A/N: I was on a mean streak when I wrote this. You'll see what I mean, but major OOC even by my standards. At 12k, this one's a bit heavy for a collection, but I imagine you can deal.
Wade
Mrs Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage; blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must principally be owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! And now here's Mr Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do."
P&P Chapter 45
Chapter 1
The slamming of the back door startled Elizabeth Bennet from a light slumber.
She had been half-dozing in the sitting room, lamenting the fact that the Bennet family had once again been bitten by their own snake—while also ruminating on the cold fact that chances of any of them having advantageous marriages had dropped from slim to none. Lydia's shame would put paid to whatever prospects they may once have had.
Of course, she had to admit that in the most recent bout of snake-biting, the offending part of the Bennet family consisted primarily of its second daughter—but that was neither here nor there. She had done what she had to in Hunsford (or at least, all her wounded vanity and incorrect first impressions allowed). That she had enjoyed a second chance was extraordinary, something that was rare as hen's teeth—but it was all for naught. As promising as their reacquaintance in Lambton had been, she would certainly never see Mr Darcy again, especially given his history with Mr Wickham and his rapid departure from the inn in Lambton after he learned of Lydia's shame. Now that Elizabeth had some idea what she was missing, that painful reality was starting to sink in.
She also was nearly certain they had seen the last of Mr Bingley, and the best she could hope for, was that he would abandon Netherfield entirely rather than return with a wife—or worse yet, return and court a lady in the neighbourhood other than Jane. She thought if that happened, she and Jane would have to move to London permanently (as they probably would anyway).
Elizabeth's slumber was not out of indolence (not that there was anything to do while they waited for her father and uncle to attempt to chase Lydia down), but primarily because she had taken the nighttime duty of managing their mother on her own shoulders. She had, over the week since her return to Longbourn from her aborted reconciliation in Lambton, tried several strategies for getting her mother out of bed—or at least silent. Everything she tried, from gentle cajoling, to appeals to logic or reason, to appeals to her motherly instincts, to appeals to her responsibilities as a gentlewoman and mistress of an estate—all had no effect whatsoever.
Mrs Bennet was absolutely certain the mess they were in was someone else's fault. She was not that particular about who that somebody was, so long as it was not Lydia herself, Mrs Bennet, or Jane. Half the time she lamented that her lazy-good-for-nothing husband would not make any effort at all to make the bounder marry Lydia; and the other half she was sure he would duel the miscreant and be killed, thus advancing their inevitable starvation in the hedgerows, which the Collins would institute before the man was cold in the ground.
Poor Mrs Hill had run herself ragged tending to her mistress' entirely imaginary ailments for the first week of Lydia's disgrace, so Elizabeth took up the slack at night to at least ensure that the one sane person in the house got some sleep. That did little for her own rest, but since it was mostly filled with nightmares and regrets anyway, it was not that much of a loss. At least in the daytime, Kitty would kick her if she started snoring too loudly.
Elizabeth became curious about the noise that had brought her from her slumber, since the servants had been walking on eggshells for weeks. None would dare slam a door, so the cause of the ruckus was something of a mystery.
With a start, she jumped up and walked out to the corridor to stare in astonished consternation at her sister Mary, who was nonchalantly walking along the corridor carrying a bucket. Not only was she carrying a bucket, but it was not the cleanest example of the category Elizabeth had ever seen. It looked like the milkmaid's based on its stains, and it even had a suspiciously hoof-shaped dent on the side.
The wonders continued as she noticed Mary carrying the bucket with her opposite hand outstretched wide as a counterbalance, thus indicating it was nearly full. Elizabeth began to wonder if Mrs Bennet was sneaking out and discharging servants while she slept, thus forcing her daughters into the disagreeable duty of a servant.
Full of curiosity, she asked, "Mary, what are you about?"
Whether Mary did not hear or simply ignored the question was hard to tell, as it usually was with Mary. About half the time Elizabeth was convinced something was wrong with her sister's hearing, and the other half, she thought Mary simply ignored anything she did not feel like hearing at that particular moment (a skill no doubt learned from her parents, who were masters at the art of not-hearing).
Elizabeth casually followed behind as Mary strode down the front hall like a woman on a mission. She observed that the bucket was even fuller than she thought, since a bit of water spilled over the side every time her sister's stride got too energetic, and Mary made the occasional very unladylike grunt. Elizabeth reckoned she could have offered to help, but with Mary's determined stride, she barely kept up anyway.
When they reached the second floor, Elizabeth heard Mary breathing like a leathered racehorse, and became so curious she could hardly stand it.
She finally asked far more stridently, "Mary, what are you about?"
Her sister continued down the corridor, but from the dulcet tones of Mrs Bennet, it was obvious they were headed in that direction. Elizabeth began to wonder if Mrs Bennet had forced Mary into doing her bidding. It would be quite a degradation, though to be honest, with a ruined sister it would hardly be noticeable.
When they finally reached her mother's door, Elizabeth noticed Kitty looking out fearfully from her door to see what all the fuss was about.
They had apparently been noticed, because she started hearing the familiar litany, "… for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves."
The refrain has grown more strident over time, and Mrs Bennet tended to mumble the start of her complaint, so the last was frequently all they got. That said, they were so repetitious there was no point in hearing the entire diatribe.
Mary sat the bucket on the floor, spilling a bit of water in the process.
"Mary?" Elizabeth asked, more curious than alarmed.
Her sister gave her a very peculiar look, and naturally said something that made not the slightest sense. "Proverbs 27:5 Better is open rebuke than hidden love".
Elizabeth scrunched her face in utter confusion. She had no idea what Mary was talking about (as usual), but at least she was quoting the actual bible instead of Fordyce, so that was an improvement.
"Could you… elaborate?" she finally asked.
"Watch and learn," was all Mary had to say.
As Elizabeth and Kitty looked on in continued confusion, Mary took a deep breath, grabbed the bucket, opened her mother's bedchamber door, and marched in.
Elizabeth followed curiously and was not at all surprised that her mother's wailing rose to a fever pitch, although at that point she at least started saying relevant questions as she was as full of curiosity about Mary's bucket as Elizabeth was—though to be honest, her replies leaned heavily into words like filthy, vermin infested, diseased, and the like. Elizabeth took that to mean the matron was not impressed with Mary's bucket. She had no idea whether the mistress was upset by its presence or its quality.
A moment later, Mrs Bennet was even less impressed! With a VERY unladylike scream, Mary hoisted the bucket up to her shoulders and poured the whole thing on her mother's head.
To add insult to injury, Mary then started screaming at her mother at the top of her lungs.
"YOU… YOU… YOU… YOU SPOILT CHILD! I have had enough! Jane has had enough. Lizzy has had enough! Even Kitty has had more than enough. The only thing we are accomplishing right now is learning the skills we will almost certainly need when Lydia returns unmarried and increasing as now seems almost inevitable. Who will take care of the baby—WE WILL! Who will keep Lydia from starving—WE WILL! We are within the year nearly certain to have an actual baby here in Longbourn, but I for one am happy to WAIT for the unhappy occurrence. You need to start acting like the mistress of an estate… NAY, you need to start acting like a grown woman… NAY, you need to at least start acting like someone who has been out in society for a month or more. We are in this predicament because of YOU! Lydia has been greedy, selfish, and ungovernable for YEARS! Jane tried to correct her with gentle instruction. I tried to with moral lessons. Lizzy tried to with every tool at her disposal, and she has more than most. Yet, you indulged her… nay, ENCOURAGED her bad behaviour. This is on you! As you sow, so shall you reap!"
