The House at Half Moon Street
London
Two Mornings Later
Elizabeth was reading Castle Rackrent in the drawing room, and Jane was working on a piece of needlework when the door opened and Mr. Bingley was announced. The sisters both rose to their feet and regarded the guest curiously. Mr. Bingley was dressed in traveling attire, and his usually genial face was dark with worry.
"Mr. Bingley, please do sit down," Elizabeth said. "Is anything the matter?"
"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, though I can only stay a minute," he replied, taking a seat near Jane as both ladies sat down again. "As for anything being the matter; well, I must apologize most profusely for my sister Caroline's rude behavior at the Damaral ball. It was very poorly done of her."
Elizabeth and Jane glanced at one another, and Jane said, "Thank you, sir, though it is not for you to apologize, but her."
"I fear that is not true," Bingley said glumly. "I am her elder brother and responsible for her behavior as my father has passed on to his reward. I have consulted with my elder sister, and spoken to Caroline, who refuses to … well, in any case, I wished to inform you that today I am escorting Caroline to Scarborough to settle her with an aunt who lives there. It seems that ... well, she is not … what I mean is that I feel it is my responsibility to ensure that she is safe, but she cannot stay here in London."
"Oh!" Jane said, her brow wrinkled in worry, "Will you be returning to London afterwards?"
"Most definitely," Bingley said promptly. "I intend to take her there and settle her with my Aunt Barbara and return to London as soon as I possibly can."
"I do wish you an excellent journey, then," Jane said.
"Thank you, Miss Bennet," the gentleman replied. "I will be counting the hours until I can return."
He bowed to both, turned on his heel, and hurried out of the drawing room.
Elizabeth attempted to return to her book but had difficulty concentrating. When she looked up a few minutes later, she discovered that Jane was staring into the fire, a pensive look on her lovely face.
"Jane?"
The eldest Miss Bennet turned toward her favorite sister and forced a smile. "Elizabeth?"
"Is something the matter?"
Jane blew out a breath and then said, "I find myself rather uneasy about Mr. Bingley's journey to Scarborough."
"Why? He is, I believe, correct that Miss Bingley ought not to be staying here in London given that she is behaving in an outrageous manner."
"Yes, but does he need to escort her to Scarborough, Lizzy? Could he not relegate that task to Mr. Hurst or to a trusted servant?"
Elizabeth considered her elder sister with interest. "I suppose he could, but it seems he feels responsible to ensure that Miss Bingley is delivered to their aunt. Surely that is reasonable enough?"
"Is it, Lizzy? Given that Caroline Bingley has already kept Mr. Bingley and me apart for many months, ought she be permitted to take him away from London at this point in our recently resumed courtship? As I said, I am uneasy."
"He said he would be back as soon as he can be?" Elizabeth said, rather helplessly.
"We will see, will we not?" Jane replied, and resumed her inspection of the fire.
/
The Pig in the Poke
A Few Days Later
Several of the larger tables in the pub had been shoved together, with a cluster of red-coated officers seated around them talking and laughing and dining. Wickham sat in the very midst of them, contentedly mowing his way through a plate of very acceptably cured ham and mashed potatoes drowned in gravy. A mug of ale sat to his right hand, and he reached over to move it adroitly out the path of a gesturing arm.
Across the large room, the door opened, and a gust of wind jettisoned yet another officer inside as well as a spatter of rain. A goodly amount of mud trekked in behind the militiaman, with the smell of spring and fresh air clinging to his dripping greatcoat.
"Denny!" Pratt exclaimed, waving toward the captain. "Come and join us!"
The captain did so, and after ordering ale and a plate of beef stew, he said, "I have just spoken to Colonel Forster and have learned of our marching orders. The regiment is moving on from Meryton in May."
This had the unsurprising effect of drawing the attention of all his fellow officers.
"Where to?" young lieutenant Smythe demanded.
Denny made a point of thanking the girl who had provided a glass of ale and then grinned and said, "Brighton!"
There were cheers all around at the news that the regiment would be journeying out of the interior of the country to the coastal town of Brighton in Sussex, where the Prince Regent himself spent much of his time.
