The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy (11 page)

Fuller and Wickham were sitting in the officers’ mess, and Fuller was smiling because, for once in his life, Fortune had shined on him. Not only was he winning at cards, but Wickham and he were still making frequent appearances at the Forsters’ house. All they needed to do in order to stay in the colonel’s good graces was to continue to kiss his wife’s arse.

“Wickham, I can hardly believe we have not had to report for parade for three weeks, all because Colonel Forster’s wife is pregnant and bored. Did I tell you Mrs. Forster slipped a crown into my hand yesterday?”

Wickham said nothing because she had been pressing a sovereign a day into his palm for more than a week.

“With the way she flirts, I can’t imagine what she would be like if she wasn’t expecting. She’s already an irritant to the colonel, but I predict she will become a major annoyance.” Fuller stood up and asked Wickham if he would like to go for a pint.

“I already have plans.”

“Do these plans involve Miss Lydia Bennet?”

“They do. While Mrs. Forster is soaking her feet and whining to her husband about her condition, Lydia and I will be meeting in our continuing effort to get to know each other better.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Not completely. But we are getting there. Slow but steady.”

With Brighton crowded with the various militias and regular army regiments, along with their families and the types of people who had always followed armies throughout the ages, it was easy enough for Lydia to separate herself from her friends and meet Wickham at an arranged spot near the pier. He found her to be silly, uninformed, and undisciplined, but in every other way, quite agreeable.

“You know if Colonel Forster finds out, he’ll have you up on charges.”

“To hell he will,” Wickham said, sitting upright in his chair. “I’ve had enough of the militia. The only reason I am still here is because you and I have made ourselves indispensable to the ladies. For three weeks, we have fawned and cooed and amused. While the regiment practices marching and maneuvers, we are having cake and punch. As soon as I find out that our services are no longer required, I will be long gone.”

“Alone?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Wickham remembered the first time he had kissed her. She had pushed off on him, giving him the usual line that she wasn’t that type of girl, but when he had asked her, “Then why are we meeting in secret under a pier?” she had pulled him back and said no more.

With each meeting, she became slightly more liberal with her favors, and all that was required was for him to speak of marriage. But she had her limit, and she had reached it. As a result, she had become a tease, and he was tiring of it. But there was one reason he continued to meet her.

As a matter of self-preservation, wherever Wickham went, he kept his eyes and ears open. If a merchant started grumbling, he would visit the shop and make just enough payment to keep the owner happy, thus creating the illusion that it was his intention to satisfy his debts. He used the same skills in avoiding angry fathers and brothers of girls he had bedded, and because he was always aware of what was going on around him, he knew that Charles Bingley had fallen in love with Jane Bennet. The romance was of little interest to him. What mattered was that Bingley was a friend of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

It was now in his power to seduce the sister of the woman Bingley wanted to marry. He had begun to make plans in which he would convince Lydia to agree to an elopement, and he would spirit her off to London. Once there, he would persuade her to resign her virginal status, and after that, he would abandon her. Wickham smiled at the thought of Darcy realizing that his old enemy had snuck into his camp and had succeeded in wounding one of his party.

The plan was in place. He was just waiting for the right time to execute it. For the time being, it was necessary to continue courting a sixteen-year-old tease, but there were worse ways to spend an evening.

It had been a week since Jane had stood by the gate waving good-bye to Lizzy and the Gardiners as their carriage disappeared into the distance. When she had turned around, the four young Gardiners were waiting for their cousin Jane to play with them, but after a week, she was tired because the children required her constant attention.

As they did each evening after dinner, everyone adjourned to the front parlor. While Jane played with the children on the floor, everyone else was otherwise engaged. Mama was doing needlework, Papa was reading the newspaper, Kitty was drawing, and Mary was playing on the pianoforte. Looking around at this scene of domestic felicity, it dawned on Jane that the care of the children had fallen entirely to her. She was being treated in exactly the same way a governess would be. But she was
not
a governess, and she intended to make that fact known.

“Mary, stop playing the piano and start playing with your cousins,” she said, rising from the floor. “The same thing for you, Kitty. And both of you will prepare the children for bed, and since you are so proud of your voice, Mary, you may sing to them. And tomorrow, Kitty, you may take the children outside. They love to run, and since you demonstrated your lightness of foot at the Netherfield ball when you chased after all those young officers, you may run with them. I am now going to my room where I shall spend the rest of the evening reading. Alone!”

Everyone, including the children, went quiet. No one had ever heard Jane raise her voice before nor could anyone remember her storming out of a room. Jane was reliably calm, which was an absolute necessity because of their mother’s nerves, and had always shouldered more than her share of the responsibilities. She could be depended upon to do the right thing without complaint. What had happened to cause such an emotional outburst?

From the time she had come back from London following Mr. Bingley’s return to town, her emotions had been in a state of flux. The initial sadness had been replaced by acceptance and resignation, but then things had started to change. How dare Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst pretend they were her friends, and who was Mr. Darcy that he should decide who Mr. Bingley would or would not marry?

