Chapter Two
"Mr. Brown!" Jane gasped.
Her new companion looked at her, concerned.
"That young man—he is heading to my village!" she began to gulp back sobs. "He will tell everyone. I am ruined—my sisters! No one will ever marry us—we will all starve in the hedgerows, just as Mama always feared!"
The officer only raised an eyebrow. "Your mother is prone to such nervous complaints?"
"I have four sisters and no brothers—our estate is entailed away from the female line to a distant cousin."
"A pity. I wonder that a family with an estate under entail would have five daughters and not five sons. How terribly unfashionable!"
Her eyes flashed. "Sir! Do not think I am ungrateful for what you have done for me, because I am not, but for you to now disparage my family—"
"Shush. I do not mean a word I say; I am only trying to provoke you. If you are angry, you are not crying."
"I beg your pardon?" Jane blinked. "You prefer me to be angry with you?"
He shrugged. "If you are angry, you are, at the least, able to yell at me. If you are crying, you cannot even talk—at least not intelligibly so—and talk we must. Let us see if a private parlour is now available. I was not able to procure one earlier for my breakfast—there must have been a surfeit of viscounts," he waved a hand airily. When he saw her hesitate, he added in a wry tone, "You need not fear for your reputation." She scowled at him, and he grinned in return.
"You there!" he called to a maid passing the entrance to the hall. "Is there a private parlour available now?"
"Yes, sir. One, sir."
"I wish to have it." He tossed her a coin, which she caught, and began to follow her down the hall with Jane by his side.
The innkeeper sneered at Jane as they passed. "And who be this, now? Yer 'uncle?'"
"I certainly hope not," the officer said dryly, silencing their host with a glare. "I ought not have to remind you that paying customers must not be insulted."
"This be a respectable inn," the man mumbled.
"And we are the only respectable ones in it," was the officer's icy reply. He handed the innkeeper a sovereign. "I trust that will assure you of our respectability?"
Jane did not look back at the innkeeper as she was led away, nor did she look at her companion. However, as soon as they were through the door and he had shut it, she turned on him. "You mock my pain! Never do it again."
He did not step back, but looked down at her without tilting his head. "Life is pain, but I would never mock yours. Surely your straits are not as dire as you make them out."
"Oh, and tell me, who will marry me now?"
"I will marry you."
Jane's eyes widened. She could see he had surprised even himself with his words, but he set his jaw in determination and smiled at her.
"I will marry you. You need not fear."
"But why would you? We have only just met, and under the most unusual of circumstances. What if we should not suit?"
"You are a curious creature," he tilted his head, "suddenly worrying about whether we should suit over your reputation."
"I—I should not like to make you unhappy."
"And what about yourself?"
"It is my misfortune; you ought not to have to suffer for it."
"You rank me above your own family?"
"Not precisely…but I find I am unable to give you pain in order to lessen theirs."
"Intriguing. I suppose I am the same way, for I am not in the habit of making young ladies unhappy—unlike our friend Mr. Wickham."
Jane stiffened and sucked in a breath.
"He still distresses you. Do not let him. That man deserves to be treated like mud on your shoe."
All that Jane had experienced that morning came flooding over her, and she began to weep. This time, instead of making provoking comments, he gently put his arms around her and allowed her to cry.
She was a little shocked, and knew it was highly improper, but found she was too exhausted to care. When she was finished, he released her and handed her his handkerchief to dry her face.
"Come." He held out his hand and guided her over to one of the chairs. "I am not a rich man," he said when he sat down next to her, still holding her hand. "I am but a second son of an earl—but that is still richer than many."
Jane's head was still whirling. "My dowry is but a thousand pounds. I cannot let you do this, sir! You sacrifice too much; you would grow to resent me and your noble offer."
"I see," he said gravely. "And have you any other…options?"
When Jane looked at him uncertainly, he asked, "Are there any other gentlemen aspiring to your hand?"
"I had hoped—" she sighed and cast her eyes away. "—that is, my mother had thought a young man promising. But I have it on good authority that I—that we—were misled, and he is not to return."
"Then he is a fool," he said sharply. More softly, he added, "I thank you for all your honesty."
"I could offer you no less, given what you have proposed to do. It would not be right."
