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The following morning, Darcy settled into the soft, leather covered squabs of his well-sprung coach. Soon Meryton would be but a memory and the danger to Bingley—and to his own equanimity—would be over. If Elizabeth knew what he was doing for her, she would thank him, but of course she never would. It should be enough to know himself that he was serving her.
The coach rolled past Longbourn. Would she be out walking now? He flashed a sidelong glance at the slowly passing countryside. But no light and pleasing figure rose from the grasses nor peeked out from between the trees.
Just as well.
The little pang in his belly was not disappointment. He should not have eaten those kippers before he left.
***
A NIGHT’S SLEEP—HELPED along with a touch of laudanum— produced no improvement in Mama’s humor or health. Her nerves overcame her and sent her to the refuge of her chambers. No doubt, it was her way of avoiding Mr. Collins who—despite his disappointment—could not be moved to depart any sooner than his planned date of Saturday.
At breakfast, Lydia suggested a walk into Meryton to inquire after Mr. Wickham’s return. Even if the question had not piqued her curiosity, Elizabeth would have been ready to agree simply for the pleasure of avoiding Mr. Collins.
The threat of his company at the house motivated all her sisters to join in the errand. Jane suggested adding a visit to Aunt Philips to their journey. Poor dear must be deeply troubled by the level of tension at home. She was hardly one to invent reasons to be away lest she miss a call from any of the Bingleys. Not surprisingly, Jane’s suggestion met with rousing approval.
Chill November air burst against Elizabeth’s face as they poured out of the front door. Cold sunshine greeted her, far more inviting than the weather when she last walked. Lydia and Kitty surged to the front, tittering among themselves, the excitement in anticipation of meeting officers clearly too much to contain. They dashed ahead, kicking up little clods of dirt and splashing in the occasional puddle as they ran. Elizabeth walked more carefully, avoiding puddles that would spoil her newly cleaned nankeen half-boots and petticoats. Such things disturbed Mama, and she was disturbed enough right now.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, but the door remained closed. Mr. Collins did not appear, running to catch up with them. Was it wrong to be so relieved?
It could not be easy to be one whose absence brought greater pleasure than his presence. She should be sympathetic, but only Jane could be quite that good.
“Look! Look!” Lydia pointed at two figures stepping out of the boarding house at the edge of town.
“I think it is ...” Kitty grabbed Lydia’s hands.
“Mr. Wickham!” Lydia screamed and giggled.
The taller of the two figures waved energetically. That must be Denny.
Kitty and Lydia waved back, laughng. Still holding hands, they ran toward the officers, kicking up a spray of gravel in their wake.
“They should not run. It is unladylike and Mama would not approve,” Mary muttered, pointedly avoiding Elizabeth’s gaze.
Though she said nothing directly, there was no doubt Mary harbored many mixed and strained sentiments toward Elizabeth since Mr. Collins’s proposal. Eventually they would have to talk that over, but now was not that time.
“We probably should hurry on—best not leave Kitty and Lydia unattended for too long.” Jane bit her lip, staring at Kitty and Lydia.
Jane was right. They were standing too close to the officers and giggling much too freely. So close to the boarding house, they were sure to be seen by someone happy to spread gossip about them.
Mary pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders and marched ahead. Jane and Elizabeth hurried to catch up.
“We were just telling Wickham how much he was missed at the Netherfield ball.” Lydia looked over her shoulder and batted her eyes.
“I am humbled that my absence should have even been noticed at such a distinguished event.” Wickham bowed from his shoulders.
Beside him, Denny mirrored his actions. Both men wore their regimentals. That alone was enough to send Kitty and Lydia swooning.
“Unfortunately, business in town could not be postponed.” Wickham raised his brow slightly.
Perhaps he would share the rest of that thought later.
“Business always ruins the best of our fun.” Lydia pouted and sidled between the two officers. She slipped her hands into each of their arms.
