The Challenge of Entail Page 4

  “Surely you do not think I will choose rashly!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

  “I know your character, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. “That you will intend to be a rational creature is in no doubt whatsoever. But the heart is no rational organ. You never truly know a person until you are married to them, and I would not have my little Lizzy married to a man whose character you did not discover until after you had taken an irreversible step.”

  “I understand, Papa. While I cannot say for certain if I will choose with wisdom, I will assure you I intend to make every effort to do so.”

  “That is all I can ask for, Lizzy,” said her father, sitting back in his chair once again. “There was no doubt in my mind you would do as I suggest. A little reminder every so often does not go amiss, now does it?”

  Laughing, Elizabeth agreed with her father. “It does not. I will do as you say. But in the end, I believe I will attain happiness with any man I love, regardless of his station in life. I do not require a wealthy man. There are more things in life than great wealth.”

  “That is true. Wealth does much to smooth the path, though it may create other problems. It is right you should consider such matters as less important, though I would not advise you to forget about them altogether.”

  With those words, her father once again retrieved his book. Elizabeth, as she was now situated comfortably in the chair, allowed her mind to wander along paths of thought, considering what the future might hold for her. Though she had rarely considered what kind of man she might wish to marry, an image sprang to mind, of a tall handsome man. She could not see his face or anything of his features or person, or even the clothes he wore. But he was a good man, one devoted to her and their children, a good provider, intelligent and well-read, yet considerate and eager to hear her opinion on a variety of subjects.

  The thought heartened her. Elizabeth Bennet did not have much to tempt a man other than her person. Despite that, she had always thought her lack of a substantial dowry would help her discern whether a man wished for her as a wife, or wished to obtain her money, had she possessed a great fortune. There were blessings, even in trials.

  Chapter III

  Often, Elizabeth found younger sisters—especially younger sisters of high-spirited natures—to be more than a little bothersome. Mary was quiet and thoughtful, and no trouble to tolerate. Kitty and Lydia were a different matter altogether when they got it into their heads they were being unfairly treated.

  Unfortunately for the two youngest Bennets, the events of the neighborhood with the officers’ attendance continued as autumn progressed. And every time there was mention of a party, dinner, or other amusement which would inevitably include the attendance of their elder siblings, the two younger Bennets would complain their exclusion was unjust. Elizabeth did not think their whining was nearly so bad as it could have been, but it was irritating, nonetheless.

  The day of a gathering not long after the function at Lucas Lodge was evidence of this. It occurred in the morning at the breakfast table as the family discussed the evening’s activity together. While Elizabeth suspected the two girls would prefer to remain abed in the mornings, Mrs. Garret was of the opinion that young girls needed to rise early to obtain the greatest benefit from the day. Thus, they were present for the discussion, which, to them, seemed more of a punishment than being required to rise early.

  “Mama?” asked Lydia in a wheedling tone when Mrs. Bennet had made some comment of the evening. “Shall we not attend tonight’s party? I promise we would be ever so well behaved.”

  “Perhaps it would be best to demur,” said Mrs. Garret, eying Lydia in a manner which dared her to contradict. “Though I will defer to Mr. Bennet in this matter, I think neither Miss Catherine nor Miss Lydia is ready.”

  “And you would have my agreement,” said Mr. Bennet. The stern manner in which he spoke left no option of changing his mind, and Mrs. Bennet’s nod to support her husband closed that avenue as well. “The officers, my dear Lydia, would not provide you the excitement you think they might. In truth, they are a rather dull lot.”

  “Maria Lucas says they are far more interesting than any gentlemen who reside here,” muttered Lydia, petulance coloring her voice.

  “Oh? And how would Maria know? By my account, I do not think she has spent time in their company at all. The time is not yet right for you to attend.

  “And remember, Lydia,” continued Mr. a stern Bennet, “you are yet fifteen and will not be allowed out for some time yet.”

