Chapter V

A s the day dawned, Elizabeth had no notion that day would be the longest and most consequential of her life.

It was a typical day in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth rising early though not with the sun, and setting out on her usual morning constitutional, her thoughts a jumble as she walked. Much of what she considered centered on the situation with Lydia, of course, for her father had not yet decided concerning his youngest daughter's proposed visit to Brighton. That Lydia had not thought to even ask for permission, instead considering it a fait accompli, did not sit well with Elizabeth's sense of what was right. The sometimes pinched looks she noted her father directing at her youngest sister also informed Elizabeth that he had not missed it either and was not happy with her behavior.

Whether that would be enough to weigh the scales in favor of her father withholding his permission Elizabeth could not say. For so long as she could hope, she intended to do just that, reflecting that Lydia's continued poor behavior did nothing to assist her wish to be allowed to go. The longer her father delayed, the more Elizabeth's hope grew, for as Lydia's behavior worsened, so did the chances that her father would lose patience with her antics. That this might also provoke him to allow her to go if only to be rid of her for a time did not escape Elizabeth's attention, but she focused on the former rather than the latter.

That day it became apparent that unless someone exerted some control over the heedless girl, none of the family could endure her even until the regiment was to depart. Lydia exclaimed her good fortune and attempted to use it to get whatever she could in new dresses and other such items. In this, she was not nearly as successful as she hoped, for Mr. Bennet did not appear interested in allowing her to have her way.

"Of course, you must have new clothes!" said Mrs. Bennet that morning at the breakfast table when Lydia insisted on it for what seemed like the thousandth time. "We would not send you to Brighton to look like a vagabond before all the officers."

Lydia moaned with pleasure at the notion of parading before those fine gentlemen as she usually did, but before she could say anything, her father spoke up.

"Does Lydia need new clothes, Mrs. Bennet?"

The girl shot him a look of betrayal and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a glare. That accomplished, he turned back to his wife and raised an eyebrow at her. Mrs. Bennet appeared a little flustered, such that she did not respond immediately.

"Unless my memory is faulty," said Mr. Bennet when his wife did not speak at once, "I seem to recall several notices from the dressmaker requesting payment only a few short weeks ago. Was Lydia cruelly denied new dresses so all her sisters could indulge, or was she included in that purchase?"

"Well," said Mrs. Bennet slowly, frowning at her youngest, who was even now scowling at her father, "we did make several purchases recently. The younger girls had outgrown their dresses; I had new frocks sewn for their use."

"I see," said Mr. Bennet. "In saying you had a few new dresses made, might I assume you had them created at great expense? The invoice was larger than warranted if you only ordered a few gowns."

"Papa!" exclaimed Lydia, no longer able to hold her temper. "I must order new dresses, for I have nothing fit to wear to all the balls and parties I shall attend in Brighton!"

"Yes, I heard you spout that bit of nonsense before, Lydia," said Mr. Bennet. "I doubt a summer in Brighton will be nearly so enchanting as you suppose. The question before us is whether you possess serviceable clothing for the next several months, for I should not like to endure another such assault on our finances as the last time proved to be."

"I suppose," replied Mrs. Bennet, "Lydia has enough gowns. We certainly purchased her more than any of the other girls, particularly since she has grown so much this past year."

"Mama!" whined Lydia.

"No, Lydia," said Mr. Bennet, his tone as firm as any he had ever used with his youngest daughter. "You have enough clothing. There is no need to make further purchases now given the sufficiency of your wardrobe. Be happy with your good fortune."

It could not be supposed that a young girl of the character of Lydia Bennet would take such a setback with equanimity, and for some time after, she cast reproachful looks at her father and mother. Mrs. Bennet appeared not to notice, for she was deep in thought, while Mr. Bennet ignored her, showing far greater cheer than she thought he had the right to display.

