Chapter 21

Mr. King arrived in Meryton at eleven o'clock the next morning. The stage had been delayed by an hour, making the travel more uncomfortable. Lydia and Kitty observed him from the baker's shop stumbling out, lodging himself through the narrow carriage door. The footman up on top indifferently tossed his trunk to the street. Snow had almost completely melted, but whatever was left turned the streets of Meryton to mire. It was already an inauspicious beginning for his little niece and her guardians. Sir William, who happened to be passing nearby, assisted the gouty stranger, listening to his grievances of travel with forbearance.

"I'd be afraid of him too if I were Miss King," mumbled Kitty.

"Silly and pompous old man. If the public coach is so intolerable, he ought to have hired a curricle himself. I just thought had an idea! Jane and Lizzy are due to return in a month's time. They'll have to change horses at Bromley anyway. Why don't we order the carriage that day, and go meet them there!"

"That's a great idea! We could take lunch at one of the inns."

Capital scheme, but for one exception. It did not occur to Kitty until later that Lydia proposed treating their sisters to a little outing without a second thought who was going to pay for it. Being now in possession of her allowance of fifteen pounds, she was less keen to spend it so quickly, not so soon in the year. True to his word, Lydia had no allowance. Any funds she carried now were what little Mrs. Bennet secretly slipped into her hand. No more than a few shillings here and there, her surplus from household expenses.

"I nearly forgot! Come Kitty, we must hurry."

"Where are we going?"

"I want to ask Uncle Phillips—Oh, I see Richard! I'm surprised he's lasted so long. Uncle Phillips was so put out about something or other last autumn. Perhaps, he'll know."

"Know what?"

"Uncle Phillips is supposed to find out when our dear militia are decamping. Oh Richard!" Both girls could compete with frogs, so gracefully they leapt over puddles and preserved their skirts from utter ruin in their trivial hurry to catch their uncle's clerk.

Overnight, Mary had become indisposed and lay resting long after everyone rose. Thankfully, there was still enough tonic to be had, but there was no way to avoid thinking of it by its real name: laudanum. Following the proper dose that Captain Carter suggested, she waited until the necessary relief came. It was a curse but a blessing, during such times, that the militia were still in Hertfordshire to entertain her younger sisters; she had the room to herself. When pain subsided, so also the nausea. She would attempt to take up her latest book and read, take her mind off the present discomfort. Even reading became a trial for her head, however. Laudanum did dull the pain, and also softened her head from the inside. Her eyes eventually blurred to prevent any attempts of reading altogether. Sarah did once offer to read to her, but listening meant there must be sound. Sound did her little good then.

The next day saw some improvement. At least, she could sit up and read comfortably. Mary particularly paid attention not to turn head or her eyes suddenly. Any movement was slow and methodical. All the mint tea from downstairs helped retain the meager contents of her stomach. Mrs. Bennet had learned after years of trial and error, to keep her breakfast or supper tray rather sparse of food but overgenerous with tea. That was the command to cook and scullery maid. Hill brought up bread and butter with the tea, and a promise for the thousandth time, that she would bring up anything else if Mary wanted it.

To appease any concerns, and having benefited from the mint, she began to nibble on the bread by one in the afternoon. The slices had gone cold, but it was a fresh batch. Soft, creamy, a bit flaky on the crust—the best of it. Such a plain taste yet so simple and fortifying. No sudden, evil turns of the stomach followed these bites. Before long, she'd done with one slice and felt a tiny eagerness for the next, when Lydia and Kitty entered.

"Mrs. Forster wishes to give this party before the regiment leaves Meryton." Lydia, in the middle of news, rambled on. "This is the sort of thing I wish that Mr. Bingley were still at Netherfield. He might be able to throw a ball in honour of their departure. Aside from the usual card tables, she talked about doing some charades for the company. As soon as she said as much, I already had a hundred ideas about charades we might perform!"

Mary had to put both hands over her ears before using her own voice. "Lydia, do you mind?" she groaned.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Let's talk about it downstairs," whispered Kitty. "Can we ring for Sarah to bring you anything?"

"… Since you've asked, I do need some more water for the wash bowl."

"How about some more tea? It couldn't hurt."

"That will be fine. I think I might like a little more bread too."

Instead of ringing the bell, which almost happened, Kitty wisely refrained and stepped out to fetch the maid herself.

"I've never had what you do." Lydia sat down on her own bed. One of those rare moments, except for church, when she could sit and be composed of her own free will. "I do get headaches sometimes during my miseries. But I've never gotten to be where I'm so sensitive to sound."