After a moment's pause, he said, "You are not a woman of the first circles. And it appears that is a very good thing."
Jane stared at her slippers, and when he did not further explain, she looked up at him.
He smiled wistfully. "I have just begun to think that marrying you would be less of a noble thing, and more that nearly all the advantages are on my side. And that, I think, is why I must marry you…if you will have me."
"Sir," she lowered her lashes and removed her hand from his, clasping her fingers together in her lap, "I beg you to withdraw your offer. Surely your family could only despise such a hasty match with a woman of no fortune or connections such as myself."
"Allow me to worry about my family, thank you. But what of your family?"
Her eyes filled wish fresh tears, and she swiped them away. "I shall seek employment," she raised her chin. "Become a companion. If you are so eager to be of service to me, you might assist me in that regard."
"I might," he said lightly as he stood and began to pace. He shook his head. "No. It will not work. There is still the matter of your reputation."
She turned her head away. "It is most unfair!"
"Indeed it is. And you would, no doubt, think it most unfair that I am unable to see you in tears if it lies within my power to prevent it. But so it is. Indeed, I am afraid you must marry me."
She looked up at him again, and sniffed.
He stretched out his hand once more. "Will you do me the honour?"
"Yes," she heard herself say, and he bent over to bring her hand to his lips.
He laughed suddenly against her hand and straightened. "What is your name?"
She blushed. "Jane Bennet of Longbourn."
"Jane Bennet. Well, Miss Jane Bennet of Longbourn—" he removed his hat and bowed deeply "—I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of Matlock."
Chapter Three
"I think we ought to travel back to London at once," Colonel Fitzwilliam declared, sitting down once more. "If your friend Mr. Brown does decide to titter with the old ladies, it may be best if you are not there to hear it."
Jane bit her lip. "But will not that appear worse?"
"When you are married to the son of an earl, all will soon be forgotten," he said wryly.
"But will it not appear as though you were the one who attempted to compromise me?"
He smiled at her. "I never thought I should want a stupid wife."
She was taken aback. "I am not stupid!"
"Precisely, my dear. You are, thus far, agreeing with my ideal."
She paused. "Your ideal did not ever include a dowry? Is that very sensible?"
He laughed. "You wound me," he laid a hand to his chest, "but you are correct. It was not until you told me you had none that I realized I did not care. We will not have an extravagant existence, you and me. I shall have to work, and likewise our children when they are grown. You shall have to manage our household very carefully, but," he squinted an eye in a perusal of her face, "I have no fears as to that, for you seem perfectly sensible when you are not in tears."
"You take delight in vexing me, sir!" she said, a little crossly.
To her surprise, he smiled, and reached out to tap her on the nose. "And you have just discovered that you enjoy it. It makes you bolder."
She realized, to her annoyance, that he was right.
"Returning to your lack of stupidity…Mr. Brown…did you introduce him to our friend Mr. Wickham?"
Jane thought back, and shuddered at the recall of the latter, who had once had goodness in all his looks. How could they have been so deceived in him? "No, I did not. Mr. Wickham did not appear until after Mr. Brown had left the table. Though he saw him lead me off," she remembered.
"Hmm," Colonel Fitzwilliam grunted. "I concur with my earlier statement; we ought to return to London at once." He rose immediately.
Jane looked up at him. "At once?"
He smiled. "Yes. The more time we spend at this inn, the more chances someone else you know may see you, and the less chance we have at making it seem that you never left London. Did your family know you were to return today?"
She shook her head.
"Excellent. Their genuine surprise and absolute denial will be more believable." He settled his hat on his head. "I have my horse, as I was returning from business in Bedfordshire. I shall engage places for you and your servant—servants?—on the mail and ride behind it." When she looked horrified, he asked, confused, "You would prefer the stage?"
When she explained the reason for her current distaste of the mail as mode of transportation, he bowed. "I should still think the mail preferable, but as you wish." He offered her his arm, and she took it.
Upon leaving the parlour and walking down the corridor, they came upon a distraught Molly gesturing to a bewildered Robbie. Her relief at seeing Jane was palpable. Robbie, meanwhile, took the officer's measure and found himself standing down at the returned gaze of that gentleman.
