It was one of those beautiful spring days perfect for walking, and though Elizabeth had been out earlier that morning, she was not opposed to going out again. The sistersalldecided to walk out to Meryton, even Mary, who often eschewed such outings for her books and the pianoforte. As they walked, Lydia and Kitty ranged on ahead, with Mary following them, and though Elizabeth thought her scrutiny was rather obvious, Lydia did not seem to notice. With Jane by her side, Elizabeth enjoyed the exercise, watching birds diving and bees buzzing until the party reached the town.
In recent months, one could not enter Meryton without encountering pockets of red-clad men strutting about in their finery, and that day was no different. Though they had come to peruse the shops, Elizabeth had known at least half of their time would be spent conversing with the officers. It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the east.
When they came upon a group containing Lydia’s favorites, the girl turned her steps toward them without a glance back or a comment to her sisters, and having no other choice, Elizabeth followed along with the rest of her sisters, noting that Mary was keeping a close watch, and Kitty allowed no distance to open between her and Lydia. The men were, of course, Lieutenants Denny, Sanderson, and Chamberlayne, three of the four men Lydia talked about without cessation. The one who was not present was the one about whom Elizabeth was most interested. She was soon to learn the reason for his absence.
“Oh, Wickham is away from Meryton on business for the colonel,” said Mr. Denny, showing Lydia an affable grin. Then he turned a challenging look on Elizabeth. “He should return before the week’s end. If you will excuse me, I had thought another of your sisters was more concerned with Wickham’s doings.”
“If you are speaking of me,” replied Elizabeth, not at all pleased by his comment, “you cannot be further from the truth.Why, before I went into Kent, I saw Mr. Wickham but little, and only once since his return.”
Mr. Denny nodded easily. “Wickham will be most disappointed to learn of it, Miss Elizabeth, for he has made his esteem for you clear.”
While the conversation continued around her, Elizabeth did not participate, instead pondering what she had learned. The first matter was Mr. Wickham’s absence, for if he had already determined to disappear, the best time to retreat would be when he was away on regiment business. Elizabeth could not be certain, but she suspected he was not yet ready to depart Meryton.
The more concerning matter for her was Mr. Denny’s suggestion that Wickham expressed his “esteem” for her. The assertion might be nothing more than Denny recalling a time when Elizabeth had often been in his company. However, it may be more dangerous, for Mr. Wickham might have fixed his interest on her for reasons Elizabeth did not wish to contemplate, or it may even indicate he had heard something of the information Elizabeth had been so carefully spreading throughout the community. When a voice startled her from her reverie, Elizabeth looked up, seeing an officer regarding her.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” said Lieutenant Chamberlayne. “If you will pardon me, you appeared deep in thought.”
Elizabeth regarded the lieutenant. She did not know Chamberlayne so well as Denny and Sanderson, but what she had observed of him told her that he did not possess Denny’s ease in company, and was not shy like Sanderson, who was little more than a downy-cheeked boy. Chamberlayne was quieter and more observant, unless she was mistaken.
“I appear to have been wool-gathering, Mr. Chamberlayne.”
“You will forgive me if I have always thought you were capable of deep thought.”
With a laugh, Elizabeth said: “That is not a comment which requires forgiveness. It is more of a compliment than anything.”
The lieutenant smiled and nodded, but then turned serious. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but there is a matter about which I wish to ask you.”
Elizabeth nodded but did not reply, waiting for him to ask his question. Chamberlayne did not wait.
“Your reaction to Denny’s comment a moment ago about Wickham struck me as interesting. When I consider the matter at length, I recall youdidappear to esteem Wickham when he came to Meryton, but your regard has cooled since then. When we visited Longbourn, Wickham appeared uncomfortable in your company. Is aught amiss between you?”
It was more than Elizabeth had expected from an officer, even one she thought observant. The question was how to respond. There were several ways she could use this to her advantage—the opening was not one she would allow to pass her by. In her campaign, she had focused her efforts on the people of Meryton; Mr. Chamberlayne was offering her the chance to publish something of Mr. Wickham’s behavior that would reach the ears of the officers from one of their own. The question was how to go about giving him enough information to make him pause, but not send him running to accuse Mr. Wickham.
“If Mr. Wickham was uncomfortable,” said Elizabeth, choosing her path, “that is his own doing. The truth is that I do not know Mr. Wickham well at all.”
Mr. Chamberlayne contemplated her comment. “What do you mean?”
“It is the truth,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham came to Meryton in November, spent a few weeks in company when I saw him frequently, then he turned his attention to Miss King,and I have seen nothing of him except for once before I went to Kent, and once after I returned. With such a paucity of interaction, do you suppose I know everything about him?”
“No,” said Mr. Chamberlayne, “I would not expect it.”
“Furthermore,” said Elizabeth, knowing she had his complete attention, “all I know about Mr. Wickham comes from the man himself. Tell me, are you better acquainted with him?”
“I am not,” said Mr. Chamberlayne, a slow nod accompanying his statement. “Before he joined the corps, I had never heard of him. Denny had a previous acquaintance, but I do not think it was substantial.”
“That is my point.”
With a nod, Mr. Chamberlayne said, as if in jest: “To own the truth, Wickham does not speak of himself much.”
“He does not,” agreed another officer, a Mr. Smith, who stood nearby, “but you must own that he speaks of Mr. Darcy a great deal!”
Then the man turned back to his conversation with several other neighborhood ladies who had joined them, while Mr. Chamberlayne turned his attention back to Elizabeth. For a moment, he said nothing, thinking on what he heard, but when he spoke, his comment heartened Elizabeth.
“That is no less than the truth. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth—do you know about Wickham’s charges against Mr. Darcy?”
“I learned of them before anyone else in the community,” said Elizabeth, deciding the absolute truth would serve her best in this instance. “If you recall the card party at my Aunt Philips’s house in November, Mr. Wickham told me about his disagreement with Mr. Darcy then.”
Chamberlayne’s eyes widened. “That was only days after you made his acquaintance.”
