Page 13 of The Mercy of Chance

T hree and six for the repair? Highway robbery, Mr Williams, when the work required is barely worth half that.”

Lydia’s voice carried clearly across the shop, her usual exuberance focused into surprising acumen.

“The hinge needs only minor adjustment, not complete replacement.”

“Miss Lydia,”

the iron monger sputtered, “surely your grandfather…”

“Has taught me well the value of both materials and labour,”

Lydia finished firmly, whilst Kitty nodded beside her.

“Two shillings, and we’ll continue bringing Longbourn’s business to your establishment.”

The bell above the shop door chimed, admitting a wash of red coats and masculine attention.

Mr Denny’s familiar figure led the group.

“Miss Lydia, Miss Catherine! What fortune to encounter you.”

His bow encompassed his companions.

“Allow me to present Lieutenant Carter, Captain Morris, and Mr Wickham, newly joined to our regiment.”

Mr Wickham’s smile held practised charm as he stepped forward.

“Such a pleasure to meet Meryton’s renowned beauties.

I daresay I had not expected to find young ladies engaged in such… practical matters.”

“Oh?”

Lydia’s arch expression would have done Elizabeth proud.

“Do you find discussion of metal work beneath feminine understanding, Mr Wickham?”

“Not at all,”

he demurred smoothly.

“Although such concerns need not occupy one blessed with such other… obvious charms.

I find myself delighted,” Wickham’s expression shifted into something artfully charming, a smile he had likely used to open many doors, as his eyes strayed to take in Lydia’s well-grown form, “to find such charming company in Meryton.

The Bennet sisters’ beauty is already legendary among the officers.”

“How flattering,”

Lydia replied, her tone suggesting it was anything but.

“Although I wonder, Mr Wickham, do you find all five sisters equally legendary, or do particular… circumstances enhance our charms?”

“Circumstances?”

He affected confusion, although something calculated flickered in his eyes.

“Our circumstances.

Our situation. Our…”

she paused deliberately, “prospects.”

“Ah.”

His laugh held a touch of unease beneath its polish.

“You cannot doubt it, Miss Lydia, my admiration is entirely focused on more… personal attributes.”

“Personal attributes will not feed you, sir.

You must be quite unique among your fellow officers in caring not for fortune.

I understand most gentlemen in the military take a keen interest in… financial matters.

The cost of commissions being what they are.”

Lydia shifted her basket and straightened, better to meet Wickham’s evasive eye.

Captain Morris nodded approvingly.

“A practical consideration, Miss Lydia.

The purchase of a captaincy requires significant investment.”

Lydia’s eyes never left Wickham’s increasingly stiff countenance.

“And you, Mr Wickham? Might I enquire, sir, as to your occupations beyond your military service? Have you other matters to supplement your own charms, sir?”

A flicker of discomfort crossed his handsome features.

“I was meant for the church, however a cruelty of chance denied me a living.”

“A man of the cloth? Unusual for a Milita man.

When did you take orders?”

“I, well, without the living I had been promised, there seemed no need.

I had some thoughts of the law…”

“Had?”

Lydia pressed.

“Did you read law?”

“It proved to be more costly than my purse would allow.”

“And now?”

“Now I find military life better suited to my temperament.”

Lydia raised a brow and turned to include the other officers.

“Mr Wickham has already undertaken three different professions.

Perhaps that has slowed his hopes.

Tell me, Captain Morris, what are the prospects for advancement in your profession? I understand it requires both dedication and personal investment.”

As Morris outlined the requirements of purchasing commissions and the years of service needed for promotion, Wickham’s easy manner faltered notably.

“Most officers are unmarried, are they not?”

Lydia’s smile turned razor sharp.

“A few have found ladies who are willing to follow the drum.

Captain Forrester has married recently.

He is a second son with an annuity.

He has been most fortunate to make an …advantageous alliance.”

“Mrs Forrester had a fortune of her own, did she not? I imagine a truly advantageous alliance would require both parties to bring something of value to the arrangement.

Beyond charm and a red coat, that is.”

“Worth comes in many forms, Miss Lydia,”

Wickham attempted to rally, his gaze once again straying to her figure.

“Beauty such as yours needs no supplement.”

“How interesting that you equate beauty with worth,”

she said.

“Whilst dismissing the value of actual accomplishment or industry.

Tell me, what do you have to offer beyond flattery?”