Even this did not dampen Lydia's spirits for long, for she soon put the matter to the side and returned to some other silliness, and the crowing began again. With the sounds of her laughter ringing throughout the house, it was not long before Elizabeth yearned to be away from her, if only for a time, such that she conceived a plan to walk to Meryton. It is said that the most carefully executed plans can often falter, for her youngest sister caught wind of her intentions and seemed to think it an excellent notion, frustrating Elizabeth's designs.

"Yes, let us all walk to Meryton," said Lydia, "for I have not informed my friends in the regiment that I am to go to Brighton with them. Denny shall be most pleased by the notion, for he likes me best of all the local ladies."

Whether this was the truth Elizabeth preferred not to speculate. While she wished to walk to Meryton with Jane and perhaps Mary for company, it appeared they were all to go. It was better to endure the girl in the open air of the outdoors rather than in the confines of Longbourn, so Elizabeth agreed at once. Perhaps she might even escape Lydia for a time by visiting the bookshop, for that was one place Lydia did not care to go.

The sisters donned bonnets and gloves, and soon they were walking merrily toward the distant town. If the sound of Lydia's constant conversation accompanied them, Elizabeth found she could ignore the girl's crowing with relative cheer. Kitty, who was often the target of Lydia's mean-spirited comments, walked next to Jane, the eldest sister speaking to her softly, settling Kitty's nerves. It was a walk they had made many times, and thus they entered the town soon thereafter seeking amusement.

Meryton was not Bond Street or Piccadilly, and those unacquainted with it might find the dusty roads, and the small and dingy shops entirely inadequate. Miss Bingley had certainly commented on it often enough in Elizabeth's hearing the previous autumn for her to know what ladies who frequented London might think of their little town. Yet Meryton had a few treasures that those unfamiliar with it might not discover, and to those who had known better districts infrequently, the town sufficed to amuse them for an afternoon.

As was her wont, Lydia soon espied several officers nearby and changed course to accost them at once. The elder sisters went along, greeting the gentlemen pleasantly and listening to Lydia boast.

"Sanderson! Do you know I am to go to Brighton as Mrs. Forster's particular friend?"

"So I heard, Miss Lydia," said the genial officer. "I can imagine you must be anticipating it very much."

"I am, for I shall keep your society! We shall be such a merry party in Brighton!"

"What of Miss Kitty?" asked the other officer, a Mr. Rogers. "Are you also to join us?"

Kitty looked down in shame but managed to say: "I did not receive an invitation, Mr. Rogers."

"That is unfortunate, for I should have liked to keep your company too."

The way the man spoke and looked at Kitty set Elizabeth's senses to alert, though Kitty smiled and beamed her thanks. Elizabeth knew no harm of the man, but she did not like the way he regarded her younger sisters, as if they were some fat hares he meant to catch for his supper. It was a surprise to no one that Lydia was not about to allow this to pass.

"Oh, do not concern yourself, Rogers," said she. "I shall be there, and I shall be happy to dance with you at any function we attend."

A few moments later, Elizabeth and Jane pulled their sisters away from the officers and made their way down the street. Had the same scene not played out twice more, she would have been well pleased. At length, when Lydia could find no more officers to approach, they made their way to the shops to find what amusement they could.

As Elizabeth had supposed, Lydia was not interested in the bookshop, nor did the sisters agree on what to visit first. Thus, they separated, Mary joining Elizabeth to visit the aforementioned bookshop while Jane led Kitty and Lydia to the milliners to look for bits of ribbon. Mary appreciated the bookseller for a different reason than Elizabeth, for Mr. Lodge, the proprietor, also kept a selection of sheet music she enjoyed browsing.

Thereafter, they met back on the street and separated into different parties to visit this shop or that merchant. Elizabeth went apart from her sisters for a few moments to fulfil a commission given to her by Longbourn's cook. When she emerged from the store, she spotted Lydia and Kitty speaking in the street, though as she approached, it looked like nothing less than an argument to her.

"I saw nothing of him, Lydia," said Kitty, looking doubtfully at her younger sibling.

"He was there, I tell you." Lydia turned and pointed up the street. "Beside that carriage by the general store. He alighted and went into the alley behind the regiment's offices."

