Excessively Attentive - 40-43 Author's note: I am trying to not sport with anyone's impatience. :) Forty Lydia brought up a scheme to join the militia in Brighton the next morning. "For it will all be so dreary here," she complained. "The parties will be so less interesting." "We have far too much to do," Mrs. Bennet replied sharply. "Jane is getting married!" Lydia looked surprised at this source of refusal, and subsided. Not that anyone else could bring up a word sideways over Mrs. Bennet's exultations and plans. The girls only extracted themselves from Mrs. Bennet's effusions by Jane's well timed "Mr. Bingley would like" comment, and all five of them nearly fled their mother's presence. Even Mary looked harried, and agreed to join her sisters for the walk to Meryton. Mr. Bennet took pity on them, and his pocketbook, and conveyed a much pared down of items which Mrs. Bennet insisted would be necessary to celebrate her Jane's handsome catch. The banns were to be read this week Sunday, which provided Jane three entire weeks and a few days more to prepare any items not already ordered and to pack. Bingley, according to Jane and barring any misfortunes, intended to arrive at Netherfield sometime late today. "Then," Kitty teased, "we should not dally long with the officers. We should not keep you from your intended!" "Oh, aye!" agreed Lydia. "But perhaps we can convince one or two to join us for the walk home." "Perhaps," Elizabeth allowed. She remembered Wickham's hints about some of his fellow officers. Kitty and Lydia voiced disappointment upon not seeing any of their preferred officers when entering Meryton. Elizabeth hushed them both, reminding them of the discussion at the inn just the day before. Lydia huffed a little but desisted. Kitty looked properly subdued. However, the Miss Bennets were shortly joined by some of the same officers which Lydia and Kitty despaired so vocally about, and another. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Wickham greeted them both warmly, in his own turn. Elizabeth felt the difference of this warmth to his prior greetings, lo not that many months ago now. Lydia certainly caught the slight change, even if she did not know the meaning of it. "Do not forget me, Wickham!" she cried, before he could even turn his head to do just so. He smiled gamely at the youngest Bennet. "My apologies, Miss Lydia, but I could hardly forget you! Propriety, however, does indicate I greet your elder sisters first." He glanced at Mary and Kitty as well. "I hope this day finds you all well?" "It does indeed," agreed Jane, and Mary murmured an assent. Lydia gave Wickham a reproachful glare, and attached herself to Denny's arm. Elizabeth gave Wickham a sharp glance, and from the look he gave her, he was agreeing to stay close at hand. "I mostly wished," Wickham continued as if this little byplay were not going on, "to give my sincere congratulations to you, Miss Bennet. I have it on the best of authorities that Mr. Bingley has been granted the favour of a living angel to be his wife." Jane coloured. "I know nothing about that, Mr. Wickham, but I am engaged to Mr. Bingley." The other officers looked calculating at Jane and a little more so at Lydia. Elizabeth felt her ire rising, and felt compelled to ward off a predatory intent. "It is indeed fortunate for our Jane. She has found love and fortune, and, as we all know, even the very beautiful must have something to live upon. It is pity that our lot is so very small." A frown flittered across Denny's face. "Quite," Jane assented. "I am fortunate." "It is my studied opinion, my dear ladies, that it is Bingley who is the blessed one, but I quite understand your position," Wickham agreed easily. Horses were heard and the party moved towards the shopfronts to clear the way. "Miss Bennet!" cried Bingley, and the riders -- for William was with Bingley -- directed their steeds to join the party directly. Elizabeth felt a wave of déjà vu upon seeing William while speaking easily with Wickham. Both men also appeared to be recalling that particular instance. This time, however, William dismounted beside Wickham and Elizabeth. The men shook hands cordially enough, and muted gasps could be heard from the curious nearby. "Miss Elizabeth," William greeted her, before glancing in the direction of Bingley and Jane, already in close conversation. "Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia, sirs." "It is obvious what brought Mr. Bingley to town," Elizabeth said laughingly. "Did he allow you to wake at a reasonable time before riding to Longbourn?" William chuckled. "I normally wake before Bingley, but not this morning. We were in fact on the way to your home." He glanced at his friend, then nodded at the horses. "I suspect Bingley will wish to assist your sister. Let me tend to setting the horses, so that it is easier to join you." Wickham offered to assist. Lydia had already dragged Denny further from the party, nattering on about bonnets. Denny's attention, however, remained on Wickham and William. When William and Wickham rejoined Elizabeth and her sisters, Mary posed a question to William. "Mr. Darcy, I recall what your cousin noted about his duties and how ofttimes he is not available for his mother's social engagements. How does that compare to what you have seen from our militia officers in Meryton?" William tilted his head as he considered the question. Wickham answered, "I suspect, Miss Mary, that the differences you allude to at this moment comes to a difference in experience. Darcy's cousin has nigh twenty years in the Army, and I believe he has served on the Continent several times. This militia, however, has seen little action, and those newly joined such as myself, none-at-all." William nodded at Wickham. "What Wickham says is true. My cousin has suffered enough injuries on the field that he has been retired to service on this side of the channel, pending an heir from his elder brother." "But he remains in the Army? He mentioned nothing of injuries," she added, looking disconcerted. "They do not trouble him?" "His insight to battlefield operations assists the home office in making wiser decisions," William replied. "Or, so he has described his current posting to me. He does not make the most patient of patients, and does not relish recounting when he has been put into that position." "Meanwhile, Miss Mary," Wickham picked up, "Most of us in the militia have not such heavy loads on our shoulders, and thus find ourselves free to escort such lovely ladies as you and your sisters." Mary blushed faintly at any such praise, and Kitty snorted. Elizabeth noticed William's careful not-study of Mary, and saw a flicker of something in his expression, for just a moment. Jane and Bingley entered the milliner's, following Lydia and Denny. Kitty opted to join them, while the rest of the party went across to the bookstore. When Mary turned down Wickham's game offer of assistance with book shopping, the other three retreated to the music section, "for Georgiana is always keen for something new," William said. Once they were out of ear shot from her next-younger sister, William spoke in an undertone. "Promise me, Miss Elizabeth, you will assist Miss Mary in her preparations for my friend's wedding?" She shot him a questioning look, just as Wickham breathed out an "Ah ha!" "If you insist," Elizabeth agreed as she looked from one to the other, and William and Wickham shared a triumphal smile. "And then there was one," Wickham muttered under his breath. Forty-One The last week of the militia's stay in Meryton drew to a close with several parties, hosted in turn by the Bingleys, the Bennets, and the Lucases. Miss Bingley proved herself quite the capable hostess for her last event before turning over such household requirements to her new sister the next week. While perhaps the youngest Miss Bennets attempted to throw a pall over the mood of the household in their dejection, the manic energy of Mrs. Bennet more than compensated for the youngest. Indeed, she brooked absolutely no displays of distress, not now, not so close to her