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Part One

Posted on 06 March 2007

It is a universally acknowledged truth that a young man born to no wealth at all, who loses his father at a young age, is in want of a source of income. That is how I joined the militia at the age of fifteen, hoping to send as much as I could earn to my mother and sisters. I admit that the fact that I often saw pretty young girls sighing over the men in uniform did influence my mind as well. After the necessary basic training, I found myself eventually assigned to Colonel James Forster's regiment. Eight years later, my regiment was quartered at Meryton, Hertfordshire. By that time I was a lieutenant, Lieutenant Reginald Martin Denny, and I wish those first two names had been reversed.

This is what took place during that year, as best I remember.

We had barely managed to settle into our new quarters when the local girls began to appear. One more thing I was used to by then. Many girls were attracted to our red coats and shining sabers, and while I can tell you for sure that there are many officers who would trifle with them and encourage them to flirting and much more dangerous actions, I am not one of them. Certainly, I like a pleasant figure and a pretty smile as much as the next man, but that is as far as it goes for me. At three-and-twenty I am not ready to settle down yet, and the life of a militiaman, an impoverished wanderer, is not one that I expect most young ladies to want to share. I had little hope of supporting a family until I could at least reach the rank of Major. So I might talk and laugh and dance with the girls, and even talk about them with the other officers, but my only interest was pleasant companionship.

Now, I know that the reputation of us lower-rank militiamen is not so wonderful, and in these years I have seen plenty of gamblers and drinkers and liars and yes, definitely seducers. And allow me to tell you, there are plenty of girls who will be attracted to the wrong man, or to any man for the wrong reasons. I only try to keep an eye out so the number of sad stories coming from my regiment is as low as possible. That is why I watch over the new recruits and try to encourage them to form healthy habits and avoid vices, thereby earning the nickname of "Mother Hen Denny" and the occasional dumping of chicken feathers on my pack and uniform. If a girl asks me why I care, I say "I have sisters back in Swindon," which is where I was born and raised. If a fellow militiaman asks, I say something like "you know it's hard enough to earn a coin or two, you don't want to throw it away." While our Colonel is very strict about anything related to the neatness of our uniform or the correct performance of our exercises, he is far less observant of our behavior outside the quarters.

A few weeks before we arrived in Meryton, I had gone out with Saunderson and Carter for a drink. In the militia, you eventually understand which men you like, but you can rarely avoid anyone: at any particular moment your company is more probably a matter of chance rather than choice. At the public house, we met a man about five to seven years older than me, with a dashing air and an almost empty pocket. His clothes were of good quality but old and his manner of speaking made him to be more educated than most; he had much of the bankrupted gentleman about him. He was quite gallant with the barmaid, and his easy air inspired you to speak more openly in his presence than usual with a new acquaintance. Apparently he was born in Derbyshire but after his parents and his godfather, a Mr. Darcy, had died, he had been cast off by the surviving relations and lived in London for some years, without finding a stable profession. I suppose I sympathized with the man, so after my second glass I said "Well, Mr. Wickham, if you are in need of an income, you might consider joining our regiment. It is not a comfortable life, but your pay-packet is a certainty" and told him that he could find our Colonel at the nearby Bracken Bridge Inn. As far as Wickham's boast an hour later that he could have married an heiress to thirty thousand pounds had it not been for "that deuced Fitzwilliam showing up at the worst time", I quite disregarded that. Believe me, if you give credit to the stories heard in pubs and inns and tents, I have met several dozen potential sons-in-law to the Duke of York, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and other famous noblemen, Generals, and Admirals. Men boast of what they could have had in the opposite proportion to what they actually do possess, it seems.

In short, what did I think of George Wickham? No more or no less than I did of a hundred other such men I have known. I would not call him my friend, but I might share a drink or a meal or a walk with him. Pass the time with him, yes. Trust him, no.

Anyway, there we were in Meryton, a pleasant Hertfordshire village where we had been quartered (in the sense of stationed, not that barbaric form of punishment for treason) two other times, so I knew a few people there. The principal families, I remembered, were named Bennet, Lucas, Long, Philips, Goulding, and King. I was happy to see that a few villagers remembered me. From what they recounted, the estate of Netherfield Park had been let recently to a young gentleman from London, a Mr. Bingley, who had brought his sisters, a brother-in-law, and a close friend. Everyone seemed to consider this Mr. Bingley the most amiable man in the county, and the ball he would host in ten days was the talk of the village. However, opinions of his friend Mr. Darcy were quite negative. Mr. Darcy was said to be proud and haughty, barely willing to speak to anyone outside his own party, and loath to dance.

Did I say Darcy? I wondered if this man would be related to Wickham's late godfather. Hopefully not, because I had no interest in witnessing some unpleasant scene. Wickham had become quite tiresome to me in repeating his tale of how he had been wronged by his childhood friend, and might instead have become the vicar of Kympton or a prominent barrister, but others appeared to delight in hearing it from him.

One day I was walking through the village with Carter and Wickham, since they both expressed an interest in becoming acquainted with the locals. Having nothing better to do, I took them with me and introduced them to some of the shopkeepers and tradesmen. Outside a milliner's shop, we happened to meet some young ladies that I had met before; in fact, they were three of the Bennet sisters, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Catherine or Kitty as everyone called her, and Miss Lydia. They were the second, the fourth, and the youngest of five sisters respectively.

Before I describe to you our introductions, let me tell you what I may of the young ladies. Jane, the eldest, was a blonde who enjoyed taking care of puppies and kittens and had never said an evil word about anyone. Many described her as the most beautiful girl in the town, if not the county. Elizabeth, her father's favorite, had dark brown hair and liked reading, spirited conversation, and walks through the countryside. Mary, the third daughter, was a bit of a bluestocking, reading sermons and practicing the pianoforte all day. It was with the younger two that the regiment had the most acquaintance. Kitty and Lydia, sixteen and fifteen years old, the shortest and the tallest respectively, were known as redcoat chasers. They watched our exercises and laughed and flirted with us officers whenever they could. Some men thought them quite empty-headed, because they spoke with each other mainly about bonnets and fashion, but my impression of them was that they were only young and playful. Lydia was the more daring of the two, in both dress and behavior; Kitty tended to follow her lead. They could be infuriating at times, but they always found a way to make us laugh. Sometimes I thought I should speak with them, as an elder brother or a cousin might, in order for them to moderate their behavior, but I was not sure whether they would listen to me.

I introduced the young ladies, Carter, and Wickham to one another. The last man spoke eagerly and managed to make an impression on all three females. We were chatting about how long the regiment might remain, about the ball to be held at Netherfield, and how we felt well received by the locals, when two other men that I had never seen arrived from the other side of the street. By the looks of them, they were both well-to-do gentlemen in their late twenties. One man was blond, of average height, with a rounded face and a friendly expression. What really surprised me was the reaction of the other man on seeing us -- and Wickham's reaction on seeing him. They both looked like they had swallowed a musket, I dare say. The other man was quite tall and broad-shouldered, with curly dark hair and brown eyes, and until he showed his surprise, looked very reserved. The younger girls seemed somewhat frightened by him, but Miss Elizabeth seemed only slightly displeased. The men bowed and the ladies curtseyed.

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia, good morning," the blond man said excitedly. "I am very happy to see you, and hope that your sisters and parents are all well."

"Thank you, Mr. Bingley," replied Elizabeth with a smile, "I can assure you that they are. They are back at Longbourn. And your own sisters and brother?"

Meanwhile, the other man had managed no greeting besides a brief nod and a mumbled "Ladies."

"My sisters and my brother wished to remain at Netherfield," said Bingley, "I hope your parents have informed you of the ball to which you are all invited?" And then, with a start, "Excuse me! I did not wish to interrupt your conversation with the gentlemen!"

"That would be no trouble, Mr. Bingley," I said, "if only we could all complete our acquaintance. I am Lieutenant Denny of the militia, and my comrades in arms are Captain Carter and Lieutenant Wickham." I shook hands with Bingley, and in turn he introduced his companion as Mr. Darcy from Derbyshire.

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen," Darcy said in a low voice, "Mr. Wickham and I are already acquainted."

Bingley shook hands with the other two officers, as did Darcy, but the latter man was obviously hesitant to offer his hand to Wickham, who received his handshake with a somewhat malicious smile. "I imagine you did not expect to see me again, Darcy," he said.

"In truth I did not," the other man said in a voice that showed his displeasure quite clearly. Evidently, he was the childhood friend that had become the most frequent subject of Wickham's complaints.

Darcy and Bingley quickly disengaged themselves, explaining that they had to go tender other invitations to the ball. After a few minutes, the ladies left as well, with the excuse that they would visit their aunt Mrs. Philips, who lived a few streets away. As they left, Wickham followed them with his eyes and then turned rapidly to me.

