| |
––––––––
Morning did not find Elizabeth in much better temper, and she soon discovered that she was joined in her discontent by her mother, whose fury at Mr Collins knew no bounds. It was fortunate that the clergyman had left Longbourn early again to continue his courtship of Miss Lucas, for even Jane’s gentle intervention would not have prevented a permanent breach between the families, had he heard Mrs Bennet’s tirades. And her ire extended to Elizabeth too, for she considered her second daughter an equal culprit in bringing about this disaster.
“And don’t you sit there looking innocent, missy,” she said peevishly to Elizabeth as they sat together in the morning parlour. “You are just as much to blame! To have Mr Collins in the same house as you, with every intent of actively procuring a wife, and to be unable to secure a proposal from him speaks of a woeful neglect on your part. It was your duty to secure him! But oh... I know you, with your wilful independence and your wayward tongue. You must have given Mr Collins a disgust of you! Oh, the humiliation of seeing Lady Lucas with a daughter married before me... and to lose to that Charlotte Lucas, of all people—one of the plainest girls in Hertfordshire—I cannot abide it!”
And so she continued for the rest of the morning. Elizabeth endured it as best she could. She felt no regret for the turn of events which had caused her to lose the opportunity of marriage to Mr Collins, but she would have welcomed some relief from her mother’s recriminations. The mood was finally lifted by the return of the younger Bennet girls from Meryton: they had ventured into the village again after breakfast to purchase some additional materials for their costumes and were eager to relay the latest news they had acquired.
“Oh Mama! Jane! Lizzy! You will not believe what we have heard!” Lydia cried, bursting into the parlour.
“I should tell it for it is I who heard the news first,” protested Kitty, hurrying in after her.
“No, I shall, for I can tell it better than you can—”
“That is not true!”
“It is—”
“Girls! For heaven’s sake, lower your voices! Have a little compassion for my poor nerves!” said Mrs Bennet irritably, as she dabbed her forehead with her lace handkerchief.
“Oh, Mama—you what do you think? There is a rumour that Wicked George the Highwayman—that is, George Wickham—will be coming to the Netherfield masquerade ball!” said Lydia, her eyes sparkling.
Elizabeth looked up sharply.
“Yes,” said Kitty, hastening to add her contribution. “And they say that Mr Bingley is so concerned about security at the ball that he has employed a team of Bow Street runners to patrol Netherfield Park on the night.”
“Has he indeed?” said Mrs Bennet with interest.
“Yes—it appears that there has been a spate of thefts at local balls recently,” said Lydia excitedly. “It has been a veritable mystery for the jewellery and other valuables were stolen during the course of the supper, but no one has been able to conceive of the method!”
“How strange,” commented Jane.
Kitty nodded eagerly. “Yes, the officers were telling us about it. Everyone has been trying to solve the mystery but it has defied explanation.”
“Could the thief not have been amongst the guests?” asked Elizabeth.
Lydia shrugged. “Captain Denny reports that they searched the area and the persons involved most thoroughly—but nothing was found. No one knows how the stolen items could have left the dining room without discovery. It was as if they simply disappeared into thin air!”
“So Mr Bingley is most anxious that a similar occurrence should not happen at his ball,” said Kitty. “That is why he has taken measures to provide additional security. And furthermore, it has been declared that anyone who is found to be a sympathiser of the highwayman, or to be aiding and abetting George Wickham in any way at the ball, will also be arrested and hanged!”
Elizabeth gripped the sides of her chair, her breathing coming faster. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”
“How can you think so, Lizzy?” said Mary, looking at her in disapproval. “It would seem only right that anyone who aids a criminal should be punished.”
“To be sure,” Elizabeth agreed. “But in this instance... is there not some doubt over Mr Wickham’s criminal status? To be aiding him may not indicate a criminal inclination towards greed and malice, but simply a genuine belief in his cause.” She caught Jane looking at her thoughtfully and hoped that her sister had not read too much into her defence of the highwayman. While she had always cherished their closeness, in this instance, the intimacy led to greater insights than she would have preferred.
“There can be no doubt of Wickham’s intent to commit acts of robbery, no matter how tragic his past,” said Mary, pursing her lips. “Therefore, he is still regarded a criminal and rightly so. And those who fraternise with him stain themselves too with his guilt.”
“And I think it is good of Mr Bingley to take extra precautions for the ball,” said Mrs Bennet, nodding approvingly. “It does him credit to be so concerned for his guests’ safety. We will be able to enjoy ourselves without fear and, should there be any suspicion of a sighting, we may make a report directly to the authorities on the premises.”
