Tact Page 10

  “Oh, Charlotte, I will yet surprise you more. Mr. Darcy – I believe I mentioned that he was in Kent – is desirous of marrying me.”

  Charlotte's hand slipped from the crook of Elizabeth's arm and she stopped walking abruptly.

  Enjoying her friend’s astonishment immensely, Elizabeth waited patiently for the information to sink in properly.

  With her customary good sense, Miss Lucas did not seek clarification of that which had already been said, nor did she require reminding as to the specific gentleman being referenced.

  “I see. How...how delightful.” Then, resuming her steps, “I suppose you have not yet answered him?”

  “Now how can you possibly know that, oh wise Charlotte?”

  “You would not tell me if you had refused him, and I daresay you would have announced an engagement to such a man in a much grander fashion.”

  Elizabeth acknowledged this with a nod. “He is to return to Hertfordshire soon, I believe – he wishes to court me.”

  “And?”

  “And I am inclined to permit it.”

  “You are inclined--Elizabeth!” cried Charlotte, sounding offended.

  “What is it?”

  “Have you no comprehension of your good fortune?”

  “Oh! Well yes. I am very flattered, of course. It is just that it has been a very odd couple of weeks for me. I don't believe I have felt so wrong-footed before in my life. I am in dire need of counsel.”

  “Well, if you would like my humble advice, you will say, ‘Thank you kindly, Mr. Darcy,’ and grasp a secure future with both hands.”

  “Would you?” asked Elizabeth curiously.

  “Obviously.”

  “Before knowing, truly knowing, his character? I accept, and I will tell you why presently, that I have been sadly blind as to Mr. Darcy, but it doesn't follow that I know enough of him to wed the man.”

  Charlotte almost shrugged, “If you know enough of him to be sure that he is respectable, I do not see a reason for hesitation. I daresay an engagement period would suffice to give you a more thorough painting of his virtues and his failings.”

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “I suppose I am to brand myself a jilt then, in the eventuality that I discover something I do not like in him.”

  Her friend had little patience for this. “Eliza, how many married people do you suppose think each other the very pattern card of perfection for the entirety of their lives? Infatuation fades – you know that it does; if you can respect your spouse based on the entirety of their being rather than loving them for their few temporary virtues, I daresay you will have as much chance as anyone to live a contented life, and as Mrs. Darcy you would have a respectable position and income to aid you in that contentment.”

  She would not be moved in her opinion, and Elizabeth quickly gave up trying to show her friend why the prospect of marrying a man she knew little about frightened her so. It would not, she believed, be so very bad if he were a lesser mortal – a humble parson for example, but to become the wife of Mr. Darcy seemed a greater risk somehow than marriage to another man might be. Perhaps when Jane arrived on the morrow, she might be brought to understand and take her part.

  Charlotte once again freely dispensed her advice to Elizabeth before they parted company and suggested that with regards to Mr. Wickham, her father might be appealed to on the matter if Mr. Bennet would not bestir himself as his daughter half suspected he might not.The ladies bade each other farewell once Mrs. Brown had been visited and the basket of groceries delivered.

  Upon returning home, having enjoyed wandering familiar paths in the warm sunshine, Lizzy went directly to her father's study. He was deep in a Greek text when she entered but he bade her come in and sit herself down when she requested admittance. Encouraged by this great fatherly sacrifice on his part, she did so.

  “Papa, I am once again in need of your advice – this time in regards to Mr. Wickham.”

  “Wickham, eh? I had heard that he was engaged to Miss King, though not officially by all accounts. Has he been making up to you too? You will soon have a score of suitors if you do not decide upon Mr. Darcy, my dear – perhaps this is why you are in such a quandary over the man. Did Miss Lucas not give you suitable advice?”

  “Nothing of the kind, sir, although I am deeply touched by your apparent faith in my popularity. I am to attribute such bias to paternal affection, I suppose.”

  “That, or senility. Out with it, Elizabeth – my tolerance is not so high as all that.”

