Page 40 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

Military barracks

Meryton

The room was cramped, filled with smoke from cigars and the sound of men’s laughter and voices.

A small, scuffed table was serving as a playing surface for faro, with a dozen red-coated officers huddling around it.

Denny sat at the head, playing for the bank, a mug of ale set at his hand.

Several of their fellows leaned over the backs of the rickety chairs with their own drinks, watching the play.

“So you are to London tomorrow, Wickham?” Lieutenant Pratt asked, raking in his winnings from a hand.

“Yes,” Wickham said, taking a long pull of ale from his glass. “I have some business to transact there.”

The next few minutes were devoid of conversation as the men placed bets and were dealt their cards. To Wickham’s considerable pleasure, he won three bets in a row. He would bet minimally the rest of the night in order to be sure that he left the table with money in his pocket .

He waited for the next cards to be dealt again before he asked, “Does anyone know whether Colonel Forster is indeed planning to host a ball here at Meryton?”

“Yes, for Thursday next,” Pratt said. “Be certain that your business does not keep you that long in London!”

“Oh, as for that, it will be a dull affair with the Bennet ladies not in attendance,” Denny said.

“Yes, it is a great pity,” Carter agreed. “They are by far the loveliest ladies in the area, but it will be months before they are permitted to venture to parties.”

There was a communal sigh, and then Denny said, with his usual optimism, “Well, it is true that there may be a lack of beauty at the ball, but there are several ladies with reasonable dowries; Miss Raymond, for example, and the two Long girls.”

“Yes, and Miss King is reputed to be her grandfather’s heir, and the man is failing badly,” Lieutenant Wilson observed.

Pratt perked up noticeably. “How much?”

“Oh, they say she will inherit at least ten thousand pounds,” Wilson said, and then he grimaced as he lost to the bank. “She is no beauty, regrettably, but a tidy dowry is its own source of beauty, is it not? ”

The officers all laughed at these words, and Wickham decided his time had come.

“It is a pity that the Darcys have left Netherfield,” he mused. “Miss Darcy has a large dowry, and she is quite pretty.”

Pratt scoffed and shook his head. “Miss Darcy? None of us have any chance with her . She is the only daughter of a great house, and she is closely related to an earl.”

Wickham wrinkled his brow dramatically and said, “Well, I would not be too certain of that, Pratt. There are rumors that she has a scandal in her past.”

This, not unnaturally, drew the attention of the entire table. Wickham, regarding them cynically, was of the opinion that militia officers were as eager for gossip as any society lady.

“That seems unlikely,” Wilson said. “The girl is not yet eighteen, correct?”

“Sixteen,” Wickham said, as he placed a bet. He waited until the bank had turned over its own card, and sighed as it matched his own, causing him to lose.

“Sixteen?” Denny repeated, obviously keen to hear more about Miss Georgiana Darcy .

“Yes,” Wickham said and continued mendaciously, “When I was last in Derbyshire, there were rumors that she nearly ran off with a man whom her brother disapproved of. Surely, it seems that she was on her way to the Border when Darcy intercepted the carriage and dragged her away from her suitor.”

“Did she indeed?” Pratt said incredulously. “She is damaged goods, then!”

“Oh, I think Darcy hushed it up quite thoroughly,” Wickham said casually. He played his last card, which was a winner, raked in his winnings, and turned a cheerful smile on his companions. “I fear I must retire now, as I intend to leave early for London tomorrow. Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Good evening,” the other men chorused.

Wickham retreated out of the room and into the dark corridor which led to the wooden staircase, which in turn led up to his room. It was not a particularly pleasant place, being small, simple, and bare, but it was at least a roof over his head.

He would never sleep here again after tonight, though; he could not, given that Colonel Forster insisted that he pay his debts, which was impossible. He would leave for London and disappear into that great cesspool of humanity where his creditors could not find him .

All thanks to Darcy, who had obviously warned the people of the area about his propensity for running up debts.

At least he had struck back at his enemy. Wickham had little doubt that the rumors about Georgiana Darcy would spread to the surrounding area and, perhaps, into London society. He could only hope.

It would give him great satisfaction to harm the one person that Darcy loved above all else.

/

Cheapside

The Next Day

“Are you quite certain you do not wish to come with us, Jane?” Mrs. Bennet inquired.

Jane, who had been staring blankly out the window, her mind fixated on the face of the man she loved, jerked in surprise and looked at her mother.

“I am sorry, Mamma. What did you say? ”

“Do you not wish to come to the modiste with us?” Mrs. Bennet asked, now in a cajoling tone. “You ought to have a new dress as well. You are so lovely that you deserve it.”

Jane stood up, shook out her skirts, and smiled. “No, I am well enough with the dresses I have. But do go on, I beg you. You will be in deep mourning longer than we will be, and thus, you need a new gown or two.”

“That is true,” her mother agreed, her mouth drooping. “Well, come along, Lydia!”

Lydia winked at her sister and said, “Yes, of course, Mamma! I am eager to find the perfect dress for my beautiful mother.”

Mrs. Bennet blushed and smiled, and the two ladies departed. Jane felt her shoulders relax in relief. Lydia’s signal meant that the youngest Miss Bennet was confident that she could manage her mother’s longing for lace and silk and other expensive embellishments on her mourning garments.

Jane left the drawing room and climbed the stairs to the art studio, pulled off the white drapery, which covered her two works in progress, and considered. On the one hand, the horse was very nearly completed and the sooner she finished the fine polishing, the sooner she could sell it .

On the other, well, the horse could wait, and the other block of marble was calling her like a siren. She could see, in her mind’s eye, the form of Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam waiting to be released from its prison of stone.

She glanced at her watch and decided that she would work on the bust for an hour and then spend another hour on the horse. She should have plenty of time, as her mother and sister would likely not return for some hours.