crowning achievement of marrying Jane off to a young man of good family and fortune. The young ladies of the neighbourhood certainly drooped, but most came back to hope when reminded that many of Mr. Bingley's still single and eligible gentleman friends had been invited to witness his felicity personally. The two weeks of comradeship between Wickham and William in full view of the neighbourhood soon put paid to some of the hatred Wickham previously stirred up. Wickham owned to a few 'friends', such as he had among the officers, that he had previously spoken twisted words, and admitted his fault. In doing so, however, the protection William had previously enjoyed from feminine attention as the formidable Mr. Darcy, not even tempted by the Miss Eliza Bennet, evaporated as soon as the last redcoat left the area. The week of the wedding it became apparent that only Elizabeth's company could purchase William a moment of peace outside of Netherfield or Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet remained so overjoyed by Jane's good fortunes that she barely even noticed Mr. Darcy existed, and he found this a pleasant, albeit unusual, state of affairs. Netherfield hosted several of Bingley's friends at this point. Lady Catherine and Anne were expected to stay at Longbourn, and due in just a day's time. Fortunately for both William and Elizabeth, their younger sisters were quite happy to entertain themselves. Additionally, between Elizabeth's gentle encouragements and Georgiana's praise, Mary showed sufficiently promising improvement that even Lydia did not scold her for (as much) for her music choices. Whenever Jane's presence was required, Bingley attached himself to William and Elizabeth, and she did likewise. Today, however, the men were obliged to be good neighbours and attend a dinner elsewhere. Elizabeth watched as Jane sorted the last of her belongings, leaving only two days' worth left, and a few less important trinkets for her room. "At least you will not need to fret if you forget to pack something," Elizabeth observed. "Five miles is easy travel enough for something misplaced." "Certainly better than Derbyshire," Jane agreed. "You will need to be more thorough than I am." "What is in Derbyshire, pray tell?" asked Mary. Jane and Elizabeth both started, as they had not heard her approach the room. She slipped in quietly, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I only know of my aunt, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Darcy as of importance from there," she continued. Elizabeth coloured slightly, and looked askance at Jane. Jane tilted her head in encouragement. Looking back at Mary, she shrugged. "Mr. Darcy." Mary nodded, not a slip of surprise in her expression or tone. "Are you engaged?" "A courtship. Our father has agreed, as has my mother. Our mother does not know." "Congratulations. Why -- because Jane, of course," Mary sighed. "Quite," Elizabeth agreed readily. "He has been as good as a brother to Kitty, Lydia, and myself, even in our stay in his townhouse, " Mary offered. "I quite like this version of him." Jane nodded. "We are given to understand he was quite distressed when he arrived with Bingley in the autumn." "Georgiana shared a bit of her troubles," Mary said quietly. "I understand his … mood." She glanced between the elder girls. "Is Lydia at risk of something similar?" Elizabeth bit her lip and Jane winced ever so slightly. "I certainly hope not," Jane sighed. "But -- " "But ever since the militia came, there has been nothing but love, flirtation, and officers in her head!" cried Elizabeth, however quietly. "Nor has that been improved by Jane's engagement," Mary replied. "Lydia will not be allowed to go to Brighton, will she?" "I am certainly unaware of there being an intention of her going," Elizabeth replied, brows furrowing. "She certainly cannot go without family." Mary seemed concerned. "Did you not know Mrs. Forster had written a letter, offering to let her join her after Jane's wedding?" "No!" cried both elder girls. "Does our father know?" Elizabeth demanded. "I would hope so, but I have only heard Lydia speak of it to Kitty. She seemed quite certain she was to go." "The militia has left; the Forsters with them. How was she planning on traveling?" Elizabeth questioned. "I believe the discussion was that Captain Denny had offered to escort her." Jane and Elizabeth shared concerned glances, and Elizabeth rose to the door. "You will go to father?" Jane asked. "Yes. Can you send a note to Bingley and William?" "Of course." Forty-Two With an express sent to Brighton moments before, Bennet poured a stout drink for each Bingley and Darcy, as they conferred on the next steps. He leaned back with a sigh. "Elizabeth had mentioned that Wickham had expressed concerns about Denny," he said. "He did mention he considered some of his fellows to be of … questionable motives," Darcy agreed, "but he did not single Denny out as one to me." A knock interrupted their conversation, and Bennet called, "Enter." Miss McGonagall peered through the door, Mrs. Hill and Elizabeth with her. "You called for me, sir?" the governess queried. "Yes." He rose, gesturing at all three. "Please come in." Elizabeth closed the door behind her at his direction. "How would you say you and Miss Lydia are getting along?" Miss McGonagall glanced at the entire group assembled, and answered with a cautious air. "I have not been disappointed in her efforts, but the novelty of the situation has not yet worn off, I suspect." "Would you consider yourself in her confidences?" Bennet did not expect that to be the case, of course. Mrs. Forster was much more the personality to gain Lydia’s confidences quickly. "Not at all, sir. I am entirely too new to her for that. Any remarks or comments she has made have certainly been of a general nature, rather than confidential."   "Had she mentioned any correspondence at all?" "None." She paused; her expression became more disconcerted. "She and Miss Catherine appear to be close; she may know." She glanced between the others in the room. "Is she safe?" "She has not left this house, and she is in fact safe," Bennet assured her. "Has she spoken about any particular friends, perhaps among the recently departed militia?" "Not any particular one, no," Miss McGonagall frowned. "When the militia were shortly to depart, she spoke of her disappointment in Lieutenant Wickham’s attentions towards herself, and alluded to it being due to Miss Elizabeth. She did remark on a Captain Denny as being a fine dancer, and a few others. The captain was mentioned several times, which is the primary reason I recall him. I presumed that it was a fancy which would fade with his departure." Bennet nodded. "Thank you for being candid, Miss McGonagall. I wished to cover all angles, but I did not expect you would have any further insight." She nodded slowly. "What may I anticipate on the morrow?" "I have not yet spoken with her myself. We are attempting to … dissuade her by more politic means. With any luck, it will not be an issue for tomorrow." Miss McGonagall shewed a questioning look, and Bennet half-smiled. "Best you know as little as possible, ma’am, so as to not show our cards." *** The reply from the Forsters arrived late the next day, with an additional letter from Wickham to Bennet. The acknowledgement from Colonel Forster was terse, but complete. It seemed that Denny had not been difficult to get to confess to his plans, with a little help from Wickham, and the end result was that Denny would not be free for quite some time. "To so treacherously plan to use my wife’s name to betray my wife’s friend and your daughter – I could not let such a situation stand." The letter from Mrs. Forster to Lydia, which Bennet perused prior to admitting its existence, put paid to any notion which Lydia may have had about absconding to Brighton with Captain Denny. Quote My dearest Lydia, Such horrid news I have to share! My dear Colonel discovered that Denny – yes, that Denny – had designs to gain his fortune – by kidnapping you. Such ludicrous ideas he had for his goal! Most of Meryton knows that you and your sisters have little money to offer a husband, yet he thought he could ransom you for a princely sum! Perhaps he ought read fewer novels, although he may have little else to do in the brig, where my dear Colonel, quite incensed he would threaten a friend of mine so, has put him for many weeks. I never would have suggested he bring you to Brighton to visit after you recounted your mother’s refusal, and certainly not alone and unchaperoned!  