Chapter 11

Lucas Lodge

The Next Morning

Friday, 14th August, 1812

Mr. Bingley looked up at the great oak door of Lucas Lodge and braced himself before ascending the shallow steps, which had been recently swept clean. He lifted the large iron ring and let it fall, the knock echoing in the entrance hall inside. He scarcely had time to observe the speck of rust growing on the knocker before it swung away from him as the butler opened the door.

Bingley stepped in, divesting himself gratefully of his hat, which was very smart black silk and rather warm, and handed it over, along with his gloves and cane, to the butler. He took a moment to look around the entry hall, with its dark wood paneling stained by age, the polished parquet floor with its well-trodden paths plain to see, the vase of fresh flowers beneath the gilt-framed mirror, the faint unique scent that always seemed to cling to other people's houses but never one's own. It was … somewhat odd, to be back here, in this familiar hall. He had been at Lucas Lodge many times when he attended parties and paid morning calls in their drawing room, and attended small dinner-parties in the dining room.

His sisters and Darcy had rarely accompanied him on these visits. Caroline and Louisa had been full of nothing but contempt for the provincial gentry, and especially for Sir William. The cheerful, kindly man had been but a tradesman before his knighting. It was a story he told often and with a good deal of chuckling, still immensely pleased over his address to the king, which had won him his title. But being knighted and thus elevated swiftly into society had not in fact polished his manners to match those of his new company – though he was hardly out of place in cozy, intimate Meryton – and the aspirational Bingley sisters, as well as the high-bred Darcy, had disdained both him and his gossiping wife.

Bingley felt a stab of acute irritation. Blunt and honest and perhaps a little vulgar Sir William and Lady Lucas might be, but Bingley liked them. They were both kind souls, and Sir William, while not witty, was nobody's fool. He was filled with the wisdom that came with knowing a land and her people well, while Lady Lucas had a great deal of common sense. But none of their virtues had weighed with the social-climbing Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and Bingley had endured in silence their derogatory remarks and vituperative criticisms of the inhabitants of Lucas Lodge and Longbourn and all the four and twenty families of the gentry around Meryton.

That was in the past now. Bingley would no longer allow his sisters or his friend to rule his friendships and relationships. He liked the Lucases, and if they were willing, he would deepen his friendship with them. They were good people, honest and sincere, without the false flattery so rampant among the haut ton in London. He would contain his temper with his sisters, but he would not permit such haughtiness under his roof any more.

Bingley crossed to glance over himself in the mirror. He adjusted his cravat with a few deft twitches and patted the pocket where Darcy's express lay. Bingley's purpose here today was to work to save the Bennets' reputation, and Darcy's letter would help with that. Bingley smoothed his lapel and grimaced a little at his tawny country coat. It was not a cool day, and though this was one of his lightest coats, he harbored an improper wish that it was acceptable to go visiting in one's shirt-sleeves.

These unrefined thoughts were interrupted by Sir William emerging from a door further down the hall and hurrying into the vestibule, his ruddy face wreathed in smiles.

"Mr. Bingley!" the older man exclaimed. "It is so good to see you! I had heard you had returned to Netherfield Park and am honored by your call. Please come along into the drawing room!"

"Thank you, Sir William," Bingley replied, bowing. "I am very thankful to be back in Hertfordshire, and can only regret that I did not return sooner to the estate."

When they arrived in the drawing room, they found Lady Lucas reading a novel while Maria Lucas, the younger of the Lucas sisters, was seated on a wingbacked chair across from two women whom Bingley recognized, after a moment, as the two Long ladies, Erica and Selina, who were nineteen-year-old twins.

Lady Lucas looked up with polite interest that transformed into genuine delight. She hastily laid aside her book and rose to her feet. "Mr. Bingley! What a wonderful surprise this is!"

"Good afternoon, Lady Lucas," he said, smiling and bowing. When he had straightened, he discovered that the younger ladies had also stood, and now all three curtseyed to him while Lady Lucas hurried to instruct the butler to bring tea and turned back to her guest.

"Do sit down, Mr. Bingley," she cried out. "Perhaps you would like to sit across from Maria? It is quite a warm day, and it is pleasant to enjoy the breeze from the window."

"Thank you," Bingley said, waiting until the other women were seated before he and his host took their own seats.

"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Bingley!" Lady Lucas exclaimed. "I had heard rumors that you were not intending to return to Netherfield Park ever again!"

"I stayed away far too long," Bingley replied, "but I have returned, and I have no intention of leaving in the near future. I missed my friends here very much."

Lady Lucas cast a hopeful look at Maria and said, "Well, I know that Sir William and I, indeed, all of our family, are overjoyed to see you!"

Before Bingley could reply appropriately, the door opened to admit a pair of maids, each carrying a tea tray. These they set down at the low table, bobbed their heads in response to Lady Lucas's dismissal, and departed, closing the door behind them.

Lady Lucas moved forward to pour, and Bingley watched as she splashed milk into his teacup and handed it over without adding sugar. It was a sign of the lady's ability as a hostess that she still remembered, all these months later, how Bingley liked his tea. He thanked her as he accepted the cup and a scone, watching as she prepared tea for the Long ladies and her own family. Quiet reigned for a moment as everyone sipped their tea and took their first bite of pastry before conversation began again – with a perhaps predictable subject.

"I say, Mr. Bingley, have you heard about the problem the Bennets are having?" Selina Long demanded.

