Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst left a short time later, supposedly answering a summons from their brother. Elizabeth saw no such summons but she did not speak against their going, for there was nothing in the world she’d like better than to be out of their company.
Elizabeth tried not to savage the flower in her hand as she began binding it into a bouquet with the rest, completing the task despite the numbness in her fingers. Lydia and Kitty were making a mess of the job but Elizabeth lacked the energy to scold them. She had no desire to remove herself from the room, for their nigh constant bickering required no participation from herself; she could be alone with her thoughts here.
“Miss Elizabeth,” came a soft voice from the door. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. I’ve informed Mrs. Bennet, but she declares she won’t come and that you’ll have to see to him yourself.”
“A gentleman,” said Lydia. “Ooooh, Lizzy. Have you got another beau then?” She and Kitty giggled.
Darcy. Hill did not speak his name and Elizabeth did not ask. The flowers in her hand fell to the table as she rose from her seat. She followed the servant down the hall leaving Lydia and Kitty to laugh without her.
“Mr. Wickham for you, Miss Bennet,” said Hill as Elizabeth walked through the sitting room door.
“Mister—”
“Please, Miss Bennet, do not be alarmed.” George Wickham stood in the middle of the room, holding out his hands as though to reassure her.
Elizabeth’s shock was so great, Hill had left the room before she recovered herself enough to call the servant back. She stood stock still, one hand braced on the knob of the still-open door.
“Please,” Wickham said again. “I am alone and truly, I mean you no harm.”
Elizabeth found her voice at last.
“Why are you here?”
“I am here to beg your forgiveness,” he said. “The unpleasant business in London a few weeks ago… I am most grievously sorry, sorrier than I can say that you and Georgiana should have been caught up in it.”
Elizabeth let her hand drop from the door but did not otherwise move. Mr. Wickham seemed to take this as a sign to continue.
“You met me at a very trying time in my life,” he said. “It was foolish of me to have borrowed money from the likes of those men, but I was desperate. No one else would lend to me and what little savings I had was long gone. Darcy wouldn’t –”
“Do not speak of Matlock. Do not address him as though you are familiar,” she said. Mr. Wickham started, and Elizabeth understood why. The forbidding coldness of her tone surprised even herself.
Mr. Wickham nodded. “I rather thought that was the way of things,” he said, whatever that meant. “Miss Bennet, I am here only to personally assure you now that I am at liberty to do so that what happened that night in London was an aberration in my life and that I am terribly sorry you were forced into involvement.”
Elizabeth did not speak for a long moment.
She did not feel obliged to speak when he began to fidget nervously. She felt no obligation to him at all; she’d much rather call the magistrate in Meryton. The militia were come back – perhaps they would take him before the magistrate on her behalf.
But no. Jane was to be married tomorrow and it was best just to see him gone before then. The less mess, the better.
“Very well,” she said. “I accept your apology and your sundry assurances.”
The smile he gave her would have rendered him quite handsome had she not known him at all.
A clattering noise came at the door and Lydia rushed into the room.
“Lizzy, what’s this nonsense about Wickham being here to see you? Hill’s made a mistake, he’d only be here to see me,” said Lydia. She turned to see the man himself, standing now as though made of stone.
“Bennet,” he said. “Good God. Of course, Bennet.”
Elizabeth was not displeased to note that Wickham had lost color in his face; not a ghost of his good humor and charm remained.
“Wickham!” cried Lydia. She threw herself into his arms with such force Wickham had to put his arms around the girl to steady them both lest they topple to the floor.
“Lydia, you know this person?”
“Know him, Lizzy?” said the girl, not taking her eyes off Mr. Wickham. She made no move to extricate herself. She seemed to be trying to occupy the same space as he. “He’s my fiancé.”
The urge to scream rose so swiftly, Elizabeth covered her mouth with both hands. Mr. Wickham’s countenance suggested he’d experienced a similar reaction.
“Really, Lyddie,” he began.
“Oooh, I love it when you call me Lyddie,” said the girl gleefully. She pressed herself somehow even closer.
“Lydia!” said Elizabeth.
“Oh, fine,” said Lydia. She took a step back but did not remove her hands from Mr. Wickham’s arm.
“Tell me the exact nature of your connection to this man,” Elizabeth demanded. “At once, if you please. We are running out of time.”
Indeed they were. If Lydia’s sudden entrance was any indication, the rest of the women of the house would descend any moment to meet Lydia’s beau.
“Wickham came to town with the militia a few months ago,” said Lydia. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”
“With the militia,” said Elizabeth. “You were being courted by an officer.”
“That’s right!” said Lydia. “You remember. Of course you remember, you’d been stuck at Netherfield with Jane. I expect you two had nothing to talk of but my good fortune. And such good fortune it is, now he has returned from his business in London!”
“Yes,” replied her sister. “His business in London.” She looked to Mr. Wickham.