"Denny, you know this place and its people," he said, "do you suppose those Miss Bennets have any money settled on them? They could be quite pleasant acquaintances, I do say."

Before I could answer, Carter interrupted us in his dry voice, "Tasty, those three, I would not mind waking up next to any of them. Wickham, I wager we could take one of them outside at the ball and have some fun!"

"Ten pounds say they would all refuse you," Wickham answered.

"Trying to win back last night's losses at whist, are you?" Carter said. "I wager another ten that I can kiss one of them before you do. And I will win some more from you tonight."

"I would not recommend that," I said in a flat voice to both of them. "And neither would our Colonel."

"Denny, you are no fun at all," said Wickham, "what is life without play and a little danger?"

"What is life in debt?" was my answer.

"Come on, Carter," said Wickham with a sneer, "let us have some fun without this Mother Hen pecking at us." So they walked away and I went across the street to visit Mr. Whitney, a friendly old tailor. My civilian clothing needed some repair.

The next days were not particularly eventful, except for one morning when apparently Kitty and Lydia Bennet had dared each other to try to visit me before I was wearing my regimentals. Fortunately I am an early riser and a quick dresser, a habit that I learned as a private after ten sessions of potato peeling.

"What a pity!" said Lydia with a pout when she found me dressed. "Next time we will have to come even earlier!" She shifted her dress around to attempt to make it more revealing. In spite of her young age, her figure was already very womanly, and she was much nearer my own height than that of her sister.

"Am I a reason for you to awaken early?" I teased her. "Besides, I thought you liked a man in a red coat, Miss Lydia, not one without it."

"Don't tell me you even sleep in your regimentals, Denny!" said Kitty with a smile.

"But you look quite dashing in them!" was Lydia's comment.

"Such praise, young ladies, is a most enjoyable start for the morning." Maybe the moment I had wished for was upon us. "But Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia, I would not encourage you to try the same thing with all of us."

"Why ever not?" said Lydia with her eyes wide. "I quite like the militia."

If I wanted to advise them at all, there would have to be some teasing as well. First I said that if they wanted me to answer, they would each have to promise me a dance at the Netherfield ball. After they agreed on that, I explained that not all men in red coats are honorable, and I have met many that would not hesitate to enjoy their favors and then cast them out on the street in disgrace, and would even boast of their achievement. Even if they did marry an officer, he might not be a pleasant husband. I was careful not to mention any names in my own regiment, though Carter and Wickham were definitely in my mind. I went as far as telling the two sisters that I found them delightful companions and would not wish to see them harmed. Kitty and Lydia both joked about my being their protector, like a character in the novels that Kitty read, but even I could tell that there was some serious thought about what I had said. At least we all agreed that we would enjoy the ball.

The next evening Colonel Forster had invited the gentlemen of Netherfield to dine with us. Mr. Bingley's reputation for amiability was no exaggeration, since he shook hands and spoke briefly with every single one of us and reminded us of the invitation to his ball. He had brought with him his tall and reserved friend Mr. Darcy, who apparently was the cousin of a Colonel in the Regulars, and a portly gentleman who was a stranger to all of us, a Mr. Gilroy Hurst. Mr. Hurst ended up being seated between Lieutenant Pratt and me; apparently, he was married to Mr. Bingley's elder sister Louisa. Mr. Hurst had an enormous appetite and could drink like the hardiest officer, but what made the man appealing was his unusual sense of humor and his ability to tell stories. He also enjoyed teasing Mr. Bingley about his attentions to Miss Jane Bennet and Mr. Darcy about his admiration of Miss Elizabeth, which the former man admitted eagerly and the latter man vehemently denied without being convincing in the slightest. After some time, even Mr. Darcy managed to become less stiff and taciturn as he exchanged anecdotes with Colonel Forster about his own cousin, whose name was Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Pratt and I were also comfortable together; we were close in age and had both lost our fathers when young. In the end, it was quite a merry evening for all of us.

The next day I saw Wickham in town walking with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. They seemed to be having a quite serious conversation, so I was loath to interrupt them beyond a brief greeting. However, from a few words that I overheard at a distance, I could tell that he was giving her his usual "Darcy story". What surprised me was that she seemed to be hanging on his every word without a single doubt; after all, she was reputed to be a sensible and witty girl, and an excellent judge of character. Maybe I was tired enough of hearing Wickham's complaints that I could not imagine anyone else listening to them eagerly or even believing them. More likely, I was envious because I saw a tiresome braggart enjoying the rapt attention of an attractive young lady. "Not your time yet to think about those things, Denny," I told myself, "try to be a good officer and if you can become a Major, then you can seek out a spirited lass for yourself." By then of course, who knows where I might be, or who might be around me.

Once I returned to camp, I found I was to be kept away from Meryton for a couple of nights, since there was a rumor that a band of roving highwaymen might attempt to attack carriages on the roads between Hertfordshire and the neighboring counties. Pratt, Saunderson, Chamberlayne, Lawton, and I were stationed in various places, but we found no person more suspicious than the occasional wandering drunk or poacher. At least no robberies took place while we were out there, which meant that our presence might not have been a complete waste.

After being relieved of this duty, I found Carter wandering around in the jolliest of spirits. Before I could ask him the cause, which in fact I was too tired to want to know, he told me his news with ale-fortified breath. "Our mate Wickham has done quite a deed!" he exulted, "Mary King, some freckled chit from the village, has a fortune of ten thousand and sly old George is half a step from being engaged to her! And the best part is that I will now win his ten-pound wager that one of the Bennet girls will kiss me before him! Are we a couple of rascals or what?"

"You truly are," I said and left him there. I began to rue the evening I had convinced that man to join the militia, and for the first time in my life had thoughts of exchanging my commission for one in a different service. But the next day had even more unpleasant news in store for me.

Part Two

Posted on 19 March 2007

I should have imagined that this would not be a pleasant day when the first thing I heard was Carter's voice, gloating not over any deed of his own, but once again, Wickham's conquest of Mary King, and even worse, being congratulated as though it were all his doing. After that, just when we were called to duty, a strong rain began to fall, upsetting my plan to venture into the village and arrange to transfer some of my pay to my family. By the time that we were allowed a few free hours in the afternoon, many of us were drenched and in a sour mood because of it. At one moment, Wickham himself walked up to me and not only demanded my congratulations on his new engagement, but even thanked me for having suggested the militia as a career, for otherwise he would not have been able to enjoy the society of the local ladies. My exasperation grew to the point that as soon as I could, I walked to Meryton although the rain had not yet stopped, but I would rather get sick than have to listen to all the fine words with which Wickham had gained Miss King's consent and that of her father as well. Apparently, even his story about the Darcy family had helped his suit. For the first time that I could remember in years, I only wanted to be alone. This would be much better than the other thing I felt like doing, which was to shout in the town square something on the order of "Blethering idiots! Can you not see the man for what he is?"

Without any plan or design on my part, I found myself standing in front of Mr. Whitney's shop. He immediately invited me in with a rather serious look on his face. He offered me a cup of tea, but the tone of his voice was quite stern, like that of the sergeants who trained me as a new recruit.

"Lieutenant Denny," he said, "I need to ask you about a most serious manner. As the eldest of the tradesmen in this town, there is quite a weight on my shoulders. And since you are known here from last year, I suspect you are the best man to resolve this."

"Pray continue, Mr. Whitney. I would eagerly be of assistance to you, Sir."

"Tell me one thing, young man. Are all of the officers entitled to make purchases on credit on behalf of the regiment?"

"I cannot say for certain what the rules are," I said cautiously, "but I can tell you that I am not."

"Of whom might I enquire on this subject?"

"I believe you should consult with Major McClure, Colonel Forster's assistant. He could tell you all that you need to know. Is there some trouble?"

Instead of answering me, Mr. Whitney walked out the door and quickly called in the tradesmen who kept the two neighboring shops. "Mr. Corbett, Mr. Swann, could you spare me a minute?" Mr. Corbett was a boot-maker, from whom I had purchased my current footwear the previous year, and Mr. Swann an ironmonger who had made most of our belt buckles. Corbett was about thirty years old, with a narrow face and long arms, while Swann, some ten years older, had a sturdy build and was beginning to lose his blondish hair.

Once the two gentlemen had also entered the tailor's shop, I was told to repeat my remarks. This caused all of them to look at me with expressions of grave concern on their faces.

"Corbett, did you compare your accounts with last year's?" Mr. Whitney said, "I have the impression that purchases have greatly increased."

"Orders and purchases truly have," said Corbett, "But payments have not."