The other officers shifted uncomfortably as Wickham’s charm fractured further.

“I had thought the Bennet sisters above such mercenary considerations.”

“Mercenary? Oh no, sir.

Merely practical.

A lady must consider her future.

After all, a man seeking to marry should at least offer something beyond pretty compliments and borrowed regimentals, do not you agree?”

Wickham’s handsome features froze in a rictus of embarrassment as Captain Morris poorly concealed a snort of laughter.

“Now then, Mr Williams,”

Lydia turned back to the iron monger with calm efficiency.

“About that gate repair…”

“Two shillings and sixpence, Miss Lydia, and I will have Thomas see to it this afternoon.”

“Excellent.”

She turned back to the officers with a curtsey that somehow managed to include all whilst dismissing one.

“Good day, gentlemen.

Do enjoy your… pursuit of advancement.”

As they departed, Kitty whispered, “Lizzy will be proud when she hears how you managed that!”

“Managed what?”

Lydia’s eyes sparkled.

“I simply expressed an interest in the gentleman’s prospects.

Although I must say, Mr Wickham’s proved remarkably unimpressive upon examination.”

“Come now, Darcy, you cannot deny that Miss Bennet’s knowledge is impressive,”

Bingley said cheerfully as their horses approached Longbourn.

“One social call is hardly too much to ask after they were kind enough to show us their innovative drainage works.”

Darcy’s noncommittal grunt might have discouraged a less determined friend, but Bingley had long since grown immune to such tactics.

They found Longbourn markedly different from their previous visit.

Where before there had been an air of comfortable industry–account books neatly stacked on a side table, Miss Elizabeth and her grandfather bent over estate maps–now there was a palpable tension.

The elderly Mr Bennet sat in a soft chair by the hearth, but his usual placid expression had been replaced by one of barely concealed irritation.

“Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy,”

Elizabeth rose to greet them, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“How fortunate--”

“My dear cousins!”

A loud voice interrupted as a short, pompous figure hurried forward.

“You cannot imagine my delight in welcoming such distinguished visitors! Mr Darcy, sir, to think that I should have the honour of receiving my noble patroness’s nephew in what will soon be my own establishment--”

Darcy noted how Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened, how Jane’s serene face showed a flicker of distress, and how Mrs Bennet, typically effusive with visitors, seemed to be seeking refuge behind her handkerchief.

Her eyes flashed, but her lips were set in a grim line.

“Mr Collins,”

Mary Bennet spoke up, her usually calm tone carrying an edge, “perhaps you might allow our guests to be introduced before overwhelming them with your… connections.”

“Nonsense, Cousin Mary! Lady Catherine herself has instructed me on the proper way to receive persons of consequence.

Why, last Easter--”

“Mr Collins.”

The elderly Mr Bennet’s quiet voice somehow cut sharply through the clergyman’s endless blather.

The room fell silent at Mr Bennet’s quiet command.

Darcy observed how even this small exertion seemed to tax the elderly gentleman, whose fingers gripped the armrests of his chair with alarming intensity.

“Perhaps,”

Mr Bennet continued after regaining his composure, “you might allow Miss Elizabeth to perform the introductions.”

Mr Collins bowed with exaggerated deference.

“Of course, of course.

Forgive my enthusiasm.”

Elizabeth stepped forward; her chin lifted just enough to signal the quiet determination Darcy had come to recognise as her shield against discomfort.

“Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, with your indulgence, may I present our cousin, Mr William Collins of Hunsford, Kent.

Mr Collins is Longbourn’s heir under the entail and has come to… make himself acquainted with Longbourn.”

The words were spoken evenly, but Darcy did not miss the significance.

The entail.

Of course.

Longbourn would pass not to any of the five Bennet daughters, but to this obsequious man who even now was beaming at Darcy with an expression of almost painful reverence.

“Mr Darcy!”

Collins exclaimed, unable to contain himself further.

“The nephew of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park! My noble patroness has spoken of you often, sir.

Most recently when she graciously allowed me to attend her on the evening of the 23rd ultimo, she mentioned your excellent management of Pemberley and how it might serve as an example to less distinguished landowners.” He cut his eyes in the direction of Mr Bennet; his disdain obvious.

Darcy inclined his head, uncomfortable with both the excessive praise and the sudden understanding that was forming in his mind.

