Page 10

Part 3: Newcomers Arrive

Tuesday, 19 November

Meryton

Elizabeth

The addition of our pompous and long-winded cousin Mr. Collins, who repaired to Longbourn from his home in Kent yesterday, made the walk to Meryton with my sisters a tedious business—my cousin’s rigmarole continued for the entire distance, incorporating frequent quotes of scripture and passages from Fordyce’s Sermons. He soon showed himself to be obsequious as well as boastful—and altogether ridiculous.

When we quitted the milliner’s shop, my two youngest sisters rushed across the street towards Mr. Denny from the militia regiment housed in the neighbourhood and a male stranger. The rest of us followed at a leisurely pace. The dark-haired newcomer drew my gaze: his cheery aspect manifested a rare confluence of beauty and masculinity.

Mr. Denny’s sight roamed over our group. “This is my friend, Mr. George Wickham.”

I blanched and took a backward step. Wickham—the man Mr. Darcy had warned me about, the reprobate who abused women.

“He arrived from London yesterday, and has been given a lieutenancy in our corps.”

With a pleasant northern dialect, Mr. Wickham dispensed his greetings, devoting his full attention to each of us in turn. Despite the acrid tang that filled my mouth when he neared me, I managed to provide him a polite response. Mr. Wickham displayed every sign of genuine interest in those who addressed him. What a charmer! His graciousness and attractive, almost angelic mien must ensure his entree into most social situations. Who would suspect this man of evil?

Wresting my eyes from him, I swallowed, steeling my carriage. Jane introduced our cousin to the two men. Ever the flirt, Lydia pushed Kitty aside to stand before Mr. Wickham and engage him in conversation interspersed with her frequent giggles. Somehow, I should lure my sisters away from him.

I took advantage of the first break in their dialogue. “Pray excuse us for we must continue to our uncle Phillips’s home. Our aunt awaits us.”

“What?” My youngest sister spun to glare at me. “There is no need for haste. Aunt Phillips will not care what time we arrive.”

Tut, what other excuse could I use?

“Look there, Lizzy.” Jane spoke in a whisper near my ear. Her head slanted towards the street ahead. “It is Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.” Both gentlemen approached on their fine steeds.

I took Jane’s arm. “Let us go ahead to meet them.” She nodded her agreement, and we proceeded.

The four of us exchanged salutations, and the two men dismounted. While Mr. Darcy’s subdued comportment did not match his friend’s more affable reception, I did not fault his manners—my improved understanding of him induced me to adopt a new perspective.

With Jane and Mr. Bingley rapt in a mutual discourse, I edged closer to Mr. Darcy. “Just now, we made the acquaintance of a new militia member.” I moved aside to grant him an unobstructed view. “He is standing there with my sisters, my cousin, and Mr. Denny.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes hardened and narrowed. I caught the moment when Mr. Wickham’s sight froze upon his former friend: he started, his complexion paled, and his hand rose in a tentative touch to his hat. Mr. Darcy returned the salutation, albeit with a scowl, then returned his attention to me. “Where will you and your sisters go now?”

“We shall call upon my Aunt Phillips. My uncle’s home is a short walk from here.”

“With your agreement, I think it would be best if Bingley and I accompany you there.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mr. Bingley approved of his friend’s suggestion with alacrity, and the four of us walked towards the others.

Darcy

Before we had progressed ten feet, Wickham bade a hasty valediction to those around him and strode away, earning a puzzled stare from Mr. Denny and a pout from Miss Lydia. Good riddance. The tension in my attitude abated.

Just as in our previous encounters, Elizabeth’s every movement monopolised my attention. Her gown, a simple garment of primrose muslin, complemented her graceful, lithe form better than the finest silk could embellish London ladies of the top tier. I had never observed her to wear jewellery other than a simple garnet cross. Although she did not need such finery, I should relish the opportunity to present her with an exquisite necklace, perhaps with an emerald or ruby solitaire.

She brought an awkward, plump man to Bingley and me and introduced him as her cousin Mr. Collins. He gawped at me with his jaw hovering open as though a fit of apoplexy seized him.

“Mr. Darcy, I am extraordinarily honoured to be made known to you. This is a felicitous coincidence as well, for I am delighted to apprise you that your revered and wise aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my patroness.” Mr. Collins sputtered his remarks and made a deep bow. “Not three months ago, she saw fit to grant me the living at Hunsford.”

So Lady Catherine appointed this Bennet relation as her new rector. She could not have chosen a better toad-eater.

“Furthermore, since I had the privilege of conferring with Lady Catherine a mere three days ago, it is with great satisfaction, nay delight, that I can assure you of her ladyship’s robust health.”