Page 16 of Most Truly the Gentleman

It had not, in fact, made Elizabeth wonder about them until her friend voiced the notion, though it would have occurred to her in time, no doubt. Awakened to the danger by Charlotte’s wise words, however, other concerns swiftly arose. “I must find a way to separate my youngest sisters from the officers,” she whispered into Charlotte’s ear, fearful of any other hearing. “Imagine what might befall us, the way they have been acting, if any of their favourites were to prove untrustworthy.”

Charlotte, nearly as fond of the Bennets as of her own family, blanched. “Maria is not much better,” she whispered back. “We must both speak to our fathers.”

Elizabeth nodded. Nearby, Mr Collins coughed emphatically, and she saw that he was regarding them with interest and expectation. Internally, she sighed, but outwardly she smiled and said, “Charlotte, may I introduce you to my father’s cousin, who has come to visit us?”

Her friend agreed, and Mr Collins proclaimed himself delighted to know any friend of ‘dear Cousin Elizabeth’. Before he could make himself truly ridiculous, however, another seized the role for herself.

“Well, I do not care what he says!” Lydia exclaimed, stamping her foot. Kitty, towards whom this outburst was directed, flinched. “It seems likely to me that Colonel Fitzwilliam is just jealous, ill-featured fellow that he is. Mr Wickham is far too handsome and amiable to be a scoundrel,” she concluded with a decisive nod of her empty little head, crossing her arms over her chest for good measure.

Jane and Mr Bingley were staring at Lydia in disbelief. Charlotte was watching with narrowed eyes, while several of their neighbours beheld the spectacle with clear disapproval, and as she drew breath to rebuke her youngest sister, Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing warm. Before she could, however, Mr Collins stepped forth and said sternly, “That is quite enough, Cousin Lydia. Better that you should remain silent than shame your good sisters by speaking such foolishness. My patroness has spoken of Colonel Fitzwilliam; he is her nephew as well, descended from a proud and noble line, and that you should attribute such base motives to a man of his stamp only proves that your judgment is severely lacking. Does not Scripture warn us that charm is deceitful and beauty is vain? Think upon that, young cousin, before you speak again in defence of one whose only virtues are a pleasant face and a nimble tongue.”

Though his conclusion that the colonel’s descent made him trustworthy was not at all sound, the rest of this speech was filled with more good sense than Elizabeth would have thought to find in Mr Collins over the course of a month. It shocked her into speechlessness.

Charlotte said firmly, “Just so, Mr Collins. Thank you for saying what we were all thinking.” He bowed to her with a little smile.

Lydia, unfortunately, recovered quickly. “I do not have to listen to you! You are not my father.”

“You most certainly do have to listen to Mr Collins, Lydia,” Elizabeth interjected. “He is our male relation, and in the absence of our father and uncle, we are under his protection. He has said you are to be silent, and I strongly suggest that you obey. Unless you wish to face Papa’s wrath?”

Mr Bennet, on the rare occasions he could be made to discipline his youngest, invariably resorted to denying her the next quarter’s pin money. It was a simple but effective strategy, and ensured that Lydia rarely did anything bad enough to bring his anger down upon herself. The threat alone was sufficient to shut her mouth in that moment, though Elizabeth knew it would not last long.

“As we came with no particular purpose,” she added, smiling at her other sisters, “I think it best we return to Longbourn. I mean to inform my father of the sort of man who will be living among us.”

“And I think it best I tell mine,” Charlotte agreed.

Mr Bingley, though patently disappointed to be so soon separated from Jane, farewelled them all with characteristic good humour and rode off towards Netherfield as the Bennets and Mr Collins turned their steps towards Longbourn. So grateful to the clergyman was she that Elizabeth did not attempt to avoid his offered arm and bore his prattling with greater forbearance than she would previously have thought possible.

11

SOLDIERS & SCOUNDRELS

Mr Bennet was not as alarmed by Elizabeth’s report as she would have wished.

