Page 28 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Lucas Lodge

Friday Evening

Charlotte Lucas stood beside her betrothed and smiled and nodded and accepted congratulations with serenity.

Beside her, William Collins bobbed and puffed and nattered incessantly, extolling his gratitude for his great good fortune to every visitor.

Charlotte smiled prettily and endured the mild annoyance that mounted with each guest, reminding herself that he was at least being polite – not obsequious, she told herself firmly – and that her father had the same gift of friendliness with all.

Indeed, her father was thrilled with his soon to be son-in-law. Charlotte appreciated the harmony, for it meant the two men would spend long hours together enjoying each other's company, hours she did not have to spend with her betrothed herself.

Lady Lucas was equally pleased with the engagement, if for more pragmatic reasons.

She and Charlotte had spent every spare hour discussing and practicing the skills a parson's wife might need.

Discussions of how best to aid the parishioners at Rosings mixed with reading Fordyce's sermons, which in turn mixed with strategy on how best to make a rector's salary stretch.

Charlotte smiled automatically and dropped a neat little curtsey to the next guest who had arrived. But deep inside, she was growing anxious. Elizabeth Bennet had yet to appear; was she angry or offended at Charlotte catching Mr. Collins for her own?

Surely not, Charlotte thought. Elizabeth was dreadfully busy at Longbourn, after all. If she was upset, she would inform Charlotte herself, not coldly turn away and cut contact.

The door opened again, and her heart leapt as Elizabeth entered along with Mr. Bennet and Lydia.

“Elizabeth!” Charlotte exclaimed happily and then turned to the other two guests and said, “Mr. Bennet, Lydia, I am so glad you were all able to come tonight!”

“It is our pleasure,” Elizabeth said warmly, and faced her cousin and added, “Mr. Collins, please do accept our heartiest congratulations regarding your engagement.”

“Thank you, Cousin Elizabeth!” Collins said, a smile stretching across his plump face. “I could not be happier, I assure you! Charlotte is my perfect match. I can only thank the Lord on High that He made it obvious that your family was … but enough of that. This is a time of joy!”

“Indeed it is,” Bennet said solemnly, though his eyes were twinkling.

Ever since Longbourn had caught on fire, his life had been devoid of his favorite amusement, that of silently mocking those around him.

He found his cousin Collins harmless but absurd, and found it a great source of amusement that Charlotte Lucas, sensible and intelligent, had accepted the man as a bridegroom.

A moment later, his amusement passed in favor of a regrettably common emotion nowadays, that of shame.

At least Charlotte was marrying because she wished for security and children, whereas he had fallen in love with young Fanny Gardiner’s face, been fool enough to marry her, and then had abrogated his responsibilities as husband, father, and master of Longbourn until the recent catastrophe.

No, he had no right to cast stones at Charlotte Lucas.

“We will be marrying after the New Year,” he heard Charlotte say, and he forced himself to contain his wandering attention, “since Mr. Collins has responsibilities at Hunsford until the end of December.”

“Congratulations again,” Elizabeth said and then, as the main door opened again, added, “I hope to talk with you more later in the evening, but we cannot clutter up the entry hall this way.”

Mr. Bennet escorted his two daughters into the main dining area, where Lydia rushed off to speak with Maria Lucas while Elizabeth remained at his side.

Elizabeth looked around with interest. The room was filled with people, all four-and-twenty local families well represented, as well as many red-coated officers milling about.

Tables lined the walls, a frivolous array of food, unusually lavish for Lady Lucas, spread across them.

Elizabeth recognized some of the rolls and sugared cakes from the local bakery nestled among the meats and vegetables.

A bowl of glowing oranges sat grandly to the side, taking pride of place among the tea and coffee, adjacent to the silver punch bowl.

She observed that Phoebe Long was seated at the pianoforte in the corner of the main room, and a moment later, the girl began playing a Scottish air, to the pleasure of various officers, gentlemen, and ladies, who began dancing.

Elizabeth noted, with a start, that Mr. Wickham was among the group of dancers.

He was partnered with Miss Mary King, and Elizabeth’s heart warmed at the sight.

She did not know Miss King well, but the young lady was plain and often unable to secure a partner.