Jane blushed almost the color of Lydia’s scarlet cloak. “We are on our way to call upon our Aunt Philips. Perhaps you would care to join us on our call?”
Hopefully they would agree. At least that way Lydia could be ill-behaved behind closed doors instead of in the middle of the street.
Wickham and Denny exchanged a quick glance and nodded at one another.
“Mrs. Philips has extended us such warm, open hospitality already. It would be our pleasure to call upon her.” Wickham’s smile suggested the invitation was the highest honor he had ever been offered.
What a dramatic contrast to Mr. Collins, whose smile left her squirming, or Mr. Darcy who seemed never to smile at all.
The suggestion must have mollified Lydia. Her deportment improved to almost proper on the walk to the Philips’s.
Aunt Philips was only too happy to invite them all in. A party of young people, particularly one that included eligible young men in the company of her very marriageable nieces, could not be but a delight.
They sat in her cozy—or crowded and over-decorated, depending on who was viewing it—parlor, and tea was soon brought in. Lydia and Kitty squashed up on the long sofa to sit between Wickham and Denny. Truly, Aunt Phillips should suggest that there were enough seats for everyone, but both looked so satisfied, she would have been hard pressed to move either of them. Mary sat, somewhat aloof, nearest the windows, more often looking out of them than joining in the conversation. She really was taking the turn of events with Mr. Collins very poorly. Aunt Philips hardly seemed to notice though, happily presiding over the little party from her seat near the fireplace.
“You gave us no small concern at your absence from the Netherfield ball, sir.” Aunt Phillips handed Wickham a cup of tea. “We were quite relieved not to find ourselves deprived of your company, Leiutenant Denny.”
“Denny is such a good dancer, is he not?” Lydia leaned close to Kitty, her tea sloshing nearly out of its cup.
Kitty launched into a painfully detailed description of the set she and Denny danced together, the one during which Mary King had stumbled.
Mr. Wickham leaned toward Elizabeth, glancing back at Lydia and Aunt Philips as though in hopes of a bit of privacy.
She cocked her head and inclined his way.
“I found as the time drew near that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy. That to be in the same room, the same party with him, for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.”
“I admire your forbearance, sir, to deny yourself the very great pleasure of such an event out of consideration for the rest of the company.”
His cheek dimpled with a half-smile. “I felt sure you were capable of seeing it in such light. I only hope you will not resent—”
“Mr. Darcy? Surely you cannot expect I will not harbor ill-will toward him when his very presence deprived us of your company.”
“Are you speaking of the business that kept you away?” Lydia huffed. “What droll preoccupation could demand your attentions away from us?”
Wickham’s eyebrow twitched, and he tipped his head toward Elizabeth. “They were very droll indeed. You could hardly take interest in my succession of busy nothings in town.”
How neatly he avoided giving Lydia a direct answer. He never told an outright falsehood, distracting and side-stepping instead. Much practice must have gone into the perfecting of that skill. Jane, though, had wondered at the desirability of such a talent.
At the end of half an hour, they bid their aunt good day.
“Pray allow us to attend you home. It is much too soon to depart from such agreeable company.” Wickham held the door for them as they proceeded out.
“Indeed, it is.” Denny offered an arm to Kitty and the other to Lydia. With another peal of laughter they set off with him.
Mary snorted and stalked on, quickly overtaking them on the quiet roadway.
“Pray excuse me.” Jane curtsied and hurried after Mary, little clouds of dust forming at her heels.
If anyone could pacify Mary’s hurt feelings it was Jane.
Wickham glanced at her and slowed his pace a fraction, extending their distance from the others. “I cannot pretend to be sorry for a few moments to express my thanks for your gracious understanding, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You are too kind, sir. It is you who are all gentlemanly forbearance and—”
“You think far too well of me. I am hardly a gentleman.”
“Perhaps not by birth, but certainly by deportment, which is more that I can say for many who are born to the office.”