"I can say the same," said Swann. "We may be getting hoodwinked here. My missus tells me that Yarborough and Derry and Wilkins the pub man are complaining too."

"By all means, do speak with the Major," I said, "and if possible, draw up your accounts for each man. If you wish, I may speak to him of your concerns." And after that, since suspicion was growing in my mind, "And if Carter and Wickham are on your list of debtors, I would be wary of them, for they quite like to gamble." Not a man said anything in response, but by the quick looks that they exchanged I could tell that my words had hit the mark.

"We appreciate your honesty, Lieutenant," said Corbett. After a few more words, I was invited to take my leave so that they could discuss the matter among themselves. Fortunately the rain had stopped and I could make my way back to quarters while staying presentable. A pleasant thought briefly occupied my mind: on the next night, the ball would be held at Netherfield, and I would dance with Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. Was I actually missing their company?

My fellow officers were in general pleased about the upcoming ball. Any event that broke the boredom of our exercises and other duties was always welcome, especially if it involved young ladies. I even observed the Colonel grooming his whiskers. Lawton was teased mercilessly about liking a tradesman's daughter. Just when I thought of seeking out Pratt to walk out for a drink, I began to overhear snatches of Wickham's voice.

"If I can play my cards right, Saunderson ... Miss ten-thousand King is already mine for the taking, but those Bennet girls will still be a sport ... Elizabeth is a beauty, but the youngest two will be easier to convince ... won't be there tomorrow, have to make a quick trip to London for some business ... chat up the blond one some more ... " The man's cheekiness knew no limits! Was he just engaged and plotting to obtain a mistress? Thinking that I had brought him into the regiment made me shudder. If the tradesmen of Meryton knew that fact as well, they might hold me equally responsible for any debts he contracted. Something had to be done, but what?

I quickly turned around, but Wickham and Saunderson were no longer there. Luckily I found Pratt and we drank together, barely preserving my sanity. How I wished for some thieves to arrest at that moment! But Meryton was thought to be a quiet town, which is why it was chosen as our station.

As we piled into the regiment's carriage to go to Netherfield, there was much talk about the estate, which most of us had not yet seen, since it was on the other side of town from our quarters. Its owner was called a good fellow, and his brother-in-law a rather jolly one, while the Bingley sisters were said to have "their noses ten feet in the air". There was much speculation on dancing partners and less decent topics, especially as we entered the vast gardens of the estate and viewed the grand building itself.

"Confound it!" said Carter, "No bushes round the back to play with a chit in!"

"No chance of all that anyway, with all those servants around. More than us, maybe."

"I wish we had a billet like this house! They must have twenty different kinds of wine!"

"Lawton, did your Miss Emily already promise you the first two? Or three or four?"

"The Colonel will be so busy with his wife that he can't watch us!"

"Who's got Lydia Bennet first?" I felt like saying "I did, I asked her a week ago" but the others might have thrown me out. I did feel a little pride, though.

"Thank heaven for low necklines!" That was Carter again.

Mr. Bingley himself was at the entrance to greet us. Amazingly, he remembered almost all of our names, and he promised us that the punch and the white soup would be to our satisfaction. He was joined on the receiving line by his sisters and his brother-in-law. The former ignored us completely, speaking only to each other, and the latter joked with us and led us to the refreshment table. Most of the guests were already present. Lawton immediately found his Miss Emily, or I imagine that's who she was, and they were clearly pleased to see each other. I noticed Mr. Darcy around the outer reaches of the gathering, with his gaze fixed in a particular direction. Out of curiosity, I followed his eyes and found that he was watching Miss Elizabeth Bennet as she spoke with her friend, Sir William Lucas' daughter Charlotte. In an instant his posture became firm and he walked directly towards her, probably to ask her for a dance. Who could blame him? I guessed that Mr. Hurst was right about them.

I began to look for my dance partner as well. She was not too hard to find: all I had to do was look for a cloud of red clothing somewhere in the room, and I could reasonably expect to find either her or Kitty. This time the cloud was not as thick as usual, probably because Lydia and Kitty were being watched closely by their father from a few paces away. Mr. Bennet was a well-known local gentleman with graying hair, a tall and thin body, and penetrating eyes. His favorite pastimes were reading, playing chess, watching the actions of people around him, and making teasing comments on what he saw. He also liked a good port, though I had never seen him drunk. We had spoken a few times at similar occasions, but only briefly. His wife was a nervous and talkative lady; maybe being a mother of five accounted for that. At this moment she was seated and engaged in an animated discussion with her sister Mrs. Philips, the wife of the local solicitor, and Mrs. Long. The other two ladies were tireless gossips.

"Good evening, Miss Lydia," I said with a bow.

"Denny!" she rewarded me with a curtsey and fluttering eyelashes. She was wearing a red gown with loose cuffs around her wrists and lace trimming. I realized that I had not seen her for some days. Why was my heart beating faster? "How is my caring redcoat?"

"Happy to see you, miss, and even happier to have your company for a dance."

"La! You will not make me blush!"

"You never know," I said, "but I promise not to try too hard tonight if that vexes you."

She did not blush; she laughed until her shoulders shook. It was time for us to move to the dance floor to claim our places. From what I could see of the other couples, Lawton was with Miss Emily, Mr. Bingley was with Jane Bennet, Mr. Darcy was with Elizabeth Bennet, tall Chamberlayne had claimed Kitty's hand by walking to her side quicker than anyone else, and Major McClure was with Charlotte Lucas. Mary Bennet had apparently decided to sit out the dance next to her father. Mr. Hurst danced with his wife, as did Colonel Forster. Interestingly, Carter was partnered with Mary King, possibly in order to inform her of Wickham's absence. The dance was a peculiar one, requiring partners to separate and approach again on several occasions.

"Miss Lydia, I imagine you were very eager for this ball," I said to her when we were close.

"Of course, dancing is what I most enjoy in life," she said, "but where did you disappear for several days? I could not find you at your quarters."

I told her about the suspicion of highwaymen, and what had taken place while I was stationed along the roads. She listened to me with attention. I realized with shame that I did not know much of how her own days went when she was not shopping in Meryton or visiting us officers, and asked her what it was like to live at Longbourn. However, before she could answer me, the steps of the dance parted us.

When we approached again, I saw her face assume a different expression, one that I had never seen before on her face. It resembled the expression I had seen some soldiers display during the hardest exercises: a look of absolute concentration, as though besides what they were doing at that moment, there was nothing else in the world around them. Did that mean she was enjoying this dance more than any other, or that I had made her uncomfortable with my question? I could either wonder about it or seek an answer later, for at that moment she seemed most unapproachable. Our dance continued in silence until its end, and in that time Lydia slowly began to look more like the girl I recognized. Before her next partner could claim her, I briefly touched her fingers with my hand.

"Miss Lydia, if I have offended you in some way, I sincerely wish to apologize," I said.

She blinked and then held my arm just below my wrist. "Denny, I am all in a muddle and I do not like it. We will talk more, but not now. Kitty is waiting for you." This was strange. The Lydia I knew was always certain of everything, from the bonnets that suited her better than her sister to which officer she preferred for each kind of dance, and rarely silent. Anyway, since I had been dismissed, my only choice was to look around the room and find Kitty for the next dance. She was talking with her friend Maria Lucas and looked up with a smile as I approached them. However, as with Lydia, I found something unusual in her expression, a slight strain in her smile and a faraway look in her eye. As I led her to our place on the dance floor, however, I found that no action was needed to begin a conversation with her.

"Denny, our life is being turned upside down. Jane is in love with Mr. Bingley and he is the sweetest and kindest man in the world, I don't know what is keeping him from proposing to her because they seem so right for each other. Mama is all nerves waiting for a proposal every day and telling us how we are to be thrown in the way of rich men. I thought Lizzy liked Mr. Wickham but then he got engaged to Mary King and they still talk sometimes after that, and that tall scowling Mr. Darcy looks at Lizzy half the time and barely says anything at all, now look, he's dancing with her!" A glance around confirmed that this was true. Kitty continued to speak as the dance started, though without losing track of a single step. "Mary is like she always was, and it's easier for me to follow Lydia's lead because she is the bolder one, but I think she does everything only because she wants to be noticed. Ever since the last time we visited you she has been talking less and thinking more and I think she really missed you when you were away. Jane and Lizzy have men pursuing them that they could marry but I don't think I could be like either one of them. I want Lydia and me to be as close to each other as Jane and Lizzy are, but I don't like it when Lydia takes my things and sometimes she gets very silly because it's better than doing nothing and I think you like her more than me!" She paused to catch her breath. "No, I didn't say that! Or I didn't mean to! What do you think?"