"Who, Lydia?" asked Elizabeth.

"Mr. Wickham, of course," said Lydia as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At once Elizabeth's senses grew watchful, for she could not imagine why that man would return to Meryton when he had left before she had returned from Kent. "Mr. Wickham? Did you not say he left the regiment?"

"Near the end of April," replied the girl.

"And you have not seen him since then?"

Lydia shrugged. "He has not returned—if he had, the gossip would be all over the neighborhood. While I know nothing of it, several of the officers were quite put out with his going."

This Elizabeth attributed to the man's habit of accumulating gaming debts. "Why would he return now?"

"I am certain I know not," said Lydia, "though I should like to greet him if he is nearby. Mr. Wickham was by far the most handsome and gentlemanly man in the regiment."

At that moment, three more officers hailed them, Lydia's favorite Lieutenant Denny in their midst. This drove the matter of Mr. Wickham from the girl's mind, and soon she was happily informing them of the invitation from the colonel. Elizabeth could spare little thought for her boasting or Kitty's annoyance, for the matter of Mr. Wickham's appearance still played on her mind. When the conversation appeared likely to continue for several moments and noting her sisters could come to no harm on a village street, she excused herself, wishing to learn if her sister's claims of Mr. Wickham's return were accurate.

The carriage to which Lydia had pointed was a nondescript conveyance, lacking any defining characteristics or markings to indicate its owner. It was the sort of carriage owned by a man who made his livelihood by hiring his services to those in need of transportation. At present, there was no one in evidence either near or inside the vehicle, the horse tied to a post, standing placidly while it awaited its master's return.

A hint of movement from within the carriage caught Elizabeth's attention, and she realized the coach was not so abandoned as she had thought. Curious, she edged closer, intent upon seeing if Mr. Wickham was within. The figure within, however, was not a man, but a rather thin woman with her hair tied in a tight bun at the back of her head. Then she turned, her face coming into the light, though she did not look in Elizabeth's direction. A shock of recognition pierced Elizabeth's composure, for unless she was very much mistaken, she knew the young woman within. It was Miss Anne de Bourgh!

Earlier that same morning, Darcy received a visitor that surprised him very much.

He had spent much of the previous days thinking on what Fitzwilliam had said to him, wondering if he could engineer a reunion with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, such that he might recommend himself to her with more success than he had before. Approaching a woman who had previously rejected him was not exactly proper, but Darcy thought there was a reason to be optimistic, for surely they could resolve the misunderstandings and Wickham's poison that lay between them. Try as he might, however, he could think of no way to put himself in her company again before the autumn. Resigned, Darcy prepared for a return to Pemberley, determined to return to Netherfield with Bingley, when the man himself appeared in Darcy's study.

"Bingley!" exclaimed Darcy as his friend entered the room unannounced and unexpected. "It is a surprise to see you, my friend, for I had understood you were gone to the north."

Bingley shook his head and said: "My plans have changed."

It was far curter than was his friend's custom, and all at once Darcy noted Bingley's agitation, his suspicious glare, such that Darcy did not think he had ever seen from his friend. Good manners dictated that he offer his friend a chair, which Bingley accepted, though with evident distraction. When Bingley did not speak again at once, Darcy, unwilling to allow the silence to linger, asked after the meaning of his words.

"I suppose this change of heart should not surprise me," said Darcy, opting for a bit of humor, "for I know you often change your mind on the whim of a moment."

Even the old jest did nothing to alter his friend's demeanor, for he regarded Darcy through narrowed eyes, his reticence becoming unnerving. In time, Bingley spoke.

"Darcy, there is something I must ask you—I must insist on your honesty."

"Am I not always honest with you?" asked Darcy, again surprised.

"I always thought so, but now I wonder." Bingley regarded him for another long moment and then asked his question. "I discovered that Miss Jane Bennet was in London this winter and yet I was told nothing of it. Miss Bennet visited Caroline and Louisa, and instead of bringing it to my attention as they ought, they concealed it and acted to sever the acquaintance. My question to you is this: were you aware of Miss Bennet's visit? Or were you perhaps there yourself?"

