“I hope,” he said dryly, “that these famed Militia officers will not mistake our home for a recruiting office.”
Mrs. Bennet glared at him. “Nonsense. It is only prudent to know with whom our daughters might speak in public. You insisted on inviting them!”
“Indeed,” he agreed, crossing his arms. “If they must plague us in Meryton, I would rather examine them at my own table.”
Jane’s eyes widened in faint distress. Elizabeth bit her lip to hold back a laugh.
Just then, the sound of wheels on the drive announced their guests. Kitty and Lydia squealed in unison.
“They are here!” Lydia cried, spinning in place. “Oh! Oh, Lizzy, do stand up straight.”
Elizabeth rose slowly, smoothing her skirts. “Do calm yourself. We are not on parade.”
Hill showed in the party with appropriate formality. Mr. Bingley led the way, beaming with genuine delight.
“Mr. Bennet, ladies! Thank you for receiving me—and these gentlemen,” Bingley said with easy, generous warmth. “As I was coming from Netherfield, I met them on the Meryton road. They were clearly headed this way, and I insisted they join me for the last part of the drive. I could hardly let them finish the walk when my carriage was quite empty.”
He stepped aside, revealing the two officers in their neat scarlet coats. Their boots were well-polished, though the leather was creased from wear, and the modest gleam of their sword-hilts hinted at care despite service.
Mr. Denny, stockier and with sun-browned skin, offered a brisk, practiced bow and wore an open, honest smile. His eyes crinkled with good humour at the corners.
Next to him, Mr. Wickham was leaner, with finer features, pale and carefully composed. His smile was quick, revealing even teeth, but his eyes had a brightness that did not quite match the warmth of his expression.
Mrs. Bennet, fluttering with satisfaction at being the link in this social moment, clapped her hands lightly.
“Mr. Bennet—allow me to make you known. This is Mr. Denny, who has been so polite to us in Meryton, and Mr. Wickham, lately joined to the regiment. Gentlemen, my husband, Mr. Bennet. And my daughters—Jane, Elizabeth. You know Kitty and Lydia already, I believe.”
Mr. Denny gave a courteous inclination. “Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—an honour, sir.”
Wickham followed with an elegant, if slightly more studied bow. “A very great pleasure, sir.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head dryly, eyebrows faintly raised as he surveyed them. “Welcome to Longbourn, gentlemen. I see my wife has been quite diligent in broadening her acquaintance in Meryton.”
Mrs. Bennet laughed in a flustered flutter of ribbons. “Nonsense, Mr. Bennet—it is only good manners to know the gentlemen of the regiment. They have been most obliging.”
Kitty and Lydia exchanged giggles at the back, whispering behind gloved hands as they eyed the officers with unconcealed delight.
Watching the introductions with a composed expression, Elizabeth noted the contrast silently. She took in Denny’s open, straightforward manner and Wickham’s polished charm that seemed almost too smooth.
Jane, gentle as ever, inclined her head with quiet civility. “You are welcome, sirs.”
Mr. Wickham’s smile broadened, but his eyes flicked quickly around the room, assessing with an alertness Elizabeth did not miss. She offered them both a polite curtsy, studying the latter closely. He was handsome, certainly—and altogether confident.
Mr. Bennet nodded once, expression unreadable behind his spectacles. “Welcome, gentlemen,” he said. “Pray be seated. I insist on good appetite tonight—my cook’s pride is at stake.”
“We shall do justice to it, sir!” Bingley said knowingly and laughed.
Lydia, perched too close to Kitty on the sofa, bounced in excitement. “Mr. Wickham! Mr. Denny! Were you at the drill today? We saw the colours on the green—so splendid!”
Wickham’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We were there indeed, Miss Lydia. Though it is not such fine work as dining in pleasant company.”
Lydia tittered. Kitty joined in, breathlessly approving.
Elizabeth watched him with wary amusement. Charming, to be sure—but too well-rehearsed, she thought, then glanced at Jane, who was flushed with shy pleasure to see Bingley’s gaze so warm on her.
“So, Mr. Wickham. You are newly come to the regiment? My wife suggested that,” Mr. Bennet said, then cleared his throat.
Wickham inclined his head with easy politeness. “Yes, sir. Newly joined at Meryton—but not new to the service, if I may say.”