“Well,” he said with a shrug, “I think we must allow the merchants to know how much credit they can afford to extend. As for the accusation that he is a seducer, I shall tell Kitty and Lydia that they may no longer go into Meryton without at least one of their elder sisters, and that they are not on any account to speak with this Wickham fellow at all. I trust that the rest of you will not require a paternal edict to behave with some sense around the officers.”

“I will ensure Mary is informed,” Elizabeth conceded. “But, Papa, what if there are others among the regiment’s ranks who are in the habit of behaving badly, only there is no long-standing acquaintance of theirs here to warn us? Kitty, at least, seemed properly alarmed by Colonel Fitzwilliam’s account, but I do not think she will suspect the others, and I do believe Lydia would flirt with a post if we put a red coat upon it.”

“That is why I shall not allow my two youngest to scamper about on their own any longer,” he answered absently, his attention already half-fixed upon his book once more.

Elizabeth studied him for a moment, frustrated and more than a little put out. As much as she loved and, in many ways, admired her father, the fact that Mr Collins had expended more effort towards Lydia’s reform than her own sire was willing to do put Mr Bennet’s negligence towards his family in sharper relief than ever before, and she could not like it. Neither could she conceive of any means of changing it, so she left him to his book and went to do what she could—inform Mary of events, and discuss with her and Jane how they might best manage their younger sisters.

The next evening took all the inmates of Longbourn save the master and mistress to the parlour of Mrs Philips, who was Mrs Bennet’s sister and aunt to the young ladies. Her husband was a solicitor in Meryton, and they lived very close to the centre of the town. There were to be dinner and cards, and Elizabeth had a suspicion that her aunt meant to play matchmaker, for she had invited the single young ladies of the area and the officers of the regiment. There were a few gentlemen here and there, also—Mr Samuel Lucas, Mr James Harrington, and of course Mr Collins. Her aunt whispered to them that she had tried to get the Netherfield party as well, but they were obligated to the Gouldings that evening.

Moving into the room with her sisters after greeting her aunt, she was shocked to see Mr Wickham among the officers, now resplendent in a red coat. She turned immediately back to her aunt and said in a low voice, “Aunt, did you not hear of Mr Wickham?”

Mrs Philips wrung her hands and confided, “Of course, but I had already issued a general invitation to the officers. I did not expect him to come, but what could I do when he arrived? His colonel is here and we are all forewarned; we must hope that is enough to persuade him to proper behaviour.”

If she were mistress of a home, Elizabeth felt she would be equal to barring an unwelcome guest, general invitation or not, but her aunt was a less resolute creature. “I understand, Aunt. Please, will you assist us in watching Lydia as much as your duties allow? She has stated a belief that such a handsome man could not be really bad, and though our father has forbidden us from speaking with him, I fear she may prove headstrong.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” fretted Mrs Philips. “Certainly I shall, as much as I can. Oh dear.”

She thanked her aunt, saw that Lydia was flanked by Mary and Kitty as she spoke with Mr Denny and Mr Pratt, and joined Jane in conversing with Charlotte Lucas. Sir William, it seemed, had been busy. He had personally visited all the merchants in town to warn them about extending too much credit to the officers. How well they might have listened remained to be seen, but it had been done, and Elizabeth was once again reminded of her father’s refusal to engage in the matter. She vowed to herself then and there that, if she ever thought to marry, she must not merely love and respect the man, but also be utterly certain that he would involve himself in his family’s concerns, and preferably his neighbours’ as well.

Mr Collins approached them shortly thereafter, and spoke of what a pleasant home Mrs Philips maintained, and how friendly her guests were, and how wonderful he thought the whole of the neighbourhood, even though it could not boast a home like Rosings Park as its crown. These comments he addressed particularly to Elizabeth, and she began to regret her amiability towards him the previous day after he scolded Lydia, for he now seemed to believe that they were good friends.

He was regaling them with a minute description of the decoration of Lady Catherine’s parlour when she saw across the room something that could not be ignored. “Please excuse me, sir, I must speak with my youngest sister,” she said, and left him without awaiting a response.

She wove through the chattering throng as swiftly as she could. Approaching Lydia, she caught some of what her sister’s companion was saying.