Not when you suspect your other elder sister will be engaged soon as well! Weddings are such fun, and so important to a family, I would not countenance you being gone. No, my dear friend, I will miss your company, but it is best for you to stay there for the moment. When it is better timing for a visit, I shall certainly let you know, and direct an invitation to your parents, so that they know all is above board. I am grateful that my dear Colonel discovered Denny’s plot before you could be injured by it! To think we thought so well of him! I pray to hear that you are tolerably well in your reply. I know you must be disappointed, but you are safe, and that is no little thing! Please let me know how Miss McGonagall is treating you! Is she still showing you interesting things? All my love, Harriet Wickham’s letter elaborated on the Colonel’s: Quote… After the Colonel shared the information you provided to him, I offered my services to assist in resolving the situation. He questioned my motives, but I believe I persuaded him that the Bennets are, by round about ways, good as my family. (I hope I have not offended you, sir, but Miss Elizabeth is part of my extended family, and thus you-all are as well.) He consented. It did not take long to ease Denny’s guard, and straight into his cups. He was rather self-congratulatory about his intended tricks on Miss Lydia, and once he confessed that, I worked to tricking him into drinking himself into a stupor as I had a few times previously. I did not relay this to the Colonel, to decrease the risk it might get bandied about, but Denny made a few comments which lead me to believe he intended to do more than just ransom your youngest. She certainly would not have been delivered in pristine condition. Not even in my most caddest of moments have I ever forced such upon a woman. His comments lead me to believe it is possible there is at least one in Meryton so injured by Denny, but I do not know who it may be. He kept enough wits to not be more explicit. He also did not share who assisted in mimicking Mrs. Forester’s hand sufficient to trick your daughter.   I am grateful for whatever interference granted you awareness in time to preserve her from such. I only wish I had known he was of such proclivities in time to protect others. I hope that my easy rapport with he and the other officers did not lull some unsuspecting soul into unguardedness around such a creature. … Bennet poured a stronger drink than he normally preferred as he digested the meaning of Wickham’s words. His little girl, so close to not just ruin but worse, from thoughtless naivete. Right now, he could only picture her as the babe-in-arms she once was and feel nauseous.  He would put a word to his brother-in-law in Meryton to gather gossip. If there was an injured girl, he was fairly certain the good Colonel would be quite helpful in gaining justice for her. After letting the drink temper his racing pulse, he resolved to share some of the information with Darcy and Bingley, but perhaps not all of the concerns even with Elizabeth. He reckoned he would be dissuading Darcy from taking responsibility for Denny’s assumption of a ransom payment, as well. He resolved that, governess or not, he would try to exert himself for the younger girls’ benefit. His laziness and disappointment should not leave her – any of them – at such risk. *** After the servants left the breakfast room, Bennet produced the letter from Mrs. Forster to Lydia. "As Colonel Forster and Mrs. Forster indicated I should review this prior to it being delivered, I have done so." Mrs. Bennet, thankfully, had kept to her rooms this morning with little hinting on Mrs. Hill’s part. Lydia glared at him, but took her letter with artificial graciousness. Jane and Lizzy both gave him concerned glances, and he shook his head slightly. Lydia opened it, and scanned the first paragraph. She looked up at him, shock in her expression. "Papa?" "Do you see why they wished I review it?" She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, papa." "If you wish to talk further about it, later, I will be in my library. Miss McGonagall may be able to assist you, as well." Lydia nodded, and, biting her lip, slipped the letter under her plate. She did not eat much more, picking at her plate. Elizabeth kept shooting glances at Lydia then to Jane. Once Jane was ready, Elizabeth set her plate aside. "May we be excused, papa?" "Of course, my dears." "Come, Lydia," Elizabeth coaxed her, and Jane echoed. Lydia pulled the letter out and left with her eldest sisters. Kitty and Mary watched worriedly. "Papa?" Mary asked quietly. "She will be fine in a day or a few. She may be mightily angry in a few days, or she may be despondent. But she will be fine." I hope. Later, Elizabeth slipped into his library, looking worn. "She will be fine," Elizabeth reported after a few moments of quiet. "She is resting, and Jane is still with her." "I presume there was a storm of tears and fury?" "Rightfully so," Elizabeth agreed. "Particularly after we set the letters side-by-side. The hand was similar, but not the same. Close enough that it must have been modelled off of Mrs. Forester’s own letters. To learn of the deception before any other risk to her person or reputation …" she trailed off, shaking her head. "George did well in protecting one of us, this time." Bennet raised an eyebrow at the use of Wickham’s given name. She tilted her head. "He is family, Papa. I dare say, in saving my little sister, he has earned that much." "He expressed regret that he had not realized Denny would sink so low." "It is shocking to believe that any of our acquaintance would make such falsehoods -- using the name of his superior’s wife, no less. Let alone that he would do so for mere farthings!" Elizabeth rejoined. "I cannot blame him for a failure to foresee that."  "No, and when I reply, I will reiterate that myself. We are fortunate indeed that he volunteered to assist in the matter." "He has not been, perhaps, the best of men, even by his own accounting. He seems to have been given good principles, and then left to follow them with little guidance." Elizabeth sighed. "Good meanings and wishes, and all of that." "At least his appearance of goodness was not entirely false," Bennet replied. "With such an expression, he could have inflicted much harm on your family." "Our family, papa." Bennet smiled at the correction. "Yes, Lady Catherine did write me to share her consent. I do wonder how my cousin will respond to this when he finds out." Elizabeth snorted. "He was quite confused, that first afternoon. He was all in favour of me throwing out my entire life to be Lady Catherine’s daughter, until Charlotte and I both scolded him for being so mean of character." Bennet owned he wished he could be more surprised. "He certainly has a unique perspective of a pastor’s solemn duties." Forty-Three June dawned. The tumult of the last three days, from Lydia's ultimately fruitless scheme, to the arrival of mère and Anne, as well as the Gardiners, at Longbourn, had not prompted Elizabeth to forget her agreement to ensure extra care on Mary's toilette and dress. Mary touched the more elaborate styling with significant self-consciousness, and tugged at the dress -- one of Jane's, for she was more like Jane in stature than she typically allowed. "I know it is her wedding, and I should be well turned out, but this seems … excessive, Lizzy." "You look lovely, Mary," replied Elizabeth. She lightly swatted her little sister's hand from her hair. "Do not fuss with it, or you will ruin all of Sarah's hard work." "There is something more," Mary accused her. "What are you scheming?" "Me?" laughed Elizabeth. "Nothing at all. But I do believe that you caught someone's eye, and his friends wish to ensure it stays caught." "By me?" Mary looked positively frightened at the concept. Elizabeth gave Mary a long look, and pulled her into an embrace. "By your wits and questioning mind, I believe. There is no harm in being as pretty as you can be just as encouragement." Mary pulled away after returning the hug. "Is he a friend of Mr. Darcy’s?" "I believe so. William is being quite tight lipped about it." "Or just using them for other purposes," Mary teased. "Oh, you!" Elizabeth blushed. "Once." "An hour?" "Insufferable!" Elizabeth cried. "You know full well Mama has not given anyone much time to themselves." Mary laughed, the tension slipping away. "Quite. And we have a sister to marry off now." She gave Elizabeth a side long glance. "You are quite well turned out, too." "I am standing up with Jane," Elizabeth replied, attempting to not colour. "Of course," Mary smirked at her. "Time to enter the fray again, I believe, sister." "Indeed," Elizabeth agreed.   *** Elizabeth took careful note of scenes, tiny moments to keep as paintings in her mind. The enraptured expression of her brother-to-be as his bride walked down the aisle. Jane simply glowed with joy, while their father looked as proud as could be. Miss Bingley appeared pleased for her brother, as did the Hursts. The subdued but expressive look from William which made her feel undone. A glance at Anne, sitting with mère as part of Jane's family, showed her other elder sister enjoying the show at her expense. Lydia's mood was palpable from here, despite her attempts to mask it, for Jane’s sake. The agog look of Richard towards Mary, which aligned with her suspicions. Richard's admiration of Jane at Rosings had not gone unnoticed -- and Mary, right now, looked every inch the little sister of Jane without being her replica. Mary's conversations with him in London were extensive, and she had occasionally asked questions explicitly about him since. Elizabeth felt few qualms at such a match for her sister. In a breath of eternity, Mrs. Bennet's greatest ambition became fulfilled. Jane Bingley signed her name and the wedding party dispersed to Longbourn to celebrate. Elizabeth felt a loss, a tugging at her heart, when Jane left not only before her, but without her. The emotion warred with her deep joy for Jane. No such battles had taken place when Charlotte assumed the mantle of Mrs. Collins, even when she counted her friend was mostly lost to her by such a choice. Her emotions continued to flutter about, as the party's removal increased her own anticipation. "Shall we walk back to the house?" William asked, offering his arm. She could not recall her exact words, but knew she assented. They walked slowly, and with Longbourn in sight, William turned her towards the hermitage. For a moment, the only sounds were the rustling of the branches in the breeze, their footsteps, and their breathing. William pulled her towards one of the more secluded paths before speaking. "I believe we had a discussion to continue." His tone was much as it had been at the pianoforte at Matlock House. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They continued walking, however slowly, until he halted her. "I must confess -- I have thought of a thousand little pretty speeches for right now, and I cannot recall a single one of them. All I can think of is your comment about us and how desperately I want that to be reality." A ghost of a laugh, borne of amusement and nerves. "Ask, then, William. Ask me." "Will you marry me, Elizabeth?" "Ye -- mmph." Several pleasant moments later, Elizabeth pressed a finger to his lips. "I believe it is certainly time to return to Longbourn and chaperones." William chuckled, before agreeing with a sigh. "As wise as you are beautiful, my love." They walked to her home quietly, with only a few comments about their intentions for the remainder of the day. They joined the festivities, her arm still entwined with William's. Jane spotted her, for the newlyweds had not yet adjourned to Netherfield, and cried for them to join her and Bingley. "I hope you enjoyed your walk," Jane teased Elizabeth quietly. "We did," William replied with a faint smile. "And now I leave your sister in your capable hands for a moment." He clapped Bingley's shoulder with a congratulations, before heading to Mr. Bennet's side. Based on the sharp look that Mr. Bennet gave her, Elizabeth was certain that her father had been expecting this approach. She hoped that meant the progression from courting to engagement would not be unwelcome to her father. The two disappeared from the room. Jane gave her a matching sharp look as their father left with William, to which Elizabeth just smiled. Lightly played strains on the pianoforte drew her attention to see Mary with Richard sitting beside her. Lydia's laughter, the first since the militia left just over a week ago, echoed as Anne smiled, and she spied Kitty and Georgiana in close conference. Right here, right now, Elizabeth felt more at peace than she had in weeks. She would miss Jane's constant presence, but she would gain William's. Her family would be safe and hale. A light touch on her arm drew her attention. "Go to your father, he wants you in the library," William whispered. In a moment, Elizabeth was seating herself across from her father. "Mr. Darcy appears to have changed his mind about you being handsome enough to tempt him," Mr. Bennet observed after a moment of quiet. Elizabeth blushed, and nodded. "I suppose so, sir." "I know your opinion of him has improved, Lizzy, but I need your assurances. I cannot bear the thought that you might not have a true partner in your marriage." "Even when I thought I hated him, he treated me as an equal. Apart from that overheard comment, he has been perfectly respectful. When I cared for Jane at Netherfield, he solicited my opinion several times, although there was certainly no requirement that he do so. We have lively discussions, even if we do not agree. I could go on," Elizabeth offered. Mr. Bennet nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point. "That fits with my observations," he agreed. His attention focused back on her as he leaned back in his chair. "You will have more than sufficient pin money certainly. Will you be happy?" Elizabeth hesitated, searching for the words to reassure her father. "When I agreed to the courtship, it was only not an engagement because I did not wish to overshadow Jane's happiness. William sat with me at the pianoforte at Matlock House, and he made a comment that our aunt was unhappy with us. I realized that I found comfort in he and I being 'us.' " Mr. Bennet smiled slightly at that, his eyes looking suspiciously bright. "I find comfort in the idea that someone worthy will treasure you. I believe he may be the only man I could have allowed to take you from me." He rose from his seat and offered a hand to Elizabeth. "Come. We should announce this. Your mothers will be pleased, as will Jane." "Now?" "Jane has had her moment, and perhaps this will permit her and Bingley to escape quietly." Mr. Bennet shrugged. "Darcy suggested it, in fact." Elizabeth tried valiantly to not blush, knowing full well why William suggested it. She found no issues with the plan, however. By the time they returned, a few neighbours and many of Bingley's friends had already taken their leave. Mrs. Bennet and Lady Catherine monopolized the remaining conversation, effectively detaining the newlyweds. William was carefully attempting to distract the elder ladies to give his friend a respite. Into this, Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth stepped into the room. Mr. Bennet loudly cleared his throat, and beckoned Darcy over. The conversation in the parlour stilled. "It is my great pleasure to announce, on a day already filled with joy, the engagement of Elizabeth Bennet de Bourgh to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." "Finally!" Lady Catherine cried. Jane and Bingley