By then, Elizabeth was considering the wisdoms of staging an intervention, but frankly thought it unwise to get between Mary and her mother, unless she could send Kitty to fetch an axe.
"Why, I NEVER… Why YOU… I will not be spoken to this way!" Mrs Bennet started lamenting, but Mary slammed the bucket into the floor with a clatter.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Mrs Hill stick her head in the door, and quickly signalled her to get herself as far from the debacle as she could. That lady showed her good sense by disappearing like a ghost.
Mary continued, "As I said, I have HAD IT! You well get yourself out of bed and pitch in to try to repair this debacle—or at least quit making it worse. NOW, you will get your whinging self out of bed and start acting responsibly or you may have your mouth washed out with soap, get a caning, wear a dunce cap, or stand in the corner. It is your choice how you handle this disaster of YOUR making, and so far, your choice seems to be punishing your daughters for your deficiencies. I will not stand for it. Not now, not ever again!"
Elizabeth saw Mary's face with something like awe. Tears were pouring from her eyes while they also thundered anger. She was certainly happy to be witnessing it from a distance.
"I shall not be spoken to in this manner, Miss High, and Mighty Mary. I am still your mother, and if your father had but listened to me, we would all have gone to Brighton and none of this would have happened, but he has a will of iron and never listens to anybody. I am your mother and the mistress of this estate, and you will give me the respect I am due!"
Mary punctuated her final point by lifting the pail a couple of inches and slamming it back on the floor, apparently to be certain everyone in the county was listening.
"Then ACT like it," Mary shouted. She then continued blithely as if she had to finish before she did something truly awful.
"No servant shall cross this door until I allow it, and I shall not do so anytime soon. You had best get out of bed like an ordinary person, get dressed, even if it is just in a dressing gown, and get to work cleaning this mess. I will allow Sarah to leave you rags and a mop outside the door. The alternative is, I suppose, for you to sleep in a wet mattress for a couple of weeks and hope the water eventually evaporates before it gets too mouldy. That would not be my choice, but you may do as you please, as I will not allow anybody save myself to enter this room until you finish."
With a final stare around at everyone who was listening, Mary picked up the bucket and marched out the door like Odin's Maiden just looking for another hapless victim to unleash her mayhem upon.
Elizabeth was more impressed than she had ever been in her life. It was one thing for rich men with all the power in the world to go about trying to bring about change. It was quite another for the previously quietest and most timid sister to do so at considerable risk to her own reputation and position in the family. Her father would be well within his rights to toss her from the house unceremoniously.
Yes, Elizabeth Bennet was mightily impressed, and her good opinion was not the slightest bit dimmed when Mary scream, "OOF!" and started falling backwards, after slamming headlong at nearly a run into a brick wall in a red uniform.
Chapter 2
Mary Bennett marched out of her mother's bedroom in the highest dudgeon of her life! She had no idea whether to be mortified or proud of herself, but at least she had finally DONE something. Right or wrong, at least she was trying! While she was certainly feeling a great deal of mortification, her primary emotion was one of overwhelming, blistering, RAGE! The Bennett Lady's marital prospects had essentially dropped from slim to none. Their relative poverty and lack of decorum had combined with the paucity of eligible gentlemen in the area to produce a desperate situation. With Lydia's shame, there seemed very little chance any of them would ever marry—and her father most certainly would not live forever.
As she stomped out of the room in a very unladylike manner, Mary's biggest concern of the moment was whether she should put a good-sized nick in the doorframe with her bucket as a handy reminder for her mother not to stoke her ire again. She readily admitted that such thoughts were well beneath her, but that did not stop them from occurring.
Leaving the room, she noticed that her sister, Elizabeth, was staring in wonder. And she vaguely recalled that Kitty had also poked her head in the door momentarily—as had Mrs Hill. The story of the morning's events would be all over Meryton by afternoon, but since they were not that much worse than what Mrs Bennett was already doing, little harm would come from it. Mrs Bennet was still spitting, sputtering, and cursing—but at least she was out of bed!
In her highly distracted state, Mary did not notice anyone else who might have come to witness the spectacle, though she probably should have. It came as the biggest shock of her life when she smashed into a brick wall, paradoxically placed in the middle of the corridor, wearing a red coat.
"OOF!" was all she managed to get out before she found herself tumbling backwards. She did not make it very far, as the unknown soldier reacted quickly enough to grab her arms before she fell. He was even kind enough to take charge of the bucket, once he had pulled her back to her feet and released her arms.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Mary snapped rather stridently once she was back on her feet.
She did not feel especially bad about her tone, since he was a man she had never laid eyes on in her life, and he was wandering around two floors above where he belonged with no obvious purpose.
"My pardon, madam. That was entirely my fault. I hope you are uninjured," he said with a lopsided grin.
Mary had to admit that he was making the best of the awkward situation, though since he was the one who created it in the first place, he probably only deserved half-credit at best.
"No harm done, sir," she mumbled. "Perhaps, you could answer my question?"
By then, she noticed Elizabeth had walked out of her mother's bedchamber, very sensibly closing the door on their mother in the process (much to Mary's relief), and hopefully before Mrs Bennet saw a new man in the house and smelled fresh meat.
Now that she knew it was just her and Elizabeth with the unknown soldier, she looked at him expectantly and just waited for him to answer.
"I am curious myself, colonel," Elizabeth said, much to Mary's confusion since she could not tell one uniform from another and doubted her sister could either.
The man bowed, "My pardon, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps I should explain."
"That seems sensible," Mary said, still peeed at having a stranger witness her outrage.
"In my profession, there are two types of men. When the first observes his comrades heading into battle, he sits back to wait and see what happens or perhaps actively avoides his duty. I am the other sort—the kind that joins the fray automatically."
"And you thought this a battle," Elizabeth asked, surprisingly good humouredly in Mary's opinion.
"There are few other things that cause ladies to carry full buckets through their homes. I do apologize for going where I was not asked, though," he said insociently, not looking all that repentent as far as Mary was concerned.
"Never mind, no harm done. I suppose I should introduce you."
"I would be honoured."
Elizabeth laughed lightly. "Mary, allow me to present Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is the second son of the Earl of Matlock, and coincidentally, Mr Darcy's cousin. I met him in Husford at Easter. Colonel, my next younger sister, Miss Mary Bennet."
"A pleasure, Miss Mary," the colonel said with a galant bow.
"Likewise, Colonel," she said, looking like she was coming down from her rage.
"Perhaps, we should continue in the parlour?" Elizabeth suggested.
"It would be my privilege," the colonel replied, then rather superfluously offered his arm to Mary to escort her back downstairs. She had no idea whether he was simply being galant or he thought she was exhausted from carrying the bucket… or perhaps mad.
She looked at it rather confusedly, but finally sighed and took it.
