A/N Hello! I'm here! I'm alive!
This chapter (and the next few) have been tricky little beasts because I know where I want to go, I just can't work out how to get us there. I also can't write the ending before this is resolved, because otherwise I'll end up rewriting basically all of it. You see my dilemma? I'm a bit rusty with this whole non-academic writing thing (you want a review of benthic ecology literature? That would be easier ha)
This was an interesting study of character for me, because I thought I knew how Darcy and Elizabeth would act, and they just…. did the exact opposite. Also, I blame the final scene on Elizabeth Gilbert's The Signature of All Things. I very nearly had our favourite sisters talking in a library binding closet.
I hope the next chapter won't be as far away as this one was, thank you for not abandoning this story in the meantime. You're all the best.
oOoOoOo
Friday 18th November 1796
The appearance of a carriage clattering down the driveway at Longbourn roused much excitement in those occupied with the sedate pursuits of reading and embroidery that morning. Kitty was the first to the window, eager to discard the "dull, dull, and utterly dull" book of essays she had been assigned to study.
"It is Bingley! Mr Bingley has come!"
Everyone rushed to the window to watch as Bingley, clutching a cane and unsteady on his feet, was helped out of the carriage by Mr Darcy and a footman. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst stood to one side, having exited first, both watching over Bingley's safety with a critical eye. Mrs Bennet felt compelled to flap her handkerchief with such fervour that it flew out of her hand.
"Jane! Oh Jane!" she exclaimed over and over, to which Elizabeth rolled her eyes and called for tea.
It was quickly concluded that the morning room was an insufficient space to house four visitors, one of whom needed room to manoeuvre with his cane, in addition to the five Bennet girls and their mother, so the group relocated to the parlour. Kitty and Lydia were instructed to remain behind with their reading, which they did with minimal protestations but loud pouts.
"It is so good to see you up and about, Mr Bingley," Mrs Bennet said as she poured his tea. "You have been much missed at Longbourn." Everybody pretended not to see the theatrical nod she threw towards Jane, whose face was flushed.
"And it is good to be about, jolly good indeed," he replied with a bright smile. "You are the first of our neighbours I have called upon since the accident."
Though Mrs Bennet had made attempts to arrange Jane next to Mr Bingley, Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley had taken up protective posts on either side of their brother, wedging him somewhat awkwardly into the middle of the sofa. With his shoulders hunched in to make room for them, and his injured leg extended in from of him, Mr Bingley made a comical picture. This did not prevent Jane, seated opposite on a stuffed chair, from glancing up at him from beneath fine eyelashes. Elizabeth thought she had never seen Jane so obvious in her admiration of a gentleman, as muted as it was.
Elizabeth garnered great enjoyment from watching Caroline and Louisa's faces as they exchanged niceties with Mrs Bennet. Miss Bingley's eyebrows, in particular, appeared to be waging war between her dislike of Mrs Bennet very person and her desire to supress it. That such people as the Bennets could possess connections to the peerage and to her own dear Mr Darcy continued to present a challenge for Miss Bingley. Nonetheless, her meaningless conversation was impeccable in both tone and content. Elizabeth wondered if her ostensibly finely-honed skills would hold so well under the more formidable, moreunpleasant siege of a matron of the ton.
The fortitude of the Bingley sisters was further tested when Mr Darcy suggested little John be brought down to say hello. Uncomfortable around children and thus a proponent of typical practices which remove children from sight, Miss Bingley was pained at such a suggestion. She could not, however, bring herself to criticise the gentleman's desire to connect with his dearest cousin's child – in fact, she was deliberate in her admiration of this – so she watched with vaguely disgruntled composure as Mr Darcy scooped the child into his arms and set him on his knee.
"You are very good with children, Mr Darcy," Mrs Bennet admired. "And you, Mr Bingley, do you like children?"
Filled with the restlessness of youth, John eventually grew tired of the petting and attention, and signalled his desire to move on to more interesting pursuits by wriggling out of Darcy's grasp and tottering to his mother. Elizabeth, delighted by his precociousness but aware of watching eyes, decided against dropping to the floor to play, and instead called for the nursemaid to return the boy to the nursery.
"Such a shame," muttered Miss Bingley.
Conversation resumed, but was again interrupted when Lydia flounced into the room, her book clasped in hand.
