Can you please keep comments polite. Both of your cavils have been addressed before. People who are willing to wear their reviews log in. Just saying.
Thanks for sharing your national equivalents of idioms, QOP. It's always interesting to hear the different versions of them. Some English idioms were clearly brought from France by the Normans but other more pan-European ones may have been brought back by crusaders. The variations are sometimes very illuminating.
Darcy likes to ride to keep himself buff.
Thanks for spotting those errors, vaarin and Windchimed.
Suggestions for the title of Chapter 20 were:
"Tangled up in Blue" by FatPatricia515,
"Blue on Blue" by Jansfamily4,
"To rob Peter to pay Paul" by vaarin,
"A Blue Velvet Winter Wedding" by EmilyWoods,
"Mortification and Marriage' by ilex-ferox,
"Married in style", "Sky-blue after the storms", "Standing on little ceremony", "Frank conversations" by guest.
"Ample Sisters" by Windchimed,
"Musings and Matrimony" by guest,
"Two Weddings and Wickham's Funeral" by stacey.eats
I think I will go with "Robbing Peter to pay Paul" by vaarin, but I'll submit your entry for this chapter, ilex-ferox.
Chapter 21 The Wedding Punch
Keeping Georgie apart from the militia soldiers after the ceremony initially proved quite easy. As Jane's attendants, Lizzy and Georgie were among the first to leave the church. And as it was the younger officers, Chamberlayne and Denny, who were seated on the ends of the pews, the ladies were not troubled by as much as a glimpse of Lieutenant Wickham during their departure.
Outside, a huge crowd of villagers and tenants waited to wish the married couple well. The multitude followed the wedding guests as far as the gates of Longbourn. During this removal, Lizzy kept Miss Darcy in conversation, though one ear was trained on the squeals and giggles of her two younger sisters, often accompanied by a shout of laughter from an officer. But Lizzy did not recognise Lieutenant Wickham's voice amongst the throng and guessed the more senior officers might be lagging further behind. As the invited guests continued through the gate, Mr Bennet mounted the stone steps of the lodge* to announce to all and sundry that a pig on a spit and some kegs had been set up for them outside the tithe barn. This was met with a few loud cheers of 'God bless you, squire!' and general approbation.
Lizzy could not hope her avoidance of Mr Wickham could continue by luck however. Much as she would have liked to trade banter with some of the older, better educated officers, once they reached the manor house, she resolved to draw Georgie off to some quiet place to reduce the possibility of any embarrassing encounters. So she encouraged Georgie to first enter the dining room to select some viands from the feast laid out there before retreating to a quieter place.
The wedding breakfast proved as memorable as Mrs Bennet had hoped for. Such a quantity of food! and the quality was not lacking either. There were soups and wafers, pies and tarts, fruits and vegetables, puddings and cakes, jellies and ices. The board seemed to groan under their weight. How Mrs Hill had contrived the half of it, Elizabeth could not comprehend. But she had certainly outdone herself. Why the supper at the Netherfield ball was nothing to it!
And, of course, the compliments showered in from all the guests. Mrs Bennet basked in the adulation; told everyone she wanted a feast worthy of her dear girls.
Having not been particularly impressed with the fare served up at Almack's, Elizabeth was very interested to know what Georgie thought of the spread. She hesitated to ask, lest it be construed she was fishing for compliments. But after selecting some choice morsels for their plates, they retreated to a sitting room that gave a view of the back garden through some French doors —where they might safely observe the festivities—Georgie volunteered an opinion for herself.
"This is the most amazing feast! Your mother sets a very good table!"
"I do not know how she managed it," admitted Lizzy, "as the kitchens are not large. I expect she enlisted as much help as she could get from the shopkeepers of Meryton, but I recognise quite a few of the dishes as favourites of our housekeeper."
"You must keep an army of servants!" exclaimed Georgie, as she bit into a cut-laid tart.*
Lizzy was spared from denying this by the arrival of Lydia, who burst upon them with a flounce of her skirts.
"You will never guess who has not turned up!" she pouted.
The answer immediately darted into Lizzy's mind with a flash of hope and a jolt of perturbation. But before she could even think of a way of turning the conversation—like 'Lydia, your gown is on fire!'—her sister had blurted out the dreaded name.
"George Wickham! He promised me faithfully he would dance with me first and he didn't even come!" Lydia stamped.
Thankfully Georgie did not swoon or even stagger.