As they started for the stairs, Kitty came out of her room, and Elizabeth performed the introductions again.
The all spoke nearly in whispers, since they were still not so very far from Mrs Bennet's chambers. To be honest, Mary was surprised her mother had not come out of her room breathing fire at the indignities she had suffered. In fact, that seemed inevitable, but Mary was not overly worried. Due primiarily to the indolence of her father and the lack of sense of her mother, the nearly worst case scenario had already happened. According to her Aunt Philips, Mr Wickham had left debts all over town and trifled with an astonishing number of young women of all stripes. She was certainly no longer afraid of her mother.
Their progress was once again arrested when Mrs Hill returned looking pensive. Mary was starting to feel the inevitable comedown after her rage burned itself out, but she was still in no mood to relent.
"Miss Mary," the housekeeper asked. "How should we proceed?"
Feeling slightly disoriented, so she looked to her sister who always seemed to carry more authority with a questioning look.
"This is your show, Mary," Elizabeth said quietly, "and I, for one, think it is going better than expected. I suggest you go on as you have begun, but I will support any decision you make, as, will Kitty, I presume."
A glance at Kitty showed she probably agreed but would not say, so Mary took her sister's advice.
"I am serious, Mrs Hill. Leave towels and cleaning supplies outside the room on my authority. When our father returns, he is welcome to take me to task if he wishes. Tell every servant they are not to enter the room until they get permission from myself or my father."
Elizabeth chuckled grimly. "You cannot think he will have a sudden burst of parental authority?"
Mary just shrugged, wondering why in the world they were talking so openly in front of the colonel.
She ruefully reflected that, for once, it did not really matter.
Chapter 3
They entered the parlour to the sight of tea and biscuits, thus demonstrating that Mrs Hill had made the obvious conclusion and taken the obvious action when she spotted the visitor.
Mary ruefully reflected that it must be a terrible life to be forever saddled to someone with authority over you whom you could not respect. With a frown, she thought the same might be said for many marriages but tried to shake herself out of the malaise the thought brought on. She thought a bad husband was likely to be the least of their concerns since they now seemed unlikely to get any husbands at all. She had never been at all certain she even wanted one, but to have her choice removed by the actions of her parents and her youngest sister was galling in the extreme, and for the first time in her life, she felt a true thirst for revenge.
Elizabeth tried her best to ease the conversation, but everyone was nervous as they partook of the refreshments.
Mary put up with the tension for some time, before finally blurting, "If I may be so bold, why are you here colonel?"
He chuckled slightly, which Mary found annoying but unworthy of comment.
The man looked at all three ladies seriously and began.
"I have several purposes for my visit. Before I begin, may I stipulate that I know considerably more about your situation than you are likely to be aware of?"
None of the ladies were very excited about the announcement, but everyone in the village knew their situation anyway, so it was not that much worse.
"That cannot be helped, colonel," Elizabeth finally sighed.
He nodded, looked at the three ladies, and added, "With that in mind, I should like to suggest you allow me to relax propriety's rules and speak bluntly for a few minutes. I promise I shall go back to gentlemanly behaviour once we finish."
"Proceed, sir," Mary said, just wanting to get the conversation over with before she either burst into tears or went to refill her bucket.
He looked around pensively. "The first item is somewhat happy news that Mrs Bennet will want to hear. Your sister has been found, and she will be married in five days' time, on Friday."
They all gasped, not having entertained any such possibility, but then Kitty asked the obvious question. "Why is that only somewhat happy news? It is all we ever hoped for."
Elizabeth took pity on the colonel and stepped into the breach. "Because, unless Lydia has become far more reasonable lately, she will marry the bounder she ran off with, and he is a loathsome man—the worst I have ever known."
Kitty looked confused, so Mary added her opinion. "By definition, any man who did what he did is… ah… what Elizabeth said."
Elizabeth added, "And that was far-far from his first offense, and probably will not be his last. Lydia has chosen very poorly, and fool me, I learned what a villain he was months ago but did not appraise her of it. I begged our father not to send her into that snake pit unchaperoned but could not explain in detail what I knew and how I knew it."
Mary looked at her sharply with a million questions on her lip, but the colonel stepped in.
"You are correct, Miss Elizabeth. He is all you say and more, and as you know, I am aware of what you knew then and why you could not be more explicit. Your uncle offered to find her a good man—which he could do by selecting a passer-by on the street at random—but Miss Lydia is stubborn as a stone and will have Wickham or nobody, and despite that is commonly believed, a lady cannot be forced to say her vows."
Elizabeth said, "I imagine he did not come to the alter for free?" with a look at the colonel.
He frowned, "Let us just say that your uncle made it happen and leave it at that."
Mary though there was far more to the story but she was frankly both tired of speaking about Lydia and worried about the complete reversal of her mother's nerves would bring on. "I believe we can let that subject rest for the moment colonel, though I do wonder at how you became the messenger."
"Ah," he said, looking at the three ladies in turn. "Well, I have other business here, so I volunteered. Mr Bennet will return on Wednesday, as he does not wish to witness the debacle nor allow Mrs Bennet to do so, but he thought you should know from a trustworthy source straightaway."
The four ladies stared at him hard, apparently wondering how he became a trustworthy messenger to their father, but nobody felt like asking.
"How much do we owe our uncle?" Elizabeth finally asked.
"You will have to discuss that with him, though I would save your breath to cool your porridge if I were you."
The three ladies looked confused, so he gamely carried on. "That was not my only item. May I proceed with the next?"
"By all means," Mary said nervously.
He drew a deep breath, and Elizabeth suspected he was getting to the heart of the matter. She listened with a certain amount of trepidation. As of Friday next, they would no longer be ruined, but she was now the lady who had rejected the best man she ever met and would now be sister to said man's worst enemy. Her situation with Mr Darcy was hopeless, but maybe something could be salvaged from the debacle.
"I caution you—I must be blunt, even by a soldier's standards, let alone a gentleman."
"You need not confirm that Lydia has given up her virtue for nothing, sir. As you probably surmised from my… ah… speech to our mother—we already assumed that—or at least I did."
Kitty and Jane gasped, since they had probably not thought that at all, but Mary and Elizabeth only looked stoic.
"I am done with your sister's actions, though your assumptions are correct. I came to speak to Miss Mary."
Everyone stared at him in confusion.
He saw the shock and carried on, "More specifically, I came to ask for your hand in marriage, but as you can see, the proposal is somewhat… unusual."
Mary looked shocked, and stammered, while Elizabeth looked at the colonel sheepishly. Kitty and Jane both jumped to a good conclusion, but in a moment, they became as confused as everyone else.
Mary stared at the floor for quite some time, and finally said, "Our cousin Collins asked for Lizzie's hand last autumn after knowing her eight days. When she rejected him, our good friend Charlotte accepted him three days later. We considered that… precipitous."
"Yes, and I have your cousin beat by eight days. It is extra precipitous for me! Pray, allow me to explain before you reject me out of hand or put me off."
"Proceed," Mary said with about the same voice she had used before dumping the bucket on her mother's head.
"Here is the simple explanation," the colonel said, leaning forward to give Mary his full attention and disregarding her sisters, who really should not have been in the room for a proposal.