"La! How utterly boring that was," she declared lugubriously, tossing the book onto a sideboard without care before throwing herself into the space open beside Elizabeth. "I shall happily never pick up such a stupid book again. What you possibly think I could learn from the essays of a grumpy man who I am sure is long dead and quite irrelevant," Lydia threw a lacklustre glare to her sister next to her, "I do not know."
"Lydia," Elizabeth murmured through gritted teeth, "we have visitors."
Miss Bingley had a pinched expression and Mrs Hurst appeared fascinated with the rim of her teacup.
"There has been no fun in the neighbourhood since you got yourself shot, Mr Bingley."
"Lydia!" Jane gasped in horror.
"Well he did!" she whined in reply. "Maria was unwell during the party at Lucas Lodge, so I had no fun at all! And we have had no other dancing. I am quite miserable with it."
Mr Bingley, too inclined towards good-humour to take offense at the girl's antics, replied, "I have found myself missing dancing as well, Miss Lydia."
Leaning forward to snatch up a biscuit from the tea tray, Lydia said, "Well then, you should host a ball at Netherfield."
"My brother should not be dancing," Mrs Bingley said sharply, but a thoughtful expression had settled on Mr Bingley's face.
"Perhaps I shall, Miss Lydia." Bingley's eyes drifted in the direction of the eldest Bennet sister, who was sipping her tea serenely. "Perhaps I shall."
oOoOoOo
Tuesday 22th November 1796
Elizabeth was out on the grounds of the Longbourn estate when she heard her name being called from across the park. She turned to see Mr Darcy striding towards her with purposeful steps. She could see he had taken a circuitous route to her through the longer grass, because his breeches were damp to the knees and his boots muddied to the ankles. When he reached her, Darcy was only a touch out of breath, and he offered his arm effortlessly.
"I had news which I did not think could wait," he explained, "but when I asked after you at the house, I was pointed towards Oakham Mount. It is lucky I caught sight of you from there or I would have had to turn back alone."
"Indeed I did walk up to the Mount, as I was planning, but the day is simply too lovely to stay a moment longer indoors than necessary."
The past few weeks had been unseasonably mild, with rain overnight and clear, bright skies during the day, the occasional wispy cloud drifting to the horizon. The sun hovered hesitantly above the canopy of the trees nearby, unable to reach higher as autumn came to a close. Mr Darcy seemed content to walk in silence, Elizabeth on his arm, until she prompted him.
"You had news of an urgent nature, Mr Darcy?"
"Ah yes, yes I did. I do. That is to say, I was in Meryton this morning, attending to business, when I encountered Colonel Forster with his wife."
"Wickham?" Elizabeth guessed.
"Wickham," Darcy confirmed. "When I asked after their wellbeing etcetera, Mrs Forster informed me she was much lamenting the loss of a handsome young officer, and it seems that the Colonel takes little issue with the direction of his wife's attentions because he also said he was disappointed at the loss."
"He resigned his commission, then?"
"No, he still has several years of commitment[1]. Colonel Forster was not clear about what had happened, exactly, so I stayed about the town, in case I could happened across any of his friends, and fortuitously encountered several of them - Denny and Chamberlayne, and another one, Pratt, I think. It seems his talent for making friends has set him in good stead. He was aware that an acquaintance of his had fallen on rather desperate times – the officers could not tell me how Wickham knows the man, so I am inclined to believe I do not wish to know – and he came to some arrangement with the fellow to serve as his substitute. He's had to call in gambling debts he held against others, and borrow more besides, and I suppose that has been enough to cover an initial payment. Goodness knows how he will keep it up, but I imagine he shall be long gone by then."
Elizabeth could scarcely believe it.
"He's gone then? Gone for good?"
"It seems so."
Her body slumped with a long exhale, the dreadful weight on her shoulders suddenly lifted. "Thank heavens."
They continued walking for some time in companionable silence, before Mr Darcy hummed to himself with some displeasure.
"You seem troubled, Mr Darcy?"
"Yes."
He did not elaborate. They continued on for a few more minutes before Mr Darcy spoke again.
"It concerns me that I do not know where he has gone. The times in my life when I have lost track of him have led to," he paused, grief in the tightness around his eyes, "considerable misfortune."
Elizabeth lifted her free hand to squeeze his comfortingly.
"The gentleman in Meryton today could not furnish me with a forwarding address, and Wickham has friends in a great many places, I have no doubt he could hide himself very well."