Though he strove to give no overt response, the urge to wince at his friend's question was nigh overpowering. How Bingley learned of it, Darcy could not say, nor was it at all convenient to have his friend barge into his study and accost him as he had. Darcy had considered how he might make this communication to his friend, having conceived of the notion that it may be best to offer his apology once he had returned to Netherfield. Now, however, it appeared there was little choice in the matter, for even had Bingley not required his honesty, Darcy would not tell him an untruth.

"I was aware of it, Bingley," replied Darcy.

The crease in Bingley's forehead deepened. "I see. Then I suppose you aligned yourself with Caroline in this? You do not approve of me following my heart?"

"If you recall," replied Darcy calmly, "I recently advised you to return to Netherfield."

Bingley's gaze was no less than demanding. "Please explain."

Feeling like a green recruit being dressed down by a commanding officer, Darcy obliged. "When we all returned from Hertfordshire and your sisters persuaded you against returning if you recall, I only said that I did not think her feelings were the equal of yours."

"Yes, I recall you saying that." Bingley's voice was brimming with impatience. "Do you now attempt to say that you did not agree with their assessment of Miss Bennet's qualifications?"

"Her qualifications were never in question, Bingley. Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, whatever your sisters may think about the gentleman in question. Their contention, if you recall, concentrated on her lack of standing in society and the detriment marrying her would be to your own, for her family possesses nothing of prominence, and she possesses little of dowry."

Bingley considered this for a moment then nodded. "Yes, I do recall that. At the time, I thought you agreed with them."

"Let us say that I did not disagree with them," said Darcy. "But I only spoke of her level of returning esteem for you, for that was the salient point."

Darcy paused uncertain how much to say, then decided his friend deserved to know all.

"That advice, I now fear, was in error."

"You do?" asked Bingley, his tone faintly challenging.

Darcy sighed and extended his hand. "I offer my apologies, Bingley, for I did not intend to keep this from you forever. Considering your decision to return to the north for the summer, I thought it was best to remain silent for the moment, which is part of the reason for my reference to Netherfield."

Appearing distracted, Bingley considered Darcy's comment for a moment then nodded. "Yes, I suppose I can understand your decision. What I cannot account for is your silence about Miss Bennet's presence in London."

"I was only made aware of it after the fact by your sister," said Darcy. "She did not inform me until after Miss Bennet visited and she had returned it."

"Caroline waited until three weeks after," spat Bingley, his dander suddenly raised. "I suppose she meant to convey the depth of her contempt and ensure Miss Bennet did not presume to approach her again."

"That was... not well done," said Darcy. "I beg your pardon, Bingley, for had I known of her intentions, I would not have counseled your sister to be so... dismissive of Miss Bennet."

Bingley considered him again, then returned to a previous point. "You said you had reason to believe your initial judgment was in error."

Darcy sighed, not wishing to bring up this point. It appeared, however, that he had little choice, for Bingley was not in a mood to be gainsaid. Before he could open his mouth, however, Bingley filled the silence, astonishing Darcy in the process.

"I suppose your change of heart must have something to do with Miss Elizabeth."

"Where did you hear that?" blurted Darcy.

In a few clipped sentences, Bingley explained how he had learned of the affair and what had happened at his townhouse the day before. Darcy had not supposed that Miss Bingley would be so careless as to allow herself to be overheard, though Hurst's part of the business was no less than hilarious. He might have thought Miss Bingley would take greater care than this.

"Needless to say, I was incensed," said Bingley, wrapping up his explanation. "It is not Caroline's place to sever an acquaintance unless it is one of her friends. Her unkindness to a woman I esteem above all others is beyond anything I expected of her."

It was not unexpected to Darcy, but he did not think it prudent to make such a comment.

"Once I had the entire affair from my sister's unwilling lips, augmented by Louisa's account and Hurst's clandestine intelligence, I informed them exactly what I thought of them. Then, after making certain they understood that I did not wish for their company, I sent them with Hurst to the north while I remained here, intending to speak to you. If they adhered to our original schedule, they departed some hours ago."

