If this is how they treated her and her sisters, how much worse would it be for Mary when Darcy brought her home? A pity they could not sell Longbourn; however great her love for her home was, the betrayal of half their neighbors dimmed such affection considerably.
Nudging her arm, Charlotte gave Elizabeth a wry smile, “That dark, foreboding expression is doing little to lessen the gossip. Lift your head, force some happiness, and they may question their harsh interpretation.” A false happiness applied by Elizabeth, Charlotte laughed, “You may wish to practice that a little. Instead of happiness, it appears you hope to bite whoever is in front of you; not that I blame you, I have been sorely tempted to do that with Mrs. Bambridge.”
“As have I,” Elizabeth conceded. “Of the tales being spread, hers are amongst the worst. At least the farmhands, servants, and all Mary’s other friends have been kind. I cannot tell you how often they have made an effort to offer a greeting or some warm word.It, and the friendship you, Lord Lightcliffe, and Mr. Peters offer, has been a balm.” Noting the flush Mr. Peters’ name produced in her friend, Elizabeth offered a true smile, “I see you are as fond of Mr. Peters as ever; it was kind of you to convince your parents to allow him residence with you all. However did you manage it without maligning Mr. Bingley?”
“Of course I am fond of him… he and Lord Lightcliffe, along with Mr. Aldry and Mr. Darcy, have made every effort to bring your sister home. How could one not be fond of such a man?Men.I mean men naturally.” Fixing her sleeve, she continued, “As to convincing my parents, it was an easy thing. My father is always a welcoming man, and when I noted that it was a shame Mr. Peters had been abandoned in the home of a man who never seemed to have company or parties, well, father saw the state of things and acted. Indeed, it is likely we shall have neighbors dining with us nightly as father feels deeply at the neglect the man has suffered.”
“Neglect indeed,” Elizabeth teased before her pace slowed and expression sobered. “I am grateful you have done that. While I am loath to think ill of Mr. Bingley, I worried for the men when they were residing under his roof; with Mr. Peters there alone, my concern was great. As much as I might have been able to convince Mamma that he should stay with us, I am well satisfied that his comfort will be greater in your home… And I am equally satisfied in the knowledge that it will be easier for him to court you. A happy outcome for you both, I am certain.”
“Elizabeth,” Charlotte chastised, “you must not say such things. True, his attentions have been marked, but it. I.”
“At a loss for words,” Elizabeth remarked happily as they neared the mercantile. “I believe you have confirmed my suspicions,and I only ask that I am told first when he proposes, and you agree.”
With a disgruntled huff, Charlotte followed Elizabeth into the modest shop, their attention drawn to a new display of lace, though Charlotte viewed Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye with suspicion.
“I promise, Charlotte, to tease you no more. Here, I am determined to purchase something for Mary, somehow I fear lace is not to her tastes, what do you think of gloves? Nothing above four shillings, though I think a modest pair of kid gloves might be found for that.”
A quick raise of her brow as she appraised Elizabeth and Charlotte moved toward the gloves to offer her opinion, the pair searching through those available with care, the whispers of those around them ignored as best they might as they sought to make Mary’s return a joyous one.
Half an hour later, having happened upon Mr. Peters in town, the three made their way to Longbourn, their talk light until, as the townsfolk of Meryton were left behind, they might speak unheard.
“As you know, Wickham has been behaving oddly since Aldry and Darcy departed,” Mr. Peters began, “perhaps before–I suspect he received a letter telling of the escape. In any case, our informants observed Wickham on his way to Netherfield this morning, where he remained over a quarter of an hour before skulking back.”
“Then Mr. Bingley is involved,” Charlotte remarked as she adjusted her hand on his arm.
“Everything points to it,” he said, “though nothing on which to convict him. Evidence is needed if justice is to be had.”
“But what of Wickham?” Elizabeth queried as she held her bonnet, a cold wind whipping at her blue ribbons. “If we are able to find proof regarding him–which I assume would be easier–then could that help bring the other to justice too?”
Shaking his head, Peters frowned, “Your aunt cannot say if it was Mr. Bingley she heard in that alley, and Wickham being seen entering Netherfield is hardly conclusive; it would be easy enough to claim he had been visiting one of the servants. As things stand, proving Wickham guilty will be difficult enough. If Mr. Bingley is as guilty as we believe, such proof could take months, even years to find, and with each passing day even such proof begins to lose strength. Memories fade. Circumstances become muddled. No. If we are to uncover his guilt, it must be soon, for a man of his means is well able to buy people off.”
Face knitting as she searched her thoughts for some evidence they might have overlooked, Elizabeth looked downward as she realized it may well be that no proof yet existed.
But that,she reminded herself,does not mean that it never will. People make mistakes, even rich, powerful men. All they had to do was be there when those mistakes were made… or to give them a push.
∞∞∞
The clopping of hooves causing Elizabeth’s head to lift from her sewing, an uncharacteristic squeal passed her lips, the eyes of her family turning to her at the sound.
“Mr. Darcy’s coach!” Lydia announced as she leaned over Elizabeth, her mouth wide as she laughed, “La, Mary is being helped down by a man; our Mary! Imagine that?”
“Hush, child. You ought to be kinder to your sister,” their father admonished as he made his way to the door, Elizabeth’s awed gaze upon him.
Had he ever corrected any of his daughters unless prompted or desiring solitude? If so, surely it had not been since they were children.
The entire family pressed around the small entry space as Mr. Bennet opened the door, Elizabeth lifted onto her toes to get a better view of her sister.
“My poor, darling girl,” their mother rushed, her arms all but smothering her middle daughter. “I have done nothing but worry since I knew… Did they hurt you at all? Here, let me look at you. Thin, and wane, and oh my, exhausted I can tell, but safe. Our darling girl is safe… is that not the best news, Mr. Bennet? Our daughter safe at home!”
“It is indeed.” Patting Mary’s cheek he added, “The very best of news. We have missed you, my dear.”
“That we have,” Jane added as she stroked her sister’s hair, their mother still clinging to her. “All of us have, and Elizabeth has done nothing but work to see you home since that horrid day.”
Mary’s gaze finding Elizabeth, she smiled, “I am grateful. To her, and all of you. It is good to be home.”
“And we are equally grateful,” Elizabeth assured, Kitty adding her agreement before Lydia had her say.
“La, it has been strange without you drumming away on those keys,” the youngest Bennet claimed. “I had to listen to Kitty’s chatter with nothing to distract me. It has been a trial!”