"Well, perhaps, he is ill," said Lizzy urbanely, though her heart thumped within her chest. "Do any of the other officers know what has become of him?"
"He has taken furlough! Now, of all times!" declared Lydia, rolling her eyes.
"Well, he might have gone to visit a sick relative," offered Lizzy, with every appearance of disinterest.
"Don't be so stupid, Lizzy!" spat Lydia, annoyed by her sister's seeming indifference. "Surely you remember he said he had no kith or kin* in the world to care for him!"
"He must have had some good reason," said Lizzy, who could feel nothing but relief. "Surely there are other officers you can dance with?"
Lydia turned up her nose. "Captain Carter is passable I suppose, but he is not as much fun as George. How flat!"
And with that, she flounced off.
Georgie's uncharacteristic silence throughout this exchange had not gone unnoticed by Lizzy. She turned now to see that Georgie was quite pale.
"I suppose George Wickham is a common enough name," Georgie whispered.
"I'm sorry, Georgie," said Lizzy, mentally berating herself. "I should have warned you. My mind has been completely caught up with the wedding. George joined the militia that is stationed nearby in Meryton soon after it arrived here. It was inevitable that he would be invited to the wedding."
"And you are sure it is the same George Wickham? My George?"
"I'm afraid he told me a little of his history—growing up in Derbyshire—and your brother warned me to be careful of him soon after I received my inheritance."
Georgie went paler still. "Oh! Did Fitzwilliam explain why?"
"No, he merely said George was a wolf in sheep's clothing."
Georgie mulled over this for a while. "And did George do anything to make up to you?" she asked hesitantly.
A cold feeling crept from Lizzy's face to go shivering down her spine. Goose pimples rippled across the flesh of her upper arms. She remembered Mr Wickham importuning her to walk with him in the flambeau-lit garden, brushing his ungloved hand across her face, breathing on her. How stupid and headstrong she was to have disdained Mr Darcy's advice at the time! Still, she did not wish to rub salt* into poor Georgie's wound.
"I cannot say. He was perhaps a little more forward than I deemed seemly at the Netherfield ball. But there was nothing more than that."
Georgie became paler in her silence. Her lips now looked quite bloodless. "The militia! He might be killed! Or sent to America or India!"
"Are you well?" asked Elizabeth, truly worried that her friend might swoon. "Would you like to retire upstairs?"
"No," said Georgie firmly. "My brother will not like it if I make a scene. Perhaps we should go outside. I believe the cool air will do me good."
Accordingly they retrieved their shawls and went. Lizzy was gratified to see her friend's colour return after several minutes in the brisk air.
Lydia had, of course, immediately returned to the open air dance floor that had been constructed on the back lawn in anticipation of the revel. Little did Lizzy know, but this had also almost been an extra expense drawn on the Longbourn estate. Fortunately her father had nipped that one in the bud by having the planks retrieved from an outbuilding that had blown down during a storm several years ago.
Several musicians including two fiddlers and a man with a tin whistle stamped their feet nearby, waiting for the married couple to appear. A servant was coaxing a fire to life in a brazier for their comfort.
Soon the officers, keen to start proceedings, began to clap their hands slowly, demanding the newlyweds. Laughing, Jane and Bingley stepped out of the house and ran, hands clasped, towards the dance floor. Eager arms reached out to form an arch, through which the happy couple stooped to run. The crowd demanded a jig.
As soon as the newlyweds began the dance, other couples ventured onto the floor. First among them was Mr Collins, pulling Mary along behind him, obviously keen to advertise that she was soon to be his possession. Lizzy almost gaped to see him dance. His notion of a jig* was more akin to a highland fling. Lydia arrived soon after with Chamberlayne, having obviously failed to find Captain Carter. Others soon joined them.
As Lizzy provided a comic running commentary on the proceedings, Georgie continued to regain her natural hue until Lizzy's observations on her cousin's dancing elicited a smile from her friend. They were both startled by the appearance of Captain Carter, who had sidled up beside them under cover of the music.
"Miss Elizabeth! How good to see you again! Would you introduce me to your friend?"
The particularity of Captain Carter's application left Lizzy in no doubt that he was already apprised of Miss Darcy and her circumstances, but she performed the introduction as form required. Some inconsequential banter on the wedding and the weather followed after which Captain Carter finished off the tankard he was quaffing and promptly asked Georgiana if she cared to dance.
"I'm not sure Miss Darcy is up to dancing," interpolated Lizzy swiftly. "She was feeling a little faint a moment ago, which is why we came outside."