immediately were at their side, congratulating them, and taking leave. Neighbours followed, departing before the presumed outbursts from Mrs. Bennet. All had experienced her nerves at some point or another. Mrs. Bennet, however, was so shocked she did not even twitch for a full minute. By the time Mrs. Bennet began to recover, only family, excepting the Bingleys, remained. "Is it true?" she finally asked. "Yes, Mama." Mrs. Bennet blinked and nodded, before looking at Lady Catherine with disconcertion. "And … and … will you be married from Rosings?" "Nay," Lady Catherine answered even as Elizabeth started to do so. "I believe it is best if she is married from here, where most of her friends will be. If, of course, you are willing to plan and host another such event so soon?" "For so great a family? I do not --" Mrs. Bennet started. "My dear Mrs. Bennet," Lady Catherine interrupted, "my brother the Earl, myself, and all of our Elizabeth's relations will be happy to simply enjoy her wedding. We only dared dream of such an occurrence, not three months ago." She paused. "I will, of course, cover the expense." "Much appreciated, of course," Mr. Bennet replied, seeing his wife still mostly dumbstruck. "But only some of the expense. She is our daughter, as well." A little playful back and forth ensued between Mr. Bennet and Lady Catherine about which family should supply the greatest support for their daughter's wedding. Despite the peace of barely an hour ago, Elizabeth abruptly felt overwhelmed, and excused herself. William followed, quiet concern in his expression. She collected the bonnet and gloves she had set aside when they returned from the wedding. "Elizabeth?" "Half an hour ought be enough," she said. William blinked, before nodding slowly. "Would you prefer to walk out alone? It would not be quite the same as being sent to fetch you by your cousin, but I can wait until your father asks for your presence." Elizabeth half-smiled, remembering the quiet little pond at Rosings. "No, not the same." She tugged the gloves on and fastened the bonnet. "I just need time to think." When she finally met his gaze, she took in the depth of the uncertainty in those eyes. "You are not …" he did not finish the question, for she had pressed a gloved finger to his lips. "I am not." She tilted her head to the side. "I simply need time to think. And you, my dearest William, make that quite difficult." He nodded, before pulling her finger away and kissing her exposed wrist. She shivered. "Half an hour," he agreed. A moment later, after he ascertained her intended direction, she felt him watch her from the front steps of her childhood home. Here, in Hertfordshire, it had not been deemed necessary to assign anyone to walk with her, provided she kept to known paths. Indeed, until this moment, she had not actually walked out on her own since her return, for she had been accompanied by at least one sister, William, or Bingley at all times. The solitude she had been bereft since that day at Rosings wrapped itself around her like a shawl borrowed from an old friend. One could not be properly alone inside a home, even in a library full of books, for human thought swirled around in such places. Inside, in all directions, human touch and thought were on display. Here, however, the rustling of the leaves and the call of birds and insects coloured the air. The road, worn from carriage wheels and horse hooves, shewd the only significant imprint of humans just now. No doubt, in a few moments, a carriage or rider would turn around a corner and into her sight or hearing, or perhaps William would come up from Longbourn to fetch her. She did not reflect on any serious thoughts, no pressing concerns, no mysteries of life. She simply was for an entire, glorious, half hour. At length, she found herself near the small rise where she had stood the morning her mother had come home aflutter with news about the new tenant at Netherfield. Such high hopes Mrs. Bennet had professed! And lo! her dearest Jane was now Mrs. Bingley, fulfilling both Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth’s hopes for her future. And she … she was no longer Lizzy Bennet. The realization was abrupt, and for a moment, it nearly snatched her breath away. Oh, she had rationally come to terms with being the lost de Bourgh daughter. She had accepted that her frequent yearnings for elsewhere were, in fact, the faintest memories of another life, and the need to find her family. She recognized her easy trust of Wickham had been that same faint memory, and her reaction to William’s dismissal at the assembly likely found its roots there, as well. The realization, as she looked out over that familiar landscape, that shook her so was that home was no longer Longbourn. Even when her heart wished to wander and look for her first home, Longbourn had been her home. The distress that overcame her in the parlour while her parents bandied about which household held more responsibility for her wedding found its source. Neither was her home. She was not quite sure where "home" was, now, although she suspected her heart’s allegiances had declared it to be wherever William was. This sensation was more than just the comfort of ‘us’, and she wondered if this is what fuelled Jane’s declarations about "hang the plans" in London. She caught sight of William, in his pursuit of her, and called to him. He paused and raised his hand to acknowledge, and she gestured for him to join her. A few moments later, and he was by her side. She watched as he took in the view. "I see why you chose this spot for today," he said after a moment. "Oh?" she asked. "Distant enough to soothe the restlessness, near enough to still be comfortable, and," he added as he smiled at her, "a lovely view does not hurt." "It has been a momentous day," she replied. "I certainly am not going to disagree with that description. A friend I love as much as I could a brother has gained a happiness he has long wished for, and the most handsome, most brilliant, most talented woman I have ever met has consented to be my wife." "I am not," she protested. William smiled, before glancing back out over the view. "You are to me." She flushed, and he continued, "I will, of course, allow that Bingley may think the same of Jane, and suitors that come to call on our other sisters, including Anne and Georgiana, have the same courtesy. It would be dreadful to think otherwise." How quickly the man, one who had expressed such visible distaste for her family, adopted all of the Bennets. "Such fine condescension!" she teased. "Next you will tell me that you will be excessively attentive to all of those suitors!" William barked a laugh and then affected a grave mien. "But of course, my dear. They will need to understand the worthiness of their chosen lady." He paused ever so briefly. "After all, I do hope to need to put the fear of father into a lad, in a score of years or so, when he comes to beg for my daughter’s hand." A brief image of a curly haired little girl, peering over William’s shoulder at her, flashed across Elizabeth’s imagination. Her heart clenched. "Only a daughter?" she asked, trying to sound still playful. She failed. "As many sons and daughters as we can reasonably hope to have," William replied. Elizabeth decided then and there that Jane was eminently correct about "post the banns and hang the plans," and that her wedding day could not come soon enough.https://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131816,131816#msg-131816Sun, 20 Sep 2026 13:38:13 +0100 Phorum 5.2.22 https://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131816,131817#msg-131817 Re: Excessively Attentive - 40-43https://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131816,131817#msg-131817 EvelynJean Derbyshire Writers' GuildSun, 18 Jan 2026 00:14:28 +0000 https://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131816,131816#msg-131816 Excessively Attentive - 40-43https://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131816,131816#msg-131816Author's note: I am trying to not sport with anyone's impatience. :)