Bingley swallowed too quickly, causing him to cough, and he took a long draught of tea, which soothed his throat.

"Erm, yes, a pity that," he said a moment later. "I am thankful, at least, that the whole affair has been tidied up nicely."

Lady Lucas, who had been frowning at the younger Miss Long, turned an amazed look on Bingley. "Tidied up, sir? I think not. Miss Lydia is still missing, and that Wickham too, and what a rogue he turned out to be…"

"Wickham?" Bingley said, wrinkling his brow dramatically. He did hope he could pull this off successfully – he had never pretended to be an actor. "Oh, I quite thought … no, that was not the name Darcy mentioned."

Everyone else in the room leaned forward simultaneously, which provoked a strong desire to giggle on Bingley's part.

"Mr. Darcy?" Lady Lucas demanded. "What does he have to do with it?"

"Oh, he knew Wickham from long ago, and knew the man was a rogue. He learned that Miss Lydia was in danger and sent someone to help. The young lady is even now traveling north to celebrate her marriage with a much more honorable man."

There were gasps of wonder from the assembled ladies and gentleman, and the girls began whispering to one another. Bingley, eager to change the subject, turned to Sir William and said, "Sir, I was hoping to shoot pheasants at the estate in a few months. Do you know where I have the best chance of finding a covey?"

Sir William was an enthusiastic hunter and consumer of game birds, and the rest of the visit focused on the best approach to finding, shooting, and eating pheasants. Bingley rose to his feet after half an hour, pleased that he had fulfilled Darcy's request by spreading news of Lydia's honorable marriage.

The presence of the Long ladies was an additional source of satisfaction, as Mrs. Long, the girls' aunt, was a notable gossip.

Perhaps very soon the Bennets would no longer be under siege from scurrilous rumors, and his beloved Miss Bennet would begin sleeping better at night.

/

Islington

The Great North Road

Friday, 14th August, 1812

The horses were plodding now as they pulled the heavy carriage up Highgate Hill. It was a lengthy climb, and Elizabeth was thankful that Mr. Darcy had given stern orders not to push the horses too hard. This was both kind and sensible, as a horse pushed to hurry up such a long incline could be injured.

Elizabeth considered the events of the morning. The departure had been a trifle later than hoped, along with being a scene of controlled chaos. Three of Mr. Darcy's carriages would be utilized on the journey to Scotland. The main one would hold Darcy, Elizabeth, Mrs. Greenfield, Lydia, and one of her suitors, while a second carriage, scarcely less comfortable but less ostentatious, would convey the other two men hopeful of winning Lydia's hand as well as Mr. Bennet. Lastly, a third carriage would carry servants; maids, valets, and male servants who could, as necessary, ride on ahead to secure lodgings for the party. The latter two carriages also carried most of the luggage.

There was indeed a great deal of luggage. Though a quick carriage with fast horses could carry an eloping couple to Gretna Green within four days, Mr. Darcy had no intentions of running horses at speed the entire way. It would be a leisurely trip over many days, stopping to rest the horses frequently and changing them out regularly at posting-houses. The slower travel would permit Lydia time to get to know the three men competing for her hand, and they her. Captain Scofield had elected to ride with the lady first and now sat swaying directly across from Elizabeth.

Her stomach clenched as she observed the grave man. What if he found even the lure of ten thousand pounds insufficient to tie himself to vulgar, foolish Lydia for the rest of his life? What if they all did? What if her disgraced sister was abandoned in Scotland with only her companion for company, and her family were forced to bear her shame forever?

Elizabeth's eyes tracked over to Mr. Darcy, who sat watching out the window. She gazed at him for a moment, admiring his strong jaw and the fall of his dark hair. As though he sensed her gaze upon him, he turned his head to smile at her. Elizabeth smiled back, her stomach filling with butterflies. But there was fear there too, alongside the pleasurable excitement. Despite all his encouragement, she could not bring herself to believe that, should Lydia not be married and quickly, Mr. Darcy would truly marry her, tainting his own impeccable name with the Bennets' disgrace and scandal.

Elizabeth glanced back to her sister, sitting beside her, hoping desperately that Lydia and one of her suitors would prove to be compatible. It was, perhaps, a positive sign that the youngest Miss Bennet currently appeared fascinated with the man on the opposite seat.

"You actually fought on the battlefield?" Lydia asked with wide eyes.

"I did, Miss Lydia," Captain Scofield replied, his gaze faraway. "In fact, more than once. I have been in the army since I was a lad in my teens."

"When were you hurt?" Lydia asked, eying his forehead scar speculatively. Elizabeth repressed a cringe; it was not courteous for her sister to stare directly at the man's injury.

Scofield lifted a hand to brush against the scar and said, "I was hit by shrapnel at the Combat of the Coa, but fortunately the wound was not a severe one. Then, only six months ago, I was hit by a ball at the battle of Albuera, which necessitated my journey home."

Lydia frowned. "Will you always limp, then?"

"Almost certainly, yes," the military man responded.

"We are all grateful for your service against the French tyrant, Captain Scofield," Elizabeth said.

Scofield shrugged. "For many of us, including Colonel Fitzwilliam, it is the only existence we really know. Indeed, I confess to finding it odd to be back here in England, to be surrounded by normal life."

"What is life like on the battlefield?" Lydia asked curiously.

"We live in tents, for one thing, and the food is simple and sometimes not plentiful. Winter is often terribly cold..."