I am going to be crazy busy with school and student teaching for a while, so I do not know how often I will be posting, both on this story and on my other. It surely will not be with the regularity that I have been, but I will try to update every week or so.
Darcy, Lord Barlow, and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat with Captain Andrews in the breakfast parlour. Andrews had arrived before the sun was even fully risen, having learned from his time in the army that one did not delay in answering a summons from a commanding officer. He thought it odd, perhaps, that he was being summoned the day after said officer's wedding, but he would say nothing of the matter. Nothing yet had been said of why he was called hither, but the men were scarcely awake. Lord Barlow in particular looked as if he would rather still be abed. His lordship kept town hours. He, therefore, would have been asleep for another three or four hours, had circumstances not demanded his rising early. This was quite opposite of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam who were used to waking early. The former did so as he was so often in the country and kept hours similar to that of his tenants. The latter had spent so long in military service that he could not force himself to rise much later than the sun.
When the gentlemen had finished breaking their fast together, they went into the library together. Colonel Fitzwilliam told Captain Andrews of the situation and the role that he might play in solving the dilemma. Captain Andrews was astonished to be approached for such a purpose. He was silent for so long after Colonel Fitzwilliam finished speaking that the other gentlemen did not know what to think.
"You say she is sixteen," said Andrews.
"Yes, and only just," said Darcy.
"And she is quite expecting this Denny to return?"
"Likely she does no longer," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "she cannot still hold out hope for such a thing."
"You know I have no income, Colonel," said Andrews slowly, not wanting to seem mercenary.
"Indeed," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "but the lady has a dowry. It is five thousand upon her marriage and another thousand upon her mother's death."
"Would she be happy with living on such a sum?" asked Andrews.
"She does not have many options."
Andrews hesitated, then asked several questions about the lady, her family, and what other options had been considered. It was at this point that Darcy mentioned the Scottish estate and laid out the details of the lease. It was to be for five years initially. Dependent on the lady's treatment, it could be converted into a 99-year lease. This allowed the estate to be passed on to further generations of Darcys, while permitting the couple a place to live and an income of a thousand pounds a year.
"That is...exceedingly generous," said Captain Andrews, "I must ask, given this generosity, if the lady...well if her ankle was sprained."
"So far as we gathered, her...ahem...ankle is intact," said Darcy awkwardly.
"So long as we are certain that my heirs would be my heirs, I accept. I have wanted out of the military for some years. I think this my best chance, and with a gentleman's daughter at that," said Captain Andrews
All was thus decided. Captain Andrews was to accompany Darcy to Hertfordshire so he could meet the lady. Assuming that she was tolerable, the marriage articles could be drafted, and a license would be obtained. The marriage would take place as soon as a pastor was available.
"Are you certain you are well," Mr. Wickham asked his wife.
"I am fine. It is only that the pork did not agree with me," replied Mary.
"Dearest," said he, "Esther and Miss Breadford had some of the pork at luncheon as well, and neither of them are ill. I insist that we call Mr. Jones."
"I will be well in a moment," said Mary.
"I am worried, my love," said Mr. Wickham, "You have lost weight. You cannot fool me. I know you are ailing."
Mary had not the energy to argue any further, so Mr. Jones was called and arrived promptly, for he had already been seeing to another patient in town. He examined Mary with her husband present, finding not much the matter with her other than weakness due to the lack of food.
"When last were your courses?" asked he.
"Five, perhaps six weeks ago," said Mary with a blush.
"She is, then?" asked Mr. Wickham.
"I think it likely," said Mr. Jones, "but only missing one's courses once does not confirm it. The illness, however, makes my suspicions stronger. Should you miss another set of courses, I think we can confirm that you will be expecting a joyous event."
"What can we do to relieve her current discomfort? She has been ailing all week. She has lost weight," said Mr. Wickham, all anxiety on behalf of his wife and the babe that might be growing within her.
"I will send some draughts and some ginger tea. There is not much else to do but wait. It usually goes away before a few months pass," said Mr. Jones.
"What of a midwife?" asked Mr. Wickham.
"It is far, far too early for that," said Mr. Jones.
"I mean, who would be a midwife in the area, for when such an event occurs?" asked Mr. Wickham.
