Hello my dears! I am back again with a new story for your reading pleasure. I really hope you enjoy this newest variation, where I've turned the "Elizabeth is not a Bennet" trope on it's head ... and made her a Bingley! This is actually the second story I've started since finishing Husbands 2, but I reached a solid block on the first, so here I am with another of my 80+ P&P ideas, lol. This one is flowing better and I have a few chapters written, so I thought it time I begin sharing them with all of you, as I value your feedback ever so much.
For those of you who have been reading The Safe House and patiently waiting for an update, I promise you I have not forgotten or abandoned that story. It is simply on hold until I am in a more comfortable financial position where I can afford to focus on it. I do hope to reward your kindness and patience with a new chapter soon, though - the next chapter is partially written, I just have to get it over the finish line!
And now onto Elizabeth being a Bingley sister...
Chapter One
"No! You cannot mean that!"
Elizabeth Bingley stood before the makeshift desk of her uncle, General George Halsey, with her hands fisted on her hips in a posture of astonished defiance.
The general released a deep breath through his nose, which signaled his own frustration. "Lizzy, my dear, you cannot stay here any longer. Not without protection."
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "Have I not the whole of your regiment for protection?" she argued.
"I mean the protection of your reputation, and you know it," said Halsey. "Without your aunt to serve as your chaperone, it is not safe for you to remain in a camp full of men."
Elizabeth's aunt, Elinor Bingley Halsey, was the wife of the general—or she had been until a fever had taken her from them only the week before. Mrs. Halsey, like many an army wife before her, had decided to "follow the drum" and join her husband in the field. Elizabeth had always considered her father's sister her most intimate friend and had gone to live with her after the tragic accident that had killed her parents. Thus, she was able to join Mrs. Halsey in going to Spain when the year of mourning for Mr. and Mrs. Bingley was done; an unusual arrangement, as those that followed England's army as they campaigned around the continent were typically only wives, women of ill repute, and boys and men looking to find a place among them in any capacity they could.
For four years, the arrangement that Elizabeth's older sisters had called "ridiculous" and "madness itself" had worked out well. Being a member of the regiment general's household had offered Elizabeth protection from being treated ill by the camp soldiers, as had pitching in to do the work the wives did for their husbands—the ladies looked after her whenever the general could not, and woe betide any young man that treated Elizabeth as anything other than a lady.
It was long suspected by her aunt and uncle, and the other wives, that Elizabeth would settle down with a soldier from a good family—she was, after all, adventurous enough to follow the drum herself when she was not yet married. She was not afraid of hard work or the sometimes-harsh conditions they lived under and could always be counted on for a smile and a kind word by the men in the medical tents. Indeed, there were many young officers who admired her, and why should they not? Elizabeth was a very pretty girl with dark eyes, chestnut curls, a bright smile, and wit that went on for miles.
She also had a dowry of twenty thousand pounds, which was quite the inducement to many an impoverished young ensign or lieutenant.
But Elizabeth, however, had shown no particular interest in anyone. She had merely kept her aunt company and immersed herself in her work until she fell into an exhausted sleep each night.
"One of my best men will escort you to the port at Marín," General Halsey continued. "Mrs. Martin will go along as chaperone until you reach home."
Elizabeth lifted her arms to cross them. "If one of the regiment's cooks can look after me on the journey to England, why can she not do the same here?"
Her uncle drew a breath to speak, seemed to think better of it, then blew it out again on a sigh. "Elizabeth, pray do not argue any further. I am having enough difficulty getting through the day knowing my wife is dead—I could not even bury her in her native soil. I will not take the chance of having to do the same with you. I should never have allowed you to join her here. The battlefield is no place for a gentlewoman."
"But I'm not a gentlewoman, remember?" Elizabeth retorted. "My father was a tradesman, like his father before him."
"Aye, but you could be, Lizzy!" her uncle cried as he lightly pounded a fist on the desk. "I simply cannot understand why you would wish to remain among all this violence and tragedy when you could be living a life of genteel luxury back home."
Elizabeth scoffed. "Because that life has never appealed to me as it did my sisters or my brother," she replied. "Like Papa was, and Grandpapa, I'm not afraid of hard work."
"And do you truly think that managing a household, raising children, and keeping a husband happy is not hard work?" said Halsey with a chuckle. "I am sure if you were to ask any wife of the ton back home, they would tell you they work harder than their husbands."
After holding his gaze for a full minute, Elizabeth sighed in resignation. "You're not going to back down, are you?"
Halsey shook his head. "I am not," said he.
"But Uncle, will you not be terribly lonely out here by yourself?" she asked.
The elder man, his dark brown hair peppered with grey, smiled at her, and though she was sure he did not mean to convey it, his was an expression full of sadness, for he had loved Elinor deeply.
"Lizzy, how can I call myself lonely when I am surrounded by hundreds of men and the few wives that remain among us?" he asked.
Elizabeth shook her head, then lowered her arms and rounded the desk to embrace him tightly.
"I will miss you terribly," she said into his chest. "And I will pray that Aunt Elinor and God will have care of you."