“Well, I do not care what is said—I should be glad to help Wickham,” Lydia declared. “He has been most shamefully abused and—”
Mary gasped. “Lydia! Do not say such words out in public! You would be branded a sympathiser in an instant and our whole family would fall into disgrace!”
Lydia pulled a face, but did not argue with Mary and soon the topic of conversation turned once more to the costumes for the ball. Elizabeth, however, was not able to remove it from her mind so easily. She recalled once again the meeting with Wickham in the woods and how he had teased her about coming to the ball in disguise. Had he been speaking in jest or could he have been serious? He must have realised the risks inherent in such an endeavour. The punishment for highway robbery was death by execution and was not a fate to be taken lightly. Yet she had sensed a streak of recklessness in Wickham, which laughed in the face of such fears.
But it was not merely Wickham’s fate which occupied her thoughts. Her own role in the affair gave her anxious pause. Were she to recognise the highwayman at the ball, what path should she follow? To report him to the authorities, knowing that arrest would lead to a certain death? Or to hide the knowledge of his presence—though such an action would surely label her a sympathiser and place her at risk for arrest as well?
Elizabeth debated the merits and flaws of each side of the argument in the days that followed but could come to no real answer. Unlike her sisters whose worries revolved solely around finding the right bit of lace to accentuate their gown, or collecting enough feathers to create the animal familiars for their costumes, Elizabeth’s concerns weighed heavier on her mind and caused her many sleepless nights. That she battled this dilemma alone made the burden even harder to bear, but there was no one she felt that she could confide in. She had lost faith in Charlotte’s position as a confidante and she had seen enough of Jane’s attitudes and opinions on this matter to know that her sister would likely disapprove of any attempt to conceal Wickham’s presence at the ball. In any event, her sister had a bias of feeling: Jane would want to prevent the occurrence of any event which would cause Bingley pain and spoil the harmony of his ball.
The thought of confiding in Mr Darcy did arise in Elizabeth’s mind once or twice, though she was surprised by her own impulse. She was not on intimate terms with the man—why should she feel that he could be someone she could seek solace from? And yet there remained in her a strange desire to share her troubles with him. Perhaps it was the residual effect of her stay at Netherfield Park—she had felt a certain closeness to him there, particularly during their solving of the mystery together.
But then the memory of their last conversation in Meryton would intrude upon her thoughts and she would feel anger and humiliation again at Darcy’s response to her apology. His cold anger at her sympathy for Wickham killed any chance of an understanding between them. She was unable to reject the highwayman’s account of Darcy’s abuse—but unable to doubt Darcy’s integrity either. Until she could resolve this dilemma, there could be no help from that quarter.
Elizabeth’s agonising stole much of the pleasure from the preparation for the masquerade. Nevertheless, she tried as best she could to join in her sisters’ excitement. The days preceding the ball had brought a flurry of wind and rain back to Hertfordshire and the Bennet girls were obliged to remain indoors. This did not curtail their pleasures as much as it would have normally done, for they were fully immersed now in final preparations for the masquerade ball. Indeed, as the event drew near, the entire household was aflutter with excitement. There was much to-ing and fro-ing between the bedrooms of the sisters, much assistance in the holding of gowns against one’s figure and offering aid in the nip and tuck of fabric, as well as the addition of trimmings and embellishments.
Elizabeth was pleased to discover an old velvet gown in a deep burgundy at the back of her wardrobe. It dated from an earlier period and was therefore designed with a more conforming fit to her body, unlike the popular muslin gowns which fell straight from the breast. Thus with the gold woven belt, which she had purchased in Meryton the other day, arranged as a girdle around her hips, the dress would pass tolerably well as a medieval kirtle. To further add to the disguise, she found an old morning gown with long, tapered sleeves which would serve very well as a surcote. It required only a few deft alterations to create a front fastening.
She was thus happily engaged with needle and thread in her bedroom, the day before the ball, when she was interrupted by Sarah. The maid had brought her a package marked with her name, which had just been delivered to the front door.
“For me?” said Elizabeth in surprise. She took the package from the maid and thanked her, then shut the door. Carefully undoing the paper wrapping, she was surprised to discover a small bouquet of flowers inside. It was a posy of violets, the delicate white flowers showing a vein of soft cream towards their centres.
Elizabeth caught her breath. She had seen one such posy before: during her stay at Netherfield Park, they had played an important role in the mystery and had represented a way to communicate a coded message. She did not have the volume on floriography in her possession any longer, but she remembered the entries well enough to know that white violets represented an invitation to recklessness. And she also knew that there was one other person who was familiar with such codes. Indeed, he had used them before...