When she had finished reproaching that trio, she looked to her own family. Jane and Elizabeth were well regarded in their neighborhood, but conversations regarding the Bennet family usually began with how well the two eldest Bennet sisters performed in public and ended with a discussion of what had gone wrong with the youngest three. And no one could speak of those younger girls without including the inappropriate behavior of their mother. Jane and Lizzy knew this, and there was no doubt in her mind that her father was well aware that three of his children were frequently a topic of conversation in the village.

Behavior that had once earned Kitty and Lydia a disapproving glance from the ladies in town had turned to full-blown criticism and finger wagging when the militia arrived in Meryton. Jane had first overheard it from the town gossip, Mrs. Draper. “Those younger Bennet sisters are always chasing after officers. I saw Lydia drag Kitty across the street for that very purpose.” And as soon as Mrs. Draper voiced her opinion, everyone else felt free to do so. On more than one occasion, when Jane and Lizzy walked in the village, the gossiping hens would stop talking. They were all kindness while they were visiting, but as soon as the sisters were out of earshot, the whispers began again.

But the main culprit was outside her bedroom door asking if he could come in. She was shocked at how angry she was at her father. He, better than anyone else, knew of his wife’s shortcomings but did nothing to correct them. Instead of providing guidance for his three younger children, he looked upon Mary, Kitty, and Lydia’s behavior as theatre. And the combination of the mother and her daughters, and the friend, and the sisters had cost her dearly.

When Jane finally opened the door, she saw the look of concern on her father’s face. Because it would provide the easiest explanation for her display of temper, he would attribute her outburst to “female troubles” and look no further. But not this time. Father and daughter sat side by side in the window seat in silence. If Papa was waiting for her to tell him why she was so angry, he would have a long wait. She was tired of him sitting back, watching instead of doing, but then he surprised her.

“Jane, I am sorry for making you so unhappy. I know you place a good deal of the blame for Mr. Bingley quitting the county on me, and rightly so. As you know, your mother and I are from different ends of the spectrum. She shows too much emotion, and I show too little. But for these past twenty-four years, my mild temperament has served me well, and as a result, I have chosen to overlook the silliness of your sisters because it was convenient to do so. And now I know my lack of oversight has injured you.

“I cannot alter the past,” he continued, “but the future is very much in my hands. As soon as Lydia returns from Brighton, you will see changes aplenty at Longbourn. I promise you that. There is little else I can do except to ask for your forgiveness.”

Jane kissed her father but said nothing. She feared she might end up telling him what she was really thinking, but then decided that they could not part in silence.

“Papa, all is not lost. I have received a letter from Aunt Susan inviting me to visit with her for the summer, and in that letter she has told me that Mr. Dalton Nesbitt, whom I had met at her Christmas party last year, has asked if he may write to me. By yesterday’s post, I informed her that he may. The gentleman is a solicitor and a pleasant man. In addition to his salary, he receives an annuity, which is sufficient to provide a handsome living, and he is worthy of my consideration. I just wanted you to know.”

There was nothing for him to say. His reliance on producing a son, who would negate the entail, and his lack of foresight once it was obvious Mrs. Bennet was incapable of conceiving another child, had jeopardized his children’s future. The result was before him. Jane would be forced to marry a man for the financial protection he could provide. With profound sadness, he acknowledged the information and returned to his library.

In her prolonged musings following Mr. Bingley’s departure, Jane had found fault for her heartache with just about everybody, except Charles Bingley. But that was no longer the case. It was true he had never said he loved her, but it was implicit in all of his actions. During their walks at Longbourn, he had told her he was to inherit a goodly sum of money, which, under the stipulations of his father’s will, had to be spent on a country manor that would represent all that was good in the Bingley family. But the money was still in the bank because he had no interest in building a house. He wanted to go to dances and visit different parts of the country, so that he might ride across their landscapes. However, since coming into Hertfordshire, he was of a very different mind. He had looked straight into her eyes when he had said that.

It was true her mother and sisters’ behavior at the ball had been improper, but what about his behavior? There was no doubt in her mind that they were in the midst of a courtship when he had been convinced by his sisters and Mr. Darcy that any marriage with Miss Jane Bennet was impossible because of her family, the notorious Bennets of Longbourn Manor. She knew better than anyone of her lack of connections and her paltry fortune. All of this she understood, but what she did not understand was the total lack of communication on Mr. Bingley’s part. He believed himself to be a gentleman, and yet he had left her checking the post for a letter explaining his absence for a fortnight before even she had to admit he was gone forever.

From the time she had come out into society, she understood her chances of marrying for love were not good. Considering her current situation, if Mr. Nesbitt proposed, she would accept him. He was a plain man, but of good temperament, and all things considered, she believed she would not receive a better offer. And because she would be forced into such a marriage, she would have been much happier if she had never met Mr. Bingley because now she knew what love was, and she would feel its absence when she married.

While Jane was contemplating a future without Mr. Bingley, Charles was rehearsing his proposal of marriage in front of a mirror. He went so far as to get down on bended knee, only to be embarrassed when his man had come into the room. He pretended to have dropped something, and Rayburn got on the floor to help him find an object that his master could not identify by name.