"That is fortunate for you."

"But this is an improvement. At least, with Mr. Jones' tonic, you're no longer in agonies. Usually, it's really bad the first few days."

"Yes… I know. It's certainly helped, but it doesn't cure it. It does worsen the nausea."

"Maybe you're trying too hard," shrugged Lydia.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're fighting it so much, it's making you feel worse. Mama's advice, especially when the tenants' wives are pregnant, is to purge the stomach. Just get it over with, and you feel better afterward—"

"Lydia... not the time for such advice."

"Well, it's just a thought. I'm sure it sounds logical, but I cannot stand being sick myself. You should see Kitty after she rides in the carriage, especially when the roads are in this state. She's hardly fit to stand—"

"Kitty! Lydia! Are you home?"

A voice from outside came distinctly through the open window. Lydia rushed over to find Miss Watson waving to her from the drive. Bubbly and wide-eyed, struggling to catch her breath after running all the way from Lucas Lodge.

"What on earth? What's the matter, Emma!" Mary vainly protested against the yelling.

"Have you heard the news yet?"

"What news! I haven't heard from my uncle yet!"

"It's unbelievable, Lydia! Mary King and Mr. Wickham have broken off their engagement!"

"WHAT!" Even through covered ears, her sister heard everything loud and clear. Her sister stood with mouth agape, unable to repress the emotions rushing through. All emotions of relief and delight. "Will you come inside? I want to hear all!"

In a rush and on a wave of happiness, Lydia closed the window. She did not hear Mary's weak-voiced request to please open it back up again.

"Lord, what a turn of events. I must know all!" Lydia almost collided with Kitty at the bedroom door. Too overcome for explanation, she grabbed Kitty's hand and simply bid her to follow. The door was banged closed. When she had steeled herself enough, and unable to wait for Sarah, Mary slowly got up from bed, trodding over to open it herself. A few seconds of warm air might make the difference between calm and upset stomach. It was a lovely day in spring. She could easily wear the sleeveless nightgown comfortably and forego her winter stockings now. It also made it easier for her to sleep with the window open at nights.

By the time she'd got it back open, unfortunately, it was too late. Nausea had returned with a vengeance. Steady or unsteady, she kept a hand to her mouth until she made it back to the wash bowl.

"Ring the bell for tea, Kitty!" demanded Lydia, practically flying into the drawing room. Miss Watson had been admitted in due course, with Kitty shouting back, bidding her not to say a word until all of them were seated. Bonnet was scarcely off her head.

"Heavens, what a commotion in town!" she panted. "I just came from the mercantile. I'd stopped at Lucas Lodge to see if Maria has returned yet."

"She's not due back for another month," replied Kitty. "She'll be accompanying our sister back from Kent."

"Yes, yes, enough of that. Emma, you must tell us all! What happened?"

"I just came from visiting with Mrs. Barnes, and Mary King herself. Oh dear… So it all began last night. Mr. King arrived yesterday on the public stage, rather out of humour too. They were relaying the details about the wedding and reception for afterwards. Before they were finished, he started asking a dozen questions about Mr. Wickham. How long had they known each other? How soon were they engaged after their initial acquaintance? Such things. Then, he started asking: where does he come from? What family does he have? How long has he been with the regiment? What is his character?"

"That doesn't bode well," said Kitty.

"No indeed. He spoke with the whole family for awhile, then he spoke to Mary separately that evening. It was understood that Mr. Wickham had been summoned to meet Mr. King, just this morning. The men spoke privately for nearly an hour. Well, I don't know if it was the whole time… I understand there was some back and forth. Whether Mary got a chance to see Wickham, I don't know."

"How can you not know?" huffed Lydia. "You just came from seeing her."

"Well, be patient. I'm getting to the rest of it."

Hill brought in the tea things. Sarah was busy enough running upstairs to attend Mary. There was an irritable inquiry from her whether they wanted anything else. All three waited for her departure to resume, in guilty silence.

"Anyway, I happened to be at the mercantile, placing an order for some new china for the family. My mother and I already picked it out. Who should I see at that moment but Mr. Wickham himself, leaving the Barnes' house. Their interview had just concluded. The door was slammed behind him!"

Both Bennet girls gasped.

"No!" Lydia, with a hand on her heart, reacted with a sympathy. "How was Mr. Wickham?"