"You are intimately familiar with entails, which I consider to be among the stupidest ideas in English law. That said, it sometimes works out for the best. One of my distant relatives made an entail two generations ago, but …" then he gave a dramatic pause, "… he was a man who had an affection for strong drink, as did his brother-in-law attorney."
Kitty snorted in a very unladylike manner and blurted out, "Like Papa and Uncle —" but then stopped talking in belated embarrassment.
The colonel laughed. "Yes, very much like that I suspect. They ended up with an overly complicated document that left the conditions of transfer in quite a muddle. There is a very long story involved, that I will be happy to relate, but the short version is that I will inherit a small estate. It has been neglected for generations, it is about half the size of Longbourn and generates perhaps a quarter as much on a good year, but it can be salvaged with hard work."
The four sisters looked back and forth between the colonel and the other sisters, wondering when he was going to get to the point.
He continued, "That is out of the ordinary, though hardly shocking. It is run down, but I am not afraid of hard work, especially when I consider that hardly anyone will shoot at me there."
He let out a laugh, but the joke fell flat, leaving Mary frowning disapprovingly, while Elizabeth tried to laugh, and Jane and Kitty just looked confused.
"Ah, well, as you can see, I need to acclimate myself to society a bit more."
Elizabeth, feeling his distress, said, "Do not distress yourself, colonel. We are not your barracks mates, but we are hardly ignorant children either."
Mary looked at Kitty as if she wanted to dispute the claim, but then she turned back to her chief antagonist. "Get on with it, colonel."
He chuckled. "Well, the long and short of it is, that in order to inherit it, I must be married—before Monday!"
"WHAT!" Mary nearly shouted, while the other ladies looked on in consternation.
The colonel, looking very nervous, said, "I apologise that I could not deliver the news more gracefully, but the situation is as it is. I found myself in the position of needing a wife rather urgently, so on advice, I decided to approach you."
They were all just shaking their heads in confusion, but Elizabeth finally asked the operative question. "Why Mary, colonel? The only person in your circle who knows both you and her is Mr Darcy, and I am not certain he could have named her."
The colonel chuckled. "He could name all five of you, Miss Elizabeth."
She blushed at the way he said the statement, indicating that he probably knew more than she thought he did.
Mary spoke up, "Still, it begs the question. How did you pick me? More importantly, why pick me over my two more attractive sisters?"
The colonel replied instantly. "To be honest, there are no more attractive sisters, Miss Mary. I know I only just met you, but what I have observed along with what I have been told, by Miss Elizabeth and others, has led me to conclude I made the right choice."
"How?" she said, still confused. "And for that matter, who was your advisor… Mr Darcy?"
"Of course, not! Anyone who would take advice about women from Darcy would have to have rocks in his head…" but then he came up short, gulped nervously, and turned to Jane. "No offense, Miss Bennet."
"None taken, colonel," Jane replied sweetly, apparently unwilling to relitigate that dispute.
"So, who was your advisor?" Elizabeth asked.
He leaned a bit more towards the ladies, though more to Mary than the others.
"To be honest, I started with the people I know… my mother, aunts, cousins, sisters, and the like. That effort went down in bitter defeat almost immediately. None of them know a single lady willing to put up with rough conditions and a pittance of an income—and to be frank, if there were any women in London society I could stand, I would have found them by now.
Elizabeth started to speak a couple of times, but finally just gave up.
The colonel blundered forward. "Fortunately, by pure happenstance, I became reacquainted with the smartest woman I ever met. She lived near our estate when I was a boy. She is about five or ten years older, and she gave me very good advice once or twice—one of which stopped me from making a terrible mistake. I became reacquainted with her last week and found her older, wiser, and still smarter than any three men. I laid out my problem in all its gory detail. She chose Miss Mary, explained her reasoning, and here I am."
All four ladies shook their head in confusion, and Mary blurted out, "Who is this paragon, colonel."
He looked happy that he had distracted her from the fact that she had an open sort-of proposal unanswered. "I knew her as Miss Madeline Lewis. Now of course, she is…"
"Mrs Gardiner," Jane said. She then surprised everyone by asking somewhat sarcastically, "While we all love our aunt to death, do you not find it the least bit suspicious that the best woman she could come up with is her own niece?"
Mary took up the refrain, "… who is mostly unmarriageable, and was not particularly popular before her sister brought disgrace on their heads."
Elizabeth added, "Something like engaging a ferret to guard your henhouse."
The colonel laughed uproariously, and the four ladies joined in somewhat, though they were only capable of nervous twitters at best.
The colonel said, "I do trust her, but I also have… others," he said somewhat mysteriously.
Elizabeth thought it was likely Mr Darcy, trying to do a good turn, though whether for the colonel or Mary was hard to say. There were only so many Charlottes in the world, though Mary was close.
He continued, "I understand it is a leap of faith, and I hate to ask it, but I will anyway. Miss Mary Bennet, would you do me the great honour of accepting my hand in marriage."
He ended up on his knee in front of her with her hands in his without permission, and without any of the ladies having seen him move.
Mary looked confused, and then turned to her sister. "Lizzie, what do you think?"
"I cannot decide for you, Mary."
"No, and I would not take your instruction anyway. You can, however, give me your opinion."
Elizabeth thought about it for a few minutes while everyone, including the colonel, looked at her.
She finally sighed. "It is all very fast, but I have spoken to the colonel far more than Charlotte ever spoke to Mr Collins, and yet she is content. I know no evil of him, and suspect he is five times the man our cousin is. Had he asked to court me last Easter in Hunsford, I would have accepted. Had he asked for my hand, I would have asked for more time without qualms."
Mary considered for a few minutes, while Elizabeth thought deeply.
Elizabeth finally said, "Let us not forget that Mr Darcy esteems him, and I trust his judgment."
Mary and Kitty, having no idea of all that had happened with that particular gentleman, were startled at her change of opinion, but Elizabeth shook her head slightly do dissuade them from any awkward questions.
Elizabeth added, "Mr Darcy senior also trusted him enough to make him co-guardian to his daughter, and I imagine that means something." She omitted the obvious flaw in that argument—that the same gentleman esteemed Wickham and recommended him for the church.
Mary turned to the colonel. "I know very little of you, and apparently have little time to decide. How do you suppose a marriage would work."
"I would honour you, treat you well, respect you, involve you in our decisions, and adhere strictly to my vows. Beyond that, we would have to work out how to live and be happy, just as many other couples have done. I have some faith we could be very happy. I understand your father has not manged to uphold all of his vows. I would strive to do better."
Mary thought about it until she started hearing her mother start calling, "HILL! HILL!"
With a grimace, she said, "I suppose that answers the question," which made Elizabeth chuckle and Jane frown disapprovingly.
"EXCELLENT!" the colonel said jovially, then stood up dragging Mary to her feet.
The sisters wondered just how far a newly engaged soldier would deviate from propriety, but when all he did was give his intended a big grin and a chaste kiss on each knuckle, they reflected that sometimes discretion was the better part of valour. The fact that he was a somewhat old soldier and still one piece probably explained his caution.
