This was straying into uncomfortable territory. Of Mr. Darcy’s proposal, Elizabeth had told only Jane, and she did not mean to inform anyone else of the event. Furthermore, and perhaps more relevant, Elizabeth had made no secret of her disdain for Mr. Darcy. Had she moderated her words in the autumn, it would be easier to share the matter of his dealings with Mr. Wickham—avoiding any mention of Miss Darcy, of course. There was nothing to be done, so Elizabeth did not waste time on useless regrets.
“Ididhear something of Mr. Wickham, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “At present, I do not think I should speak at great length about Mr. Wickham and why I believed Mr. Darcy’s account. Suffice to say that Mr. Wickham isnota good man, for he swindles merchants, games, and is free with his behavior to the ladies.”
Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. “I am not surprised, Elizabeth, given his actions toward Miss de Bourgh here. As we now understand what sort of man he is, I suppose we must now brand his actions toward Miss Mary King to be most hatefully mercenary.”
“Mary king?” asked Anne.
“A young lady of the neighborhood,” said Elizabeth. “After she inherited a fortune of ten thousand pounds, he made himself agreeable to her. They were close to announcing an engagement when her uncle took her to Liverpool.”
“There was little gossip in the neighborhood,” said Mr. Bennet, “though it was a wonder they did not get wind of it. Most of the gentlemen suspect the uncle learned something of Mr. Wickham and acted to protect his niece.”
“From a fortune of ten thousand pounds, he turned his attention to Rosings.” Miss de Bourgh shook her head and turned to Elizabeth. “Do you suppose he approached me upon hearing of your visit to Mrs. Collins?”
It was a notion Elizabeth had not considered, one that made her uncomfortable. Anne noted it, and she reached forward to grasp her hand.
“I do not accuse you, Elizabeth, for you had nothing more than an innocent visit to your close friend in mind.”
“It is possible,” conceded Mr. Bennet. “As I recall, Wickham resigned his position and left while Elizabeth was in Kent. If the notion did not occur to him immediately, it may have some time after Elizabeth departed.”
“What an odious man he is!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “To think we had a snake in our midst all winter! What damage has he caused in Meryton?”
Mr. Bennet regarded his wife, the slow nod an acknowledgment of her question. “That is the difficulty, Mrs. Bennet, though I suppose we will not know unless we approach the merchants.” Mr. Bennet grimaced and added: “And the fathers of the district, given Elizabeth’s testimony.”
“So I understand, Papa,” said Elizabeth, not at all happy with the notion.
“Among the silly girls of the neighborhood, my youngest daughters are possibly the silliest. I suppose we must ask after their doings too.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped, and Elizabeth spoke up before her mother could do so. “I do not think there is any need to be concerned on that score, Papa. If you recall, Lydia was put out with Mr. Wickham’s pursuit of Miss King.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” mused Mr. Bennet. “Perhaps Miss King provided a fortunate distraction for the libertine for the entire neighborhood. It is equally providential that heruncle is such a conscientious man. There is no proof that the merchants escaped his depredations, but I heard nothing that leads me to believe there is anything amiss.”
“The colonel is a good man, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps he warned the merchants against extending credit.”
“Yes, let us hope so.” Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth and asked: “One last matter I must know, Elizabeth, is whether you escaped unobserved.”
“That he did not catch us on the road must suggest we did,” said Elizabeth. “Yet I cannot say for certain whether someone else saw us. Mr. Wickham might learn of it if he asks about the town.”
“That is what I suspect,” said Mr. Bennet. “Then I must arrange for John and the stable hands to watch the house. We would not want Mr. Wickham to enter, for I suspect he may be a desperate man.”
Mr. Bennet rose and left the room to give his instructions, leaving the ladies within. Jane was calm as was her wont and Anne appeared deep in thought. Mrs. Bennet, however, fretted and moaned about libertines and snakes. Elizabeth paid little heed, for she was considering the events of the day and, of perhaps more concern, that her younger sisters were still in Meryton. Mr. Wickham would have no reason to target them, or so Elizabeth thought. If he learned Elizabeth had led Anne away to Longbourn, however, there was no telling what he might do to rescue his designs.
A moment later, Mr. Bennet came into the room, his expression bleak. “It seems I called for the stable hands at a most propitious moment, for there is a carriage approaching through the village at great speed.”
At this news, they all rose and went to the window, to see that Mr. Bennet had spoken the truth. A cloud of dust confirmed the passage of a carriage approaching Longbourn’s gates, enteringand only slowing once it had attained the drive. The man Elizabeth had seen in Meryton perched atop the driver’s box, and within the confines of the carriage, she could see the silhouette of another man. It appeared Mr. Wickham had come.
“Stay within,” instructed Mr. Bennet. “I shall have John and the hands run him off.”
The ladies all nodded to Mr. Bennet’s instructions, and when he left the room, they turned back to the window to see Mr. Wickham step down from the carriage. He noted their presence in the window at once if his scowl in their direction was any indication. A moment later their father exited the house, the footman, John, on his heel, while from the side of the house, the two stable hands, the carriage driver, and even Longbourn’s elderly gardener appeared, all taking positions before the house.
As the windows were open in deference to the warmth of the day, the ladies could hear every word they spoke.
An amusing truth about Lady Catherine was how she could not stay awake within the confines of a moving carriage. Travel in London, with its attendant stops and starts, the rattling of the wheels on the cobbles, and the general bustle of the city kept her awake. The moment they reached the open roads north of the city, her eyes drooped, and she soon relaxed against the side of the carriage, snoring softly. Darcy exchanged an amused glance with Fitzwilliam and burst into laughter.
“Is there something about your aunt you would like to share?” asked Bingley.
“Only that sleeping in a carriage is one of our aunt’s more humorous foibles,” replied Fitzwilliam.
“Perhaps we should remain quiet and ensure she stays sleeping,” cautioned Bingley. “I apologize for offending your sensibilities, but it seems the best way to endure her.”