"He looked rather out of sorts, maybe angry, though rather hurt if you ask me. I did not speak to him. I couldn't bear to stop him and ask. I just casually and innocently walked over to the house, after waiting a few minutes, so as not to make my calling seem suspicious. Mrs. Barnes admitted me into the parlour, asked me to wait there. Then, Mary came downstairs… The poor girl. She's inconsolable."

"Oh no!" reacted Kitty.

"Just genuinely heartbroken."

"What a shame…"

"Terrible."

"What happened? Why?" begged Lydia.

"Mr. King expressed grave disapproval of Mr. Wickham, but he refused to tell Mary his exact reasons. He called Wickham a fortune-hunter, a scheming, clever fellow. 'And you fell for it all,' he told her. He berated her aunt and uncle for having allowed this attachment to develop. He scolded her for not having better sense than to be taken in love by the first officer to court her notice. Even he had the audacity, to speak in contempt of her late grandfather who bequeathed her his fortune. Just abominable!"

"What a horrid man!" Suddenly, they remembered the tea tray, and Kitty began serving Miss Watson her cup.

"I say, though I do not know the circumstances, that Mr. King has reason to be sour. Perhaps he thinks he ought to have been the beneficiary, and not his young niece."

"What else happened?" wondered Kitty.

"Well, before she could tell me much, poor Mary was just melting in her own tears. She did mention that Mr. King had heard some things about Mr. Wickham from another part of the country. What exactly those rumours are, she did not tell me. Even he would not disclose them to her."

"That's awful fast," surmised Lydia. "How did he come to Meryton in ignorance, only just yesterday, and today wake up with reports from another part of the country? That doesn't make sense."

"Seems to me like Mr. King had his suspicions beforehand. Either that, or something arrived late in the post. That's the only conclusion I can make of it."

"Poor Mary, what a shame," repeated Kitty. "And they were only a month away from the wedding. They've not even had the banns read in church yet."

"But they already gave orders to the mercantile, and the dressmakers. She is still waiting for the clothes for her trousseau." With a sigh and a head shake, Emma carried on: "Poor, poor girl. I'd die of shame for getting engaged and then have it all called off."

Lydia finally allowed herself a shrug. "Well, calling it all off yourself is one thing. Having your parents or guardian break off your engagement is the ultimate humiliation. How will she ever show her face in town again?"

"Before I left the Barnes', she told me that her uncle has decided to take her away. Take her with him back to Liverpool. He wants to put her into a girl's school to complete her unfinished education. They're to leave by the end of the week."

"What a turn of events… So, did she say whether or not she'll see Wickham again?"

"I highly doubt it."

"What were her feelings about the rumours?" asked Kitty. "Did Mr. King persuade her to give him up or is she still in love with him?"

"No question about that. This was certainly not her choice. She's still very much in love with him. Haven't you seen them together? She just adored his company. Always hanging on his arm and every word. It was a little sickening at times. Still, I'd never seen her so happy and cheerful. Mrs. Barnes thought so highly of him. Thought him so sweet and caring of Mary. The only way she might possibly salvage the situation is if she can meet with him, and if they decide to elope."

"Elope?" echoed Lydia.

"Having seen what has taken place so far, I don't know if Mr. King will let Mary out of the house. They'll leave next Monday. We may have a brief chance to see her at church before she leaves."

"If she will be seen in public after this."

"I'd like to give her a little farewell party, but it won't be possible. She's in very low spirits. I don't think she'd like a party."

"Poor Wickham… He must be taking it rather hard."

"We shall have to wait and see what comes of this next week."

"Emma, I think we know Mary King well enough. She's a timid, little mouse. If she's been forbidden from seeing Wickham, she hasn't the gumption to fight back."

Precisely that moment, Mrs. Bennet entered the drawing room, and the story was repeated, with less detail and ceremony. Her reaction was similar to her daughters, one of shock. The tale was relayed with generalized detail, making the actions and words of Mr. King out to be more cruel than practical. Mr. Wickham was blameless. Mary King was greatly to be pitied. Mr. King was a man with a heart of stone. But above all, it was most shocking to hear dear Wickham so ill-used, by the uncle and Miss King. How could a girl give up a man she cherished so easily as that? Her girls concurred.

Probably time I brew some more coffee. Definitely more of a filler chapter, but it's one of those insignificant events in the background of the novel that we never are around to see. Even though we are not the mean gossiper like Lydia, I am that type of person to say: Hold that thought! Wait until we sit down with our coffee, and then let's have it.