Mary spoke pensively. "Colonel, would you think me ungrateful or unladylike if I assert that I would like my sisters at my wedding but not my parents, who have never lifted a finger in my behalf."
Jane came close to frowning, while Kitty sniggered a bit.
The colonel chuckled. "They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and all soldiers have a certain fondness for cold meals."
Elizabeth looked fascinated by this side of the man, while Jane looked pensive, as if she could not decide whether the idea of revenge was repulsive and against her nature, or admirable and something she should try.
Mary looked disturbed by her apparently future husband, even though she had never actually said any variant of the word yes.
Elizabeth, in a bid to reduce the awkwardness, said, "Perhaps so, but others say the best revenge is living well."
Mary looked at her gratefully and reached over to squeeze her hand, saying just a bit too brightly, "If I am to be married by Monday, we had best get moving."
The colonel beamed. "I would have it no other way. I have my brother's large coach with relatively fresh horses, and we could make it by nightfall if we move with alacrity."
With that, they all ran from the room as if it were infested. They drew straws to see who would write notes for their parents. Elizabeth gave the Hills a modestly accurate rendition of what they were about, but nobody wanted to beard the lion in her den. They all felt a bit guilty about leaving the servants to deal with their mother, but not guilty enough to change their course.
Within the hour, they were all in their way to chase Mary's fate.
Mrs Bennet appeared a few hours later, quite confused to have all her daughters missing with nothing but a note that made no sense at all. However, since a note could not pour more water on her head, and the servants gave every indication they might clean up her mess of a bed without Mary standing guard over the door, she thought the situation was improving.
Chapter 4
Lydia Bennet paced back and forth in pleasantly nervous agitation in the church on her wedding day. She noticed her groom did not appear to be quite as nervously happy, but since she had been told that was the way with men, she could not fret about it. SHE… Lydia Bennet… would be the first married. She reflected how happy and proud her mother would be, eagerly anticipating returning to Longbourn with a ring on her finger and a handsome officer by her side. He had even managed to receive some funds owed and purchased a commission in the regulars, which was even better in her opinion, though she had not the slightest idea of the difference between the regulars and the militia, and no concept at all how far north Newcastle was.
Her aunt and uncle Gardiner stood by them, not looking the least bit happy, but considering the number of stern lectures they had subjected her to over the previous week, she gave them no consideration at all and was pleased she was nearly finished with them.
She asked, "Uncle, when are we to get started?"
"Hush… when everyone arrives," was all the man would say.
The wait was not long, as a few minutes later the door opened, and Lydia screamed in joy to see all her sisters except Kitty enter with two men, whom she presumed to be her father and another witness. She had been told her sisters would not deign to attend, but she was ecstatic to see they finally realized that she had done well and came to witness her triumph. That feeling only lasted a few moments, because as they came closer, she saw that they all looked as grim as if they were attending a funeral. Jealousy was such an ugly feeling!
The second shocking thing was that they were all wearing fine clothing, even though her uncle and father had refused to buy her anything new at all. She assumed that was her father and uncle trying to teach her a lesson in humility, or some such nonsense. Even Mary was dressed much better than usual and looked almost pretty.
Lydia had little time to dwell on the anomaly because the surprises compounded. The two men were not, in fact, her father and someone else. Instead, she let out a startled yelp and her intended let out a distressed sounding hiss when they noticed the two men were the dour Mr Darcy and some other officer in uniform. She looked over at George, and saw him frowning at the officer, so she assumed he was probably someone concerned about the small holiday he had taken from his regiment. She imagined that might be tiresome, but her Wickham would work it out. He always did, and it was not as if he deserted!
They all stopped, and Lydia said brightly, "Well, I am certainly happy to see you all here, though why you got better things than the bride remains a complete mystery. I hope you came to witness my triumph."
Jane slightly frowned at the words, as did Mary, while Elizabeth gave her a look that could curdle milk. "Shall I presume my aunt has explained how your actions have nearly brought this family to ruin, Lydia… as well as the fact that you did not listen."
"La, Lizzy, you are just jealous that I will be the first married. After all of everyone's gloom and doom, everything is ending as it should."
"And you feel no shame about how you went about it?" Mary snapped.
"I shall be the first married, and Mama will be thrilled," Lydia replied brightly, no more intimidated by the glacial expressions of her elders than she had ever been. "Meryton is such a dreary place. Jane has been looking for a husband there for seven years, yet in Brighton, I succeeded in a few weeks. You can thank me later."
Her intended sounded nervous for the first time in their acquaintance, and he took her arm and squeezed, looking somewhat affectionate, but mostly trying to get her to be quiet for one minute.
When she stopped momentarily, he simply said, "Darcy… Fitzwilliam…" to the two men, while giving them the most insignificant of bows.
Both men replied, "Wickham," with rock-hard faces, which Lydia presumed meant Mr Darcy was still angry about whatever trifle it was that made him deny her George the living.
Just wanting to enjoy her triumph, she said, "Shall we begin. I am anxious to be the first married."
Mary gave her a look of disgust, which she ignored as usual, but then said enigmatically, "Not exactly, Lydia."
"What do you mean?" she asked in some confusion. The whole point or being in the church that morning was for her wedding. Nothing else made sense.
"Two things, really," Mary said with a frown. "First, if you had remembered any manners at all, you might be curious about your guests' identities."
"A bride is not expected to know all the guests, Mary. I can meet the gentleman afterwards."
"Lydia," Wickham snapped rather waspishly, showing that he was not really in much better humour than his bride, but at least understood the basic forms of propriety.
She looked at him, and he cocked an eyebrow.
"It is no matter," the other officer said. "Let us, just for the sake of tradition, pretend we can follow the proper forms. Wickham, may I request an introduction to this… lady."
The slight pause was like a hammer blow to anyone with an ounce of discernment, but Lydia did not notice at all.
Wickham complied with obvious frustration. He, at least, knew he was marrying an empty-headed fool, but his debts were substantial and heiresses thin on the ground.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I present Miss Lydia Bennet," without mentioning her status as his bride.
The colonel bowed properly, Lydia barely remembered to curtsy, and started to speak, only to be silenced by another squeeze on her arm by Wickham.
"Miss Lydia, Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of the Earl of Matlock and Darcy's cousin."
She noticed that the man was nowhere near as handsome as her beau but thought it must be nice to be the son of an Earl, and being a colonel was obviously better than a lieutenant.
"Delighted, colonel," she cooed, surprisingly flirtatiously, which left the colonel wincing and frowning.
She added, "I would love to speak more, but it is time to start our wedding."
Mary spoke softly, "As I said before, Lydia, not quite."
"Explain it," Lydia said, wanting to get whatever silliness Mary had planned over with. She imagined her sister wanted someone to give some sort of sermon like Mr Collins did, or perhaps lecture her from Fordyce, but whatever it was she wanted no part in it.
Mary said, "Certainly—Father has decreed that weddings should proceed in the order in which he bestowed his blessing."
"Well, I was the first engaged, so we shall start with me!"
"Not quite—you need to pay more attention," Elizabeth snapped angrily, apparently out of patience.
"What do you mean?" Lydia asked peevishly.