"You mean to go after him, then?" Elizabeth frowned.
"No. I- no. At least, I do not think so. I have offered to buy up the debts he left behind, but I do not mean to pursue him for them, simply to hold them, until such a time as it is necessary to call them in."
"My goodness, I hope it will not set you back a great amount, Mr Darcy" cried Elizabeth, "was that really necessary?"
"I cannot bear to see anybody in this community disadvantaged because they thought Wickham could be trusted."
"Oh Darcy, you are too good a man!"
"That he is at liberty to cause harm," he corrected, "is a result of my own failures to act as necessary. Do not praise me for rectifying the mistakes of the past."
"You are too hard on yourself. And I cannot be distressed that we do not know his whereabouts, because he is gone, and will not trouble us again."
"Do you not worry that he is now unaccounted for, unchecked? That he could-" Mr Darcy choked on his words, "he could prey upon another unsuspecting girl?"
"I am deeply sorry that I cannot stop him from causing pain to others. I shall carry the weight of that in my heart for a long time, I think. But my priority is protecting my family, and as long as Wickham is unable to get close to my sisters, nor interact with any of my family members in any way, then I shall sleep at ease."
There was a quiet tension between them as they followed the curve of the path, back in the direction of the house. Elizabeth considered removing her arm from Darcy's, but decided this would only worsen the uncomfortable air. Eventually, Mr Darcy spoke.
"Before more recent reflections I have been prompted to make regarding my character, I have no doubt that I would agree with you wholeheartedly. In fact, that I have been guided by similar feelings of familial protectiveness is evident in the fact that Wickham resurfaced here after the events of Ramsgate. I behaved as though my refusing him, separating him from Georgiana, would sever any lingering connection we shared. And yet, not six months since that awful episode, we encountered him in Meryton, of all places! And it was you, Mrs Fitzwilliam, who impressed upon him the urgency with which his retreat was required."
"Come now Darcy," Elizabeth said, quite alarmed at the state the gentleman had worked himself into, "I shall not have you carrying guilt or shame or any such feelings regarding my confrontation with Wickham. It does not demonstrate any lack of duty on your part, but an excess of it on my own." She chuckled humourlessly. "Such is the pitfall of a military spouse, I think, to be burdened with excessive duty."
"But I feel it is my duty to hold Wickham responsible for his grievous actions, and to ensure in the future he is unable to repeat them towards those not possessing knowledge of the full extent of his character."
"And yet you know as well as I do that finding him, after he has so obviously fled, is a herculean task."
"Yes," Mr Darcy sighed, "which is why I make no plans to pursue him. I have ensured that careless expenses have left no-one in Meryton at a disadvantage. That shall have to be enough."
"It shall be. You must not allow yourself to dwell upon it."
"We both know that will be quite impossible, Mrs Fitzwilliam," said Darcy, a ghost of a smile play about his lips.
"Indeed we do," laughed Elizabeth, "so I shall hope instead that you so dedicate no more than a hour a day to brooding on the subject, for any longer would be simply indulgent of you."
oOoOoOo
Monday 28th November 1796
When Elizabeth had first come to stay at Longbourn, she had occupied one of the guest bedrooms on the west side. However, as the weeks had gone on, she found herself slipping into childhood patterns, comforted by the familiarity and nostalgia. That Elizabeth had followed Jane into the bedroom they had once shared, on the day the Bingley party had visited bearing invitations to a ball at Netherfield, was unfortunate, however.
Jane could not settle. She flitted about from the chair, to the dressing table, to the bed and back again. She brushed her hair and plaited it neatly, only to undo the plait and brush it out once more. All the while, Lizzy sat up in the bed, pretending that the low light of the candles was not straining her eyes are she tried to read. When Jane walked from one side of the room, only to turn around and wander aimlessly to the other, Elizabeth shut her book pointedly and huffed.
"You shall drive me to distraction, dear Jane! You shall do both of our nerves a service if you choose a seat and stay there!"
"Oh Lizzy," Jane cried in reply, but said no more.
Unwilling to let her sister's preoccupations disturb her any longer, Elizabeth spang from the bed, seized Jane by the arm and dragged her under the covers.
"There," she said, "you can fret as much as you like, now, but you shall do so while still."
Jane laughed, but she settled. Eventually she turned to Elizabeth and asked,
"When you were married-" but she stopped herself with a gasp. A blush was flooding up her neck and into her cheeks. At this, Elizabeth thought she could guess what had her sister so affected but, not wishing to alarm her, she set an encouraging expression on her face and stayed silent.