“You honor me. Would that society could be so liberal-minded as well. You are most certainly an example of a true gentlewoman.” How was it that his compliments always left her feeling so warm and fuzzy inside? Mr. Collins’s certainly had not.
“Such flattery will certainly ruin me sir. You must be careful lest you spoil me for other company.”
“Do not tell me other company fails to flatter you appropriately?”
She cocked her head and lifted her brow. “It is not seemly to flatter young women, or have you not been so told?”
“Had I been told, I would have ignored such foolishness. No accessory looks better on a young woman than a properly crafted compliment.”
“My mother would agree with you, no doubt. She always approves of whoever would complement her daughters.”
“A sensible woman to be sure.” How did he manage such an expression of sincerity?
No one had ever said that of Mama. She pressed her lips hard not to laugh.
“May I introduce you to my parents? Mama has heard my sisters speak of you and your fellow officers so often. She has been anxious to make your acquaintance.”
“I would not suppose to force a connection upon them.”
“Not at all. I assure you. You are too modest. They will be most pleased of it. I would be delighted to introduce you.”
“I dare not suspend any pleasure of yours. I shall be pleased for the introduction.”
Hill met them at the front door. Elizabeth bid her announce their guests to her parents. Hopefully Mama would find their visit sufficient reason to leave her chambers. She had scarcely time to call for lemonade and biscuits before Mama appeared on Papa’s arm at the parlor door.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet, but Lydia cut her off. “Look who we have brought to call. Lieutenant Wickham and Lieutenant Denny. We called upon Aunt Philips with them, and they walked us home.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Mama curtsied.
“Indeed, sirs. The introduction is long overdue considering how your names have been attendant upon our meals these weeks now.” Papa sat in his favorite wingback near the fire.
Wickham rose and bowed. “You must forgive us for intruding upon your mealtimes uninvited.”
“Do not be silly, no one has been bothered by any such thing.” Lydia pulled his arm. “But what does bother me is the way Elizabeth monopolizes your company. It is a bad habit on her part. Mama you really must speak to her about it.”
Mama’s eyes grew wide, her brows disappearing under the lace of her cap.
Papa’s eyes twinkled, and he pressed his lips together. What was he thinking?
Mama stepped back and leaned out the doorway. “Hill, see refreshments are brought.”
Surely Mama must know she and Jane would not neglect such basic hospitality. Elizabeth bit her lip. At least Mama was out of her rooms.
The next quarter hour passed quickly with fresh biscuits and good humor for all. The officers left Mama’s improved humor in their wake, which Papa clearly approved.
“I think, Elizabeth you might have found a most singular cure to your mother’s ill health. Pray it continues when Mr. Collins returns from his constitutional.”
Mr. Collins’s return brought back Mama’s melancholy in even greater measure than before. Who would have imagined a quiet and contemplative Mr. Collins could be a trial to anyone, but he was to Mama. The letter that arrived shortly thereafter did nothing to improve Mama’s spirits. Worse still, the news of the departure of Netherfield’s tenants in favor of London unsettled Jane even more than Mama.
Jane felt certain it meant Mr. Bingley would never return to Meryton. How odd since Jane was usually the most positive sister among them. Truly though, he was so clearly in love with her that was hardly possible. Lizzy’s firm persuasion helped her put on a brave face for their dinner at Lucas Lodge.
Though neither Mama nor Mr. Collins deigned to look at or speak to Lizzy through the whole of the evening, they both seemed in better spirits for the outing. Even better, Mr. Collins spent the better part of the next day out of the house, returning only in time for dinner.
Something had happened that day—surely it must have. He was so different during that meal, so restive, yet almost smug. At least he would be gone soon, if not for very long, for he hinted, nay threatened, to visit them ere long.
What possible purpose could he have in such designs? Elizabeth bit her knuckle and watched Mr. Collins trudge upstairs for the last time on this visit. Perhaps he might return to court Mary. That would please both Mary and Mama and resolve everything very nicely.
On that happy thought, Elizabeth retired.
