tarts at Longbourn.

“There you are, my dears!” Mrs. Phillips exclaimed, rushing forward and wrapping an arm around Jane’s shoulders.

Elizabeth smiled back though she felt a twinge of compunction that they were late.

Lydia had tearfully insisted, at the last minute, on filching some lace from Jane to add to the neckline of the dress she had borrowed from Mary.

As much as Elizabeth welcomed time to see her aunt and uncle and socialize with their friends, the headache from Lydia’s whining had nearly been enough to cause her to decline to come.

As she stepped into the drawing room, she emphatically wished she had stayed at Longbourn.

Her chest tightened in anxiety, her breath coming short in dread.

She realized, suddenly, that the hours she had spent here waiting for news of the fate of her family members had etched a connection between the room and the terror of that day.

She was jolted sharply from this despondent reflection by a chorus of glad voices.

Kitty, having been fetched earlier from the lodge, was seated on the couch beside Mrs. Long and her nieces, with Maria and Lady Lucas seated in the adjacent chairs.

Sir William had collapsed his bulk into an overstuffed armchair near his wife, and several red coated officers were decorating the walls.

Kitty sprang to her feet, followed by Maria and then Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas, all of them hurrying towards the new-come Bennet sisters. “My dears,” Mrs. Long said. “We are all so very glad to see you.”

“We have been truly concerned for you,” Lady Lucas agreed. “Suffering so unfairly – well, most of you,” she added with a sideways glance at Lydia. The youngest Bennet daughter went stiff, eyes flaring wide in hurt and anger and dismay.

Elizabeth intervened quickly. “Yes, thank you, Lady Lucas. Aunt, is that lottery tickets you have set up on the table?”

“Yes, I thought we could play a round,” their aunt said cheerfully, releasing Jane so the eldest sister could hug Kitty. “Do come sit down, Lydia pet, and help me get it started.”

Lydia tossed her dark hair. “Oh, if I must,” she agreed with studied disinterest, and flounced towards the table.

Lady Lucas turned back to Jane and Elizabeth. “And how is your mother? And poor, dear Mary?”

“They are improving rapidly,” Jane interposed gracefully, releasing Kitty to turn towards their mother’s friend.

“That is wonderful,” Lady Lucas said warmly.

“Kitty, might you come over here and help?” Mrs. Phillips called. Kitty turned towards them, just catching the tail end of the fulminating look Lydia was sending her.

Lieutenant Wickham, propped against the wall with a glass of wine in his hand, had seen the whole thing, and he suppressed a gleeful smile.

It was a pity that none of the Bennet daughters would make a worthwhile bride – no wealth to speak of, and even less now after the fire – for each of the girls were beautiful.

But any of them would make for a pleasant bedfellow, and Wickham knew women well enough by now to recognize the signs of a girl ripe for seduction in Lydia’s stormy demeanor and defiant speech.

A few words of flattery dropped into that delicate ear would lure her eager to his side.

The hand of lottery tickets was being dealt. Wickham moved forward to lean over beside Lydia and turned on his most charming smile. “Is this seat taken, Miss Lydia?”

She looked up in surprise, then relaxed slightly upon seeing his friendly, handsome countenance. “Mr. Wickham! It is not.”

He settled into the chair beside her. “Excellent. I daresay this is the best seat in the room.”

Lydia tossed her hair and produced her most flirtatious smile. “But of course!”

He returned the smile, showing his perfect teeth. “Of course, indeed,” he echoed smoothly.

“Cousin Jane, Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins said, surging forward portentously, “I hope this day finds you well and happy?”

Elizabeth suppressed a hysterical gurgle at these conventional words and said sedately, “Yes, we are very well, Mr. Collins. I hope you are well too?”

“Yes, I am very well,” the parson said. “I must apologize for introducing an unpleasant topic at a dinner party, one where all should be cheer and friendship, but I fear I must speak to you on a matter of the utmost importance.”

The eldest Misses Bennet exchanged uneasy glances, and Elizabeth said, “Of course, but let us go into our aunt’s parlor so that we can speak in private.”

Mr. Collins extended one hand in what was meant to be a courtly gesture, and the two ladies made their way out of the drawing room, down a corridor, and into the parlor.

It was a very elegant room, in a dustily magnificent way.

Heavy brocaded drapes covered the windows, and the sturdy oak furniture had once been the height of fashion.

It was dim and a little bit musty, and rarely used.

Jane and Elizabeth crossed to one of the couches between the lamp and the empty fireplace and sat down side by side, their shoulders brushing.

Beside her, Elizabeth heard Jane let out a tiny sigh of relief in finally being off her feet, and Elizabeth could only sigh in agreement.

They were both weary after so many hours of work.

Mr. Collins entered the room and closed the door behind him, then turned to regard his cousins.

“Cousin Jane, Cousin Elizabeth,” he said heavily, “I loathe the necessity of being the bearer of such grim tidings, especially when I consider that you recently lost part of Longbourn, though that is entirely due to the outrageous behavior of your youngest sister who has, I fear, been foolishly indulged from a young age. It is a great sorrow to me, as heir to the estate, that my own cousin could be so careless as to destroy part of the home which is mine by right and...”