Wickham grinned along with his fellow officers and resumed his meal with a great deal of good cheer. This was serendipitous timing as he had started to worry that affairs were about to become a bit ticklish for him here in Meryton. A few of the shopkeepers had started to send him very polite bills and hints that he should pay up on his debts. He had no intention of doing so, of course, and at this early stage, he could continue to trade on his charm for a while yet, and he was pleased at the news he would be leaving the locale before the rustic shopkeepers had time to grow truly restive.
The cards had been against him for some time now, and those debts concerned him more pressingly. If the regiment were indeed moving on from Meryton, he could use his meager wage to placate his more aggressive colleagues. As for the others, the cards would turn soon enough, surely. His bad luck could not last forever!
No, there was nothing left for him in Meryton. With Elizabeth Bennet vanished to London and Mary King departed for Liverpool, there was no chance now of an advantageous marriage in this little backwater. He would miss Lydia Bennet's vivacious company and bright smiles and wholehearted adoration, perhaps, but it had been in short supply recently anyway. Ever since those lookalike dragonnesses had arrived at Longbourn, Lydia had been less and less available. The Adler twins were determined to turn the younger Bennet sisters into accomplished ladies and protected their charges fiercely.
No, Meryton had lost all luster. Wickham was very glad to be moving on to the more appealing Brighton.
/
Conservatory
Lord Lanyon's House
London
Elizabeth, looking around her, was amazed and delighted at the beauty of the conservatory in Lord Lanyon's house. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive hothouse flowers, carefully cultivated and tended by a horde of skilled gardeners. Lanterns had been hung from tree limbs and decorative stands for the ball, and music filtered through the open door behind her. It was quite as magical as Vauxhall Gardens, she thought, the alabaster gravel of the path crunching beneath her delicate dancing slipper.
"Father is very proud of his orange trees," her companion remarked, looking up at the boughs above them. The lantern light fell over his exquisite mustard coat and plum stockings, his miles of expensive lace and painfully intricate cravat. The massive ruby of his brooch caught the light and shone like fire, entirely overshadowing the diamonds and jet flakes set around it.
"Most understandably," Elizabeth said lightly, and Viscount Guisborough favored her with a charming smile as they passed on. She gazed around in delight, drinking in the sight of the magnificently colored flowers growing healthy and thriving, the fountain in the very middle of the room trickling pleasingly. The music behind them changed, a new dance beginning.
"Miss Elizabeth," her companion said suddenly, drawing Elizabeth's attention away from the beauty surrounding her and onto the noble's face. She felt a lurch in her stomach and had to force herself to keep her face calm. Surely given their very short acquaintance, he would not...
"Miss Elizabeth, I know we have not known one another long," the noble said, smiling winsomely, "but I have already fallen in love with your beauty, your wit, and your grace. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
She checked a sigh and managed a slight smile, even as she slowly shook her head. "My apologies, my lord, but I fear I cannot, though I am greatly honored at your offer. We do not know one another well enough yet."
To her relief, Lord Guisborough, while he looked disappointed, did not look at all angry.
"I have been too precipitate," he said, guiding Elizabeth toward the ballroom door. "Perhaps with time I can hope for a better answer?"
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said with an arch smile.
Perhaps he would, indeed. She did not know Viscount Guisborough well at all, but rumors and reputation were not unkind to him. He spent freely and often carried debts – he took great pains over his appearance – but gossip did not attribute any unkindness to his character.
Her mother, she knew, would be in shrieking hysterics, were Mrs. Bennet to find out that Elizabeth had turned down the son of an earl. Elizabeth would have no peace, Mrs. Bennet constantly urging her to accept the heir's suit.
But Elizabeth found herself entirely disinclined to accept any man whose primary interest in her was her money. She could not count on any love or respect in a marriage like that, or even affection. What assurance did she have that her husband, once he had gained control of her wealth, treat her callously or even unkindly?
More and more she had grown to appreciate Darcy's company. At least he, she knew, was not after her riches. When he sought her out or went on outings, when their group was together, she could rest comfortably in the knowledge that he was merely enjoying the presence of his companions, and was not seeking to woo her for his own gain.
/
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Author Note: Keep reading - it's another two chapter day! :-)