Forty


Lydia brought up a scheme to join the militia in Brighton the next morning. "For it will all be so dreary here," she complained. "The parties will be so less interesting."

"We have far too much to do," Mrs. Bennet replied sharply. "Jane is getting married!"

Lydia looked surprised at this source of refusal, and subsided. Not that anyone else could bring up a word sideways over Mrs. Bennet's exultations and plans.

The girls only extracted themselves from Mrs. Bennet's effusions by Jane's well timed "Mr. Bingley would like" comment, and all five of them nearly fled their mother's presence. Even Mary looked harried, and agreed to join her sisters for the walk to Meryton. Mr. Bennet took pity on them, and his pocketbook, and conveyed a much pared down of items which Mrs. Bennet insisted would be necessary to celebrate her Jane's handsome catch.

The banns were to be read this week Sunday, which provided Jane three entire weeks and a few days more to prepare any items not already ordered and to pack. Bingley, according to Jane and barring any misfortunes, intended to arrive at Netherfield sometime late today.

"Then," Kitty teased, "we should not dally long with the officers. We should not keep you from your intended!"

"Oh, aye!" agreed Lydia. "But perhaps we can convince one or two to join us for the walk home."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth allowed. She remembered Wickham's hints about some of his fellow officers.

Kitty and Lydia voiced disappointment upon not seeing any of their preferred officers when entering Meryton. Elizabeth hushed them both, reminding them of the discussion at the inn just the day before. Lydia huffed a little but desisted. Kitty looked properly subdued. However, the Miss Bennets were shortly joined by some of the same officers which Lydia and Kitty despaired so vocally about, and another.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Wickham greeted them both warmly, in his own turn. Elizabeth felt the difference of this warmth to his prior greetings, lo not that many months ago now. Lydia certainly caught the slight change, even if she did not know the meaning of it.

"Do not forget me, Wickham!" she cried, before he could even turn his head to do just so.

He smiled gamely at the youngest Bennet. "My apologies, Miss Lydia, but I could hardly forget you! Propriety, however, does indicate I greet your elder sisters first." He glanced at Mary and Kitty as well. "I hope this day finds you all well?"

"It does indeed," agreed Jane, and Mary murmured an assent.

Lydia gave Wickham a reproachful glare, and attached herself to Denny's arm. Elizabeth gave Wickham a sharp glance, and from the look he gave her, he was agreeing to stay close at hand. "I mostly wished," Wickham continued as if this little byplay were not going on, "to give my sincere congratulations to you, Miss Bennet. I have it on the best of authorities that Mr. Bingley has been granted the favour of a living angel to be his wife."

Jane coloured. "I know nothing about that, Mr. Wickham, but I am engaged to Mr. Bingley."

The other officers looked calculating at Jane and a little more so at Lydia. Elizabeth felt her ire rising, and felt compelled to ward off a predatory intent. "It is indeed fortunate for our Jane. She has found love and fortune, and, as we all know, even the very beautiful must have something to live upon. It is pity that our lot is so very small." A frown flittered across Denny's face.

"Quite," Jane assented. "I am fortunate."

"It is my studied opinion, my dear ladies, that it is Bingley who is the blessed one, but I quite understand your position," Wickham agreed easily.

Horses were heard and the party moved towards the shopfronts to clear the way. "Miss Bennet!" cried Bingley, and the riders -- for William was with Bingley -- directed their steeds to join the party directly.

Elizabeth felt a wave of déjà vu upon seeing William while speaking easily with Wickham. Both men also appeared to be recalling that particular instance. This time, however, William dismounted beside Wickham and Elizabeth. The men shook hands cordially enough, and muted gasps could be heard from the curious nearby. "Miss Elizabeth," William greeted her, before glancing in the direction of Bingley and Jane, already in close conversation. "Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia, sirs."

"It is obvious what brought Mr. Bingley to town," Elizabeth said laughingly. "Did he allow you to wake at a reasonable time before riding to Longbourn?"

William chuckled. "I normally wake before Bingley, but not this morning. We were in fact on the way to your home." He glanced at his friend, then nodded at the horses. "I suspect Bingley will wish to assist your sister. Let me tend to setting the horses, so that it is easier to join you." Wickham offered to assist.

Lydia had already dragged Denny further from the party, nattering on about bonnets. Denny's attention, however, remained on Wickham and William. When William and Wickham rejoined Elizabeth and her sisters, Mary posed a question to William. "Mr. Darcy, I recall what your cousin noted about his duties and how ofttimes he is not available for his mother's social engagements. How does that compare to what you have seen from our militia officers in Meryton?"

William tilted his head as he considered the question. Wickham answered, "I suspect, Miss Mary, that the differences you allude to at this moment comes to a difference in experience. Darcy's cousin has nigh twenty years in the Army, and I believe he has served on the Continent several times. This militia, however, has seen little action, and those newly joined such as myself, none-at-all."

William nodded at Wickham. "What Wickham says is true. My cousin has suffered enough injuries on the field that he has been retired to service on this side of the channel, pending an heir from his elder brother."

"But he remains in the Army? He mentioned nothing of injuries," she added, looking disconcerted. "They do not trouble him?"

"His insight to battlefield operations assists the home office in making wiser decisions," William replied. "Or, so he has described his current posting to me. He does not make the most patient of patients, and does not relish recounting when he has been put into that position."

"Meanwhile, Miss Mary," Wickham picked up, "Most of us in the militia have not such heavy loads on our shoulders, and thus find ourselves free to escort such lovely ladies as you and your sisters."

Mary blushed faintly at any such praise, and Kitty snorted. Elizabeth noticed William's careful not-study of Mary, and saw a flicker of something in his expression, for just a moment.

Jane and Bingley entered the milliner's, following Lydia and Denny. Kitty opted to join them, while the rest of the party went across to the bookstore. When Mary turned down Wickham's game offer of assistance with book shopping, the other three retreated to the music section, "for Georgiana is always keen for something new," William said.

Once they were out of ear shot from her next-younger sister, William spoke in an undertone. "Promise me, Miss Elizabeth, you will assist Miss Mary in her preparations for my friend's wedding?" She shot him a questioning look, just as Wickham breathed out an "Ah ha!"

"If you insist," Elizabeth agreed as she looked from one to the other, and William and Wickham shared a triumphal smile.

"And then there was one," Wickham muttered under his breath.

Forty-One


The last week of the militia's stay in Meryton drew to a close with several parties, hosted in turn by the Bingleys, the Bennets, and the Lucases. Miss Bingley proved herself quite the capable hostess for her last event before turning over such household requirements to her new sister the next week.

While perhaps the youngest Miss Bennets attempted to throw a pall over the mood of the household in their dejection, the manic energy of Mrs. Bennet more than compensated for the youngest. Indeed, she brooked absolutely no displays of distress, not now, not so close to her crowning achievement of marrying Jane off to a young man of good family and fortune. The young ladies of the neighbourhood certainly drooped, but most came back to hope when reminded that many of Mr. Bingley's still single and eligible gentleman friends had been invited to witness his felicity personally.

The two weeks of comradeship between Wickham and William in full view of the neighbourhood soon put paid to some of the hatred Wickham previously stirred up. Wickham owned to a few 'friends', such as he had among the officers, that he had previously spoken twisted words, and admitted his fault. In doing so, however, the protection William had previously enjoyed from feminine attention as the formidable Mr. Darcy, not even tempted by the Miss Eliza Bennet, evaporated as soon as the last redcoat left the area.

The week of the wedding it became apparent that only Elizabeth's company could purchase William a moment of peace outside of Netherfield or Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet remained so overjoyed by Jane's good fortunes that she barely even noticed Mr. Darcy existed, and he found this a pleasant, albeit unusual, state of affairs. Netherfield hosted several of Bingley's friends at this point. Lady Catherine and Anne were expected to stay at Longbourn, and due in just a day's time.