Elizabeth’s knowledge of estate management, the innovative drainage works, the careful account books he had glimpsed on their last visit—these were not purely academic interests.

They were necessities.

“You serve as Lady Catherine’s clergyman?”

he enquired, more to direct the conversation away from himself than out of genuine interest.

“I have that singular honour, sir! Her Ladyship bestowed upon me the living at Hunsford Parsonage some eighteen months ago, and her condescension knows no bounds.

I also have the privilege of a regular acquaintance with the fair Miss Anne de Bourgh, that singular diamond of femininity, for whom, I am certain you recall, Lady Catherine has long nurtured expectations of the most elevated nature regarding her establishment.”

Mr Collins gave Darcy a peculiar look before continuing, “Lady Catherine has ensured my perfect comfort at my humble parsonage.

Why, only last month she suggested an improvement to my garden hedge that I would never have conceived of myself!”

Jane Bennet moved quietly to her grandfather’s side, offering him a glass.

The old man’s face softening as he accepted it.

“The entail has been in place for three generations,”

Mr Bennet said suddenly, his shrewd eyes fixed on Darcy, as if seeking a communication.

“My grandfather’s grandfather was most insistent that Longbourn should never leave the male line.

A common enough sentiment, although one might question its wisdom when that line produces only surviving daughters for two consecutive generations.”

Mrs Bennet’s handkerchief was now pressed firmly to her mouth, but her distress was evident in her wide eyes.

“Indeed,”

Mr Collins interjected, seemingly oblivious to the room’s tension, “it is a most fortuitous arrangement.

Lady Catherine herself has encouraged me to ensure the security of my inheritance as soon as possible.

‘Mr Collins,’ she said, ‘a man must know his property intimately if he is to manage it with any competence’”

Darcy watched as Elizabeth’s hand came to rest protectively on her grandfather’s shoulder.

The picture was painfully clear.

The Bennet ladies—all five sisters—would be utterly dependent on the largesse of this ridiculous man upon their grandfather’s death.

Their home, the estate they had so capably managed, would pass from their hands into his.

“I understand Longbourn produces a comfortable income,”

Bingley remarked, his usual cheerfulness tempered with unexpected perception.

“The improvements to the water channels that Miss Elizabeth showed us last week were most impressive.”

“Ah yes,”

Collins nodded vigorously.

“Most impressive for ladies to think to concern themselves with such matters.

Although of course, once I assume responsibility, more sophisticated methods will be implemented, and the ladies will return to their natural sphere.

Lady Catherine has most specific ideas about estate management which she has been kind enough to share with me despite my humble origins.”

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened on her grandfather’s shoulder as though bracing against something unseen.

Jane’s mask of composure slipped for just a moment to reveal something like despair.

Mary’s studious composure fractured briefly.

“Your cousins have maintained Longbourn admirably,”

Darcy said, his tone sharper than he intended.

“The western fields particularly show evidence of careful management.”

Mr Collins waved a dismissive hand.

“Female accomplishments, whilst charming, can hardly substitute for a gentleman’s education in such matters,”

Collins declared with a pontifical air.

“Nature itself, in its divine wisdom, has designed the female mind for domestic concerns rather than land management.

Lady Catherine often remarks that women who dabble in men’s affairs risk upsetting the natural balance that Providence has established.

‘Mr Collins,’ she told me, ‘Woman is created to soothe and comfort, to maintain hearth and home, not to exhaust their delicate constitutions with business matters.’ I have already identified several areas where improvements must be made once the estate comes under my care.

The female tendency toward sentiment over rationality has, I fear, resulted in some questionable decisions.” He smirked as he met eyes with Darcy, apparently anticipating enthusiastic agreement.

Darcy looked to Elizabeth briefly and saw in her expression not only anger but a fierce pride.

Her questioning about Pemberley’s water management had been so specific, so knowledgeable.

She did more than make conversation—she was gathering information that might sustain her family against the time when their home and livelihood passed to this pompous fool.

Darcy’s mind returned, as it often did, to the unsettling reality faced by women of good breeding and no portion.

The Bennet sisters, accomplished and intelligent as they were, would be entirely at the mercy of either marriage or their cousin’s goodwill.

“Indeed, my aunt is singularly devoted to the concerns of her estate, Rosings.

As I recall, she is intimately involved in business matters there.”

Darcy said irritably.

Subtlety was lost on Collins, who launched into another panegyric on Lady Catherine’s wisdom.