At first I was too confused to answer, so as I began to think I said something on the order of "I think you are an impressively skilled dancer to be able to tell me all that and not miss a single move." She blushed slightly at this, and then I continued. "Miss Kit- Catherine, to be yourself is not an easy job. Find something that you like to do, that is all I can say. I like you and I like your sister; I think of the two of you together as friends of mine but I can't possibly dance with both of you at once!"

"What if sometime you had to choose between us?" From the expression on Kitty's face, it seemed she expected an answer that would pain her. I could not lie to her, but I would not cause her pain.

"I do not know. I have no thought of choosing. Certainly I would not want to lose your friendship."

"Denny, I think Lydia will take you if she sets her mind to it, because once she decides what she wants nothing will stop her." Kitty's voice had a pouting tone. "Perhaps I should find someone for myself. Who is the best man in your regiment?"

"I will introduce you to him if you wish, that is, if you trust my opinion." I wondered whether Pratt would be pleased to have an admirer, since at that moment I was too confused to remember whether they had already met.

"Yes, Denny, please!" Finally she smiled again, but only briefly, for her next words were quite seriously spoken. "I need you to promise one thing for me, Denny. Will you not stop talking with me, and being my friend, even if you marry Lydia?"

"If I did marry Miss Lydia-" -- how did that sentence come into existence? "- and believe me, I do not say that I will or would -- then I would become your brother, and if I were your brother I would definitely be your friend. You have my promise." Kitty's response to this was a dreamy look that appeared in her eyes.

"I do not know about husbands yet," she said, "but all these years I have wished for a brother. That way Mother would not be nervous all the time about our estate being entailed and talk about us marrying rich men!"

"Mr. Bingley would certainly be a good brother. He has a good word for everyone." Kitty nodded to this, and was silent for the rest of the dance. I hoped her thoughts were not unpleasant. But from where did the idea come into her head that I might marry Lydia, or that Lydia might want to marry me? These considerations made me long for a large glass of punch, but before that I would introduce Kitty and Pratt to each other. However, as I led Kitty in his direction, I found myself interrupted by a superior officer.

"Och, Denny, who is the handsome lass you have accompanying you?" Major McClure, a broad-shouldered and barrel-chested man of thirty with a booming voice, had stopped right in front of me. "Miss, would you not honor me with a dance? That is a Highland fling they will be playing, and it brings to mind my days as a wee tyke in Inverness." Under these conditions, I could not avoid introducing them, and Kitty could not avoid agreeing to the dance, even by saying that I had promised to introduce her to a fellow officer. The Scotsman would not be gainsaid, and I knew that to insist with him would mean peeling potatoes with the privates for a week. Before McClure led her away, I managed to whisper to her "I will send him to you, but judge and choose for yourself."

After that I sought out Pratt and encouraged him to ask Kitty for the next dance. By the time I could reach the punch, the music had already begun, so I remained with my drink as an observer.

"A penny for the thoughts of each one of them, Lieutenant," said Mr. Hurst, who had appeared all of a sudden at my right, with a small wave towards the dancing couples.

"Even at that price," I said, "the endeavour would quite bankrupt me, Mr. Hurst." His answer was an appreciative laugh, and then we began a discussion about the food that we could expect to enjoy. If he were our commanding officer, conditions in the mess hall would certainly have improved. I excused myself by claiming the need to find a partner for the next dance. The idea of dancing with Mary King in order to warn her about Wickham did enter my thoughts, but we had never met, and besides, if she had already become engaged to him, I could not expect to change her mind. Even if I repeated exactly what I had overheard, what reason would she have to believe me? In any case, I saw Sir William Lucas's son claim her hand, and asked Maria Lucas to join me for the dance. She accepted in a barely audible voice and could not quite raise her eyes to me. Pratt had managed to find Kitty and Lydia, as usual, was in a cloud of redcoats once again. Hopefully this meant that their mood had improved.

This time, my dancing partner was very quiet, which gave me time to think, or more correctly, to attempt to think and end up nowhere. How did I want my life to be, and what could I expect from it? Exercises, wanderings around various towns, the daily company of other soldiers, the occasional ball -- and what if all that eventually became tiring to me? Another man would seek advancement through combat by joining the Regulars, but I did not wish my mother and sisters to lose whatever help I could send them if I met the fate of many soldiers. I wondered when I might have the chance to go to Swindon to see them again; though it did not depend on my will, I felt I had been absent for too long. To sell off my commission and seek other employment would be an extremely uncertain course, possibly even leaving me without somewhere to live. Three-and-twenty was considered too late an age to learn a new trade.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost failed to stop moving at the right moment at the end of the dance. Lawton came and told me that Miss Emily had returned to her father's side, and he had heard Colonel Forster say that in the spring our regiment would move to Brighton. We both wondered aloud at how it might be different to be stationed near the sea. As we were engaged in our conversation, I barely sensed some movement behind me, and all of a sudden my saber was gone. Lydia Bennet had grabbed it and held it above her head. I walked in her direction, careful not to run or chase in order to make the embarrassment any greater than it already was, and not to grab for the saber and wound anyone by mistake. When we had almost crossed the room, I began to become desperate, as much for Lydia´s sake as for my own.

"Miss Lydia, please return the saber to me," I said, hopefully not loudly, "if you wished to see it, you only needed to ask and I would have shown it to you. What need was there for this spectacle?"

"I will by no means return it unless you grant me a promise," she pouted. What was this, the evening of promises for Miss Bennets? Maybe after this Miss Jane Bennet would ask me to raise a stray puppy or Miss Mary Bennet would require me to listen to her read from a book of sermons. However, I had no aspiration to the former (besides, Mr. Bingley had quite outdone any possible competitors) and no interest in the latter.

"What promise is that, Miss Lydia? You may lower the saber now. I will not take it from you by force."

"Teach me something." There was a peculiar gleam in her eye. "You have told me of evil men, Denny. You must have learned something in your training that I could use to protect myself from one of them. I wish to be strong and remain safe, at no man's mercy."

"Your promise is granted, Miss Lydia," I said slowly and she brought the saber down with a small smile and held it out to me. "But I will not accept the saber until you agree to dance with me once more!"

"Of course Denny, we will dance! But first come with me for a moment." Once I had put the saber in its proper place, I offered my arm to her and she led me across the room, stopping right in front of her father. What was this supposed to mean?

"Papa," she said, addressing Mr. Bennet directly, "I know you think I am only silly and maybe sometimes I am but Lieutenant Denny is a good officer who treats Kitty and me well and I want to speak with him now. I am not doing anything improper so tell Mama not to start with her nerves."

Mr. Bennet glared at both of us. "You should be more careful with sharp objects, daughter. And you, Lieutenant, should know that your Colonel is a good friend of my family and would not tolerate anyone trifling with us." Had he been an officer, at this moment he would have been assigning me the most distasteful duties in existence.

"Sir," I said as though addressing a General, something I had never actually done, "I completely understand your concern and will do nothing to provoke your anger or his. We will be somewhere that you can see us, if you wish, Mr. Bennet."

"It had best be so," he said, dismissing us with another fierce look.

Lydia showed me a place where we could sit. If we spoke low to each other, those around us would not be able to hear. However, she did not immediately begin to speak.

"Miss Lydia, what did you wish me to hear?"

"I want you to know something, Denny. You asked me about Longbourn. With seven of us in one house, we all need to have something of our own. Jane has her embroidery, her pony, and her kittens and Lizzy has her walks in the countryside and Mary has her music and sermons, so what can Kitty and I have? Our arguments, our bonnets and ribbons, and visiting the regiment. Papa has his books and his chess games with Lizzy and Mama has her gossip and her nerves. They think I do not know that Mama wished for a son, because if Papa died some cousin of his could take away our home. My parents and maybe even Jane and Lizzy think Kitty and I are a disappointment and would rather forget about us. So sometimes I will do anything, just so they know I am still there, but for anything I do I am almost always scolded."

"But why are you telling me this?"

"Why do you think, Denny? Because I trust you. I know you would rather not forget about me. Or am I wrong?"

No, you are not wrong, I wished to tell her, but stop being sad because I prefer seeing you smile -- but since I did not wish to be forward, I merely shook my head and said "I do appreciate your trust." Since I was worried about where this conversation might lead, I decided to ask her about when we might meet at the camp for the promised lesson, and after we reached an agreement, suggested that we take our places on the dance floor. "I wish I knew how to relieve your worries, Miss Lydia, but at least let us enjoy a reel."

This made her smile at last. "Yes Denny, let us forget everything!" I tried, but I did not succeed. I had been told too many things that evening. I knew that I enjoyed dancing with her, and but I also found myself watching her as we danced, and enjoying that. There was no reason that I could find for this, but there was a feeling that something was changing in me. Maybe a more educated man than myself could figure this out, but I had no such insight. I attempted to say some pleasant words with her, something about the music or the way the ball had been well organized.