"Oh, no! I am quite recovered now!" smiled Georgie.
"Excellent!" cried Captain Carter. "Just wait one moment while I find somewhere to put this d— tankard down!" he said, heading for a convenient tree stump.
"Georgie! Are you sure your brother would approve?" Lizzy whispered urgently.
"Oh, yes!" said Georgie. "His only instructions were that I should not dance with the same gentleman twice."
Captain Carter returned to retrieve his partner.
Lizzy did not stand alone long. She was soon approached by Charlotte Lucas and the two heartily embraced.
"Charlotte! I did not see you in the church. How are you?"
"Very well, Lizzy. We were up the back, having arrived late. Mariah could not find one of her shoes."
"Has she so many now she cannot keep track of them?" laughed Lizzy.
"It would appear so," smiled Charlotte.
"But come now," said Lizzy. "You have not been forthcoming in your letters. How did this romance with Mr Goulding progress? You know he is not one of my favourite people. Are you sure you will be happy?"
Charlotte looked about her swiftly before leaning closer to her friend. "There are some things, Lizzy, that I believe should never be committed to paper. My reasons for marrying are simple. At twenty-nine, I was grateful to receive an offer at all. As it is, I will be mistress of an estate and within a close distance to my parents who cannot be many years from needing someone to check on their welfare. Nor will I be a burden on them financially. You cannot know what a great weight has been lifted from my heart."
"But Mr Goulding, Charlotte? Do you share a single common interest?" asked Lizzy incredulously.
"Yes, Lizzy. He is wanting a wife and I am wanting to be married," said Charlotte snappishly.
"And so he just turned up one day to propose?"
Charlotte blushed. "I can see that nothing but the truth will satisfy you, Lizzy. If you must have the whole story, I was standing one night under my parent's portico, looking at the stars. I often do that. It so peaceful and calm. Sometimes it is nice just to be alone. Well I was standing there, when I heard a great clattering in the distance and Mr Goulding drove by like Jehu.* I waved as he went past. I was quite surprised when he reined in, turned his carriage and drove back to me. He then asked me to marry him."
Lizzy gaped. "Were you looking fetchingly becoming in the moonlight? Did he hurl himself from his carriage to throw himself at your feet?"
Charlotte bit her lip as if to stifle a laugh but her face subsequently underwent some strange contortions."Well, he couldn't you see, because he had to hold his horses."
"So he didn't get down from the carriage?"
"No. But I said 'yes' and then I went to the horses' heads and bid him come in to take tea. So he got down and banged on the front door and hallooed for a servant to walk the horses up and down for an half-hour and... And that's how it was."
"Curious," mused Lizzy. "Perhaps he noticed that bald spot on the back of his head is getting bigger."
Charlotte stamped her foot. "Now, Lizzy, don't be cruel! We, all of us, are getting older! And some of us didn't start out as pretty as others! If you must know, it was the night that Mr Bingley proposed to Jane. You know Mr Goulding cherished hopes in that direction. Once he knew he had failed to gain her hand, I believe he decided it didn't matter who he married anyway. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Indeed, he came again the next morning and would not look me in the eye. I fully expected him to beg off. But my father greeted him with such enthusiasm before we could be private that I believe he resigned himself to the situation."
Lizzy grasped her friend's arm. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I didn't mean to be horrible. I am only concerned for your future happiness. Do you think you can be happy?"
"Yes, Lizzy. I have met his father who is a very nice man. He said everything that was kind to welcome me to the house. He will be staying with us, so if Mr Goulding should go off to the horse races, I will not be lonely. The estate is a good one and will keep me occupied. And if I should be blessed with children, I do not think I will ever be lonely."
Lizzy wondered if Mr Goulding would relinquish the opera dancer he was rumoured to keep in London, but as this piece of hearsay had come to her via Charlotte, she knew her friend was not entering matrimony under any delusions.
She sighed and squeezed her friend's arm again, then adopted a more cheerful manner. "And are you and your swain intending to dance?"
"We had planned to come to the wedding together, in his curricle. But he arrived at Lucas Lodge shortly before my parents were to set off in his day clothes and announced that there was a pointer bitch he must inspect. An old friend, some ten miles off, is selling her and he wanted to pip some other acquaintance who was coming down from London to see her."
Lizzy diplomatically only nodded to this explanation.
Now it was Charlotte's turn to sigh. "I believe the mortification of attending Jane's wedding was too much for him. But I told him that the married couple intended to be off by four, so I hope he might arrive after that to join the celebrations."