"I see. Well, it is perhaps a little premature, but Mrs. Moore is the midwife most in the area use. Otherwise, you can always send to London."
"Mrs. Moore?" said Mary with surprise, "Is she not a farmer's wife?"
"She is," said Mr. Jones, "and she started by delivering the young of the animals, but then between her own bairns and those of the people in the village who couldn't afford to send to London, she's delivered more than fifty babes. She even delivered your mother of Miss Kitty, Mrs. Wickham."
"Not Lydia?" asked Mary.
"No, I think your mother went to London for Lydia, for the reason Mrs. Moore delivered her of Miss Kitty is that Miss Kitty came a few weeks earlier than she was expected."
The Wickhams thanked Mr. Jones, who reiterated his promise to send over draughts and ginger tea before collecting his fee and taking his leave.
"They have come!" cried Kitty to the rest of the house.
"Who has come?" asked Lizzy, coming to stand by her sister to peer out the window upon the road.
"The gentlemen!" they said, for the rest of the house was now repeating Elizabeth's question.
"Is Denny with them?" asked Lydia with excitement.
"It is a different officer," said Kitty.
"Girls!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, "you must seem to be occupied."
Mrs. Bennet rushed her daughters to find their embroidery or other genteel occupations so they might appear to advantage when the gentlemen called. Lydia held her embroidery, but did not make a stitch, for she was too lost in her own thoughts. Denny has truly abandoned me as they said. Her thoughts were a jumble, but that statement was clear amongst the rest of the confusion. He was gone. Her sisters had been right.
"Lord Barlow, Mr. Darcy, and Captain Andrews," announced Mr. Hill.
Lydia raised her eyebrows at the man's rank. Introductions were made and all settled in for tea. In a slight overstep of propriety, Captain Andrews took the seat beside Miss Lydia on the loveseat on the far side of the room. He hoped that he might have a chance to speak with her a little before he needed to give his answer to the other gentlemen. Lydia was quiet, which was an unusual circumstance for her. She was quite shaken that Denny had not come back and quite overwhelmed by the large presence of the handsome captain beside her.
Captain Andrews introduced the topic of books, hoping to keep the conversation neutral while finding out a little of the lady's intelligence and tastes. Lydia was glad for this. Although her sisters thought her ignorant, she was not. She simply had found that speaking on such topics did not earn her much praise from her mother and from most men. Yet, if Captain Andrews wished to know of her favourite books, she would tell him.
"I quite like the novels by the Porters, Miss Jane Porter and Miss Anna Maria Porter," said Lydia.
"I enjoyed The Scottish Chiefs, but I confess I have read nothing of her sister's work. Is it very similar?" asked Captain Andrews.
"A little. Their subject is similar, but there are distinct differences. I do think you will enjoy both sisters' work if you enjoyed one's. In fact, I heard rumour that they are meaning to work together on a future book."
"That would be quite interesting," said Captain Andrews, "I hear Miss Anna Maria Porter has written some poetry as well?"
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Lydia, "Her book of poems was only released a few months ago. It was quite in demand and I only received my copy a fortnight ago. I have not had a chance to read much of it yet."
"I quite look forward to hearing your thoughts. Mayhap I will read it myself," said Captain Andrews, beginning to relax a little. He did not find Miss Lydia's company nearly as trying as Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam did.
"You should, sir. I have read perhaps ten pages or so, but I find it quite lovely so far."
"Do you enjoy poetry in general, or have you a love only for the poetry of that particular lady?" asked Captain Andrews.
"I confess that I have not the patience for some poetry. I have not an eye for the picturesque and poems dedicated to such are often lost on me. Still, I do enjoy many of the modern poets such as Tighe and Campbell."
"Not Byron?" asked Captain Andrews.
Lydia scrunched up her nose in response, signally clearly her thoughts about that man.
"I have never understood the appeal," said Lydia, "I think him a despicable man."
"I quite agree on his character, but I have enjoyed a few of his poems."
"I did not say he was not a talented writer. Simply that I do not like him."
"And you cannot enjoy his poems separate from the man?"
"I cannot, particularly given what often is their subject."
