He had learnt Denny was in London on a recruiting trip to find men willing to join his regiment to serve as officers under Colonel Forster. When Wickham had enquired the cost of a commission, it had been the best news when he learned as a native of Derbyshire and having a gentleman’s education, a Lieutenant’s commission would be free. It was fortuitous because he was almost out of blunt and Karen Younge would not give him more, and worse, she had kicked him out of her boarding house on Edward Street.
So here Wickham was, his final night of hiding away from those seeking him in London. He would meet Denny in the morning and be on his way to some little town—the name he could not recall—in Hertfordshire on the morrow.
At least to hear Denny tell it, the people were welcoming to the militia, the merchants willing to issue credit, and more than a few pretty girls in the neighbourhood.
A scowl formed on his handsome face as he remembered how close he had come to eloping with Georgiana Darcy. If that bastard of a prig had not come when he did! Thirty thousand pounds! That was how much Darcy cost him. At least his nose had healed and was almost straight again.
He refused to accept what Darcy told him was the truth. According to his former friend, he would have been denied the dowry because of some technicality about permission being needed from both of her guardians. Wickham nursed his whiskey as he had bitter thoughts about his failed plan to avenge himself on Darcy.
As much as he had blustered, Wickham had not mentioned a word of the affair to another breathing soul. He had no doubt Darcy had not issued an idle threat when telling him one word abroad and Fitzwilliam would be on his trail. There was one man in the world he feared above all others, and that man was Richard Fitzwilliam. He would do far more than plant a facer like Darcy had.
All he had to do was survive this night without being caught by any of those seeking him and he would be gone from London with no trace.
Chapter 13
Darcy was torn. Bingley had asked him if he would like to go to Longbourn with him to enquire after Miss Bennet’s health. It was a dichotomy between his emotional feelings and his rational mind he had not yet solved.
In the end, worried about his weakness and giving in to his desires while ignoring his duty, Darcy decided he could not accompany Bingley. However, he also had a duty to his host, therefore, in the end he reluctantly accepted Bingley’s invitation. The two men decided to ride their horses—Miss Bingley’s disdain for riding was the major inducement not to take a coach.
It was Tuesday, early afternoon and about four days had passed since either man had seen the object of his interest. Being closer to Meryton, the Netherfield Park party worshipped at St. Alfred’s in Meryton and the Bennets attended the church near their home in the Longbourn village.
Unfortunately for Darcy, the days since Miss Elizabeth had left the house had done nothing to tamp down his desires for her. He would beat this! He had to beat it! His duty was too important, not to mention his family’s expectations for him to make an excellent match.
One member of his family—his late mother’s older sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh—was still shopping a tired old lie about his being engaged to his cousin Anne de Bourgh since they were in their cradles.
While they were still alive, both his parents roundly refuted any claim of a cradle betrothal, notwithstanding their son was three years older than Anne. Darcy was well aware his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, was in possession of letters from both of his late parents clearly stating there had never been an agreement to any kind of engagement to Anne de Bourgh, or any other.
The only way he would have married Anne was if it had been something both she and he desired. As it happened, they had discussed their preferences some years ago. Anne, being of a sickly constitution, had no interest in ever marrying as she was sure she would never survive childbirth. Darcy likewise was not interested in his cousin as anything more than a relation.
After his father’s death, Lady Catherine had attempted to revive her tired old lie but her brother had run her off with her tail between her legs and a flea in her ear. Darcy was sure his aunt would be her most vociferous about the supposed engagement Easter coming when he made his annual visit to review the Rosings Park estate matters.
Anne was about to turn five and twenty and from that point, she would be allowed to claim and receive her full inheritance, which was Rosings Park, among other properties. There were none in the family who did not know Lady Catherine’s true motivation. She was under the misapprehension if her daughter and Darcy married, she would be left to run Rosings Park unmolested. Darcy grinned at that thought. If he were ever to become the master of that estate, his aunt would not like it at all.
Darcy’s thoughts dissipated when the groom led his stallion, Zeus, to him. He mounted at the same time Bingley seated himself on his own horse. Soon the friends were cantering down the drive to turn onto the road which would take them through Meryton and on to Longbourn.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Mary and Mr. Collins spent much time Tuesday morning speaking and getting to know one another better. Mary was not blind to the man’s deficiencies. He was not an intelligent man, he was obsessed with being subservient to his patroness, and he had a certain level of pomposity about him. She had determined the man meant no one harm.
Her decision, if and when he asked, had been reinforced and she would accept unless she saw some trait with which she was not willing to live. The more they spoke, the more Mary realised he would not be difficult to steer.
If they were to marry, her first task would be to help him understand he did not need to revere his patroness and take everything she said as law. He had told her how Lady Catherine had recommended he put shelves in his closets in the parsonage.
Rather than point out the stupidity of such a suggestion, Mary had simply asked where, when he finally honoured some lady with his hand, would she hang her gowns and dresses.
Mr. Collins had looked rather confused for a minute or two until he finally arrived at the point where he was willing to admit his patroness’s suggestion about shelves may not have been a good one. He told Mary he would write to his housekeeper with instructions for the manservant to remove the shelves from the two closets where they had been placed.
A good description of the parsonage, which had two floors and an attic, was imparted. On the first floor was a dining parlour, sitting room, small parlour, and Mr. Collins’s study. The second floor had four bedchambers. On one side of the hall were the rooms for himself and the future Mrs. Collins and across the hall were two guest chambers.
Mary learnt in addition to the manservant, Mr. Collins kept a housekeeper, who was also his cook, and two maids of all work. The kitchen and scullery were in the cellar below the dining parlour. The fact if she married the man, she would have no maid dedicated to herself as her mother had at Longbourn was not something which bothered Mary. The two maids slept in rooms in the attics while the manservant and housekeeper-cook—who were married to one another—lived in a cottage in Hunsford.
Until recently when Mama sent Sarah to assist her, Mary had always managed on her own without any issues. The couple spoke until Hill announced the midday meal was served.
After everyone ate (which included Kitty and Lydia) and just before they rose from the table, Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“A note arrived informing me the latest volume of Byron’s poems has arrived at the bookseller’s store. Who would like to walk into Meryton with me?” Elizabeth invited.
“Me!” Lydia immediately piped up.