"It is a great house for dancing!" she agreed with me. "If Mr. Bingley and Jane marry I could come here often."

When this dance ended, I suggested taking her back to her father's side so that he would not be angry with us. She reluctantly agreed, and I brought her to his side without a word exchanged between the three of us. Mr. Bennet only confirmed his daughter's return with a cool nod.

One more dance took place after that, and then supper. The food was everything that Mr. Hurst had said it would be, but since all of us officers were seated together as a group, there was really nothing worth remembering in our conversation, only comparisons of which couples we had seen dancing or been a part of ourselves. I came in for some teasing for having danced twice with Lydia. After the food, there was drinking and music, with Mrs. Hurst, Mary Bennet, Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth Bennet all taking a turn on the pianoforte. The last two ladies also sang, and as their turns changed they glanced at each other in a not very friendly way.

Excuse me if I do not recount any more of the evening, but by that point I was already feeling rather exhausted. Perhaps I had indulged in too much punch

Part Three

Posted on 26 March 2007

I woke up with a headache and only one concrete thought: to ask Sergeant Prosser for a strong cup of coffee. Until I could achieve that, my head would be utterly garbled, and I needed it to be clear, not only for our exercises, but also so that I could teach Lydia how to defend herself. The warm drink cleared my head to the point that I could make a plan. The problem was that since she was a lady, I could only explain or demonstrate, with no possibility of practice: although I might touch her hand, almost anything more than that would be most improper. Not that the way she had surprised me by removing my saber had been proper, but at least it showed that she could move rather quickly at times. This was important, for I could expect to instruct her in ways where agility, more than plain strength, would be useful. And I confess that I cared to fulfill her request and to see her learn.

She came to watch our exercises, as many times before, and received our enthusiastic greetings. A few other young ladies from Meryton were also there to watch us, but Lydia Bennet's behavior was different this time: earlier, she would have giggled with the other girls, exchanging comments about our movements and appearance and how our uniforms fit us. This time, she paid very close attention to what we were doing, and barely spoke with anyone else. Some of us exaggerated our efforts, it seemed, in order to impress the ladies that watched us.

"That blond Lydia chit with the perky bust is looking at you quite often," Wickham said to me as we marched on the green. "After your two dances, she might be ready for you to give her a tumble."

The man made my blood flow backwards! "You are a revolting cad, Wickham. Lydia is not one of your barmaids to be trifled with. She is ten times more a lady than you could ever be a gentleman." If there were not so many of us around, I would have enjoyed knocking him to the ground and keeping him there.

"I would not make so much of her if I were you, Mother Hen," he responded with a snort, "Carter told me that her sister, that tasty Elizabeth who walks around the country all the time, was dancing with Darcy and I will keep them from ever being together. One of them has it coming to her, the one Darcy likes or that silly young one. Miss Elizabeth will be ruined for Darcy and then she will have no choice but to come to me."

Now that was too much for me. I moved my left foot slightly and stepped very hard on the back of Wickham's foot, just above his heel. As he lost his footing in pain and fell, I quickly resumed my place in the line at the same pace as the others.

"Lieutenant Denny, Lieutenant Wickham, what was that?" Colonel Forster's voice boomed.

"A mere misstep on my part, Sir," I called out, "I apologize to my fellow officer."

Wickham glowered at me and swore under his breath as he rejoined the line, but with our superior officers watching us, the most he could manage was to say "You will regret that, Denny" in a cold voice. I was not afraid, though, for in a fair fight we would be evenly matched. I should have thought that a man of Wickham's character would not shy away from any dirty trick in existence.

"Give my regards to Miss King, your betrothed," I said to him as we departed for other duties. The other officers seemed to have an inkling that something unusual had occurred, but none seemed interested in pursuing the matter any further, except for Carter, who rushed to Wickham's side. Things had come to a pass now. Urgent action on my part would be required now. I wished I had made a better impression on Mr. Bennet the previous evening. Lydia's request for a lesson in the skill of defending herself now seemed ominous to me, for it was possible that she might urgently need it. The old saying about safety in numbers came to my mind. Would Lydia mind if she had three instructors instead of one, or would it be a better idea to postpone our lesson for another day? She had arrived, in any case, so it would be best for me to attempt to continue with my original plan. Thus I sought the two men in the regiment that I could trust the most and urgently entreated them for assistance.

"Denny, are you truly intending to teach Miss Lydia to fight?" Lawton asked incredulously. "And you expect us to help?"

"It was her request, and I hope that you would assist. I know it is quite a favor that I ask you, but consider any reward you might wish in return. I could buy your drinks at the pub for a month, or a new pair of boots, or a coat, even if it means I will borrow against my next pay-packet. The same goes for you, Pratt. It is a most serious matter, fellows."

"What is really behind all this?" Pratt asked. "Explain the entire story first."

Thus I had no choice but to explain both Lydia's actions the previous evening, which both of them had witnessed, and Wickham's words today. "I brought the man into our company," I said, "and now he causes trouble to no end." My discussion with the tradesmen also found its way into our conversation. "Pratt, Lawton, if a young lady that you cared about were in a similar position, would you not also desire for her to be able to protect yourself?"

"Yes, I would," said Lawton, "although Mr. Yarborough would not be enthusiastic about witnessing such a lesson. If I ever attempt something similar with Miss Emily, Denny, I will require your services on that occasion."

"Consider it done. And I believe after this you should start calling me Reginald or Reggie." Pratt broke out in unrestrained laughter at hearing my Christian name. This did not improve my mood, but I would rather overlook that than lose his assistance.

"Count me in as well," said Pratt, "and call me Matthew. I expect you to make good on the month of free drinks, Reginald -- I believe I like calling you Denny more -- and ... " He hesitated at that point.

"What is it, Matthew, to take you to Longbourn to call on Miss Catherine?"

"Not a bad idea at that," he smiled. "Although I think you should speak by yourself with Mr. Bennet first. He may change his view of us officers."

"We will succeed in this," said Lawton. "but I would be wary of how to tell Miss Emily about it. Would she be jealous of me assisting another young lady? Do not tell her anything of this unless I do first."

"That is for you to judge," I said. "And why are you hiding your name?"

"Hubert, Hugh, or Bert, depending on how the mood strikes you." We all shook hands to confirm our agreement, almost a pledge of friendship. Almost immediately, Lydia found us as well and greeted us in her usual bright-eyed manner. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that she was not yet sixteen.

"It is time for our lesson, Miss Lydia. My fellow officers have agreed to assist me, so that you may understand everything more effectively, seeing it done in practice."

My concerns were dispelled by her instant smile. "If my father heard of this he would banish me to a finishing school! Denny, you are sometimes too thoughtful for your own good. If I were more proper I would curtsy and swoon, but that is not my way. Thank you, Denny, and you, officers, thank you. I shall be a most attentive student for the first time in my life." I believe that this was the first time I had heard Lydia Bennet thank a person for anything.

Thus our lesson began. With Matthew and Hubert and me demonstrating, we instructed her on ways that Lydia could protect herself. We instructed her to hold the wrist of a man between her thumb and index finger and to twist her hand, in order to make him drop a knife or another weapon. We showed her various uses that a well-placed elbow could have. I showed Lydia how I had made Mr. Wickham fall, without telling her about its occurrence on this very day. We showed her several points where she could kick a man to cause him great pain if he moved too closely to her, such as his knee or his manhood. My principal suggestion to her was not to allow a man to take hold of her or come to any situation where he could rely on his superior strength or greater weight. Hubert showed her how she could even make a weapon of her shoe, if need be, assuring her that a blow to the head from such an object could be quite painful to a man. We progressed to explaining and demonstrating ways to break a man's hold and moments at which he could be unbalanced by quick action. To block a blow might be dangerous or harmful, but I showed Lydia how she could do this with one or both arms, as long as she used her entire strength. "Strength does not come only from your arms and hands, Miss Lydia," I told her, "it comes from your entire body and how you use it, and also from your own determination. You must put all of yourself into your actions." If she could hold an object within her fingers, such as a key, that could also make a blow from her stronger. If a man charged at her, she could throw dirt in his eyes and gain precious seconds with which to flee. I suggested several objects that she could use as weapons if need be, and how they might be used, from tree branches and stones to glasses and hatpins. If she succeeded in rendering him unconscious, she could, according to our instructions, find a way to bind his wrists or legs. Echoing her own words, Lydia truly was an attentive student, and attempted several of the moves that we displayed for her on her own, without an opponent. At times I suggested changes in her posture or motion to her, to lift her shoulder more, or turn her body in a certain direction. Matthew and Hubert also added whatever suggestions or other ideas came to their mind. Of course for the entire time, I found myself hoping that Lydia would have no need of any of these instructions.