  What remained unsaid was that Kitty would be allowed before, which prompted a hesitant smile from the girl, but no comment. As she had been known to trumpet her status as the next to enter society in the past, her forbearance was an improvement, and Mr. Bennet noticed. His approving smile heartened her, allowing her to return to her meal.

  “But, Papa—”

  “That is enough, Lydia,” said Mrs. Garret. “Your father has made his decision, not that I would have expected him to yield. If you had considered the matter yourself instead of complaining, you would have known it too.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Garret.” Mr. Bennet turned back to his youngest daughter. “Should we host a party at Longbourn, I may allow you to attend for a short time, and there are visits to consider, though your lessons must come first. Patience, child, for all you desire will come to you in due time.”

  It was clear Lydia had little notion of practicing patience, but she nodded and returned to her breakfast. If her mouth was pulled down in a sullen frown as she pushed her potatoes around her plate, no one saw fit to mention it, preferring to speak of other matters.

  For Elizabeth’s part, she considered the girls for a few more moments. High-spirited and petulant though they may be at times they were good girls. They were on the way to becoming estimable young ladies, she thought, if they could only move past this trying time of young girls on the cusp of adulthood.

  At the gathering that evening, Mr. Wickham’s admiration for Jane became obvious. There had been other gatherings at which he had paid her attention, but that evening it seemed he could hardly be moved from her side. It started as soon as the regiment arrived.

  The Bennets, as was their custom, were among the earliest of the company to arrive. Their hosts, the Robinsons, greeted them as old friends, and they stood speaking as other families began to trickle in. Sarah Robinson, the only Robinson child left at home, was a year younger than Elizabeth, and as she was a friend of Elizabeth’s, they stood for a time, speaking about recent events in the neighborhood.

  “Did you hear of the butcher’s son and the tanner’s daughter?” asked an eager Sarah. “It is quite the scandal in Meryton.”

  Elizabeth laughed, for Sarah was one of the most determined gossips in the neighborhood. “I have not, Sarah, but I assume you are bursting to share every salacious morsel with me.”

  “Of course, I am!”

  Then she made good on her statement, occupying Elizabeth’s attention for the next quarter of an hour. Elizabeth was not a gossip herself, though news of their neighbors interested her. But she was willing to listen to a friend speak, though she did not take part herself. Then, after Sarah had canvassed that, and several other subjects besides, she moved away, ready to find another willing ear for her tales.

  “Is Sarah finished?” asked Mary when she approached a moment later. In contrast to Sarah, Mary quite disapproved of gossip, and while she liked Sarah, she would absent herself whenever she spoke of such matters.

  “With me, I suppose,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “Others will certainly be treated to the same stories.”

  “It would be best if you did not encourage her to such behavior,” said Mary, the note of judgment in her voice unmistakable. “Gossiping is unseemly.”

  “Though I agree it is not the best behavior,” replied Elizabeth, “Sarah relates nothing with malicious intent. I do not carry tales myself, but I willing to listen to her.”

  Mary sniffed
with what sounded suspiciously like disdain and moved away, Elizabeth watching her as she went. A good girl though Mary was, she possessed a moralizing streak which could be maddening. Elizabeth did not think Mary thought herself better than others, but there were times when she gave that impression. It did not always make her popular in the neighborhood.

  A little later, Elizabeth was standing with Jane when the officers entered. While Denny, Sanderson, Carter, and most of the rest entered and began making themselves agreeable, Mr. Wickham stopped in the doorway and surveyed the room. Then, when his eyes fell upon Jane, he brightened and made his way over to them, bowing when he arrived.

  “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” said he. “It is wonderful to see you both this evening. How do you do?”

  “Very well, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, speaking as she usually did when someone addressed them together. “You are a little late this evening.”

  “Yes, there was a matter of which Colonel Forster wished to speak to us before we departed. It, unfortunately, deprived us of a few precious moments in your company.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope,” said Elizabeth.

  “Not at all,” replied Mr. Wickham. “There have been a few times when some of the junior officers have not behaved with perfect decorum in recent days. Colonel Forster wishes to preserve the good reputation of the regiment.”