With a long-suffering sigh, Elizabeth took up the explanation, "It is true that you were the first to receive our father's consent, but you have yet to receive his blessing, and are unlikely ever to. You will have to wait your turn."
Then without waiting for a reply, Elizabeth looked at the other sisters. "Shall we proceed."
Much to Lydia's shock and consternation, Mary—Dour Mary, Ordinary Mary, Plain Old Dull Mary—gave the mysterious colonel a smile that would put Jane to shame, took his arm, and started walking towards the rector.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" Lydia wailed.
Jane replied, "Open your eyes, Lydia. Mary has our father's consent and blessing, so she will be wed first," before turning to join her sisters near the rector while Lydia looked on in horror.
As the parson started the ceremony with the traditional, "Dearly beloved," Lydia thought to stamp her feet and demand an explanation, but Wickham squeezed her arm even harder and leaned down to whisper angrily.
"I do not like this any more than you do, Lydia, but do not make a fuss. We need Darcy's help with my debts and new commission. Just think of the advantages. Miss Mary is the most gullible of your sisters and she will connect you to the Earl of Matlock. That will be good for us, so hold your tongue!" he snapped with a snarl.
Lydia did not think much of the snarl, but her sisters and aunt had been snarling at her for some time and she was unbowed, so she did not worry about it.
She spent the next half-hour watching plain old Mary wed, wondering how it came about and why everyone kept blathering on about how she ruined all the sisters. She had obviously not ruined Mary in the least—and in fact, since she was marrying an officer, it seemed certain Lydia had helped her, though Mary as usual would not show her appreciation.
Not a stranger to jealousy, Lydia spent some time seething about the fact that Mary was wearing a new, fashionable gown that looked better than the one Jane wore to the Netherfield ball, while she had an old day-dress she had taken from Brighton. Mary was wedding a colonel in the regulars and the son of an earl, while she was marrying a lieutenant in the militia and son of a steward. Mary was connecting herself to the Darcys, while she was connecting herself to an orphan.
That said, she talked herself out of that bit of peevishness by reflecting that her Wickham was three times as handsome as the colonel, and almost certainly ten times as fun.
The ceremony dragged by, with Wickham having to restrain her a few times. She amused herself by reflecting that Mary had chosen Lizzy as her witness, and that forced her elder sister to endure a half-hour beside the most disagreeable man she had ever met—dour Mr Darcy. She imagined it was torture, and she was happy she did not have to endure it.
When the church secretary brought out the wedding register, both ladies and both gentlemen signed it, and the deed was done. Mary Bennet was no more. The first Bennet married was now Mrs Mary Fitzwilliam, and it was finally Lydia's turn.
Chapter 5
Elizabeth was the first to embrace and kiss Mrs Fitzwilliam, and the first to offer fulsome congratulations, but only by a few seconds as the rest of the sisters (with one notable exception), crowded around to do the same.
She turned her gaze toward her youngest sister, trying to see how she was handling Mary's revenge.
She saw that Mr Wickham looked like he would happily wait all day (or until the end of time) to marry Lydia, while that worthy looked like she was confused, angry, and if Elizabeth's experience was anything to go on, about to throw a tantrum. Not particularly enamoured with the idea of enduring one, she looked at Lydia hard enough to peel paint from the wall behind her, and then glanced pointedly at Mary.
As oblivious as ever, Lydia continued pouting until her intended took her arm and basically manhandled her across the dozen yards that separated the groups.
Mr Wickham gave his congratulations in the most fulsome language, and Elizabeth wondered at his ability to charm. He still had all the appearance of a gentleman, and could say what he wished to say well, but with experience, she had learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. She was not the least bit enamoured with the idea of being related to him but needs must.
Lydia gave Mary the closest approximation of congratulations she could manage, and then waited as patiently as she possibly could, for as long as she possibly could, before saying, "I am truly happy for you Mary, and offer my fullest congratulations."
Mary gave her the benefit of the doubt, though nowhere near as politely as Jane might have. "Thank you, Lydia."
Lydia finally said, "May we NOW proceed with my nuptials?" in a voice she thought was sweet and polite but was mostly grating to everyone save Jane.
Elizabeth sighed. "In a moment, Lydia—there is other business to be done."
Then without another word, she turned toward the alter, and took the arm of Mr Darcy, who had been waiting patiently by her side.
Lydia belatedly noticed that he had been waiting closely by her side and was astonished when the two of them walked up in front of the rector, with Mary and the colonel behind them.
Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she saw the same four, though in opposition positions, as the familiar words, "Dearly beloved…" began yet again. She looked back and forth between all the sisters and noticed that she and Wickham were the only ones surprised. The rest all had happy, contented smiles on their faces, as if marrying Mr Darcy was a good thing!
She heard her beau mutter, "How in the devil…" followed by a string of curse words so bad she only knew three-quarters of them, and they both sat there with their mouths hanging open as the ceremony proceeded through yet another endlessly droning bit of tedium and mortification, wincing with every word, and wincing even harder at every glance between the couple that had them actually appearing besotted. Both were astonished, neither having believed Elizabeth could play a part so effortlessly just to be rich.
When it was done, they stood back in wonder and watched yet another of her sisters surrender her surname, then nearly choked in bile as the reverend beamed and introduced Mr and Mrs Darcy to the small company.
The congratulations flowed in with abundance, and it was all they could do to offer their own. Even though Lydia was not aware of the importance of the event, Wickham knew all too well that Darcy's honour was the only thing standing between him and his creditors, and thought being nice to his now future brother-in-law was the best part of valour.
He could hardly stand the insouciant grin on Fitzwilliam's face. He had always hated the colonel, although he had been ever so glad the previous summer that the man was crawling through the mud on the continent when he tried to elope with Georgiana Darcy. Darcy greeted him with a strongly worded letter, while the colonel would have greeted him with a strongly worded sword.
He was gratified to now comprehend the full import of why Darcy had agreed to finance his marriage and began to work out how he might take advantage of the connection—while, of course, avoiding the more violent tendencies of his other new connection.
Unable to keep a civil tongue in her head, Lydia said, "La, Lizzie, I would never have pictured you to marry a man who so slighted you for money."
She ended the question with a squeak when her groom pinched her hard enough to raise a bruise.
Elizabeth replied calmly, "That is where you are wrong, Lydia. I married him because I love him with all my heart. He did wrong, but he corrected his errors, and he is the best man I have ever known" she said with a steely look at Wickham that could not be mistaken.
"I applaud you on your nuptials, Mr Darcy… Mrs Darcy," Wickham said with an attempt at a let bygones be bygones tone that made Elizabeth want to borrow her new cousin's sword, but her new husband placed his hand on the small of her back and rubbed a couple of times, which so thoroughly distracted her she forgot her pique before it truly began.
Lydia started to speak, but then the back door opened, and everyone turned around.
A man of medium height ran across the shadows near the door with a paper in his hand and came to a skidding halt in front of the assemblage, bowing and grinning.
"Just in time. I assume you have it," Darcy said with a surprisingly handsome looking smile, which nobody in Meryton had ever witnessed before.
Much to Lydia's shock, she saw that the man was Mr Bingley, and he was waving around a paper.