Fortunately for both William and Elizabeth, their younger sisters were quite happy to entertain themselves. Additionally, between Elizabeth's gentle encouragements and Georgiana's praise, Mary showed sufficiently promising improvement that even Lydia did not scold her for (as much) for her music choices. Whenever Jane's presence was required, Bingley attached himself to William and Elizabeth, and she did likewise. Today, however, the men were obliged to be good neighbours and attend a dinner elsewhere.

Elizabeth watched as Jane sorted the last of her belongings, leaving only two days' worth left, and a few less important trinkets for her room. "At least you will not need to fret if you forget to pack something," Elizabeth observed. "Five miles is easy travel enough for something misplaced."

"Certainly better than Derbyshire," Jane agreed. "You will need to be more thorough than I am."

"What is in Derbyshire, pray tell?" asked Mary. Jane and Elizabeth both started, as they had not heard her approach the room. She slipped in quietly, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I only know of my aunt, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Darcy as of importance from there," she continued.

Elizabeth coloured slightly, and looked askance at Jane. Jane tilted her head in encouragement. Looking back at Mary, she shrugged. "Mr. Darcy."

Mary nodded, not a slip of surprise in her expression or tone. "Are you engaged?"

"A courtship. Our father has agreed, as has my mother. Our mother does not know."

"Congratulations. Why -- because Jane, of course," Mary sighed.

"Quite," Elizabeth agreed readily.

"He has been as good as a brother to Kitty, Lydia, and myself, even in our stay in his townhouse, " Mary offered. "I quite like this version of him."

Jane nodded. "We are given to understand he was quite distressed when he arrived with Bingley in the autumn."

"Georgiana shared a bit of her troubles," Mary said quietly. "I understand his … mood." She glanced between the elder girls. "Is Lydia at risk of something similar?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and Jane winced ever so slightly. "I certainly hope not," Jane sighed. "But -- "

"But ever since the militia came, there has been nothing but love, flirtation, and officers in her head!" cried Elizabeth, however quietly.

"Nor has that been improved by Jane's engagement," Mary replied. "Lydia will not be allowed to go to Brighton, will she?"

"I am certainly unaware of there being an intention of her going," Elizabeth replied, brows furrowing. "She certainly cannot go without family."

Mary seemed concerned. "Did you not know Mrs. Forster had written a letter, offering to let her join her after Jane's wedding?"

"No!" cried both elder girls. "Does our father know?" Elizabeth demanded.

"I would hope so, but I have only heard Lydia speak of it to Kitty. She seemed quite certain she was to go."

"The militia has left; the Forsters with them. How was she planning on traveling?" Elizabeth questioned.

"I believe the discussion was that Captain Denny had offered to escort her."

Jane and Elizabeth shared concerned glances, and Elizabeth rose to the door. "You will go to father?" Jane asked.

"Yes. Can you send a note to Bingley and William?"

"Of course."

Forty-Two


With an express sent to Brighton moments before, Bennet poured a stout drink for each Bingley and Darcy, as they conferred on the next steps. He leaned back with a sigh.

"Elizabeth had mentioned that Wickham had expressed concerns about Denny," he said.

"He did mention he considered some of his fellows to be of … questionable motives," Darcy agreed, "but he did not single Denny out as one to me."

A knock interrupted their conversation, and Bennet called, "Enter."

Miss McGonagall peered through the door, Mrs. Hill and Elizabeth with her.

"You called for me, sir?" the governess queried.

"Yes." He rose, gesturing at all three. "Please come in." Elizabeth closed the door behind her at his direction.

"How would you say you and Miss Lydia are getting along?"

Miss McGonagall glanced at the entire group assembled, and answered with a cautious air. "I have not been disappointed in her efforts, but the novelty of the situation has not yet worn off, I suspect."

"Would you consider yourself in her confidences?" Bennet did not expect that to be the case, of course. Mrs. Forster was much more the personality to gain Lydia’s confidences quickly.

"Not at all, sir. I am entirely too new to her for that. Any remarks or comments she has made have certainly been of a general nature, rather than confidential."  

"Had she mentioned any correspondence at all?"

"None." She paused; her expression became more disconcerted. "She and Miss Catherine appear to be close; she may know." She glanced between the others in the room. "Is she safe?"

"She has not left this house, and she is in fact safe," Bennet assured her. "Has she spoken about any particular friends, perhaps among the recently departed militia?"

"Not any particular one, no," Miss McGonagall frowned. "When the militia were shortly to depart, she spoke of her disappointment in Lieutenant Wickham’s attentions towards herself, and alluded to it being due to Miss Elizabeth. She did remark on a Captain Denny as being a fine dancer, and a few others. The captain was mentioned several times, which is the primary reason I recall him. I presumed that it was a fancy which would fade with his departure."

Bennet nodded. "Thank you for being candid, Miss McGonagall. I wished to cover all angles, but I did not expect you would have any further insight."

She nodded slowly. "What may I anticipate on the morrow?"

"I have not yet spoken with her myself. We are attempting to … dissuade her by more politic means. With any luck, it will not be an issue for tomorrow."

Miss McGonagall shewed a questioning look, and Bennet half-smiled. "Best you know as little as possible, ma’am, so as to not show our cards."

***


The reply from the Forsters arrived late the next day, with an additional letter from Wickham to Bennet.

The acknowledgement from Colonel Forster was terse, but complete. It seemed that Denny had not been difficult to get to confess to his plans, with a little help from Wickham, and the end result was that Denny would not be free for quite some time. "To so treacherously plan to use my wife’s name to betray my wife’s friend and your daughter – I could not let such a situation stand."

The letter from Mrs. Forster to Lydia, which Bennet perused prior to admitting its existence, put paid to any notion which Lydia may have had about absconding to Brighton with Captain Denny.

Quote

My dearest Lydia,

Such horrid news I have to share! My dear Colonel discovered that Denny – yes, that Denny – had designs to gain his fortune – by kidnapping you. Such ludicrous ideas he had for his goal! Most of Meryton knows that you and your sisters have little money to offer a husband, yet he thought he could ransom you for a princely sum! Perhaps he ought read fewer novels, although he may have little else to do in the brig, where my dear Colonel, quite incensed he would threaten a friend of mine so, has put him for many weeks.

I never would have suggested he bring you to Brighton to visit after you recounted your mother’s refusal, and certainly not alone and unchaperoned!  Not when you suspect your other elder sister will be engaged soon as well! Weddings are such fun, and so important to a family, I would not countenance you being gone. No, my dear friend, I will miss your company, but it is best for you to stay there for the moment.

When it is better timing for a visit, I shall certainly let you know, and direct an invitation to your parents, so that they know all is above board. I am grateful that my dear Colonel discovered Denny’s plot before you could be injured by it! To think we thought so well of him!

I pray to hear that you are tolerably well in your reply. I know you must be disappointed, but you are safe, and that is no little thing! Please let me know how Miss McGonagall is treating you! Is she still showing you interesting things?