At the end of our lesson, we all felt rather tired. Wickham's threat returned to my mind, and I decided that the three of us should escort Lydia to the house of her aunt. While I did not tell her this, I decided that immediately afterwards I would walk as fast as possible to Longbourn and speak with Mr. Bennet. Lydia felt enraptured to enjoy an escort of three redcoats, especially three who had shown their concern for her safety.

"You may consider us your Honor Guard, Miss Lydia," I said to her as we prepared to take our leave.

"La! I will dance with all of you at the next ball, but I do not know when it will be." She thanked us again and then went inside.

"So now it is off to Longbourn for you, Den- Reginald?" Hubert asked. Confound it, I should have told them to call me Martin.

"I hope not to be thrown out on my ear," I said, "for I doubt Mr. Bennet will be pleased to see me."

"You should visit Mr. Darcy at Netherfield as well," said Matthew. "He has no love for Wickham, and Wickham means to harm him by abusing the ladies. He might also have some influence and put in a good word for you. He is a Colonel's cousin, after all."

"Thank you for that, Matthew. Wish me luck, mates." They did, and I proceeded to walk as fast as my legs could carry me. For the first time, I discovered the usefulness of marching as I made short work of the route, considering my words as best I could along the way.

Longbourn was a pleasant two-story house made of brick and stone, with a small garden in front of it. "So this is Lydia and Catherine's home," I thought as I reached the entrance. It was immensely different from the lodgings I had known after my father's death, when Mother, Rachel, Elinor, and I had shared a single room in a cottage.

A female servant of about the same age as my mother answered my knock and I asked to be shown to see Mr. Bennet on a matter of urgency. "The master is in his library," she said, "and is not often pleased to be interrupted. Be most careful in how you speak to him, Lieutenant."

The library clearly displayed its master's priorities in life. Almost the entire surface of its walls was devoted to oak shelves, on which a multitude of books of all sorts and kinds were stored haphazardly. Mr. Bennet's desk was covered with books, half of them open, many papers, and an ivory chess set. The gentleman himself maintained an imposing presence behind the desk, looking at me with the gaze of an interrogator.

"To what cause do I owe this visit, Lieutenant Denny?" he asked me without standing up or offering his hand. "I can only hope that you have taken to heart my words of last evening."

"Mr. Bennet, I am here because of a grave threat to the welfare of your daughters, especially your second eldest, Miss Elizabeth, and your youngest, Miss Lydia."

"What?" He was genuinely surprised. "Lydia has little enough sense to be trifling with the redcoats, but I would not expect such a thing from Lizzy. Have you come to tell me that something untoward has occurred with them?" His voice wavered between concern and anger and grew louder in the process. "You must know that it is my duty as a father to take all steps to preserve their virtue and their reputation."

"I am aware of that, Sir," I said, but before I could continue he interrupted me in a deep voice. "Have you or any other officer compromised the honor of one of my daughters? Have you been engaging in sport with Lydia beyond dancing and the brandishing of sabers?"

My thoughts of addressing him as I would a General quite flew out the window. "Sir, this is bloody ridiculous. As you have daughters, I have sisters, and if I ever compromise a lady in my life you may flog me without mercy in the town square! I am no threat to the virtue of your daughters. I merely seek to prevent their falling victim to a man who I know intends to harm them." Apparently I had finally gained his attention and understanding, for he refrained from speaking for half a minute, and his gaze became less disgusted.

"How do you know of this, Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Wickham -- for that is the man -- openly boasted to me of his intentions this very morning, Mr. Bennet."

"What exactly does the man seek to do? I believed that he was engaged to Miss Mary King."

"He is, but that is of no consequence to him. He plans to compromise one of your daughters, Sir, so that she could not marry another man," I said, unsure of whether I should bring Mr. Darcy into the discussion, "and then make her his mistress."

"And what was your reaction to that, young man?"

"I stepped on his ankle very hard, Sir, in the presence of Colonel Forster and the entire regiment. And then I apologized loudly so that they would consider it a mistake."

"Why do you care enough to come here and tell me this? I thought that all officers rejoiced in similar deeds."

"Sir, I enjoy your daughters' company, I mean Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine, since they have been coming to our camp, and I consider them friends. They are handsome and lively young ladies, but upon my honor, I have warned them that not all officers are good men and they should take care. If an officer attempted to harm them, I would take their side and not his. I have seen women ruined by wicked men and would not wish to see them share that fate."

Amazingly, Mr. Bennet's face broke out in a rather broad smile. "Do you know the story of Diogenes, Lieutenant?"

"I am afraid that my education is quite limited, Mr. Bennet. I joined the militia at fifteen."

"Diogenes lived in Greece more than two thousand years ago," Mr. Bennet said, "he wandered the country with his lantern, saying that he was seeking an honest man. When I first read of him at Cambridge, I decided that whenever I happened to meet an honest man, I would offer him a drink. I believe this calls for a glass of port, Lieutenant." He brought out two glasses and a bottle from under his desk, and poured for both of us. I thanked him and we savored our port, which I admit was probably the best that I had ever tasted. After we had finished, he peered at me in an unusual way and said "All the same, Lieutenant Denny, I feel that there is more to this tale that you have not yet told me."

I proceeded to tell him Wickham's exact words to me this morning, including the fact that his determination was inspired by having heard of Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth dancing together at Netherfield, and his own enmity towards the former man. In shame, I admitted that I was the one who had suggested that Mr. Wickham join the militia when we first met, for I had not understood his character at the time. Of course, I did not tell Mr. Bennet about teaching Lydia how to defend herself; I only admitted that I had seen her today and she had gone to visit her aunt.

"This is most unusual. I thought that Lizzy quite disliked Mr. Darcy for his proud ways and for slighting her when they first met. Nevertheless- what do you plan to do after this, young man?" Mr. Bennet asked me.

"I shall visit Mr. Darcy at Netherfield, because Mr. Wickham's plans are just as much directed at him as at your daughters. I would suggest, Sir, that you speak with Mr. King as well, and possibly with our Colonel."

"And is it your intention to have Kitty or Lydia marry you out of gratitude for your concern?" It seemed that some of Mr. Bennet's initial hostility to me had returned.

"They would make lovely brides," I said, "but my first concern of all is their safety. Besides, they may like our red coats, but I do not know that your daughters would truly enjoy sharing the life of a regiment. Soldiering is a rough trade. I am only a lieutenant with no fortune of my own, hardly a desirable catch."

"You know your own shortcomings, Lieutenant." Mr. Bennet said with a nod. "That is quite rare in a man." We soon concluded our interview with a handshake and an agreement that I would go to Netherfield immediately and he would speak with Mr. King and Colonel Forster on the morrow. Although I was not yet certain how this affair would end, I hoped that at least informing all those concerned to be on their guard against Wickham would accomplish something. As the gentleman showed me out, I saw Mrs. Bennet seated in the drawing room and bowed to her. The servant closed the door behind me, but before I headed for the neighboring estate, I heard a few more words.

"Thomas, who was that handsome young redcoat? Is he a suitor for Kitty or Lydia?" Mrs. Bennet asked her husband.

"His name is Lieutenant Denny," he answered, "and in truth, I might not mind exceedingly if he were."

After half an hour of fast walking, Netherfield seemed even more grand by day than it had the previous evening. I began to worry that a guest at this estate, who was reputed to possess an even larger one in his own home county, might not be inclined to listen to the words of a low-ranking officer. The words of Colonel Forster came to my mind: "the only timid soldiers are dead ones." I would make my best effort and come what may. I proceeded to the door, and informed the butler that I would like to speak with Mr. Darcy.

After a few minutes of waiting, I was told that Mr. Darcy would see me in Mr. Bingley's study. I could hear the sound of pianoforte music coming from another room. The butler informed me as he escorted me up the broad staircase that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were practicing and the master and Mr. Hurst had gone to hunt fowl. "Mind you, Lieutenant," he said, "Mr. Bingley is at Longbourn at least half the time to see Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy often goes with him, and the master's sisters are quite unhappy about that, for they wish to return to London and the society of the ton. You should hear how the master goes on about his lovely angel, or see how Miss Bingley pursues Mr. Darcy's attention and he argues with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and then keeps his eye on her whenever she visits." Servants and officers, partners in gossip.

"What sort of man is Mr. Darcy? How is he likely to receive me? I have met him but once." We had both been at the Netherfield Ball but had not spoken to each other.