The general chuckled again as he returned her embrace. "I do not doubt God has already put your aunt to the task—or she has taken it upon herself—to keep me out of trouble."
After another tight squeeze, Elizabeth stood back and sighed. "If I must go, and be escorted by one of your soldiers, at least let it be someone amusing. It shall be a dreadful journey to the port city and then on to England if I am to travel with someone who is wretchedly dull."
At this, her uncle laughed fully. "Now Lizzy, you make it sound like your leaving is a punishment."
"It certainly feels like it," she muttered.
Halsey shook his head and reached for the bell on his desk. An instant after he'd given it a ring, his batman stepped through the flap of his tent.
"Yes, General?" said the young man.
"Go and fetch Colonel Fitzwilliam for me," the general replied.
The young man saluted and replied, "At once, sir," before turning smartly and departing.
"Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam—I like him," remarked Elizabeth.
"Do you, now?" queried her uncle.
She laughed and playfully swatted his arm. "Not like that, Uncle!" she cried softly. "You know perfectly well—as he has lamented it often enough—that Colonel Fitzwilliam is a second son and must marry a rich heiress."
"You do not think twenty thousand pounds will be enough for him?"
Elizabeth scoffed. "For an earl's son? I daresay the minimum price is fifty thousand."
At that moment, there was a scratch on the heavy canvas flap of the tent, then Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped in. Theodore was his Christian name, he was the second son of the Earl of Disley, aged about nine-and-twenty years, and though rather plain of face, his lively manner and easy conversation made him an ideal companion for the days ahead.
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised a curious eyebrow on taking in the presence of Elizabeth, then stood at attention and saluted his commanding officer.
"You wished to see me, General?" he asked.
"Aye, I've an assignment for you," General Halsey replied as he lowered himself into his chair. "As you are well aware, my dear lady wife passed away a week ago. Due to that unfortunate circumstance, our niece can no longer safely remain among the regiment."
Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth knew, had long believed she did not belong there in the first place. He had never been rude about it, but firmly expressed not long after they'd first become acquainted that he believed a young lady's place was at home, not in a camp full of soldiers in the midst of a protracted war.
The colonel nodded. "Aye, sir," said he. "Do I presume too much in asking if my assignment is to escort Miss Bingley home?"
"You do not," Halsey replied. "You will see Lizzy safely to her brother's door in London, or you will die trying. Of course, as the allied armies hold this part of Spain, I don't foresee much difficulty in reaching Marín."
"Who is to travel with us as Miss Bingley's chaperone?"
"Mrs. Martin is to look after me," Elizabeth replied.
Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Oh, the lads won't be too happy about that, sir. She's our best cook."
"She's also a widow who lost her husband to the same blasted fever that took my Elinor," said Halsey.
Fitzwilliam's expression sobered. "Aye. We lost many a good man to that bloody fever."
"That we did," the general conceded. "Now, we've a supply caravan leaving at first light tomorrow. I suggest the both of you get packed and get as much sleep as you are able."
"Aye, sir," said Fitzwilliam, who turned to depart, then looked back and asked, "Begging your pardon, General, but am I to return to Spain once my assignment is ended?"
"No. You've some leave coming up, you might as well make use of it. Take the time to see your family," said Halsey. "Oh, and stop by here before you go tomorrow, I've some letters to write that I wish you to carry to the war office for me."
The colonel nodded and snapped to attention, saluting once more before he quit the tent. Elizabeth looked down at her uncle with another sigh. "Will I see you again before I go?" she asked.
"Only if you accompany Colonel Fitzwilliam when he comes for the letters I need to write," the general replied.
"Very well, I shall see that I do," said Elizabeth before she leaned down to touch her lips to her uncle's temple. "Try not to stay up too late, Uncle. You need to sleep, too."
"I will try, dear Lizzy."
Elizabeth shook her head and smiled, knowing as she walked out of the command tent that he would not see his bed until well after midnight.
-...-
The following morning, Elizabeth met Colonel Fitzwilliam on the path to the command tent.
"Good morning, Colonel," said she.
Fitzwilliam paused long enough to bow. "Good morning, Miss Bingley."
Elizabeth smiled as they turned to walk together. "One thing I shall be glad of in returning to England is that I will no longer be 'Miss Bingley.'"
"Oh?" said her companion. "Have you a beau waiting to marry you back home?"
She laughed. "Hardly. I only mean that one of my elder sisters is still unmarried, and when we are together again, she will be Miss Bingley and I shall be Miss Elizabeth again. I am looking forward to it."
The colonel harrumphed. "When I am at long last retired, I shall still be Colonel Fitzwilliam," said he. "I fear I've been too long under this title to recognize any other—and it is a privilege of an officer to retain his rank as a courtesy upon leaving the army when he does so on good terms."
They arrived then at the command tent, where Elizabeth scratched at the hard flap.
"Come in," came her uncle's gruff voice in reply.
Glancing to the side of the tent for confirmation, where a simple cot had been placed that looked quite rumpled, Elizabeth shook her head and tutted. "I knew it—you slept here again, didn't you?"
