Leticia, who had begun to entertain her namesake once Louisa finished the story, looked up to see what Harold was about.
“I think you should give her the impression you agree with her, like you did after your father’s funeral in Scarborough. The person will be more forthcoming with you if there is a belief you are sympathetic to the expressed views,” Hurst suggested.
After cogitating on her husband’s words and seeing the sense in them, Louisa nodded and then went back to helping Arthur with a book he was reading.
Although she did not say so in her grandchildren’s presence, Leticia wholeheartedly applauded any steps Harold took to hobble Miss Bingley. The harpy was the highest in the instep person Leticia had ever met. In her mind, it was notifMiss Bingley ruined herself, but ratherwhen.
On arriving at Netherfield Park, Miss Bingley took one look at it and decided it was nothing to Pemberley. That she had never set eyes on that estate was an inconvenient fact she ignored. She refrained from saying that aloud.
When her brother introduced Louisa to the butler and housekeeper and named her the mistress of the estate, CarolineBingley almost allowed her careful façade to crumble and berate her brother like he richly deserved. As inconvenient as it was that Charles had meant what he said in this case, it did not change her plans. When Mr and Miss Darcy arrived, she would simply act as the hostess, and she was certain Louisa would not gainsay her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The next day the gentlemen of the neighbourhood began to call to welcome Mr Bingley and his party to the area. Thanks to the Hursts being well known from the times they had previously been in residence, Bingley was the only one who needed to be introduced.
Thankfully, as she was not the hostess, the youngest Bingley had refused to sit and greet thecountry mushrooms, as she called them. Hence, she had withdrawn before she could meet any of thenobodies, and was ensconced in her chamber.
When she had made that comment, without being self-aware enough to realise it, she had slipped. She had shown a glimmer of her true self to the other four adults in residence. If Bingley had been harbouring any hopes that their suppositions about his younger sister were incorrect, her haughty pronouncement washed any hope away.
As Bingley had met some of the Bennets at Hurst House, there was no need for introductions when the Bennets called. It did not take long before Bennet was chatting with Hurst and Bingley; Leticia, Fanny, and Louisa were in one group. Tommy, who had been included in the call to continue his friendship with Arthur, was sitting with said friend on the rug arranging metal soldiers so that the British would be able to rout the French, as it should be.
Elizabeth had been cajoled into telling Tisha a short story. The latter was happily sitting on Mary’s lap. The two youngest Bennet sisters were at home in lessons with Miss Firth and Mrs Annesley.
It was into this friendly atmosphere that Caroline Bingley sailed. As soon as she saw not only the Bennets but also young children, her face showed a very marked moue of distaste. “Who brings children on a call, and why are they all not upstairs in the nursery where they will be in no one’s way?” She demanded.
“Caroline! That was abominably rude. Apologise to my guests, or you will be on your way to Aunt Hildebrand and Uncle John,” Bingley admonished.
The realisation that she had begun to show her true feelings too soon hit Miss Bingley. How was she to secure a proposal from Mr Darcy if Charles banished her from his estate? She needed to repair the damage quickly. “Please pardon me; a bad headache has come on, which made me say things that are not true.” With that Miss Bingley left the drawing room with a swish of skirts.
“Well, that was interesting,” Elizabeth commented. Thankfully Tisha’s story was over. “Miss Bingley never said it when we were in London, but I could feel that she saw us as interlopers.”
“Which is something you were not. If she wanted to see one, Caroline should have looked in the mirror,” Leticia stated firmly. She looked at her son and daughter-in-law, pointedly telling them of an impending conversation once their friends had departed.
Bingley could not but be caught up by the picture Miss Mary made with his niece on her lap, allowing Tisha to examinethe cross worn around the third Bennet sister’s neck. Miss Mary seemed to have unlimited patience with Tisha.
After tea, the Bennets, much to the chagrin of Arthur and Tommy, took their leave. The boys were mollified when promised the former would be at Longbourn with his parents, grandmamma, and sister on the morrow. All the boys needed to know was that Eddy and Peter Gardiner were soon to be present, and the circle of very good friends would be complete.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Just like St Claire had told him he would, Wickham found the regiment of the Derbyshire Militia—his benefactor said Wickham was most suited to this particular regiment, as he had a Derbyshire accent—encamped in the market town of Bedford in Bedfordshire.
His instructions were to purchase the rank of lieutenant, use his charm to become popular among the officers and recommend himself to the commander of the regiment. That was Wickham’s role: to investigate the colonel and report anything of interest back to St Claire, who would evaluate the information to see if it contravened any orders.
Rather than a post coach, Wickham had been conveyed into Bedfordshire in one of St Claire’s nondescript carriages. He was dropped off on the edge of the town, so none of the members of the militia would see how he arrived. Wickham asked the first man he met to direct him to the regiment’s offices. The man did so with a smile.
As he walked, Wickham remembered St Claire’s stipulation about no girls, no debts, and careful gambling without debts of honour. As much as it irked him to refrain fromthe things which gave him so much pleasure, he was not willing to risk his reward at the end of his assisting the rich man.
He had already practised the tale he would tell to explain his being in Bedford. Even if he had not had the directions, he would have known he was entering the militia offices by the number of scarlet-coated officers close by. He saw some men within and based on the uniforms two were officers and the other three were soldiers.
“Am I in the right place to purchase a commission in this regiment?” Wickham asked, making sure his Derbyshire accent was easily discernible, like he had been instructed to do.
“We generally do not sell commissions in the militia. As we are from Derbyshire, the officers were appointed by the Lord Lieutenant of the county. What is your name, Sir? I am Captain Carter, the adjutant of this regiment, and this is Lieutenant Denny.”
“George Wickham is the name.” He was at a loss for what to do now. St Claire had been sure he would be able to purchase a commission; he had given Wickham close to four hundred pounds for that purpose, saying that the purchase price was half that of the regulars. “Would I have to travel back to see the Lord Lieutenant to join this regiment?”
“If we were in the county, you would have to see His Grace, Lord William Cavendish, the Duke of Devonshire, who took over the duties when his father went to his reward in July of this year,” Carter related. “Let me ask you some questions. I can hear you are from our county, but where was your home? Did you complete a gentleman’s education?”
“I was raised on and lived at Pemberley, and yes, I have a gentleman’s education. My name is entered in the rolls atCambridge’s Senate House of those who were admitted to a degree,” Wickham replied.
