Page 33

Elizabeth tried her best to drown out Mr Collins’s constant chatter by humming under her breath as they walked. He alternated between the differences between Rosings and Longbourn and various plants or trees they passed that he had seen on his walks to and around Rosings. Even if she had desired to have a conversation it would have been impossible, as he did not stop talking.

To her credit, Jane stayed with her as Lydia and Kitty outpaced them in their eagerness to get away from him. For some odd reason, they were also eager to find out if their uncle’s former clerk, whom he had let go, would take up a position with Colonel Forster.

When they finally caught up to their sisters, they found them with Mr Denny and an unknown gentleman. Introductions were made to the newest officer in the regiment, his friend Mr Wickham.

Why could her cousin not look like him? Elizabeth thought as she looked over the new addition to the officer corps. However, it would still be useless if he retained the deficiency nature had given him despite his education. A handsome face with a limited mind held no appeal to her.

Mr Collins cleared his throat to garner their attention.

“May I help you, sir?” Mr Denny asked, wondering why the odd-looking fellow stood there gawping.

“Oh, Mr Collins, my apologies,” Jane cried upon realizing that he had been ignored. Lydia and Kitty giggled, earning a stern look from Jane, who then hurriedly rectified the mistake. Without pause, Lydia suggested they accompany them to their aunts for a short visit.

“We would be happy to escort you, but we cannot stay as we have an appointment with Colonel Forster,” Denny replied, receiving a pout from Lydia and a look of disappointment from Kitty, who could not keep her eyes off Wickham. Before they could set off, they noticed two familiar riders down the street. Jane raised a hand to get their attention. An act that surprised Elizabeth as it was out of character to bring attention to herself. She was also happy to note a large smile across Mr Bingley’s countenance upon setting his eyes on Jane.

“Miss Bennet, we were just on our way to see you after posting letters,” Bingley said happily to Jane.

Elizabeth was about to greet Mr Darcy when his face went crimson. She followed his gaze to find the color had drained from their new acquaintance.

“Darcy,” Wickham exclaimed before giving a touch of his hat.

Darcy glared down at him briefly before barely touching his own hat as much as it pained him to do so. With all he was going through, Wickham was the last man he wanted to see. Providence was determined to make life difficult.

“It is Earl Fitzwilliam,” Bingley said, unable to resist. He had met Wickham briefly at university. While he had a neutral opinion of him, he knew there had been a rift between the two men.

The color Wickham had lost was coming back when he paled again as the title could mean only one thing.

“Richard,” he managed to say in genuine shock.

Like Darcy, Richard had been a childhood companion of his when he visited Pemberley. He had thought it lucky that Richard had been on the continent when the events of the summer had transpired. While Darcy had been furious, he would have never physically harmed him. Richard would have throttled him or run him through.

“Tread carefully, George,” Darcy stated flatly.

“We might have fallen out,” Wickham said, carefully choosing his words, “but we still spent many a day together in our youth.” He continued but looked away. “I am truly sorry to hear this news. You have my utmost condolences.” Wickham finished, unsure what he felt. One thing he did know was that it made Darcy an even more dangerous man to cross.

“Why are you here, George?” Darcy asked. The first thought that came to mind was that he had somehow discovered that Georgiana was at Netherfield.

“I purchased a commission in the militia.” Noticing Darcy’s suspicious look at how he was dressed, he continued. “Recently, as you can see. My uniforms are still at the tailor.”

“Why now, and why the Derbyshires?” He demanded.

Elizabeth looked between the two men. This chance reunion was, obviously, not a happy one. She could tell that Wickham was puzzled by the question, and for an unknown reason, Mr Darcy was angry.

Wickham did not understand the line of questioning, and his first thought was to reply with a flippant answer. His luck since the misadventure of the summer had been ill, and the money he had available was dwindling rapidly. A fortunate meeting with Denny had provided an opportunity he could not pass. The militia would give him a steady flow of funds, even if it were for the meager pay of a lieutenant. It would also provide him with wealthy young men to play cards.

“That would be my doing,” Lieutenant Denny answered, as his friend appeared tongue-tied. Something he would ask about later. In all the years he had known George, he had never seen him at a loss for words. “M’lord,” he finished, tipping his cap slightly. “I happened to bump into George, uh, Mr Wickham in town. I had been tasked with selling a fellow officer’s commission when he was called away suddenly for a family issue in Ireland. I made Wickham the offer, and he accepted.”

Wickham nodded along with Denny’s explanation. He wondered why Darcy would care that he had fallen so low that he would take a commission in the militia. The answer seemed to satisfy his old friend, so he gave a slight nod and turned his attention to the pastor.

“Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you,” Bingley said, changing the subject as he doffed his hat. “As fortune has it, we were on our way to Longbourn to see how you were recovering.”

“I am doing well, as you can see.” She replied happily, blushing slightly that he would take the time to see how she was feeling.

“Yes, I can see that and am extremely pleased to find you out of the house. That is a good sign indeed.” Bingley wanted to dismount to further the conversation and glanced at his friend.

Darcy looked at the priest hovering next to Elizabeth. He needed to talk with her and had hoped for a walk in the gardens at Longbourn. Having it on the street in Meryton was not the place to talk and might only serve to fuel gossip. He touched his hat to the entire group, making sure not to let his gaze linger on Elizabeth. Pulling his reins, he turned his horse and started back for Netherfield.

“My apologies, ladies,” Bingley said with a pained look. “He is still processing the loss of his cousin.”

“Do not forget your promise, Mr Bingley. My sister is well enough to dance if she can walk to town.”

Bingley nodded in agreement. “I have not, Miss Lydia. Now that I see your sister is hale, I shall discuss it with my housekeeper and sisters and set a date no later than a fortnight. If I have my way.” He tipped his hat to Jane with a grin as he said farewell.

“How rude of him,” Lydia huffed, “and I do not care if he is an earl!”

“Lydia Bennet, keep your tongue.” Elizabeth chastised before adding. “Now was not the time to bring up having a ball.”

“Why ever not? It was not Mr Bingley’s cousin who died,” she countered before turning her attention to Denny, asking him about London as they strolled to their aunt’s house. Kitty attached herself to Mr Wickham. His attempt to ask her about Darcy proved futile, as she did not know much.

“What was that all about?” Mr Collins asked, looking about in confusion as he had not been able to grasp the entirety of the meeting. “Cousin Elizabeth, who were those gentlemen?”

“Our new neighbor, Mr Bingley, and a friend staying with him,” Elizabeth replied quickly as the strange encounter between the two men replayed in her mind. She was disappointed that she could not talk with Mr Darcy about what her father had heard.

With much on her mind, Elizabeth ignored her cousin’s chattering questions for the rest of the walk. If the rumors were already spreading in town, her aunt would have heard them.

The night at Longbourn was as tedious as the previous one. Mr Collins decided to entertain them by reading. Ignoring the suggested titles that might have brought some enjoyment from the ladies, he settled on reading from Forsyth’s sermons.