"If you can call it sleep, my dear," he said, his bleary eyes looking like they wished only to fall closed. "Fitzwilliam, step back out and tell my man to fetch another pot of coffee for me, will you?"
"Aye, sir," said the colonel, who moved to do as asked while Elizabeth walked around the desk. She leaned her hip on the arm of her uncle's chair as she slid an arm around his shoulders.
"Second pot or third?" she asked, eyeing the metal coffee pot on the desk.
"The next will be the second," General Halsey murmured, before rubbing his face with his hands and looking up at her. "Forgive me for not coming in last night, Lizzy. You know I have not slept well since your aunt left us."
"I know," Elizabeth said. "Which is why I am wary of leaving you here alone. Who will look after you, making sure you eat and sleep, with both of us gone?"
The general chuckled. "My batman, I am certain. He's as much a mother hen as you and your aunt."
Elizabeth knew the man who served as her uncle's batman fairly well, and he was indeed as solicitous of the general's health and well-being as she and her aunt had ever been.
"Good," said she. "My worries shall be somewhat lessened with Mr. Hobbs looking after you."
Fitzwilliam, who had stood silently after conveying the general's request, cleared his throat and said, "The caravan is preparing to depart. We should not delay unnecessarily."
With a sigh of resignation, Elizabeth stood. Halsey followed suit and walked with them to the waiting caravan, where he was saluted and greeted by the men.
"Ah, Mrs. Martin," he said to the five-and-thirty-year-old cook who would serve as Elizabeth's companion. "Thank you again for agreeing to look after my niece on her journey."
Mrs. Martin nodded, her sad expression matching the general's. "Thank you, sir, for allowing me to return home with her. My husband's family in Surrey deserves to learn of his death in person."
Halsey nodded. "As does my wife's; you and Lizzy each have a melancholy duty ahead of you. And speaking of duty…"
He then reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out several folded sheets of paper. Two of them he handed to Elizabeth and the others to Fitzwilliam.
"Lizzy, one of those is for your brother, the other for my attorney. Charles will know what to do."
Curious as to what the sealed letters might convey, Elizabeth nodded as she slipped them into her reticule. "Shall I instruct him we are to observe a period of mourning for my aunt?"
Her uncle scoffed. "No, Lizzy. I should like it if your brother and sisters followed custom, but if I remember the latter correctly, they will not wish to have their jollity interrupted by the inconvenience of wearing black and remaining at home."
"Caroline most of all," Elizabeth murmured, recalling the upbraiding her sister had given her when she had announced her intention to join her aunt and uncle in Spain.
"Eliza, you cannot be serious!" Caroline cried. "It is the most ridiculous notion that has ever entered your head. Indeed, it is madness itself!"
"I quite agree with you, Caroline," offered Louisa, the eldest of the Bingley siblings. "You really cannot be serious, Lizzy—think of your reputation."
"Indeed, I am," Elizabeth replied. "And my reputation will be protected by Aunt Elinor, I assure you."
"She's as mad as you are," cried Caroline. "Following her husband to the war-torn continent when she really ought to be escorting us about in society as our father and mother would have wished!"
"Aunt Elinor cares as little for the trappings of society as I do, Caroline," Elizabeth retorted.
Caroline snorted. "You will never get a husband if you come back all brown and coarse from living in the sun amongst hardened, vulgar soldiers, Eliza."
"Which is all well and good, as I don't want one. It's not as if I shall suffer for not marrying, Caroline, as I will have my fortune to sustain me in my spinsterhood."
Their brother Charles, who had been thrust into the role of head of the family at the far-too-early age of seventeen the year before, had also protested Elizabeth joining their aunt in her desire to go to Spain. He pointed out how young she was, how dangerous it was, but she would not be swayed. Elizabeth reminded him of how close she and her aunt had become since the death of their parents the year before and had protested that she could not bear the thought of losing the woman who had served in her mother's stead. Eventually, he had consented to her going, stating that he did not feel as though he could stop her.
With a soft sigh, Halsey pulled Elizabeth into his arms. "I am going to miss you, my dear niece. Having you here has been like having a daughter."
Tears stung Elizabeth's eyes upon hearing those words. "I shall miss you, too, Uncle," said she, forcing the words past the lump that had formed in her throat.
Releasing her, the general kissed the top of her head, then nudged her in the direction of the waiting cart which held her trunks and those of the colonel and the cook, as well as their traveling tents. To Fitzwilliam he said, "You take care of my niece, Colonel."
Fitzwilliam snapped to attention and saluted. "I'll see her safely to her brother's door or die trying, General," he replied.
"See that you do."
The colonel nodded, then turned to help Elizabeth and Mrs. Martin into the seat of the cart. He then climbed atop his own waiting horse, and in a moment the caravan set off.
It would be three days to the port city of Marín. Elizabeth hoped that a ship would be waiting as soon as they arrived, for though she did not wish to leave her uncle, she found herself with a sudden excitement to see home again.