"When you were married," Jane began again, "did you- that is to say, did you want- I mean, the way you felt-"
Elizabeth was not as saintly as her sister, and her patience had run out.
"Oh do spit it out, Jane!"
"Did you want Colonel Fitzwilliam to touch you?!" Jane blurted out in a rush, before clapping her hands over her face in embarrassment. Elizabeth tried to maintain an impassive countenance, but despite herself she felt a smile tickle at the corners of her mouth.
"In what way?"
It was exceedingly better being the knowledgeable party in this particular conversation, Elizabeth decided.
"I- oh goodness-" Jane stuttered.
"My dearest Jane," murmured Elizabeth as she took her sisters hands gently, "there shall be no embarrassment here. I am an old widow, remember, and there is little you could say that would shock me. Now, begin again."
Jane's voice was low as she asked,
"When you were around Colonel Fitzwilliam, when he was… kissing your hand and the like…" Jane gulped. "Did you ever feel as though you wished him to kiss you in other places? And I do not just mean the mouth… though I should like that to!"
Elizabet laughed when Jane covered her mouth in shock, as though she had no idea how such thoughts had emerged.
"I did indeed, dearest. It is not so very strange, when you love someone, that you feel that affection in your body as well as your heart and mind."
"But I do not-"
"Understand? Here is what I learned on my wedding night," and many nights after that, Elizabeth thought, and afternoons and mornings, "Mamma talks nonsense, Papa's rules only matter until you've done away with the name Bennet, and it feels ever so good to have a man touch in places you've never even imagined."
"Lizzy!" screeched Jane, torn between laughter and utter mortification. Elizabeth shrugged irreverently, giggling.
"I say this with the greatest love, but in the time I was married, I found that while our parents have taught us a great many things about life, their demonstration of a marriage did not fully encompass all of the possibilities. We have little experience of affectionate marriages – you have not even seen as much of our Uncle and Aunt Gardiner as I did before my wedding — so it is difficult to reconcile the rules we live by prior to being wed and the marriages we have seen with our feelings… Our desires."
"Desires," Jane echoed uncertainly.
"And while an unmarried young woman must guard her reputation and honour, and behave with the utmost propriety, the vows you say to your husband release you from that. Everything – anything – you feel and want is natural and good."
"But Lizzy," Jane whispered, "when Mr Bingley asked to open his ball with me-"
"You did not mention that! Oh I did not mean to interrupt, I am ever so sorry, please dearest, go on."
"When I said yes, he told me how happy it made him, and he looked into my eyes and he kissed my hand and-"
"And…" Elizabeth prompted. Jane's voice became so quiet it was scarcely louder than the wind outside.
"I wanted him to kiss my neck."
What an innocent thought, Elizabeth mused. She had forgotten those days of naïve touching and stolen moments, when a kiss to the brow, to the neck, to the inside of a wrist, felt illicit and delicious. Now, as the time since Fitzwilliam's death stretched out cavernously behind her, she was plagued with old desires. In desperate, shameful moments, she wept for want of a man's touch, replaying memories of her husband seizing her about the waist, hoisting her against a wall as his large hands gripped her thighs. She missed the weight of him on top of her so violently it pained her, and there were times she would dream of taking him into her mouth only to wake up feeling empty.
"While I advise you to wait until a more tangible arrangement between you has been established before you voice that particular thought to him," Elizabeth said, with a feigned air of stern admonishment, belied by her twitching brows, "I can assure you that if Mr Bingley is as in love with you as I believe him to be, he very much wished to kiss your neck, too."
"Do you really think so, Lizzy?"
"Dearest Jane, that is the least of it."
oOoOoOo
[1] Signing as a militia officer came with a time commitment of something like 5-7 years. Unlike in the Regular Army, where an officer's commission had to be bought, most militia officers were local gentry whose rank was a result of the property they/their family owned. I found one source which said a lieutenant needed to own land worth £50 a year. However, the subaltern (lower officer) ranks could be hard to fill in the militia, so property qualifications were often ignored. Voila, introducing Lieutenant George Wickham. If a man was called but did not wish to serve, he could pay a substitute to serve in his stead, at a rate of upwards of £25 a year. I have no idea if a substitute could be brought in after service had started, but that's what I'm going with.