"Yes, just barely. I was afraid I might be late. I underestimated my sisters' resolve to impede my progress, though their machinations did not slow me for long."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" Lydia screamed, to which everyone in the company, including the very stern looking rector who had joined them unnoticed.
Wickham hissed at her, and the others looked at the pair of them, probably all reflecting that they deserved each other.
The rector put his hand out and took the paper, looked at it for only a moment, then said, "Time marches on, ladies and gentlemen."
With that, Jane put on a beatific smile, matched by Elizabeth, and oddly enough, Mr Darcy. Without hesitation, she took Mr Bingley's arm and walked toward the front. Darcy and Lizzie followed behind, and just like in a nightmare where you live some nonsensical sequence over and over with the characters changing slightly between scenes, they repeated yet another 'Dearly beloved' with two from the previous incarnation.
Another ceremony ticked by in agonizing silence as Lydia seethed that even though she was the first engaged, she would be the fourth married… almost dead last.
Another half-hour saw yet another depredation in the average amiability of the Bennet family, coupled with a corresponding increase in the Bingleys.
The signing of the wedding register, and the introduction of Mrs Bingley was proceeding apace, when the door opened yet again.
Lydia finally stomped her foot at the interruption that time, and Wickham had to speak to her even more sternly than before. Her antics were doing them no good, and he was wondering how long it would take him to teach her how to hold her temper.
He leaned down and said, "We need to live by my motto, Lydia—Bide your time and hold your fire."
She looked at him in confusion, and he added, "Revenge is a dish best served cold. Your antics do us no good. Save your ire for when it can be put to good use. They will get their comeuppance, but not today!"
She spent some considerable time trying to work her way through it, which was all to his purpose. His position was precarious enough without her throwing a tantrum.
Lydia finally calmed down just in time to see Kitty appear on the arm of Jason Goulding. Lydia knew the Goulding's third son had carried a torch for her sister for some years, and she had done as much as possible to thwart him. She knew he was the son of a gentleman, but a poor one, who had opted to go into trade like her Uncle Gardiner. He was not worthy of a Bennet, according to her mother.
The pair appeared, and Mr Gardiner gave a frown worthy of a gorgon at the lack of a chaperone.
Jane, ever the appeaser, said, "Well met, Master Goulding—or I imagine you would be Mister Goulding now."
Everyone looked at him askance, while Mr Gardiner said, "When I left you alone at Gracechurch Street, this was not what I had in mind, Kitty."
"I know, Uncle, but…" and then she could not quite finish.
Mr Goulding said, "I hate to interrupt, Mr Gardiner, but I crossed paths with Mr Bennet on the way here, and I have his consent."
"His consent to what exactly?"
"To marry Miss Catherine, of course. I took a position three months ago, and was just working up my nerve when I heard about… the… ah…"
He clearly ran out of pleasant ways to say what he needed to in mixed company, and Mary took pity on him.
"You heard about our disgrace and …"
He straightened his back and stood taller. "Yes, I heard about it, and decided it was my chance. Let us be honest—a third son would have to have a position for several years to even be considered, but… well…"
Gardiner frowned, but Darcy stepped in with quiet authority.
"Mr Gardiner, while one could argue that Mister Goulding is taking advantage of a bad situation to gain what might otherwise be an unattainable alliance, I might offer a different perspective. I have recently been properly humbled, and I suspect I can understand the man and his motives."
"You have the floor, Mr Darcy," Gardiner said, though not with very much enthusiasm.
He turned to Goulding and asked, "I presume you did not know about Miss Lydia's pending nuptials when you spoke to Mr Bennet?"
"No, sir. I did not—and that gentleman ah… neglected to mention it."
Darcy continued, "And even with the disgrace of the family, you chose to take your chances."
"Kitty is worth it, sir. I notice you seem to be quite close to Miss Elizabeth, so I presume you understand."
"Mrs Darcy," Elizabeth said with a smile.
"Congratulations, ma'am…" he said, not backing down an inch. He looked around and said, "May I presume I missed the introduction of Mrs Bingley, and perhaps even…"
Mary gave him a smile, "Mrs Fitzwilliam, at your service."
"My pleasure, madam."
Mary continued, "As untoward as the question sounds, Mr Goulding, are you being mercenary or gallant."
"I would like to say the latter, Mrs Fitzwilliam, bit it is not for me to say."
Elizabeth started to ask something but was interrupted by Kitty. Her voice was soft and very un-Lydia-like, but it sounded quite strong.
"Is anyone going to bother asking my opinion?"
"Of course… Catherine. What is your opinion?"
She looked around and said, "You may all think me too young, and too silly… even though you are allowing my far stupider sister to marry a bounder!"
Wickham bristled, but Kitty paid him no mind.
"I know I am full young, but I have known Simon all my life. He is a good man, and always has been. I never entertained any hopes I could attract him, what with Mama and Lydia driving off even Jane's beaus…"
"I DO NOT!" Lydia hissed, but Elizabeth and Mary stared at her until she subsided.
Kitty said, "This morning, I was desperate. Now, I can see I no longer need be, but I believe I have found my knight in shining armour. I can honestly say that I am the only woman here who has known her beau for more than a few weeks or months, and I think I am as ready to make my own decisions as any of you. I am certainly as ready as Mary was a quarter-hour after meeting her husband."
"Are you saying you wish to marry, Kitty… er… Catherine?" Uncle Gardiner asked.
"I am. Simon has asked, I have answered, he has my father's consent and blessing. The only thing stopping us from marrying this minute is that we cannot afford the license."
Gardiner just shook his head, but Darcy said, "Gardiner… a moment of your time."
The two men stepped aside to speak quietly, though they did not seem to get more than a few words before their wives joined them and were welcomed into the circle.
They returned a moment later, and Darcy said, "A common license only costs a couple of pounds Mr Goulding, but it carries a seven day wait. You can cancel that with a £100 deposit. My wife and I make that our gift to you if you are certain. Keep in mind, you are perfectly able to court openly now that Miss Lydia's shame is being addressed."
"Like you were openly courting Lizzie in Lambton?" Kitty said with an edge to her voice.
"Point taken," Darcy said with a laugh, which his wife joined in.
"Show me what you have," the rector said, and Simon hurried to join him.
With a long-suffering sigh, he said, "With Mr Darcy's generous gift, we can perform the ceremony now.
Lydia growled in frustration, and then even more frustration when Elizabeth took it upon herself to pull the couple to the side and question Simon in some depth about his prospects. Darcy stood by and observed, neither hurrying her along nor impeding her interrogation. The questioning went on endlessly, or at least for a quarter-hour before Elizabeth was satisfied.
With a smile and a kiss on the cheek, she bade the couple forward, and sent Mr and Mrs Bingley to stand with them.
Lydia ground her teeth and wanted to throw something at someone but was cheered by one thought.
She was out of sisters, so even though she would not be first, she was seven years younger than Jane, and she would be married youngest.
Mama would be proud!
Chapter 6
Half an hour later, the rector sounded somewhat exhausted as he introduced Mr and Mrs Goulding to the congregation.
Lydia was bouncing up and down with frustration as the other sisters returned to the group, all giving Kitty heartfelt congratulations, while Mr and Mrs Darcy offered something that sounded suspiciously like accommodation at Darcy House for their wedding night, and a trip to the seaside for a wedding trip.