It was a point in Wickham’s favor that he was willing to choose a less attractive lady for the first dance of the night.

It was odd that Mr. Wickham disliked Mr. Darcy, but she decided it was hardly her concern.

Relationships were often complex; maybe the two had fought as boys?

She admired Mr. Darcy, but there was no reason to think that Wickham was a bad person, even if a gentleman ought not to gossip with a new acquaintance as he had done with Lydia.

“Lizzy, you must get a plate and eat some of these scrumptious things!” Lydia cried out suddenly, pulling Elizabeth’s attention toward her sister.

“Thank you, I will,” she said.

/

“I hope you are well today, Miss King?” Mr. Wickham said, smiling down at his dancing partner.

“Oh, indeed I am, Mr. Wickham,” Mary King returned.

“And your grandfather, is he here tonight? How is he feeling?”

“Oh, he was not feeling well enough to attend this party; indeed, he is not well at all, I fear.”

“I am very sorry,” Wickham said, allowing his mouth to droop sympathetically, “but at least I can rejoice that you were able to come tonight. You are an excellent dancer.”

In truth, Miss King was only an average dancer, but she knew the steps, at least.

“Oh, sir,” the girl replied, her face flushing. “Thank you. You are a truly marvelous dancer as well.”

“Thank you,” Wickham replied, managing a slight bow in the midst of the motion of the dance. “In truth, I am not generally considered a true proficient on the dance floor. I think that my prowess today is due to the beauty and grace of my partner.”

“Oh!” Miss King exclaimed, and her breathless happiness almost made her pretty for a moment.

Wickham decided he had said quite enough, and for the rest of the dance, he contented himself with dancing with his usual expertise and bestowing admiring glances on the heiress he hoped to marry soon.

When the dance ended, he bowed low and said, “I have never enjoyed a dance so much, Miss King.”

The girl simpered and curtseyed, and then retreated to the corner where her companion was sitting.

Wickham waited until Miss King was thoroughly engaged in conversation before wandering over to pour himself a cup of negas.

He was not enamored with the sweetness of the beverage, but the brandy within was most welcome.

There would be more drinking and gambling at the barracks later tonight.

“Mr. Wickham!” a breathy voice cried from Wickham’s side.

Wickham turned, bowed, and smiled at Miss Lydia Bennet.

The girl was a most welcome diversion from Miss King, as the youngest Bennet daughter was beautiful and buxom.

He noted, with an expert eye, that Miss Lydia’s gown had been made over from someone else’s, but while the dark green was not the best color for the young lady’s complexion, there was sufficient lace and rosettes to make it quite attractive.

“I hope you are well, Miss Lydia?” he said.

“I am, Mr. Wickham,” she replied, displaying rows of even white teeth.

“Would you care to dance the next set with me?”

“I would, thank you!”

/

“I think we can stay here perhaps another ten minutes, and by then, everyone should have arrived,” Charlotte said to Mr. Collins, being careful to smile up at him. “I prepared apple pie just the way you like it. Perhaps you would care for a slice when we enter the dining room?”

“That would be wonderful, Charlotte,” the parson replied eagerly, only to turn toward the door as the servant opened it, and five more people entered the house, bringing another gust of cold air with them.

“Jane, Mary, Kitty!” Charlotte exclaimed with real pleasure. “Oh, how wonderful to see you all, and especially Mary! How are you?”

“I am well enough,” Mary replied quietly, looking rather uneasy.

She had not been in company since the fire, and while her head rarely ached anymore, she thought she looked a fright with her arm in a sling and a green and yellow bruise on her forehead.

However, she was growing tired of being at the Hunting Lodge listening to her mother extol Mr. Bingley’s virtues, and thus she had decided to come to the party, though she had made Jane promise that if her head began to ache, she would be permitted to withdraw into a quieter place.

“Cousin Jane, Cousin Kitty, Cousin Mary!” Mr. Collins said enthusiastically. “It is so good to see you. Might you introduce me to your companions?”

“Of course, Mr. Collins,” Jane said. “My betrothed, Mr. Bingley and his friend, Mr. Darcy.”