"He is proud, stern, and quiet, but a fair and generous master. His valet quite worships him, and he gives my master very much advice. There is no displeasure in having him here, unlike certain other members of the party." As we had arrived at the door, our conversation did not continue. Mr. Darcy sat at a desk with a multitude of papers before him. He stood up to receive me but his manner did not seem welcoming.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Excuse me, I was attending to the business of my estate. What has brought me to the attention of the regiment? If you wish to invite me to a gathering, I regret that I must decline, for I may be departing for London quite soon."

"Sir, ‘tis no invitation that brings me here, but a threat to your welfare and that of one or two young ladies," I said.

"What do you mean, Lieutenant? Explain the matter more clearly."

Somewhere I had heard that a soldier should speak plainly and to the point. "A friend of Lieutenant Wickham" -- Mr. Darcy grimaced to hear that name spoken -- "saw you dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the ball here yesterday evening, and now Wickham has vowed to ruin her for you by compromising either herself or one of her sisters, and then making her his mistress, for he desires her and quite dislikes you."

Mr. Darcy held his head in his hands. "Is that man to dog my every step and ruin my every chance -- tell me, soldier, what do you know of my dealings with him?"

"Only what Wickham himself has said, Mr. Darcy," I answered, "and I would not believe half of what he recounts. The man is a cad, as I told him this morning." As briefly as I could, I narrated my own history with Mr. Wickham, from when we first met before coming to Meryton to the stories that he had told, to the events of this morning and my meeting with Mr. Bennet.

"Good God! He has said all this? The man is a plague."

"And the fault is mine," I said, "for having suggested the militia to him and introduced him to people here."

"No, Lieutenant," Mr. Darcy shook his head, "the fault is mine for not having denounced him sooner, or not running him through with a sword and throwing him in the sea. This pride of mine that kept me from acting -- I will not tell you what he has done, but it was quite grave harm to my family."

"Mr. Darcy, may I speak frankly?" He bade me continue with a wave of his hand. "I imagine that I know. His words of a young lady with a fortune of thirty thousand pounds and your own arrival at the worst moment for him -- it is clear what that means, more or less."

"You are an honest officer, Lieutenant," he said with a sigh. "Tell me, does all of Meryton know of this?"

"By no means, for Wickham tells this tale only to those that he is certain will receive it favorably."

The gentleman began to shake his head again and to toy with a ring that he wore. "And my own silence has now put the Miss Bennets in danger," he said. "Clearly Wickham does this only to strike at me. What am I to do? Who will believe me over him? I am not liked here, and he has the means to make himself immensely popular wherever he goes."

"You might seek out the tradesmen with whom he has debts, Sir," I said, "or you might visit our Colonel, who would consider the view of a fellow Colonel's relative. There must be a way without exposing your family. I have spoken with Mr. Bennet."

"Mr. Bennet! He will blame me for this danger! Now how may I ever hope to gain his -- why am I saying all this?" Why indeed? The man was quite distracted. In spite of the seriousness of this situation, I imagined that Mr. Hurst would have enjoyed witnessing this scene.

"I have told you what I could, Mr. Darcy," I said, standing up to leave, for his distraction was not something I could resolve. "I would recommend that you visit Colonel Forster, and you may offer me as witness wherever there is need. You may find me at the camp if you wish."

"Why have you taken this upon yourself, Lieutenant?" Darcy asked me with a penetrating gaze. "Ah, I know -- it was your saber that Miss Lydia held!" Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed. "If she had to choose an officer, she could have chosen far worse." Take my previous statement and double its intensity.

I could not respond to that last statement; thus we exchanged the usual polite farewells. The butler escorted me out again, and I heard Mr. Darcy ask to be informed immediately once Mr. Bingley would return. I began to make my way towards Meryton, already beginning to feel tired. Hopefully, I would feel the relief of keeping the Bennet daughters safe, and Wickham would be prevented from doing them any harm. However, I had not thought through what might happen after that.

I arrived at camp quite exhausted and soon fell into a deep sleep. At some point, I dreamt that I saw something orange, and then suddenly awoke feeling an intense pain at the side of my head.

Wickham stood to one side of me and had grabbed my ear with his hand. In his other hand he pointed a pistol at me. Carter was at the foot of the bed, holding a lighted candle in his left hand and a pistol in the other.

"You should not have meddled with me, Denny," Wickham said in a low voice, giving my ear one more painful twist. "Cackling mother hens can lose their feathers."

I kept silent, not wishing to provoke him further, although I did begin what he and his fellow schemer had in store for me.

"All you had to do was leave us as we were, Denny," said Carter, "but no, you had to start talking with the tradesmen and warning the chits' families. What business of yours was that?"

"Are you truly foolish enough to believe that you can shoot me in here and escape?" I asked. "You would be hunted down as deserters and sentenced to transportation at the very best."

Wickham grinned at me. "No one intends to escape from anywhere tonight. We are all going on a small excursion to the nearest mountainside, only you will walk downwards and not return. By the time that they find you, we will have been moved to Brighton and no one will care any more."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could notice a small movement behind Carter, like a door opening slowly. However, I was careful not to betray that I had seen. I turned my head slightly -- not very easy to do with someone holding my ear -- and looked Wickham in the eye. "Mr. Darcy knows as well, Wickham. He will never let you live."

"That is only what you think, Lieutenant. He could have killed me last year and had not the courage, and that was for his sister. Why should he care now about you?"

Wickham's gaze was aimed directly at me, so he did not notice when Lydia Bennet crept on tiptoe behind Carter, removed his saber in a rapid movement, and then hit him very hard on the back of the head with its hilt, making him fall instantly. Wickham turned his weapon towards her, releasing my ear, and without thinking, I leapt at him, hoping to disarm him at least. I could not let him shoot her. She grabbed Carter by the back of his uniform and held him up, using his unmoving body to protect herself. I was attempting to both kick Wickham to unbalance him and take away his pistol when I heard a loud bang and felt like a fire was running through my left hand. I fell backwards and Lydia immediately let out a shrill scream that must have been heard from Devon to Scarborough. Lydia, with a shout of "Don't you dare kill my Denny!" actually threw Carter's saber at Wickham. In his effort to avoid it, Wickham finally dropped the pistol, and I saw my chance, springing at him before he could regain his balance. The Marquis of Queensbury would not have approved, but I managed to stop Wickham by grabbing his ear, as he had done to me, with my unharmed hand and bashing his head against the nearest wall until he too fell unconscious.

The room was immediately filled with officers asking all sorts of questions that were essentially a variation on one theme: "What in bloody hell happened?"

Lydia managed to react quickly, giving her own imitation of a Colonel. "Officers, take these two scoundrels and tie them up" -- pointing to the still unconscious Wickham and Carter -- "and find a doctor for Denny, now!" This spurred a couple of dazed officers to follow her order and led the rest to ask even more questions.

Part Four

Posted on 10 April 2007

Midnight medical care in the militia can be a rough business. Before the doctor could be found, a sergeant cut a strip of bedclothes and wound it tightly around my hand in order to stop the bleeding. At the same time, Wickham and Carter were taken away. Lydia stayed by my side, expressing a mixture of banter and concern. "Denny, do not faint, for smelling salts are truly revolting ... thank God, your bleeding seems to have been stopped, was all this because of me? The doctor will come soon, have no worry ... be brave, I know that you can and I could not stand to attend a ball without you after this ... Papa told me of your visit and Mama thinks that you are handsome ... " I was fast becoming dizzy, although it could not possibly all be her fault. Was she holding my shoulder?

"Miss Lydia, please," I said to her, "you saved my life and I am far beyond being thankful, but you should not be here now. Your reputation may suffer gravely."

She put her hands on her hips and pouted. "Am I to leave you like this? What is my reputation next to your own life and health? If I were a proper young lady you might now be quite dead."

Apparently, I still had the strength to argue, although not in a loud voice. "Lydia Bennet, you headstrong, daring, outspoken -- wonderful, amazing, lovely girl! You are correct in what you say, but it must not be known that you came to me at night. Return to Longbourn -- say you could not sleep and took a turn in the garden - or go to the house of your aunt, and I will call on you once all this is resolved. It would not do to have you questioned. If you care for me, leave me now."

In response to this, at first she merely nodded and then gathered herself to depart. Then she brought her head close to mine and whispered "If we are forced to marry, I would not find it unpleasant. I do care for you. Be sure to recover, Denny." One of her fingers briefly traced a line on my cheek.

It was fortunate that Lydia managed to leave quickly at this moment, for immediately both Colonel Forster and Major McClure entered, followed by the doctor. I could only hope that they had not noticed her. "Lieutenant Denny!" the Colonel exclaimed in his best parade-ground voice. "Kindly explain the cause of this disorder." The doctor proceeded to undo the recently applied bandage and examine my hand.

"Colonel, I will certainly tell you, Sir" and then I gasped, feeling the very bone in my hand touched by a medical implement, "but may my wound be treated first?"