"FINALLY!" she said, and all her sisters looked at her surprisingly grimly. "My turn!"
Elizabeth glanced at the clock, and said, "Fitzwilliam, though I loath the idea of a dispute on our wedding day, I feel honour bound to bring up a thought I had. You will not like it!"
"Feel free, my love," he said grimly.
Elizabeth frowned, and finally said, "I know you are a man of honour, and that you love me with all your heart. That is why you so generously offered to dig this bounder out of his debts to save me and my sisters."
Darcy's happy mood seemed to evaporate, but he just said, "Go on."
She took his arm. "You did that so my sisters would all be able to marry without being tainted by Lydia's scandal. In fact, we all were willing enough to tie our sister, who is selfish and stupid but not evil, to this reprobate for the rest of her miserable life…"
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Lydia screamed, and advanced on her hated elder sister with fire in her eyes, only to be held back by her groom grabbing her by both arms and pulling her back forcefully.
He said through gritted teeth, "This does not seem to be the way to start a good marriage, Mrs Darcy."
She scoffed, "As if anyone could have a good marriage with a man like you."
Darcy said, "Go on, my love," through his own gritted teeth.
Elizabeth sighed and faced her sister while the others looked at her with anxiety. Lydia had tried to ruin their lives, but most though they had achieved sufficient revenge for one day. It had all worked out well enough.
Elizabeth said, "It occurs to me, that if you look around, your generosity is a solution in search of a problem."
"WHAT!" Lydia and Wickham yelled simultaneously in a perfect exhibition of synchronicity of manner.
Darcy looked at her carefully. "Yes, the marital prospects for your sisters seems to be a solved problem… and yet…"
Lydia yelled, "YOU LIE! YOU CHEAT! Just like you did with the living," and made another attempt to break free of Wickham to exact some sort of revenge.
Elizabeth held Darcy back from snapping and said far more gently than the outburst deserved. "Lydia, you will hate me for a while, but thank me in the end. I have seen Mr Wickham's signature on the documents where he signed away all rights to the living because he asked for and received £3,000. My husband does not lie, and he does not break agreements—EVER. His word is his bond."
Wickham said stridently, "Yes, his word is his bond. We signed an agreement! I would marry Lydia for £6,000."
Lydia gasped in shock and transferred her ire in his direction momentarily, but for once in her life had nothing to say.
Elizabeth said, "Yes, you did."
Darcy said, "I cannot go back on my word, Elizabeth. Regardless of what Wickham is or does, I am a gentleman, and my word must be sacrosanct. I will not back out."
She looked to see if he was angry with her, but she only saw regret. "As I said, I have seen Mr Wickham's signature on several documents, including the agreement sitting in Uncle Gardiner's folio over there. Shall I show it to you Lydia?"
Jane, ever the peacemaker, said, "Lizzie, it seems they are going to be married. Is this really the best way to give Lydia some small chance at contentment?"
"Trust me, Jane!" Elizabeth said, and she stopped talking.
Wickham, seeing that Darcy really did not way to pay any more than he ever had, but also realizing his sense of honour would be his downfall, as always, said, "Well Darcy, what will it be. Will you honour your commitment or not?"
Elizabeth pre-empted his answer, saying, "Of course, he will abide his agreement. He shook hands, even though I am certain he had to scrub it for a half hour to get the stench off; but when dealing with a duplicitous snake like you, he also had it signed and witnessed. Shall we view the documents."
Wickham grinned in triumph. "I know what it says. Let us get on with it."
Elizabeth said, "You should pay more attention to details, Mr Wickham."
Darcy said, "The documents are clear enough, Elizabeth," with a frown.
She gave a wicked smile, turned leaned back into his chest, and said, "The document says that you will pay the money if he marries Lydia today."
"Yes, I did not want to chase him around the country for months with him demanding more and more each time. I keep my word, but Wickham does not."
Elizabeth smiled wickedly. "Marriage in England is governed by the Rules of the Church of England, as delineated in the Book of Common Prayer. Except in the case of a special license, marriages are to be held in a church between eight in the morning and noon. It is now quarter after twelve, and the parson already left for the day."
"WHAT!" Wickham and Lydia yelled in unison.
Elizabeth turned to them with a stern expression. "Mr. Wickham, I propose that if you truly want to marry my sister, you may do so properly. I am certain my husband will pay your debts to merchants regardless, but I doubt he will wish to pay debts of honour unless forced. Come back Monday, and we will see you suitably wed."
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEFFFHHHHHHHHHHHHH" came from Lydia in a high-pitched squeal.
Elizabeth felt very nervous until her husband chuckled in her ear and gave her waist a squeeze, promising more to follow.
Darcy laughed, "Well, I believe my wife has a good suggestion. Come back Monday, Wickham."
"You CANNOT believe I would marry this brat for less than £6,000 Darcy. I was being generous settling for less than ten!"
Darcy simply said, "I thank you for showing your true colours," while Lydia collapsed in the floor in a puddle of screaming tears.
Wickham turned towards the doors, and Darcy casually said, "By the way, Wickham, the O'Malley brothers were rather insistent on payment. They are waiting out front, so I suppose you can tell them you will pay them later on the way by."
Wickham turned back, his eyes big as saucers and foam forming on his lips and took off at a dead run for the back of the church. He had just ducked out the back door when the air was rent with an ear-piercing scream.
Darcy looked confused, and said calmly, "Oh bother, did I say front? How clumsy of me. The O'Malley brothers have never stood in front of a church in their lives. I do occasionally get front and back confused."
Elizabeth laughed gaily, then turned around and gave him a kiss entirely proper for a new bride, though hardly so for their present location. That said, Mrs Fitzwilliam was the only one among them likely to be enough of a stickler to object, but she found herself… otherwise occupied.
Jane whispered to Mr Bingley, and said, "We will take care of Lydia."
Mrs Gardiner stepped forward, "Not on your wedding day. Leave her to us. We will see to her needs and inform your parents of what has transpired. I will see you all in a week or so."
None of the newly wed couples needed a second suggestion, and the church cleared as it were on fire.
Darcy house was busting at the seems for the next week with four couples trying their best to not be underfoot from each other—although, to be fair, most of them spent most of their time in their chambers so conflicts were practically non-existent.
Georgiana was welcomed back into the fold two days later and found herself thrilled beyond measure to meet four out of five of her new sisters. As for sisters, Mrs Bingley showed off her innate kindness by barring her husband's sisters from the house, purely to spare them the wrath of one or the other of her new brothers in law.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner were welcomed with alacrity and plans were made for a house party at Pemberley as soon as it might be arranged.
It was quite some time before Lydia was welcomed back into the fold, but she was eventually returned, much chastened, to society. The well was thoroughly poisoned in Hertfordshire, and nobody wanted her too close to their new homes, so Mrs Darcy eventually took pity on her and introduced her in Bath, where she eventually found a decent enough husband.
When the inevitable squabbles and vagaries of life intruded, or one of the family members felt slighted enough to seek revenge, they always fell back on their old motto:
The best revenge is living well!