"That is extraordinary, my friend," said Darcy.

"It is," agreed Bingley. "And beyond shocking. Now, will you not explain Miss Elizabeth's part in your new understanding?"

Again, there appeared to be little choice but to do as his friend asked. Nothing in the world would convince Darcy to relate what happened in the parlor of Hunsford parsonage, but as Bingley already had some notion of Darcy's interest in Miss Elizabeth, there was no reason to hold back. Thus, Darcy told him of Miss Elizabeth's defense of her sister's character and her assertions concerning Miss Bennet's affection for Bingley. When he had finished his account, Bingley was more than a little introspective.

"You know," said he, "I suppose your presumption in this matter should annoy me. My sisters are such conniving shrews that I might have expected it from them. From you, however, it is a shock."

Darcy understood that to say anything to defend himself would appear as if he were attempting to place the blame on Bingley's sisters, so he remained silent. He had little need to speak in such a way, for Bingley did it for him.

"In the end," said Bingley, "I believe the greater share of the blame belongs to my sisters, for Caroline acted despicably. Your role was to inform me of your opinion, which was truthful though erroneous, and to refrain from bringing Miss Bennet's presence to my attention. It was not, I suppose, your responsibility at the end of it all."

"Perhaps it was not," said Darcy, relieved by his friend's offered clemency. "Yet I cannot be happy with my conduct in this matter. It appears I am unqualified to offer advice pertaining to matters of the heart; in the future, I shall endeavor to keep such counsel to myself."

Bingley barked a laugh, appearing more like the friend Darcy had always known. "I suppose you must be correct."

Amity restored between them, they sat in companionable silence for several moments, Darcy wondering what this all meant, but unwilling to ask. Bingley, he knew, would inform him of his decision the moment he made it, so Darcy was content to wait for his friend to make that communication. As he had known, it did not take long.

"Well, my friend," said Bingley, "it appears we are both caught in a conundrum."

"The Bennet sisters?" asked Darcy.

"The same," replied Bingley with a grin. "I left Hertfordshire in November, apparently heedless of Miss Bennet's feelings, in contradiction of my own, and existed in blithe ignorance while my sister treated the woman I love with contempt. You, on the other hand, admire her younger sister, and for whatever reason—your scruples, I must assume—you have not acted to secure her."

It was much more than that, but Darcy remained determined to say nothing further. "What do you suggest?"

"Might I assume you intended to accompany me to Netherfield in the autumn? You never stated as much, but you inferred it unless I am mistaken."

Darcy eyed his friend. "I had not yet decided, but the notion had occurred to me."

Bingley nodded as if Darcy had confirmed his suspicions. "Then why wait until Michaelmas? At present, my family has gone to the north, so I need not fear my sister's interference. Unless there is some pressing need to return to Pemberley, why do you not join me?"

"If I had a pressing need to return to Pemberley, I would be gone already," was Darcy's wry reply.

The laughter with which Bingley responded marked the completion of Bingley's return to his usual good humor. "That is not a surprise, my friend. Then what say you?"

Darcy wanted to agree at once. Yet he remained unconvinced it was at all wise to return to Hertfordshire now. With Bingley's plans to travel north, Darcy had thought to use that time to firm his resolve to approach Miss Elizabeth again. At the very least, it would allow a little time to pass since he was last in her company, and perhaps allow fraught emotions to settle. Was it too early to put himself in her company again?

Unable though he was to resist Miss Bennet's siren call, Darcy could do nothing but confess it was still far too early to consider pursuing her again. Could he truly refuse to offer Bingley his support? It was a muddle, and one Darcy did not think he could resolve with his friend watching him, waiting for a response.

Just when Darcy opened his mouth, even at that late date uncertain how to respond, the sound of a commotion in the halls outside his study reached his ears. Uncertain of what was happening to disrupt his house, he rose to investigate when the door swung open, and a tall woman entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.