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“I do not mean to tell you your business,” Elizabeth allowed her voice to trail off.

“I will verify the information,” Miss Cove agreed. “We cannot afford such a loss.”

“Lizzy!” Mary called from the other side of the room, where the linen-draper stood speaking with the rest of the Bennets. Elizabeth went to her side, wondering what could have caused such distress. When she was at her side, Mary asked, “Lizzy, do you not think the silk too much for what my position in society will be?”

Elizabeth agreed, then added, “I thought you wished for muslin or cambric?”

“I did,” Mary said, “but Mamma believes I must have a finer gown as her first daughter to wed.”

“It is settled, then,” Mrs. Bennet declared, waving away Mary’s protests as if they were gnats. “A bride must look her best, Mary, and as the first of my daughters to be wed, you have a duty to the family’s consequence. You shall have the silk. On this, I insist! Miss Cove, be so good as to add it to our account.”

“Mamma,” Elizabeth said softly, “I do not believe Mary wishes for the silk.”

“Mary will be glad to have such a fine gown when she is wed, especially after Jane marries Mr. Bingley! Then she shall have events requiring such a gown very often.”

Miss Cove was frozen in her place for a moment, not wishing to counter either the bride or the mother, but when Mrs. Bennet insisted once more, she continued wrapping the fabric and added the charge to the Bennets’ account. Polite farewells were exchanged. As they departed, Miss Cove cast one last, sharp-eyed look in Elizabeth’s direction, clearly turning over the matter of Mr. Wickham’s debts.

∞∞∞

“Sixteen pounds?” Mrs. Ellington whispered in disbelief.

“Indeed, and that is only the shops we could visit today. We visited half the shops in Meryton, so there may be more,” said Elizabeth.

“Mr. Bennet, surely you must do something about this?” said Mrs. Bennet. “If the tradesmen are ruined, what shall become of our town? Where shall we go to purchase our things? You certainly will not permit us to travel to London with such frequency! My girls will look a disgrace, and how shall the rest of them find husbands then?”

“I am sure, my dear, that your shopping shall not suffer if such a tragedy as that should come to pass. Hertford is not so far as that,” said Mr. Bennet, his normal sardonic tone barely evident in his voice. “What will become of the shopkeepers, though, for we cannot see our town boarded up.”

Mrs. Ellington shifted against her cushions to find a more comfortable position for her injured leg, but instantly winced, pressing a hand to her ankle with a sharp intake of breath.

“Are you well, Cousin?” Elizabeth said, rising quickly to go to the injured woman. She carefully adjusted the pillows the injured limb was resting upon, apologising when the movement caused another wince from Mrs. Ellington.

“That is much better, Cousin Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Ellington when she was again comfortable. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps something might be done to assist the shopkeepers,” offered Jane. “We cannot let one man’s actions impact them so grievously.”

“Such assistance is easier spoken of than rendered, dear Jane,” said Mr. Bennet, his expression soft as he looked upon his eldest. “We do not wish to encourage imprudence among the officers, if they know their debts are to be discharged by the locals if they only let them rise high enough.”

Mr. Lucas, who had been sitting quietly beside his betrothed until then, spoke up, “There is another course, however. What if a few of us in the neighbourhood were to quietly buy up his debts from the tradesmen ourselves? Then, once we hold the notes, we can call in the debts, and he can be made to feel the consequences of his actions.”

“It would have to be done with complete discretion,” said Mr. Bennet, with a hard look towards his wife and daughters. “We cannot let any officers catch wind of it, or Mr. Wickham will flee the county.”

“Surely you know, Mr. Bennet, that I am the soul of discretion,” replied his wife, before echoing his words to their daughters. “Girls, you must keep this to yourselves. We cannot allow Mr. Wickham to close the shops in Meryton!”

Chapter 22

Mr. Bingley was a man with a purpose. He would not allow himself to be retained in London for longer than was absolutely necessary. Upon his arrival at his London home, he had done the bare minimum to make himself presentable before calling his housekeeper, Mrs. Stannard, and his butler, Mr. Cross, to his study. The two steady servants arrived promptly, and at Mr. Bingley’s invitation, were seated. Their master was not one to stand on great ceremony with his senior staff once the study door was closed. Once the discussion on the state of the staff and the accounts were concluded, Mr. Bingley could not hold in his happy news any longer.

“There is one more matter for which I wish you to be prepared,” he said, unable to contain the smile that overspread his face. “If all goes as I hope, you may soon expect a new mistress of this house. There is a young lady in Hertfordshire to whom I plan to offer marriage.”

At this declaration, Mrs. Stannard’s expression shifted ever so slightly, not so much in surprise as satisfaction. She had long hoped that Mr. Bingley would find someone with whom to share his life, both for his own sake and for that of his staff. They had all had quite enough of Miss Bingley as mistress of the house. She had heard often of young ladies that Mr. Bingley fancied, and indeed had served many that had called on his sisters, but those sisters were, in her opinion, the reason why the young ladies never turned into more than friendly acquaintances. If this lady was strong enough to withstand Miss Bingley, she would be very welcome. All of these thoughts went through the housekeeper’s mind, but all she said was, “Allow me to offer my congratulations, sir, and my best wishes for your happiness.”

Mr. Cross inclined his head to Mr. Bingley. “We are very pleased for you, sir. My felicitations.”

“Thank you, Stannard, Cross. I trust that you will inform the rest of the staff, but I thought it best to relate the information to you myself. The lady in question is Miss Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire, an estate near Netherfield. I am persuaded that she will do me great credit as my wife and mistress of my houses.”

“Of course, sir,” both servants murmured.

“I know the mistress’s chambers are quite untouched since my mother last occupied them. They ought to be refurbished, for the style is not suitable any longer. The wallpaper may remain as it is, for it is simple enough to not need replacing unless it is damaged in some way. Miss Bennet’s favourite colours are peach-blossom and straw yellow. I should like the draperies, the bed-hangings, and any new squab cushions for the seating made up in those colours. It ought to be a modern and cheerful apartment, with none of the heavy velvets my mother preferred.”