Darcy observed the silent communication between the Bennet sisters—a language of glances and subtle gestures that spoke volumes about their shared concern and determination.

His previous understanding had proved far more than incomplete—it had bordered upon blindness.

Collins paused, seemingly waiting for approval of his pronouncements.

When none came, he abruptly shifted course.

“But let us speak of more pleasant matters! I understand, Mr Darcy, that you have a most accomplished sister.

Lady Catherine has often mentioned Miss Darcy’s exceptional skill at the pianoforte.

Such feminine accomplishments are, of course, precisely what nature intends for young ladies of good breeding.”

Darcy grimaced.

That this obsequious fool should so much as speak Georgiana’s name sent a wave of visceral revulsion through him.

His disgust threatened to manifest in a cutting remark that propriety alone—not mercy—prevented him from delivering.

“I believe you were telling us about your plans to inspect the grain storage.”

Mr Bennet interrupted the ceaseless flow of nonsense emanating from Collins.

“Oh! Yes, indeed.

I must say, Cousin Elizabeth’s peculiar involvement in such matters has left everything in quite a disorderly state.

When I assume control--”

Elizabeth’s knuckles whitened, and Darcy glared at Collins sharply.

The ease that had marked their previous visits had vanished, replaced by an atmosphere that reminded Darcy uncomfortably of a fox in a henhouse.

“Miss Elizabeth,”

Darcy said, “I wonder if I might enquire further about your success with rerouting the overflow from the north pasture.

I found our previous discussion most illuminating.”

The flash of distress in Elizabeth’s eyes at this escape was quickly masked, but not before Darcy caught it.

As she led him toward the window to discuss agriculture, he could hear Collins behind them, earnestly explaining to Bingley how Lady Catherine would never permit such irregular management of her estates.

Darcy’s concern deepened as he observed the subtle signs of strain in the household.

The Bennet ladies had struck him as uncommonly capable during his last visit.

Now, he was watching Mr Collins hover about them like an overeager vulture.

Mr Collins intercepted Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley as they were preparing to leave.

His rapid approach and officious manner caused both gentlemen to exchange a subtle glance of resignation.

“Mr Darcy! Such providence to find you here.

I was just composing a letter to my most noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, describing the lamentable state of affairs I have discovered at Longbourn.”

Mr Collins mopped his brow with a handkerchief, despite the coolness of the day.

“I cannot express sufficient gratitude that your aunt’s guidance has prepared me for such a task as this.”

“Mr Bingley and I were noting the remarkable efficiency of the estate’s water management.

We found Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s knowledge of the land quite comprehensive.”

Darcy schooled his expression, although his jaw tightened subtly.

“Ah yes, poor Cousin Elizabeth,”

Collins said, his voice dripping with false concern.

“Such unladylike occupations cannot have been her choice.

Lady Catherine would never permit a gentlewoman under her protection to wade through fields like a common labourer.

When I assume my rightful position--”

“The drainage system,”

Bingley interrupted, his usual good humour noticeably strained, “has prevented flooding in three neighbouring properties.

I believe your cousin’s ‘unladylike pursuits’ have saved several families’ crops this season.”

Collins waved this away.

“No true lady wishes to muck about in filth.

Why, at Rosings--”

“My aunt,”

Darcy cut in coldly, “has also frequently expressed that negligent estate management is unforgivable in a gentleman.” His dark eyes fixed on Collins with uncomfortable intensity.

“Have you extensive experience in such matters?”

Collins sputtered.

“I… that is to say… Lady Catherine has most graciously…”

“Because I would be most interested to hear your plans for improving the excellent plan already in place.”

Darcy’s tone made it clear this was not a casual enquiry.

“Perhaps you could outline your strategy for the water management challenges that Miss Elizabeth so ably demonstrated this morning?”

Bingley leant forward with exaggerated interest.

“Yes, do tell us! I found Miss Elizabeth’s solutions quite ingenious.”

Collins’s face had taken on a decidedly greenish tint.

“I… I must consult Lady Catherine’s opinions on the matter.

If you will excuse me, gentlemen…”

As Collins retreated with unseemly haste, Darcy watched him go with growing concern.

“Bingley,”

he said quietly, “I find myself… unsettled.

That man's imprudence may prove hazardous to all concerned.”

“Completely agree, old friend,”

Bingley replied, his usually merry face serious.

“Completely agree.”