She put on her smock and turned her attention on the chunk that represented Mr. Fitzwilliam, and as was common, time seemed to stand still, or fly by, depending on one’s perspective.

She no longer thought of her dead father, or her silly mother, or the worries of the future, or even of the true Richard Fitzwilliam.

“Miss Bennet?”

Jane jerked in surprise and turned toward Clementina, who was standing near the door, a look of apology on her face.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Fitzwilliam is here to see you, Miss.”

Jane beamed happily as she checked her watch. Fifty minutes had gone by since she had started working .

“Where is he?” she asked excitedly, removing her smock and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“He is in the sitting room, Miss,” Clementina replied, her own lips curled up in a smile. Miss Bennet was so very beautiful, and the maid was delighted that a well-respected gentleman was calling on her.

“Do tell him I will be there in a few minutes,” Jane instructed, looking at her hands ruefully. They were quite dirty.

“Yes, Miss.”

She waited for the girl to disappear back down the stairs, covered the marble sculptures, brushed her hands and dress, and hurried down to her bedchamber. She washed her hands, straightened her garments, tidied her hair and rushed to the sitting room where her suitor awaited.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam!” she exclaimed. “It is so good to see you!”

He gazed down at her, his heart beating rapidly. Miss Bennet was always beautiful, but now, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowing with welcome, she was the most exquisite woman in all of England.

“It is very, very good to see you as well, Miss Bennet. ”

“Please, do sit down,” she invited. “Clementina, can you arrange for tea?”

The maid curtsied and disappeared for a minute, and then returned and took her place in the corner of the room.

“You find me alone again, sir,” Jane remarked. “My mother and sister departed an hour ago.”

Richard hesitated, and then said, “The courteous thing would be for me to say that I regret not being able to speak to Mrs. Bennet and Miss Lydia, but the truth is that I came today hoping for the opportunity to speak to you privately.”

Jane’s eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment, she looked at the maid and said, “Clementina, Mr. Fitzwilliam and I would like a few minutes alone. Please leave the door open a little when you depart.”

“Yes, Miss!” Clementina responded, rising with alacrity and hurrying out the door. Oh, how very romantic it all was.

Jane turned back to her admirer and waited.

He rose to his feet and stared down at her, his mouth dry, his heart thudding so loudly that he feared his companion might hear it.

“Miss Bennet. ”

“Yes, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Jane responded, and her pulse throbbed in her throat with excitement.

He ran his tongue over his lips, took a deep breath, and said.

“As I said the last time we met, I admire you a great deal. Indeed, I love you. Based on your beauty, charm, and intelligence, I know that I am reaching high in asking for your hand, but nonetheless, I do ask it. Miss Bennet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Jane stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She had never imagined that she would be so fortunate as to win the favor of such a man. Nonetheless, she could not accept without certain assurances.

“I love you as well,” she said, “but before I can accept your offer of marriage, I need to be certain that you are at peace with my artistic pursuits. My art is very important to me.”

“I know,” Fitzwilliam said, his eyes meeting hers, “and I will support you in your sculpting and any other endeavors you wish to carry out. I am amazed at your skill, Miss Bennet. Amazed and awed and impressed and grateful to have won the heart of a woman of such abilities.”

Now the tears spilled down her cheeks, and she leaped to her feet and held out her hands, which he took in his own larger ones .

“Then yes, Richard Fitzwilliam. I accept your offer and am overjoyed at the prospect of becoming your wife.”

“Jane,” he murmured and found himself kissing her gently on her pink lips. “Oh Jane.”

/

Billiards Room

Darcy House

A Few Hours Later

“Congratulations, Richard,” Darcy said. “You have won a beautiful and charming woman.”

Richard raised his glass of wine and said, “To Miss Jane Bennet.”

“To Miss Jane Bennet,” Darcy replied, and both drank.

For a minute, the two men were silent; Richard was gazing at the flickering flame of a wax candle, his mind fixed on the lovely lady who had pledged to become his wife.

Darcy was struggling with a mixture of envy and concern.

.. but mostly envy, because he wanted to marry a woman he genuinely loved.

But should he? Could he? When he was master of Pemberley and…

And he was very tired of thinking the same thoughts over and over again.

“So I presume that Miss Bennet is agreeable to living modestly until you become master of Fairhaven?” he asked, more to distract himself than anything else.

“Yes,” Richard said, and Darcy noticed that his cousin’s expression had shifted from beatific to thoughtful.

“I wish to show you something,” he continued and stood up. Darcy stood up as well, confused, and was even more confused when Richard led him out of the room, up the main stairway, and along the corridor to the sitting room attached to Richard’s bedchamber.

They stepped inside, and Richard made his way to the fireplace, whereupon he took a taper, lit it from the fire, and then carefully lit two wax candles on the mantle to dispel the darkness.

There were four more candles standing ready to be lit, but that was part of Richard’s character, his life, and his experience; he had spent many nights in tents with only the light from a fire and perhaps a few evil smelling tallow candles to beat back the darkness.

For an earl’s son, Richard was used to living thriftily, though he was enviably comfortable in high society too .

“Darcy, look at this,” Richard instructed, carrying the two candles over to a table in the corner of the room.

Darcy did so and found himself looking at an exquisite statue of a horse sculpted in marble. He did not pretend to be an expert in such things, but it was, without a doubt, an impressive piece.

It was also bewildering. What did a marble horse have to do with anything?

“It is, erm, very fine,” he said tentatively.

His cousin laughed and said, “Yes, it is. Also, Jane sculpted it.”

/

Bennet Residence

Cheapside

“Oh Jane! You are marrying the son of an earl! Oh, my dear Jane, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. Oh, oh, I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Mamma. I am confident we will be happy.”