  “I have had it from two separate sources that Mr. Wickham is not a man to be trusted – that is to say, he is not at all honest. The sources are, I am coming to believe, reliable. Before I left Hertfordshire it was hinted that Miss King has been told a similar tale to the one Mr. Wickham had related to me – a tale concerning his past dealings with Mr. Darcy that I now understand to have been slanderous.”

  “And you want me to bar him from the house or run the man out of town based upon this string of suppositions?”

  “You could if you wished to, sir, but I was rather thinking you might prefer to investigate the matter more thoroughly – given your most excellent advice to me yesterday afternoon regarding the collection of evidence and forming good judgments.”

  Mr. Bennet put down his book and sighed. “Do you know, Lizzy, I suspected from the very first that you would cause me great tedious exertion one day. Very well, my dear, you may rely upon me to seek out information. I don’t suppose it will stop you and Miss Lucas wangling Sir William around your little fingers but yes, I will make enquiries when I have the time. Off you go now, my love.”

  “Yes, Papa, of course...but….”

  “What is it now, child?”

  “Kitty and Lydia, sir. Charlotte says that she was alarmed on their behalf last week at the assembly on account of their familiarity with some of the officers.”

  Mr. Bennet laughed. “No, Elizabeth. Your mother was there to supervise them; it has nothing to do with me. I should think you would be encouraging their silliness yourself if it would drive Mr. Darcy off and save you the effort of having to make use of your assessment skills. Leave me in peace, Elizabeth – Odysseus is in as lively a quandary as you are, except with Scylla and Charybdis.”

  Elizabeth retreated to her bedchamber to change from her outdoor clothes. Once done, she sat upon her bed in deep thought, staring out of the window for the space of ten minutes.

  Hearing the sound of giggles from the room that Kitty and Lydia shared, she reached for the small paper-wrapped parcels she had brought from Kent and went to find them.

  They bade her come in their lively, good-humoured way and she paused at the threshold before doing so. Her sisters made a pretty picture together, sat at the window seat, Kitty holding up two pink scarves in the light for Lydia’s approval.

  “Oh, the one on the left, Kitty, certainly; the peachier pink would turn your complexion to sallow as soon as you put it on. The rose is far superior.”

  Mulishly, Kitty complied and tossed the ill-favoured peach scarf back on the bed. It was a trial to her, but Lydia had an eye for colour; it could not be denied.

  Elizabeth came forward. “I bring consolation, Kitty dear, for all that Lydia is correct. Here is a small trifle I have brought you from Kent. I did not shop overmuch but there was a delightful little haberdashery shop there that you would probably impoverished yourselves in. Also for you, Lydia – I did think the blue for you – yes, I see I was correct.”

  Never was a Bennet sister so popular, never was family harmony so apparent as when a traveller returned with gifts. Lydia and Kitty exclaimed with delight over their new gloves; Lydia received a delicate powder blue pair and Kitty a soft pink. Lizzy received their fond embraces and sat upon their bed awaiting their attention.

  “Are you going to scold us now, Lizzy?” asked Lydia pertly, “Charlotte did threaten to snitch on us.”

  Lizzy laughed lightly, “Am I your keeper, Lydia? You are clever enough to avoid stepping into outright improper behaviour – not least because it would quite ruin your own chances at snaring a respectable man.”

  “La! What a dull thought. I daresay I shall wed an officer after all, you know.”

  “That would be a waste of your charms, Lydia. If I were you I should wait for at least a colonel or a man of higher rank to propose – you would not like to live on a smaller income than Mary, I am sure of it.”

  Lydia, listening even as she admired how dainty her new gloves looked on her hands, snorted at this.

  “Lizzy! How can you compare me to Mary!”

  “It is a good comparison. You have the same background, even if your characters are so different – but even Mary, now that she is Mrs. Collins and on a comfortable income, must make do with a maid, a cook, and a manservant – she has to help with the household tasks, you know.”

  “Scrubbing floors!?” asked Lydia, clearly struck with horror at the very thought.

  “Nothing so drastic as that, but she has found it necessary to help with waxing the furniture and the like.”