"There is no bullet," the doctor said in a confident voice. "If I sew the wound closed, the soldier will soon be as though nothing had occurred. I would suggest bringing him some brandy or gin." Prosser hurried to the dispensary to search for the items in question.

"Do your work, Doctor," the Colonel said as he surveyed the scene, "and then bring him to me. All other officers, return to your billets at once!" At least ten officers scurried out within seconds, still asking each other questions in perplexed voices. Carter's saber still lay on the ground.

The doctor took care of me rather quickly. Must I truly describe how it felt? Having your own hand sewn up with a needle on both sides, even after two glasses of pure gin, feels like nothing but itself. The major restrained my arm from moving and I was given a thick rag to bite. The only result of this was that at the end I was given a third glass of gin and instead of one, I now felt like I had a hundred holes in my hand, which looked like a thin black worm was crossing it on either side.

"Fortunately, this is not the hand you shoot with, Denny," said McClure in his blunt way.

"Give him one day of rest, Major," said the doctor.

The major waved away the medical man's plea with a hearty grunt. "This has something to do with your stepping on Wickham's ankle this morning, does it not? You might tell me now, Denny, and have some sleep afterwards, or tell the Colonel when you will be drunk enough to fall down."

My first reply was a groan. "Come on, Denny, I know you can do better than that. Doctor, if you are finished you may depart." I was left alone with McClure. I guess I had no choice, and before the gin could go to my head any more than it already had, I began to tell him. "Wickham wanted to make one of the Miss Bennets his mistress when he is already engaged to Mary King for her fortune because Mr. Darcy was dancing with Miss Elizabeth and there is a long-standing hatred between them. Carter and Wickham gamble and owe money to the tradesmen for purchases they did not pay. I spoke with Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy and ... Lydia saved my life by giving Carter a knock on the skull with his own saber and then throwing it at Wickham and don't ask me what she was doing here, I did not invite her but thank God that she came."

"Speak like a soldier, Lieutenant. Make some bleddy sense!" McClure slapped me on the shoulder.

"Is it my fault all this makes no sense, Major? Kindly ask Mr. Bennet, Sir, he has less gin in him and no holes in his hand." Seriously, with a weight of twelve stone six, the drink should not have been affecting me this much. The floor should not be moving in more than one direction at once. My mistake, that was the door.

"Denny, you have never caused the slightest trouble in years," said the Colonel, whose voice I noticed before his presence. "The Bennets are friends of mine; malign them at your own peril. Sleep this off, and when you are fit to stand again they will be here to see if your words are true."

I lost consciousness before they closed the door. I suppose that I was fortunate to land on the bed. Too much affected by everything that had happened, I had no energy left for shame and propriety. Honestly, I dreamed that Lydia came back for me and stayed in my arms, keeping me warm and most incredibly, not saying any words beyond "Rest, dear Denny, all will be well, just let me kiss you." A man is truly exhausted if he feels sleepy even in his dream, so far undone that the only words he can speak are "a Denny saved is a Denny earned."

Dreams can only last so long. I awoke in the Colonel's quarters, with no memory of having arrived there, with my commanding officer seated behind a desk, his assistant at his side, and Mr. Whitney, Mr. Bennet, and his second eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth, next to me.

"Where are Carter and Wickham?" were the first clear words I could pronounce.

"Locked up and telling tales," said Major McClure. "They thought I would believe that you owed them two months of pay for losing at cards, or that you had been kissing Carter's mistress or had stolen Wickham's engagement ring."

"Colonel," said Miss Elizabeth, who looked quite charming in her cream-colored dress, "I believe Lieutenant Denny is in need of a cup of coffee." Then she turned to me with a smile and said "Sir, I believe I must thank you for something that I had no idea might transpire? I regret that your effort to protect my own reputation and that of my sister caused you to come within an inch of death." If she would set her mind to it, Mr. Darcy would be doomed by this young lady.

"Mr. Bennet," I protested feebly, "do you truly tell your daughters everything?" The gentleman only laughed and then mercifully requested that I be provided with some tea or coffee to regain my strength. Reluctantly, the Colonel ordered for it.

In the next hour, with the Colonel's insistent questioning, Mr. Whitney's account of our own meetings, my own answers, Mr. Bennet's support, and Miss Elizabeth's amazement (not to mention blushing when I recounted the details of my meeting with Mr. Darcy), the entire tale eventually came out. I was even forced to tell the gentlemen about my teaching Lydia ways to defend herself, and even worse, endure their laughter at hearing of it.

"It seems that you would do almost anything to defend my daughter," said Mr. Bennet, "and she for you. How far do you intend to proceed in this?"

"If Miss Lydia would be willing to share my life" -- I felt that I was speaking like Mr. Darcy at Netherfield -- "I would gladly have her at my side, but I have yet to ask her."

"In my day," said Whitney, "you would have no choice, young man. But if the tale goes no further than here, no harm may be done."

"A brother officer of yours may be induced to claim that he came to your aid," said Colonel Forster with a knowing glance. "And Thomas, your sister Phillips may tell the neighborhood that her niece was her guest this last night."

"Should not Mr. Darcy be informed of all this?" I asked everyone, and no one in particular. "He should know how his old enemy's schemes were brought to an end."

"That is none of your affair, Lieutenant," said the Colonel. "Today and tomorrow you will remain at quarters and you will most assuredly not tell anyone a story different from what we wish to have heard."

"Is Lieutenant Denny to be punished for his honesty, Colonel?" asked Miss Bennet, "He has saved a family by exercising every principle that we were taught to respect."

"In the army, this is known as damage control, miss," said Major McClure.

"The damage may have been mine, or his," she said, looking the Scotsman in the eye without faltering in the slightest, "thus, why should the control be yours?"

"Come, Lizzy," said Mr. Bennet, "you do have a point, but this is not the day for reforming the military. Let us return to Longbourn."

"Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet," I said, knowing that I would soon be made to leave, "I am glad to see you unharmed, and kindly remember me to Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia."

"You have the same expression that I have seen many times on Mr. Bingley's face," said the young lady in her teasing but forthright way.

"You may see it soon on that of another man, Miss Bennet. Do not trust your first impressions." Only his friendship with the Bennet family prevented the Colonel from removing me physically from the premises after that.

The following hours, and indeed the entire day after that, were filled for me with boredom and frustration. Pain and orders prevented me from taking part in the exercises and left me with no company and no activity, but I was not weakened enough to simply lie in bed. If only I had asked Mr. Bennet to lend me a book from his library in order to pass away the time! At some point I asked Sergeant Prosser for a pen and paper, because I found myself with a sudden wish to tell my mother and sisters what had happened. Someone deserved to know the truth, and for sure they could cause no gossip or other harm to anyone. If necessary, I would hide the letter on my person when I would be allowed to leave, and post it secretly. The other officers must have been instructed to avoid me, for even Matthew and Hubert could only offer me a few words of encouragement and wish me a speedy recovery. I felt like a pariah, barely better than a prisoner in the only sort of life that I had known for the past eight years.

On the third day, when I awoke a letter awaited me. It was written on the stationery of another regiment, and bore my name.

"EXPRESS to Lieutenant R.M. Denny, Hertfordshire Militia, Meryton, Hertfordshire.

Lieutenant:

You are hereby ordered to report on the morrow to the War Office in London for your new assignment. As your new commanding officer, I welcome you to my service.

Col. Richard Edgar Fitzwilliam
Berkshire Lancers Regiment"

I was allowed only one hour to prepare my belongings before I would travel by post. A soldier must always be quick in preparing his pack. Colonel Forster gathered the officers and told them that I was to be transferred to another regiment, and permitted ten minutes for the briefest of leave-taking. Beyond the partially subsided pain in my hand, I felt very strong disappointment; this was not how I wished to leave Meryton, being driven away to a city where I did not know a single soul.

"Not happy to be sent away, are ‘ye lad?" the grizzled post driver asked me as I stepped into the carriage with the single bag that contained all my belongings. My entire life carried on one shoulder, that was my condition.

"I am for London, it would seem," I could only say. The driver went on to say many words that I had no will to hear.

The countryside was pleasant, but the journey was not what I desired. The hours passed in silence, and I wished I had Lydia, Kitty, or even Matthew or Hubert beside me to exchange a word. My fellow passengers were either tradesmen going to London on business, or members of poor families departing for a stay with relatives. I found Miss Elizabeth Bennet's question of whether I was to be punished for being honest echoing in my mind. As we rounded a bend at one point, a broad clearing came into view, with its grass shining in the afternoon sun. I had a sudden vision of myself dancing there with Lydia, as we had at Netherfield, but much closer and more slowly. Why was I to be denied my first hope?

Continued In Next Section