  “A worthy goal, to be sure,” replied Elizabeth.

  “And you, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Wickham, turning to Jane. “Have you been here long?”

  It seemed Jane was near to being startled by Mr. Wickham’s sudden question, for she stammered for a moment before responding. “Yes, we arrived perhaps thirty minutes ago.”

  “I wish we had come earlier,” replied Mr. Wickham. “I have longed to speak with you since our last meeting, for you mentioned several matters which intrigued me.”

  Jane did not know what to say, and Elizabeth frowned and looked at the gentleman. While Jane had spoken to him, Elizabeth had been nearby, and she could remember nothing of any substance being canvassed between them.

  “Your connections, for example,” said Mr. Wickham. “I assume you must have many relations as worthy as your immediate family. Are you related to anyone present?”

  “No one closely,” said Jane.

  Elizabeth, sensing Jane was not inclined to say anything more, spoke in her stead. “If you trace our lines back far enough, I suspect we have some connection with most everyone in town whose family has a similar history in the neighborhood. But we have no near relatives living nearby.”

  “But you have them.” Mr. Wickham’s words were once again directed at Jane.

  This time, Jane put forth the effort to respond. “A few. The Bennets have been a small family for some generations.”

  “We have no living relations who bear the same name,” said Elizabeth. “My father has a sister in Dorset, but we do not see her much. Our nearest relation aside from our aunt is a cousin three or four generations removed.”

  “Ah, that resembles my family,” said Mr. Wickham. “For I, too, lack any near relations.”

  “Oh?” asked Elizabeth. “Then you have some?”

  “Yes, I do,” replied Mr. Wickham. Then he turned back to Jane. “And your mother’s family? Is she from one of the other families in the neighborhood?”

  “She is,” replied Jane. “But not a gentle family. My mother’s father was the local solicitor, a position now held by my aunt’s husband. My mother’s brother lives in London and is quite successful there.”

  “That is interesting,” replied Mr. Wickham. “Then might I assume he is a man of business?”

  “You may,” replied Elizabeth, drawing his attention back to her. The way his eyes gleamed at her, Elizabeth began to wonder if Mr. Wickham was becoming annoyed with her responses. “Mr. Gardiner is successful too, as he owns his own business and many investments and interests in other companies.”

  “A remarkable man then,” said Mr. Wickham. Then he turned back to Jane yet again. “And this is the extent of your relations? No other uncles or cousins lying in wait for the unwary?”

  While Mr. Wickham laughed at his own jest, Jane responded with nothing more than slightly upturned lips. Elizabeth smiled along with her sister, but Mr. Wickham was so intent upon Jane that she might as well have been a thousand miles away.

  “I shall look forward to making all your family’s relations. If they are anything like you, I cannot imagine they will be anything other than the finest people.”

  “I believe we would all agree,” said Elizabeth, this time speaking without waiting to see if Jane would muster a response. “I am curious about your family, for you said it was small?”

  “Yes,” was Mr. Wickham’s only reply.

  If he thought Elizabeth would be content with his answer, such as it was, he was destined to be disappointed. “Then you have few aunts and uncles or cousins? And your parents?”

  “I have no siblings,” replied Mr. Wickham shortly. “My mother passed on many years ago, and my father almost five years gone.”

  “Ah, then you have my condolences, Mr. Wickham.” By Elizabeth’s side, Jane murmured her own sympathies. “It must be hard to lose those precious to you.”

  “It is,” replied Mr. Wickham. Then he turned again to Jane. “You are very fortunate to still have your mother and father, Miss Bennet,”

  “Yes, we are,” replied Elizabeth. “Pardon me, but where did you say you are from?”

  By now the annoyance was clear to Elizabeth, who was looking for it, though she thought it would be hidden from a casual observer. Mr. Wickham regarded her for several moments before he made a short reply.

  “I do not believe I did say—I am from Derbyshire.”