  Lydia’s mouth dropped open. She was a bright girl and quickly arrived at the point Elizabeth wished her to. “And an officer would be even less likely to have more servants, would he not? Horrid thought. What a pity it is that the dashing young men must be so poor. I suppose you are right, Lizzy – it would be a waste. I do not at all wish to do servants’ work.”

  Kitty, who had been listening intently, joined the conversation. “But surely, Lizzy, we do not all need to marry clergymen like Mary.”

  Elizabeth grimaced and hoped Mr. Collins and Mary had gone out. Longbourn’s walls were not the thickest between the bedrooms.

  “Mary made a very good match, Kitty. Mr. Collins is a clergyman with the prospect of
inheritance – it is only for the duration of Papa’s life that Mary must make do as she does now. After that she will be the mistress of this estate.”

  This thought sobered the girls and Elizabeth thought her point had been driven home amply.

  “Speaking of marriage, I have news to impart to you, and advice to ask.”

  They were all rapt attention.

  “When I was in Kent I received a proposition that I am considering.”

  Kitty squealed and Lydia burst out, “Oh, you sly thing! To keep such a thing from us until now – who is it?”

  “It is a secret.”

  “Well, we won't tell anyone!” exclaimed Kitty, with all the confidence of a young woman who had never kept a secret for more than two days together.

  Lydia giggled.

  “You must not tell anyone, Kitty,” said Lizzy, firmly, “for if you do and word gets out, then I will be quite committed and unable to do anything but marry the man. I do not yet know if I want to.”

  Kitty nodded seriously, and Lydia, still giggling, assured her that she would not say anything that might cause Elizabeth difficulties.

  “Very well then. It is Mr. Darcy.”

  Lydia picked up the discarded peach scarf and threw it at her sister’s head.

  “Wretch! I truly thought you had some delightful secret to tell. How can you tease us so?”

  Amused, Elizabeth threw the scarf back. “Peach does not at all become me, thank you, Lydia. I am indeed in earnest. Mr. Darcy, the very same Mr. Darcy who was here with Mr. Bingley in the autumn, was visiting his aunt, Lady Catherine, and has asked to court me.”

  The scarf dropped to the floor.

  “Elizabeth! He is so rich!” cried her vulgar youngest sister.

  “His wealth is entirely beside the point if I do not marry him – it affects us not at all.”

  “What on earth can you want our advice for, Lizzy?” asked Kitty, shocked.

  “I am undecided as to what to do. On the one hand, as you so helpfully pointed out, Lydia, he is very wealthy and I could secure the futures of all of my dear sisters and aid them in finding good matches for themselves. On the other hand – he is so very strict in his notions of proper behaviour…. I should not wish to burden you – who are so charmingly high spirited – with behaving in a dull, decorous way.”

  Kitty was much touched by this and said so, but Lydia cried, “Why on earth should your marrying such a strict man affect us? I am sure I do not care in the least what Mr. Darcy might think of me.”

  “Because if he approved of you and your conduct, he might permit me to invite you to town for a season.”

  “London! Oh what a promise of fun! Lizzy, do you mean it?!”

  “Acquit me, I have not promised. Neither to you nor to Mr. Darcy. If...if I decide to marry him – and I am inclined to think some good could come of it if I did – it must necessarily alter your behaviour – the sisters of Mr. Darcy would have a very great advantage but I strongly suspect that he would much rather cut you off entirely if he thought you might embarrass him. I do not say he is right, you understand, but one cannot explain these things to men very easily. They do not understand how boring it is to always be polite and kind and not shout or run or jump or...well, you know.”

  Shrewdly, Lydia commented, “Are you telling us that if we behave ourselves as you and Jane do, you will invite us to town for a season of balls and parties.”

  “If I am in a position that I am able to, yes.”

  The girls looked at each other and quickly came to an accord.

  “You had better tell us exactly what you want us to do.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Gardiners returned with Jane the following afternoon; they and the children all tumbled out of the carriage weary from the journey. There had been much rain on the way, and consequently the roads had been a trial, particularly for Mrs. Gardiner who was once again in an interesting condition.