Just then, a boy in an apron ran up to them and requested Charlotte's presence on behalf of Lady Lucas—Mariah's nose was bleeding.
Lizzy was about to follow her friend to help render assistance when she was stopped in her tracks by the approach of Mr Darcy. Charlotte gave her a saucy smile over her shoulder and bid Mr Darcy good day as she hurried off.
"Miss Bennet! How good to see you again," said Mr Darcy.
Lizzy started at both the appellation and enthusiasm of his greeting. She supposed she was Miss Bennet now. "Good day, Mr Darcy."
"Perhaps, we could talk over here?" said Mr Darcy, leading the way to the far side of a stout tree and a bush that screened an outbuilding from the house.
Lizzy followed him to the indicated place where they were still in full view of the participants on the dance floor but not visible from the house.
"Are you perhaps worried about French spies?" she asked conspiratorially.
"No," he smiled. "I have just slipped my leash by offering to get some drinks for Miss Bingley. I have sent a servant back with them. I expect it will not be long before she sets out in search of me, but this tree might bring a respite."
Lizzy could only raise her eyebrows.
"I wanted to thank you for including my sister in your activities," continued Mr Darcy. "It has been very difficult finding a new trustworthy companion for her. Mrs Annesley seemed the answer to my prayers. To have her go off so soon because of her sister's death was another blow. I hope Georgie's company is not too tiresome—after all, she is five years your junior."
"Not at all. She is remarkably mature for her age. Kitty and Lydia do not have half her sense."
Watching Kitty and Lydia twirl and laugh on the dance floor, Mr Darcy was very much inclined to agree with Miss Elizabeth. He could have made a few cutting jokes but wisely chose to hold his tongue for once.
"Yes, well, my aunt does what she can, but she has no daughters of her own and has only limited sympathy for Georgie's situation."
Having heard continuously of Lady Catherine over the past day from Mr Collins' lips, Elizabeth was at first having trouble understanding this sentence. Was Miss de Bourgh—flower of Kent—some other relation of the grand lady's? But then she immediately realised her mistake. "You mean the aunt in Richmond?"
"Yes, Lady Matlock. She is an intrepid equestrienne. It does Georgie good to get the exercise, but I do wish aunt could be of more help in accompanying Georgie to balls."
"Does your aunt disdain society then? I thought she just liked dogs?"
Darcy looked genuinely bemused. "I'm not sure where you got that impression," he remarked.
"Well, Georgie said your aunt was spending so much time in Richmond recently because of 'Nellie the Fourteenth.' So I naturally assumed..."
But before Elizabeth could finish her chain of reasoning, Mr Darcy suddenly seemed to choke and burst out coughing. She at first thought she might have to thump him on the back, but he recovered presently and cleared his throat. "Did Georgie explain just who 'Nellie the Fourteenth' is?"
"Well, no. She was rather puzzled by it actually. I wondered if your aunt kept hounds. My father has gun dogs and he always calls one of them 'Henry'. We are currently up to 'Henry the Fifth'—a notable monarch. So I thought it might have been something like that, or the fourteenth in the litter—like the Romans and 'Octavius'.*
"And what did Georgie say to that?"
"She thought that seemed the most likely explanation."
Darcy seemed to heave a great sigh. "Miss Bennet, I must thank you for diverting my sister's mind. But in case some impertinent person should seek to embarrass my sister at some social function, I fear I should make a better explanation. Firstly, you must forgive my aunt. She spent time in the French court and belongs to a generation that speaks more freely than is considered seemly these days. She is not talking of dogs but of mistresses. She always retreats to the country when my uncle begins to flaunt his mistresses about."
The tips of Elizabeth's ears turned red at such a bawdy detail from Mr Darcy's lips but she was strangely gratified by his confidence. Her curiosity got the better of her.
"Goodness! Have there really been fourteen?" she blurted, then immediately regretted it.
He glanced at her with an amused expression on his face before looking back at the dance floor. "Oh, not all at once! But he currently has one he has set up in Curzon Street, Nellie the fourteenth, my aunt calls her—after Nell Gwynne.*"
"Oh, that must be very uncomfortable for your aunt!" said Elizabeth.
"Yes, so she stays away so none of her 'frenemies' can score petty points on her. But it usually lasts no more than a few months. My uncle gets bored and moves on. Unfortunately, this last one is proving remarkably resilient."
"Frenemies*?" queried Elizabeth. "I have never heard that word!"