  “Ah, Derbyshire,” said Elizabeth. She looked at Jane. “Aunt Gardiner is from Derbyshire, from a little town called Lambton, I believe it was.”

  That seemed to catch Mr. Wickham by surprise, and unless she missed her guess, she thought him a little worried. “I am familiar with Lambton. Did your aunt live there long?”

  “Many years as a girl,” replied Elizabeth. “I understand her father was the parson there.”

  “Then she likely left some time ago,” replied Mr. Wickham. “Mr. Thorpe has been the parson since I was a boy.”

  Then Mr. Wickham turned back to Jane and addressed her again. Though Jane did not seem inclined to speak much, Mr. Wickham more than made up for her lack, ensuring there was rarely silence between them. Elizabeth exerted herself to interrupt a time or two, and every time she did, she noted his increasing annoyance. It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Wickham wished her gone, though he said nothing to suggest such a desire. Their conversation with Mr. Wickham lasted for some time until Elizabeth gathered her sister and excused them to speak to someone else.

  Mr. Wickham let them go with a broad smile and a stated wish to see them again. Then he allowed them to depart, turning his charming smile onto another young lady of the neighborhood. But that did not last long either, for he soon made his way toward Jane again, seeming disappointed when Elizabeth joined them a few moments later.

  It was a game of cat and mouse. Elizabeth watched Mr. Wickham’s movements throughout the night, and whenever he accosted Jane, Elizabeth was there soon after. And while Jane was her usual reticent self, not making much response to his overtures, it did not seem to matter much to Mr. Wickham. Then when they were together, the interesting three-way conversation would play out, Mr. Wickham speaking to Jane, Elizabeth responding, and Jane saying nothing more than a monosyllable. And the longer the evening went on, the more pointed Mr. Wickham’s looks became.

  Finally, Elizabeth decided she wished to know more about the man, and since he would not talk of himself, she knew she would need to ask another. Since it was well-known that Mr. Wickham had been Mr. Denny’s friend before joining the regiment, Elizabeth knew no one else could provide the information she required. Thus, during a lull in M
r. Wickham’s attentions to Jane, Elizabeth beckoned Mary to her and gave her a few quiet instructions.

  “Please stand with Jane for a time, and should Mr. Wickham come, do not allow him to intimidate you into leaving.”

  While Mary looked at Elizabeth askance, she did not protest, instead nodding and making her way to Jane’s side. Elizabeth, thus freed from protecting her sister from a man of whom she was growing suspicious, made her way to the other side of the room where Mr. Denny stood speaking with a pair of his fellow officers.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Denny with a wide grin. “How do you do?”

  “I am well, Mr. Denny,” said Elizabeth, noting the man’s eagerness to speak with her. Absently she wondered if he thought her approach was evidence of her preference for him. If he did, he would be disappointed.

  “Should I feel privileged to receive your attention, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Mr. Denny before Elizabeth spoke again. “I have noticed you Bennet sisters do not seem to care much for our poor band of soldiers.”

  “I would not put it in such terms,” replied Elizabeth. “There is nothing wanting with the officers of the regiment. But I have known those of the neighborhood for many more years. Is it, therefore, any wonder I speak more to them?”

  “Perhaps not,” replied Mr. Denny. “It is possible I misunderstood your character.”

  “How so?”

  “Nothing shocking, I assure you,” said he with a laugh Elizabeth detected as contrived. “It is only that I would have thought you eager to expand your circle of acquaintances by meeting new and interesting people.”

  “Oh, I am always happy to make new acquaintances, and no objection to interesting characters.”

  The way Denny regarded her, Elizabeth thought he was trying to divine whether she considered the officers—or perhaps himself in particular—at all interesting. Just as Elizabeth had intended, for though she did not think there was any harm in him, he was eager to come to know her more personally. He would do nothing improper without encouragement, but she had little doubt he would if she gave him any perceived encouragement. How fortunate her intended questions would do much in dissuading him from any such hopes!