The gentlemen bowed toward one another, and Kitty said, “Mary, do come along and sit by the fire.”

“Yes, you ought not to stand for long, Mary,” Jane agreed, hooking her arm into Mary’s healthy one and guiding her out of the vestibule, with Bingley in pursuit.

Mr. Darcy took a few steps after his friend, only to halt when Mr. Collins said, “Sir, I do apologize for being forward, but may I inquire as to whether you are the Mr. Darcy who is nephew to Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings?”

Darcy sighed inwardly and said, “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, sir.” The parson beamed with delight.

“I am so very honored to meet you! I had the privilege of seeing her ladyship less than two weeks ago, and she was in the very best of health, though that is, of course, only to be expected in Lady Catherine. You must know, sir, that I have the great fortune to be the rector at Hunsford, and I can see the magnificent edifice of Rosings from my humble abode. Truly, I had no idea … it is such a wonderful honor to meet the nephew of my esteemed patroness!”

Charlotte tightened her grip on Mr Collins’s arm and said, “Mr. Darcy, I would not wish you to catch a chill here. Please do enter within where it is warmer.”

“Oh yes, of course, of course!” Mr. Collins babbled, and Darcy, with a slight bow, made his hasty retreat.

Bingley had told him that a rector named Collins was heir to Longbourn, but presumably he had not known that the man was serving under Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine.

Darcy grimaced a little as he stepped into the main room of the house.

His aunt hired only obsequious men to serve under her, and thus he was quite confident of the parson’s character.

At least Charlotte Lucas seemed a sensible, tactful woman, which would help her navigate life under the interfering oversight of Mr. Collins’s patroness.

Darcy scanned the room in search of Miss Elizabeth, only to freeze at the sight of a much less welcome face.

/

“You are a wonderful dancer, Miss Lydia,” Wickham declared, beaming down at the lady standing across from him. He spoke the truth; the girl was light on her feet and knew the steps perfectly. Her dress, too, was sufficiently low cut that he occasionally enjoyed a brief glimpse of décolletage.

The couple spun around, and Lydia glanced to the right and said, “Oh, I see my other sisters!"

Wickham turned around as part of the dance and cast an admiring glance on the four older Bennet sisters.

Miss Bennet was guiding the third sister toward a chair, while Miss Elizabeth and Miss Kitty were in some sort of conference.

They really were a remarkably good looking group of sisters except for the middle girl, whose plainness was accentuated by a dark bruise on her forehead.

A moment later, Wickham stiffened as another individual walked into the room, looked around, and to the lieutenant’s unhappiness, their eyes met.

Darcy!

“Is something wrong?” Lydia demanded, pulling Wickham’s attention back to his partner.

“No, not at all,” he said, thinking rapidly. “Your third sister – Mary, is it? Is she quite well?”

“Yes, thank God, she is,” Lydia said, and Wickham was surprised at the fervency in her voice. “She jumped out of a window at Longbourn during the fire, you know; she could have died, and my mother too. I am so grateful that they are both safe!”

“That is indeed a great blessing,” Wickham said solemnly. The last strains of music faded away, and he came to a stop and bowed, while Lydia, her eyes full of admiration, curtsied.

“Do come over to the refreshments, Mr. Wickham,” she suggested. “I know that Kitty will wish to speak to you, and Elizabeth as well, perhaps!”

“That is very kind, but I regretfully must depart. I have early watch tonight, and it would not do to displease my commander.”

“Oh, what a pity! And the food and punch are so wonderful, along with the dancing.”

“That is quite all right,” Wickham declared. “I had the joy and honor of dancing with you, and I could not ask for anything more on a cold winter’s night.”

“Oh, Mr. Wickham!” Lydia giggled.

Wickham bowed again, more dramatically, and then turned away.

He had never been to Lucas Lodge before, but he was confident that a little judicious searching would bring him to a side entrance whereupon he would escape the house and make his way back to the barracks.

He was not afraid of Darcy – no, of course he was not – it was merely that he did not care for any unpleasantness during what should be an enjoyable party.

He had courted Miss King, eaten some delicious food, and enjoyed a dance with a beautiful girl. That was quite enough for one evening.