"One of my own, I'm afraid. But very apt for my aunt's friends. Excuse me, I should not be talking of such things to you. I only wished to say I am grateful to you for being such a good companion to Georgie and teaching her useful things. I understand we will see Mary in 'The Gown' tomorrow?"
"Yes, it is no great thing—not as opulent as Jane's—but Mary wished to have something practical."
Darcy nodded.
There was a short silence during which Elizabeth sought desperately for something to say when she was surprised by:
"Would you care to dance?"
"I thought we were hiding?"
"True, it would blow our cover, but worth it, don't you think?"
"You dance jigs?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.
"And the occasional reel too," admitted Darcy.
Elizabeth smiled. "Very well."
So they adjourned to the dance floor where Lizzy discovered that Mr Darcy danced a jig very well, when he chose to. She was quite out of breath by the time the set finished. When Mr Darcy offered his hand to help her step down from the dance floor, she did not spurn it—the ground was still crisp from last night's frost and wet in places where it had been trampled by many feet. His hand was large and surprisingly warm from the energy of the dance—almost radiating heat like fire. Mr Darcy had just let go of her hand when a sharp voice voice she recognised as Caroline Bingley's made Lizzy look up.
"You must be parched from such vigorous dancing, Miss Elizabeth! Here, I have fetched you some punch!"
And with that, Miss Bingley slightly tripped and a stream of orange punch was launched from one of the cups she held towards Elizabeth. Well primed by the dance, Lizzy sprang out of the way like a cat.
What happened next, Elizabeth was not sure. But she thought Miss Bingley slipped on the wet grass and the result of it was that Caroline emptied the glass in her left hand over herself as she landed on her bottom. Perhaps all would have been saved if Miss Bingley had chosen to wear orange that day, but unfortunately she had worn ivory, not realising until too late that the bride had chosen blue.
"Oh, dear!" cried Jane, running up. "Are you all right, Caroline?"
"I'm fine!" said Miss Bingley between her teeth as she scrambled to her feet.
A boy was sent running and Louisa arrived with Caroline's opera cloak to wrap round her sister while Bingley arranged for Hurst's carriage to be brought round to the carriage sweep.* Having been intimately involved in the accident, Lizzy felt obliged to follow Jane around to the front of the house as she attended Caroline. She was thus in a privileged position to hear Mr Bingley's remark to his sister as he closed the coach door upon her:
"It is best not to perform the same accident twice, Caroline. Lest it be recognised for the mean trick it is."
The rest of the breakfast was unexceptionable. Mariah recovered from her bloody nose, which had been inflicted by Mr Collins during one of his wilder dance moves. Mr Darcy danced three more times: once with Jane, once with Mary and once with Charlotte, causing Lizzy to immediately spot his scheme. Georgie was in much demand as a partner but religiously declined any solicitations for a second dance. Mr Bingley took Jane off to Netherfield as his bride at sunset. Most of the guests chose to depart soon after, but a few hardened souls danced on in the parlour when the band removed themselves to the hall. True to his word, Mr Goulding arrived at five. He deigned to dance once with his betrothed before keeping Mr Hurst company in the dining room over the remains of the feast. The band packed it in at midnight, but not before Mr Collins, a trifle the worse for wear from the punch, tried to sing solo to a folk tune they were playing, definitely not in a key that suited his voice.
At eight the next morning he was married to his bride with a splitting headache. He departed to Kent from the church door in a hired post-chaise, with Mary, a picnic basket, and a bottle of laudanum.
Footnotes
lodge—the gatekeeper's cottage
cut-laid tart—a type of medieval jam tart. See the Pinterest board for pictures
kith—Old English cȳthth, of Germanic origin; related to couth. The original senses were 'knowledge', 'one's native land', and 'friends and neighbours'. The phrase kith and kin originally denoted one's country and relatives; later one's friends and relatives.
To rub salt in the wound—to inflict greater pain. Apparently salt was used as an antiseptic after lashing in the navy. The phrase does seem to be contemporaneous with the Regency period according to Ngram.
jig—a traditional dance similar to tap dancing. The highland fling largely involves jumping on one leg while swinging the other leg around the opposite knee.
Jehu—a biblical king who drove his carriage very fast.
Nell Gwynne—Charles II's mistress.
Frenemies—1950s, but like Shakespeare, Darcy is allowed to coin new words.
carriage sweep—a turning circle for a carriage at the front of the house, sometimes around a fountain or statue.