Ever since his discussion with George, things had looked a good deal sunnier. Darcy and he had reconciled, and although his friend’s approval on certain matters was desirable, it was no longer a necessity. Darcy did not yet know of this change in their relationship, but Bingley was confident he would understand as he had already seen a change in him since his return from Kent. According to Charles’s plan, after a week at Pemberley, he would leave his sisters behind and ride to Longbourn to ask Jane Bennet to marry him. His love for the lady was so profound and so deep and their separation so painful that he could hardly keep his mind focused on the next few weeks. But the days would pass, and his journey to Hertfordshire would be very different from the sad one he had experienced on his return to London. This time, the end of the road was Longbourn, leading straight to his beloved and the endless possibilities of their future together.

***

While Bingley was practicing his proposal to Jane Bennet, Caroline was in the room across the hall thinking of her visit to Pemberley. Her fear that Mr. Darcy would encounter Miss Bennet while in Kent had been unfounded. Upon his return to London, he had immediately called on Bingley, and during dinner, nothing had been said of that particular lady. Much to her relief, what Caroline had witnessed in Hertfordshire was merely a flirtation, and now that he had not seen Elizabeth for several weeks, her brief spell over him was broken.

Caroline too had noticed a change in Mr. Darcy. When he had asked Bingley if they could change their departure date, she was expecting him to say he needed to postpone the journey, but instead he had asked for it to be moved up. He apologized to her in particular for any inconvenience the change in schedule might cause her, but she had immediately reassured him that it was indeed a change, but a most delightful one. As an afterthought, he had said the request came as a result of a promise he had made to his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. At first, that statement had alarmed Caroline because she knew it was Lady Catherine’s intention to see Mr. Darcy and her daughter married. But from the way he had spoken about Miss de Bourgh, it was clear there was real affection, but of the familial type, and not romantic at all.

There was also the possibility Mr. Darcy was using his cousin as an excuse so they could be together sooner. The day after his request was granted, he had sent another note thanking her for being so accommodating and mentioning how eager he was to begin their journey as he found Pemberley to have restorative powers. Was he implying that he needed to repair their relationship, which had been strained during their time together at Netherfield Park? She could now see there was a very real possibility for a union between their two families. Charles would marry Miss Darcy, she would marry Mr. Darcy, and together they would start a dynasty.

***

Georgiana was positive something was about to happen. She just had no idea what it was. Ever since her brother had left for Kent to visit Anne, there had been something in the air. His reasons for his sudden departure did not pass muster, and when he had come back from his visit to Rosings, he was much altered. So something had happened in Kent. Was it possible that was where he had encountered the lady who had told him that one bad sonnet was sufficient to drive love away? And she went in search of Anne.

Anne loved talking to her young cousin. Georgiana looked at every day as an adventure. When she got into Mr. Oldham’s carriage each morning, she was always hoping something amazing would happen, and on occasion, it did. She had witnessed the apprehension of a thief, a runaway horse, and a manned balloon flying over the city, and now she was sitting opposite to her asking about a mystery lady whom she had taken to calling Miss Sonnet.

“I do not think the time your brother spent in Kent was long enough for him to have fallen in love. He was only there for ten days.”

“Ten days! That is more than sufficient time for someone to fall in love,” the young romantic quickly responded.

“Yes, that is true, and I can imagine someone of a less cautious nature falling in love in such a short time, but your brother, Georgiana?”

For several minutes, Georgiana sat quietly mulling over what Anne had said. It was true her brother was rarely spontaneous; in fact, she had never seen it. So she had to agree with Anne that it was unlikely that Will could meet a lady and fall in love with her in such a short period of time. But suddenly, she jumped up and said that she knew what had happened.

“When Will was in Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley, he was supposed to stay there for at least a month, but one day, I came home to find him in his study, highly agitated, pacing back and forth. I asked him why he had returned so soon, and he said he had important business meetings to attend. You know he is a venturer with Mr. George Bingley, who is very nice but very dull. But he only went to one meeting, and then he went straight back to Netherfield Park. So Miss Sonnet must be from Hertfordshire, and something happened to separate them. And then he discovered she was in Kent and immediately set out to be with her again. And the
denouement
to their love story will take place at Pemberley.”

“Pemberley?” Anne asked. Georgiana’s reconstruction of what she believed to have been her brother’s path to love had winded its way through Hertfordshire to Kent, but nothing had been said about Pemberley. Where had she got that idea?

“I am quite sure something is going to happen at Pemberley. There is a force driving all of us to Derbyshire, which is why you are here.”

Anne decided not to encourage any further investigation. Working with so little, Georgiana’s vivid imagination had brought her very close to the truth.

“Your brother thinks you are writing a novel when you retire at night.”

“Oh, I am, but it is entirely different from this scenario, as its setting is Pompeii. But as to the matter we are discussing, one of my tutors had the most clever way of teaching geography. He had a map mounted on wooden blocks, which he had cut into small irregular shapes, and we had to fit the pieces together to make a map of Europe. That is exactly what this is like. I just don’t have all of the pieces yet.”