"Whatever took you so long, Louisa?" was the greeting Caroline gave her sister the following morning. "I have been waiting for some company for hours!"
"I am sorry, Caroline. I rose later than usual this morning," Louisa replied, well aware that her sister could not have been awake for long due to being accustomed to following town hours.
"What is the matter then? Have you fallen ill as well? That Bennet family must be carriers of diseases. First me, now you!" Caroline spoke in an accusatory tone.
"Maybe I am just tired. As you know, we have some unexpected guests, and more time is required to attend to their needs," Louisa explained. Mrs Hill and the Netherfield staff had been working tirelessly to see to the comfort of their guests, ensuring there was nothing lacking in their accommodations.
"Why can they not all just go home? They have been here for days. Surely Jane cannot still be suffering from a trifling cold," Caroline whined.
"She is recovering well, according to Miss Elizabeth. And I think you are too. Perhaps tomorrow morning you may feel rested enough to be able to leave your room. But it may be another day or two before the Bennets could return to Longbourn due to the state of the roads. Some are almost impassable due the destruction brought about by relentless wind and rain."
"I hope there is not much damage to Netherfield."
"Charles attempted to inspect the grounds and visit some tenants yesterday, but Mr Darcy advised against it, warning that it would be too risky. The colonel promised to accompany him today if the weather permits," Louisa reported.
Louisa stayed with Caroline for a while, supplying her sister with news about their guests. The younger sister had a lot of questions about the colonel. After about an hour, Louisa took her leave and promised to read to her later in the day.
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Downstairs in the parlour, Lydia and Kitty continued to compete for Wickham's favour, but they were disappointed when the man directed his attention to Mary, discussing the songs she and Elizabeth had sung yesterday. He requested her to perform 'The Soldier's Adieu" again, much to the annoyance of the youngest Bennet sisters.
"Did you really want to hear Mary sing? Or were you just being polite?"
"Papa always stops her from embarrassing herself in public."
The girls giggled, and Mary bowed her head in shame.
"Thank you for obliging us with a song, Miss Mary. I think it is commendable how some young ladies possess so many accomplishments. I certainly cannot claim to have a tolerable singing voice, much less play a musical instrument. I do not think my fingers can learn any delicate handiwork," Wickham stated, looking at Elizabeth who was intently attending to her needlework. She almost immediately set this aside and hastily grabbed the nearest book.
"Darcy, have I ever been a great reader?" Wickham addressed his childhood friend.
"Never."
Hearing the unimpressed tone in Darcy's voice made Wickham chuckle.
"But ladies who improve their minds by extensive reading are indeed worthy of admiration, especially those who have a penchant of reading Latin upside down," Darcy's eyes twinkled as he turned to a horrified Elizabeth.
"La! Books are so boring! I would prefer dancing anytime over reading! Mr Bingley, you once mentioned a plan of holding a ball at Netherfield. I hope you have not forgotten," Lydia reminded the amiable master.
"How could I? I promise, once your eldest sister is well enough, that we shall name the date," Bingley smiled.
"Oh, Mr Wickham, are you fond of dancing?"
Mr Wickham contemplated the question for a moment before venturing an answer, "I believe I am, but every savage can dance."
Just then, Mrs Bennet withdrew from the cards table to sit next to the colonel.
"Mama! Did you use my rose water?" Lydia blurted out after their mother walked past.
"Rosewater… hmm…" Wickham muttered under his breath, inhaling the floral scent, oblivious to the ongoing petty discussion between the girls and their mother. Not long after, he excused himself declaring that he wished to retire to his chambers.
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After dinner, the ladies moved to the drawing room while the men enjoyed their port. It did not escape Darcy's and the colonel's notice that Wickham scarcely uttered a word.
"Wickham, is there something on your mind?" the colonel prompted him.
"I wish there was," Wickham let out a short, bitter laugh.
"Is your memory getting better?"
"I think it is. But to be honest, it is all very confusing to me. Sometimes I am not sure which ones are real and which ones are not… The memories… they come to me at different times, and I am trying my best to make sense of them," Wickham admitted. "Maybe you can help me."
"The apothecary cautioned against overwhelming you with too much information. He counselled that most people would restore their memories over time. It is just a question of how long it would take, and how much would be recovered," the colonel remarked. In his observation, Wickham has been regaining his strength steadily and his injuries did not appear to be critical, which to him signalled that the man would likely remember everything in time.
"Last time, you said that you remember my mother being ill… I remember her… I remember her words of advice to me… while she was on her sick bed… she made me promise to change my ways… to make amends… to start a new life… while I still have the chance..." here Wickham paused, appearing to be deep in contemplation. "The lyrics of the song that Miss Mary had sung brought back some memories… and rosewater… my mother wore that scent… I think I know why I came to be here… if my understanding is correct, I have signed up to join the militia…"
"You may be right. That might be why you have been heard to mumble 'colonel' when you were drifting in and out of consciousness," Richard commented, giving Darcy a solemn look. "I am going to ride out to see Colonel Forster."
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The ladies voiced their concerns over the colonel leaving at such an hour and begged for him to defer his trip until the next morning. However, no one could sway the determined officer, declaring that he had been in worse circumstances in the battlefield. He vowed that he would be able to return safely that same evening.
"Pardon me, colonel," Mrs Bennet surprised the colonel when she called his attention. He did not realise that she had followed him out of the drawing room.
"Is there something I could do for you, Mrs Bennet?" he queried.
The woman cleared her throat and hissed, "Colonel, while I am flattered to be the object of your… admiration, I must say… that I cannot… we cannot."
"I am afraid I do not comprehend your meaning, madam," the colonel frowned, wondering what on earth the woman was talking about.
"Come now, colonel. Let us be mature about this. There is nothing wrong with a man appreciating a woman… but I am a married woman," Mrs Bennet whispered, though loudly.
The colonel sighed in exasperation. "Mrs Bennet, forgive me but I am in a hurry. I have no idea of what you are speaking about."
Mrs Bennet granted him a sly glance before taking something out of her pocket. Handing over three small slips of paper to him, she then waited for his reaction.
"What are these?"
"You wrote them, did you not? And you have been hiding them in books," Mrs Bennet cast him a knowing look.
"I am sorry, but you are mistaken, madam. I did no such thing," the colonel vehemently denied.
"These are not from you? Are you sure? Then whom did these come from?" the woman asked disbelievingly.
"I do not know, but maybe those messages were not intended for you," he replied rather bluntly.
"I beg your pardon! Are you saying that I am not attractive? I may not be a bit older now, but in my youth, I did not want for suitors," she sounded thoroughly offended.
"I… I… I do not dare dispute that... But… what I meant was that… maybe those were intended for someone else, someone who is unattached, perhaps even one of your lovely daughters…"
"One of my daughters… oh. Oh, yes! But… which one?"
"That is for you to find out. Have a good evening, Mrs Bennet."
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Meanwhile, another lady had been peering out of her windows to pass the time. She then sat down on the side of her bed and, having little else to do, idly toyed with the pages of a book. A slip of paper fell out from the volume, which she lazily picked up.
The flame from the candlelight
Cannot match the fire a kiss will ignite
If only... my wish would be granted tonight...