“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth interrupted, her eyes flashing, “it is not a definite fact that Lydia is responsible for the fire. In a house where wood is used for heating, it is always possible for a spark to roll out of a fireplace and ignite the carpet, or some other such mishap.”

Collins shook his head, his face set rigidly with disapproval.

“That seems most unlikely, especially since Miss Lydia confessed to leaving a candle burning. No, I have no choice but to set aside my original intention of marrying one of you, the better to alleviate the sorrow and difficulty when your father passes on to his great reward. My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would not be pleased if I married a woman capable of leaving a candle lit which could burn down the parsonage...”

Elizabeth fought to keep her expression polite at this absurdity.

Even if Lydia was the one to start the fire, it was truly ridiculous to assign culpability to her sisters.

However, it was a relief to not have to expend any effort to fend off unwanted advances from the parson; between the work at the house and concern for her mother and sister, she could only be grateful, not offended.

“I entirely understand,” she interposed, and then added solemnly, “indeed, Mr. Collins, we would never wish for you to marry against Lady Catherine’s wishes. I think you are being very wise.”

The rector, who had been looking anxious, now nodded portentously and said, “Thank you, Cousin. I am most relieved at your sensible response to my decision. It is, I know, a hard thing for you to lose a most eligible suitor due to Miss Lydia’s idiocy, but such is the way of life. We reap what we sow.”

On this absurd remark, Mr. Collins bowed, turned on his heel, and walked out of the door, leaving Elizabeth to collapse into a fit of hysterical laughter.

/

“A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession – I was brought up for the church – and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased Mr. Darcy to give it to me,” Mr. Wickham explained to his fair companion.

“Indeed?” Lydia asked, though not with much interest. She had enough problems of her own without caring much for the difficulties of those around her. Besides, Mr. Wickham would be far less handsome without his red coat. Clergymen wore very dull clothing!

Wickham enjoyed complaining about Darcy, but he could see that Miss Lydia was too self-centered to be an enjoyable companion in such a discussion, so he decided to end the topic by saying, “Yes, I fear Mr. Darcy is not a very pleasant man, and that we are on exceptionally poor terms since he stole the living from me.”

“That is dreadful,” Lydia said with spurious sympathy, “but I am not surprised. Mr. Darcy is terribly proud! The very day that Mr. Bingley and his company met us, at a ball in Meryton, Mr. Darcy refused to dance with Lizzy and the reason was that he thought Lizzy was ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him’! Can you imagine a gentleman saying such a thing about a lady?”

“That is exactly like Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Wickham said, his expression grave, though inwardly he exulted.

Life would be far more pleasant in the militia if his old enemy was disliked by all those around him.

“He is pleasant to those who are in his social sphere, but to those he considers beneath his notice, he can be unbearably rude and unpleasant. I do hope your elder sister was not too greatly distressed by his insults.”

Lydia looked up from the couch where she and the handsome lieutenant were sitting, just as Elizabeth and Jane entered the room from the corridor, whereupon they joined Charlotte Lucas, who was in company with the tedious Mr. Collins.

“Elizabeth thought it to be more amusing than anything else, though it was horridly discourteous,” Lydia explained. “Everyone knows that she is very pretty; not as handsome as Jane, of course, but the second prettiest of us all.”

“I would argue that you are the loveliest of all your sisters,” Wickham said with a gleam of white teeth.

“Truly?” Lydia asked in wonder.

An emotion she could not name filled her, and for a moment she felt almost like weeping.

She had been accustomed all her life to being petted and pampered and admired, and yet of late, all she had received were hard looks and angry, judgmental murmurs.

She felt so alone all the time now. Jane and Lizzy were kind, but she had no doubt they blamed her as much as everyone else did.

But here was Mr. Wickham; kind, handsome, charming Mr. Wickham. He did not disdain her, he did not blame her for what had happened. He sat and talked to her – so kindly! – and he thought her beautiful. Her heart lifted, and she gave him her prettiest smile.

“Indeed, Miss Lydia, all of you are lovely ladies, but you are the most handsome of them all! I am grieved that Mr. Darcy has shown himself in such a poor light. His late father was a very good man, but I fear his son has fallen far from the tree.”

“Well, as to that, Lizzy likes Mr. Darcy now – well, perhaps she does not like him, but she is grateful. He organized the fight against the fire at Longbourn, you see, and our father says that if Mr. Darcy had not taken control, we could have lost the whole mansion. I believe most people still do not like him, but they respect him.”

Wickham maintained his cheery expression, but inwardly he felt a surge of disappointment.

He had hoped that Darcy would be so disdained that his own complaints of ill usage would be readily accepted, but it seemed the master of Pemberley had covered himself in glory the very day Wickham arrived in Meryton.

It was a pity. He would need to be cautious and avoid Darcy as much as possible.