Elizabeth had never before witnessed a man on the verge of succumbing to the vapors.
“I didn’t know,” he said faintly, his eyes on Elizabeth’s. “I didn’t know she was your sister.”
“What are you talking of, my love?” asked Lydia, tugging on his arm. “Why are you talking to Lizzy like that?”
“I think perhaps it is time for you to take your leave, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth with as much force as she could muster. Given Lydia’s behavior, she could divine for herself the exact nature of their relationship. If the silly girl believed herself to be engaged there was no limit to what she might do, given the opportunity. Blind luck had prevented anyone else from witnessing her present behavior, a fact for which Elizabeth was mightily grateful.
George Wickham seemed to recover his senses all at once. His face flushed. He inhaled loudly. He began to mumble what may have been apologies as he gingerly removed Lydia’s hands from his arm, pressing her back when she protested. He inched toward the door, still mumbling. Elizabeth made no attempt to decipher the sounds, nor did she say anything to prevent his going. She’d wished him gone quickly only a few moments ago; it seemed the sudden arrival and attentions of her youngest sister were the means to afford her that wish.
After several attempts to extract himself from the youngest Miss Bennet, George Wickham gave up the fight and for the second time since Elizabeth had known him she watched as he fled for the door in sheer panic.
“Wickham!” cried Lydia.
“Hush, dear,” said Elizabeth, bestirring herself now that duty called. “Hush, Lydia. It’s best to let him go.”
“I can’t! Don’t you see?” she cried. “I love him! He’s only just come back for me and I’ve waited for him all this time! Wickham!” Lydia made to give chase.
This time Elizabeth did not stop her. Let her chase him down. A look around the hall confirmed there was no one to witness Lydia’s shameful behavior, and to Elizabeth’s mind it was the surest way of eliminating that distasteful man from their lives for good.
“Miss Bennet!” said a sharp, tart voice. “Miss Lydia!”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, bracing herself before she turned. It had been too much to hope that scene had gone unnoticed.
Mr. Collins stood watching Lydia run out the front door after Mr. Wickham, who was already nearly to the gate. He must have come on foot, Elizabeth noted absently.
“Mr. Collins,” she said. “How nice to see you again.”
“Miss Bennet, oughtn’t you go and retrieve your sister? It is most inappropriate for her to be running like that. And who was that man I saw leaving in such unseemly haste? Really, Miss Elizabeth, this is unacceptable.”
“Please, sir, do sit down.” Elizabeth was in no mood to humor this man. She was in the way of being in no mood to humor any man on earth ever again, but dignity prevailed. “If you’ll excuse me but a moment, I’ll go and fetch papa. I’m sure you have much to discuss.”
“Never mind that,” he said. “I’ve already spoken with Mr. Bennet outside.”
“Ah,” said Elizabeth. The brief, shining fantasy of escape faded.
“As you know, I am here to perform my honored duties as a clergyman for the benefit of your sister and Mr. Bingley tomorrow,” said Mr. Collins. His manner was stern, as though he’d somehow managed to starch it before his arrival. Elizabeth wanted to laugh at the thought; it was so very nonsensical, but fitting for what was fast becoming a nonsensical day.
Another knock sounded at the door.
“Yes, come in,” said Elizabeth.
“Lizzy, your mother—oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t know you were receiving,” said Charlotte Lucas.
“Charlotte, please come in. Mr. Collins, may I present Miss Charlotte Lucas of Lucas Lodge in Meryton. This is Mr. Collins, cousin to my father. He’ll be presiding over tomorrow’s ceremony,” said Elizabeth. Her dearest friend Charlotte had a keen sense of fortuitous timing. Elizabeth suspected she’d been outside the door for a while; the idea suited her fine, for she had need of an ally today.
“Yes, of course!” said Charlotte exuberantly. “Mr. Collins, I have heard so very much about you.”
“Thank you, Miss Lucas,” he said, taken aback by her enthusiasm. It occurred to Elizabeth that Mr. Collins was perhaps unacquainted with the enthusiasm of others.
“Mr. Collins was just about to inform me of his duties during the ceremony tomorrow,” said Elizabeth.
“Actually, I came to deliver the sentiments of the estimable Lady Catherine—”
“Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte, her enthusiasm more determined now. “It has been my fondest wish since childhood to hear a clergyman preparing his work before such an important ceremony. Our dear Jane has such a day tomorrow, but you – surely you must prepare weeks in advance for such an auspicious occasion.”
“Well, I—that is, yes, Miss Lucas,” said Mr. Collins. He was rarely asked to pontificate on anything, and never about his work.
“Would you oblige me a few questions? Mrs. Bennet requires Elizabeth,” said Charlotte, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze pointedly. “Mrs. Bennet wishes to speak with you in the library.”
The specificity in Charlotte’s communication alerted Elizabeth, for her mother never set foot in the library. She must mean Longbourn had yet another visitor.