  Jane stepped forth into the embraces of her sisters looking in every way calm and unruffled; not a hair was out of place and her dress had nary a wrinkle. Had Jane been less incomparably good, Elizabeth rather thought she might be able to accuse her sister of vanity. In truth, Jane gave very little thought to her face and figure but had a strong desire for order and neatness in her appearance. It did not trouble her in the least, though, to have her clothes crushed in a close, affectionate reunion with her little sisters.

  “Oh, Lizzy! It is so very good to see you. I have missed my dear family sorely, however charming it has been to spend time with our aunt and uncle and the children. Mary! You look very well – my brother is to be commended; marriage suits you very well.”

  Mary did indeed look well. Her skin glowed with clear good health and her once lank dark hair looked thick and lustrous. The sullen expression that used to be so often seen on her face was replaced with a soft smile and an air of general contentment. The neighbours who had called upon them at Longbourn in the recent days had said as much, and each time compliments were given, Mary would blush and Mr. Collins would beam with husbandly pride.

  Mrs. Bennet hurried them all inside the house, fluttering and very much enjoying the large gathering of visitors. “Come in, come in, and rest yourselves – the clouds are gathering and I am sure we are due for a storm to come just as we are standing outside. We will be very cosy this night, for dear Mr. Collins and Mary are to leave us in the morning. Jane, you must share with Lizzy tonight and thus we will make do very well. We shall be a merry party at dinner – the Lucas family are bid to join us. Cook is feeling harried by it all, of course – not everyone is blessed with my patience, I fear – but I do think she will enjoy it more once it is over with.”

  Such a busy time was had that Elizabeth got barely a single moment alone with Jane, however eager she was to impart her news and to ascertain if her dearest Jane’s heart had healed enough for her to be comfortable. The rain started, as per Mrs. Bennet’s predictions, and they could not even venture as far as the garden to escape company. The house was as full as it could stand, and whatever room Elizabeth went into, there was always someone else present.

  The Lucases arrived by carriage later on and they soon all sat down together to dine. Mrs. Bennet, whatever silliness or faults she might have, was an exemplary hostess. The menu was perfectly designed to please her guests and no expense had been spared on the quality of the food offered. Elizabeth was put in charge of pouring out the tea once they had all assembled in the drawing room, and found a moment to speak to Sir William Lucas about her concerns regarding Mr. Wickham. Charlotte, well aware of her friend's ability to charm her father into anything, sat by and listened with appreciation.

  “Sir William,” Elizabeth began, with wide innocent eyes and a tilted head, “I wonder if I might seek your advice, given that you are an upstanding member of Meryton society and far more familiar with how one must go about treating the aristocracy than I.”

  Predictably, Sir William stood a little taller and gallantly offered to assist Miss Eliza in whatever it was she wanted him to do. Miss Eliza did not hesitate.

  “It is a case of some delicacy, sir. I have heard from both of the nephews of Lady Catherine de Bourgh – I daresay you are already known to her – that Mr. Wickham, who has been residing here in our happy town, is not a man to be trusted. I am very much afraid that to have a dishonest man in our midst might harm us in some way.” She waved her hand expansively. “I do not care to think of the details of what might happen, but I am sure that you know well the disadvantages that such a man may bring. I know that I am probably being overly sensitive – it is the way of my sex, I fear – but I am almost sleepless in my concern for dear Miss King. I thought that you would know who to inquire of about such things and that you, who have been to St. James’s Court, would know to heed such accusations against Mr. Wickham, given the exalted circles from which they originated.”

  Sir William Lucas, very properly concerned by such tidings, promised Eliza that he would do all within his power first thing in the morning to make enquiries about Mr. Wickham. He patted her hand and told her that she had been quite right, quite correct in bringing this matter to him, the magistrate. He assured her that he would write to Miss King's uncle and sort the thing out. “If Mr. Wickham is an honest man he need fear nothing, my dear, but I cannot see how he can be, given the rank of the gentlemen who have spoken to you. Leave it with me, my dear.”