Then Elizabeth saw the slip of paper wedged between the stems of the flowers. She extracted it carefully and spread the note out on her lap. Written in a light, flowing hand, the message said:
I hope to have the pleasure of leading you onto the dance floor at the Netherfield masquerade ball tomorrow evening. Might I be so bold as to take this opportunity to claim the first two dances? I await our encounter with eager anticipation.
W.
Elizabeth felt her heart begin to pound uncomfortably as she continued to stare down at the flowers. They were from Wickham and he was informing her that he would be fulfilling his boast about coming to the ball in disguise. The note also forced her into the position of an accomplice, for by informing her of his intentions, he was indicating that he trusted her to keep his secret. It placed her in the very situation she had been dreading!
Elizabeth sprang up and paced the room. Now that she had confirmation of Wickham’s plans for attendance, should she not share this with Mr Bingley and the authorities? She bit her lip. She knew that the correct course of action would be to expose him—but to do so would condemn him to a certain death. She could not find it in her heart to sanction so ruthless a scheme.
Elizabeth sighed and sat back down on her bed. Were she to stay silent, however, she could be putting her own safety and the reputation of her whole family at risk! For—should it be discovered that Wickham was at the ball and that she had prior knowledge of it—she would undoubtedly be branded a sympathiser...
“Lizzy? Come and take a look—” Jane burst into her bedroom, then paused in surprise.
Elizabeth shoved the note beneath the folds of her costume and hastily picked up her needle.
“What beautiful violets. Who are they from?” asked Jane, coming into the room and looking at the flowers.
“There is no name attached,” said Elizabeth, with feigned disinterest. “Perhaps they were sent in error.”
“But your name is written here on the wrapping,” said Jane, examining the brown paper which had been wrapped around the flowers.
Elizabeth did not know what to say. Jane sat down on the bed next to her and looked at her in earnest enquiry.
“Lizzy? Is there aught that you are not sharing with me?”
“N-no, Jane,” Elizabeth stammered.
Jane looked at her for a moment longer, then smiled. “Do you hide a secret admirer, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth flushed. “No, indeed, Jane.”
Jane touched the violets gently. “These flowers seem to indicate otherwise.”
“Truly, Jane, I was as surprised as you to receive them,” said Elizabeth. This, at least, was the truth, and she hoped fervently that her sister would question her no further.
Jane said nothing for a moment, then looked at Elizabeth soberly. “Lizzy, I have been under some anxiety about you and I must speak my feelings. I hope you will forgive me if I am wrong in my assumptions, but I fear that these flowers may be from Wickham and that you are aware of this fact. Indeed, I believe that you like him and have a great deal of sympathy for his plight. I can well understand the inclination—I feel for him myself—but Lizzy...” She grasped hold of Elizabeth’s hands. “I would urge you to have care and to think on the wisdom of encouraging such a friendship with the highwayman.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “I assure you, Jane, I am well aware of the impropriety and dangers of any connection with him.” To her relief, Jane seemed satisfied with this response and Elizabeth hurried to change the subject further. She gave her a mischievous smile. “Indeed, I am surprised that you would have much time to think of my affairs. I would have expected your thoughts to be much more pleasantly engaged on another person and in anticipation of his company tomorrow evening.”
Jane blushed and looked down. “I own, my thoughts have been heavily occupied in that quarter. And though I hardly dare entertain such hopes, a serious attachment on Mr Bingley’s part would be the dearest wish of my heart.” She gave Elizabeth a shy smile. “Mama is convinced that he means to propose to me at the ball.”
“I do find our mother to be errant in her expectations sometimes, but in this instance I must say that I find her way of thinking wholly commendable,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “No one who has ever seen you together can doubt Bingley’s affection. I look forward greatly to the day when I shall call him brother.”
Jane smiled and blushed again, then stood up. “I should like to show you my costume,” she said as she went to the door. “Your advice on the final embellishments would be much appreciated.”
“I will come directly,” Elizabeth promised. “Let me tie off this stitch.”
As soon as Jane had left her in the privacy of her bedroom again, Elizabeth sprang up and pulled the note out from beneath her costume. She longed to burn it but, with no fireplace in her bedroom, the only option would be to find an opportunity to throw it into the fire in the drawing room downstairs when nobody was looking. In the meantime, she would have to conceal it in a safe location.
Elizabeth opened the trunk at the foot of her bed. It contained mostly bed linen and spare blankets for the cold weather. She lifted the thick folds of wool and cotton and carefully pushed the note underneath them. Then she shut the trunk and took a deep breath.
She was aware that by hiding the note from her sister, she had taken the first steps towards becoming Wickham’s accomplice. She had had an opportunity just now to reveal his plans, but she had concealed them instead. She hoped that she would not regret her decision.