Elizabeth and Darcy, seeing the pair in whispered conversation, quietly urged all to leave them alone in the room. The door was left ajar, but the pair were left to their own devices. Their conversation continued for some minutes as they discussed Keats, Milton, Tighe, and many other poets. Their tastes were remarkably similar, except that Captain Andrews was perhaps better read. This was to be expected, given his gender and age, for he had lived fourteen years longer and had access to education. Lydia pointed this out to him when he admonished her for not having read much by Milton or Shakespeare, which he conceded was a valid point.
"Would you like some education?" asked Captain Andrews.
"What do you mean?" asked she.
"You may be unaware, but my father is in trade. He owns a very popular bookshop in Edinburgh. I can help to see to your education if you would like me to."
"I would like that. I did not know you are Scottish," asked Lydia with some surprise.
"I am."
"I cannot tell. You have no accent."
"My father sent me to school in London from the time I was eight years old. Since then, I was either at school or in the regulars."
"But your hair!" exclaimed Lydia.
"What?" asked the captain with a laugh, "Is it hard to believe I am Scottish because my hair is brown?"
"I suppose I thought..." said Lydia, before stopping her sentence midway.
"I am only part Scottish. Much of our family is British. They have simply resided in Scotland for several generations. Although, not all Scots, even when they are only Scottish, have red hair."
"That makes sense," said Lydia, embarrassed.
"I must ask, for your reaction gives me pause," said Captain Andrews, lowering his voice, "Do you know why I have come here?"
"I believe so," said Lydia, her face flaming.
With all tenderness and compassion, Captain Andrews then explained to her that he was to be her substitute bridegroom. He told her that he thought they would get along well, and perhaps even, in time, come to have affection for each other.
"Would you be opposed to living in Scotland? The estate Darcy has offered to let to me is near the border between England and Scotland," asked he.
"I don't know," admitted Lydia, "It is so far."
"It is. It is six days journey, at least, but if your sister marries Darcy, it would be less distant to Derbyshire than to Hertfordshire."
"But why has he offered to let you his estate?" asked Lydia, confused.
"So we might have somewhere to live, Miss Lydia," said Captain Andrews, "I have been in the regulars for a decade. I stay with my sister in London or my parents in Scotland when I am home for any duration, but I have no home of my own."
"Oh," said Lydia, embarrassed that she had not considered this, "I suppose we must then. Would we have a carriage so we might visit my family?"
"Not right away, I fear," said Captain Andrews, "but I would like to obtain one within a few years. We will likely be reliant on hired carriages for a time, as I would like to ensure we have some monies set aside in case they are needed."
"Can I have wedding clothes?" asked Lydia, causing Captain Andrews to recall her age.
"I am certain a few things might be had, but they will not be nearly as fine as Mrs. Bingley's. Yours would be from the dressmaker in Meryton or, after we are wed, in Kelso."
"You will not come to hate me," whispered Lydia.
"Of course, I would not," said Captain Andrews, "Even if we do not come to love each other, I think we can at least be friends."
"But the circumstances," said Lydia, "My sisters have said I am ruined. I thought Mr. Denny would return, so I did not give them much thought, but as he has not, I am ruined."
"You are not with child?" asked Captain Andrews, unsure of how to ask the question in a way that Miss Lydia would understand without putting it bluntly.
"I am not. I did not, would not," said Lydia, "I think that is why he promised to marry me."
"Then I do not care about your past. You are sixteen. I remember when I was sixteen and if my entire life were to be based on my actions then, I would certainly have been ruined. I am not without sin, so I will not cast stones," said Captain Andrews.
"You are very kind," said Lydia, uncertain of what else to say.
"Then would you agree to marry me?" asked Captain Andrews.
"I will," said Lydia, "I would be most happy to."
Consent was promptly obtained from Mr. Bennet and the settlement papers signed. A common license was determined to be all that would be needed, for the vicar in Meryton was willing to do the ceremony. It was to be small, with only thirty people for the wedding breakfast. It was to Captain Andrews' disappointment that the condition of the roads would very likely prevent his parents from attending, but it could not be helped. At least his sister would come from London, giving the wedding more of a sense of planning rather than haste. After all was done, it was determined that all had worked out for the good.