Jane said that a certain event had occurred and they would all be returning to Gracechurch Street at once with Colonel Fitzwilliam. The maid and manservant looked uncertain, but as they were told they would be returning home and that when all was explained—though they knew not what "all" was—they would not lose their employment, they could do naught but go along.
The Gardiners were flummoxed when their dinner was interrupted by the niece they had sent on her way home early that morning—and with a redcoat in tow, no less. Mr. Gardiner rose immediately and demanded an explanation, to which the redcoat stepped forward and was introduced by his niece. Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he was now known to them, requested a private word, and Robbie and Molly were excused. The colonel was desirous of Mrs. Gardiner and Jane remaining, and his wish was granted.
The colonel took a deep breath and related all that had transpired at the coaching inn. Mrs. Gardiner gasped and reached out to hold her niece's hand when Mr. Wickham's role in Jane's return to London was revealed, and Mr. Gardiner turned red. Jane smiled tremulously at them. "I am fine," she said, "because of Colonel Fitzwilliam."
The Gardiners expressed further concern when they heard of Mr. Brown travelling to Meryton after witnessing the whole event.
"This is why we thought it best that Miss Bennet returned to London, so that the Bennets will know nothing of her being anywhere but here. While I would hope that Miss Bennet's good character, which must be known around Meryton, would generate some disbelief as to what Mr. Brown could say, we cannot count on that," Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He sought Jane's eyes before he continued, "Thus, we feel we ought to write to announce our engagement at once."
"Engagement!" Jane's uncle and aunt cried together.
Mr. Gardiner's eyebrows rose when the colonel confirmed his offer to marry Jane. "Are you certain this is the wisest course of action?" he looked between his niece and the officer.
"I feel it is the only one," the colonel replied. "Mr. Brown may be in Meryton this very moment, describing in minute detail how Jane—that is, Miss Bennet," a slight flush appeared high on his cheek, "went up the stairs with a gentleman. It will not matter that she was deceived and then taken forcibly—he will not know it, or perhaps he will not care, and neither will the tabbies of Meryton, I would imagine."
Silence descended upon the room for several moments.
"Well," Jane's uncle said, slapping himself on the knee as he rose, "I should like a moment alone with my wife and niece. If you do not mind, Colonel, you may wait in my study down the hall. Feel yourself at liberty to pour yourself a drink."
With a quick and reassuring smile to Jane, Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and exited the room.
When the door was shut, Mr. Gardiner began to pace the width of the room. "These were not the kind of circumstances under which I should have liked you to be married, Jane," he sighed. "Nor, I expect, your father."
"Nor I, Uncle," Jane said, "but we—that is, the colonel and I—have discussed it, and there seems no other way."
Her uncle stopped pacing and raised a brow. "And what of his situation, what of his character? Do you know anything about them?"
"He is the second son of an earl, and unlikely to inherit, so he will have to continue to work—but he is able to promise me a comfortable existence. As to his character, I feel that the fact that he came to my aid when no one else would speaks for itself."
"Hmm," he pursed his lips.
"We have discussed my situation as well," Jane added, "and that did not deter him."
Mr. Gardiner glanced at his wife, who tilted her head back and forth, and looked back to Jane. "Do you think you have even a chance at happiness with him?"
"I do," Jane said boldly, even surprising herself.
"Well, then," her uncle rocked on his heels. "I suppose I must write to your father."
"Oh, let me write," she pleaded. "I must own to my share of culpability in this. I ought not have even risen from the table with Mr. Wickham. I realized it two moments too late."
Mrs. Gardiner put and arm around her. "You are too good, and too trusting, dear Jane. No one can blame you. Not a one of us thought Mr. Wickham capable of something like this."
Jane nodded once, slowly, and looked to her uncle. "Will you not let me write to Papa, though?"
"I will," he said, "but I shall write a note as well."
He excused himself to continue the conversation with their guest in the study, and Mrs. Gardiner rang for some writing materials.
While they waited for them to be brought, she asked, "Jane, what about Mr. Bingley?"
Jane blinked. "I do not believe I have thought of him once since this all happened."
"Very good," said Mrs. Gardiner, quite satisfied.