All my love,

Harriet

Wickham’s letter elaborated on the Colonel’s:

Quote

…

After the Colonel shared the information you provided to him, I offered my services to assist in resolving the situation. He questioned my motives, but I believe I persuaded him that the Bennets are, by round about ways, good as my family. (I hope I have not offended you, sir, but Miss Elizabeth is part of my extended family, and thus you-all are as well.) He consented.

It did not take long to ease Denny’s guard, and straight into his cups. He was rather self-congratulatory about his intended tricks on Miss Lydia, and once he confessed that, I worked to tricking him into drinking himself into a stupor as I had a few times previously.

I did not relay this to the Colonel, to decrease the risk it might get bandied about, but Denny made a few comments which lead me to believe he intended to do more than just ransom your youngest. She certainly would not have been delivered in pristine condition. Not even in my most caddest of moments have I ever forced such upon a woman. His comments lead me to believe it is possible there is at least one in Meryton so injured by Denny, but I do not know who it may be. He kept enough wits to not be more explicit. He also did not share who assisted in mimicking Mrs. Forester’s hand sufficient to trick your daughter.  

I am grateful for whatever interference granted you awareness in time to preserve her from such. I only wish I had known he was of such proclivities in time to protect others. I hope that my easy rapport with he and the other officers did not lull some unsuspecting soul into unguardedness around such a creature.

…

Bennet poured a stronger drink than he normally preferred as he digested the meaning of Wickham’s words. His little girl, so close to not just ruin but worse, from thoughtless naivete. Right now, he could only picture her as the babe-in-arms she once was and feel nauseous.  He would put a word to his brother-in-law in Meryton to gather gossip. If there was an injured girl, he was fairly certain the good Colonel would be quite helpful in gaining justice for her.

After letting the drink temper his racing pulse, he resolved to share some of the information with Darcy and Bingley, but perhaps not all of the concerns even with Elizabeth. He reckoned he would be dissuading Darcy from taking responsibility for Denny’s assumption of a ransom payment, as well.

He resolved that, governess or not, he would try to exert himself for the younger girls’ benefit. His laziness and disappointment should not leave her – any of them – at such risk.

***


After the servants left the breakfast room, Bennet produced the letter from Mrs. Forster to Lydia. "As Colonel Forster and Mrs. Forster indicated I should review this prior to it being delivered, I have done so." Mrs. Bennet, thankfully, had kept to her rooms this morning with little hinting on Mrs. Hill’s part.

Lydia glared at him, but took her letter with artificial graciousness. Jane and Lizzy both gave him concerned glances, and he shook his head slightly. Lydia opened it, and scanned the first paragraph. She looked up at him, shock in her expression. "Papa?"

"Do you see why they wished I review it?"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, papa."

"If you wish to talk further about it, later, I will be in my library. Miss McGonagall may be able to assist you, as well."

Lydia nodded, and, biting her lip, slipped the letter under her plate. She did not eat much more, picking at her plate. Elizabeth kept shooting glances at Lydia then to Jane. Once Jane was ready, Elizabeth set her plate aside. "May we be excused, papa?"

"Of course, my dears."

"Come, Lydia," Elizabeth coaxed her, and Jane echoed. Lydia pulled the letter out and left with her eldest sisters. Kitty and Mary watched worriedly.

"Papa?" Mary asked quietly.

"She will be fine in a day or a few. She may be mightily angry in a few days, or she may be despondent. But she will be fine." I hope.

Later, Elizabeth slipped into his library, looking worn.

"She will be fine," Elizabeth reported after a few moments of quiet. "She is resting, and Jane is still with her."

"I presume there was a storm of tears and fury?"

"Rightfully so," Elizabeth agreed. "Particularly after we set the letters side-by-side. The hand was similar, but not the same. Close enough that it must have been modelled off of Mrs. Forester’s own letters. To learn of the deception before any other risk to her person or reputation …" she trailed off, shaking her head. "George did well in protecting one of us, this time."

Bennet raised an eyebrow at the use of Wickham’s given name. She tilted her head. "He is family, Papa. I dare say, in saving my little sister, he has earned that much."

"He expressed regret that he had not realized Denny would sink so low."

"It is shocking to believe that any of our acquaintance would make such falsehoods -- using the name of his superior’s wife, no less. Let alone that he would do so for mere farthings!" Elizabeth rejoined. "I cannot blame him for a failure to foresee that." 

"No, and when I reply, I will reiterate that myself. We are fortunate indeed that he volunteered to assist in the matter."

"He has not been, perhaps, the best of men, even by his own accounting. He seems to have been given good principles, and then left to follow them with little guidance." Elizabeth sighed. "Good meanings and wishes, and all of that."

"At least his appearance of goodness was not entirely false," Bennet replied. "With such an expression, he could have inflicted much harm on your family."

"Our family, papa."

Bennet smiled at the correction. "Yes, Lady Catherine did write me to share her consent. I do wonder how my cousin will respond to this when he finds out."

Elizabeth snorted. "He was quite confused, that first afternoon. He was all in favour of me throwing out my entire life to be Lady Catherine’s daughter, until Charlotte and I both scolded him for being so mean of character."

Bennet owned he wished he could be more surprised. "He certainly has a unique perspective of a pastor’s solemn duties."

Forty-Three


June dawned. The tumult of the last three days, from Lydia's ultimately fruitless scheme, to the arrival of mère and Anne, as well as the Gardiners, at Longbourn, had not prompted Elizabeth to forget her agreement to ensure extra care on Mary's toilette and dress.

Mary touched the more elaborate styling with significant self-consciousness, and tugged at the dress -- one of Jane's, for she was more like Jane in stature than she typically allowed. "I know it is her wedding, and I should be well turned out, but this seems … excessive, Lizzy."

"You look lovely, Mary," replied Elizabeth. She lightly swatted her little sister's hand from her hair. "Do not fuss with it, or you will ruin all of Sarah's hard work."

"There is something more," Mary accused her. "What are you scheming?"

"Me?" laughed Elizabeth. "Nothing at all. But I do believe that you caught someone's eye, and his friends wish to ensure it stays caught."

"By me?" Mary looked positively frightened at the concept.

Elizabeth gave Mary a long look, and pulled her into an embrace. "By your wits and questioning mind, I believe. There is no harm in being as pretty as you can be just as encouragement."

Mary pulled away after returning the hug. "Is he a friend of Mr. Darcy’s?"

"I believe so. William is being quite tight lipped about it."

"Or just using them for other purposes," Mary teased.

"Oh, you!" Elizabeth blushed. "Once."

"An hour?"

"Insufferable!" Elizabeth cried. "You know full well Mama has not given anyone much time to themselves."

Mary laughed, the tension slipping away. "Quite. And we have a sister to marry off now." She gave Elizabeth a side long glance. "You are quite well turned out, too."

"I am standing up with Jane," Elizabeth replied, attempting to not colour.

"Of course," Mary smirked at her. "Time to enter the fray again, I believe, sister."

"Indeed," Elizabeth agreed.

 

***


Elizabeth took careful note of scenes, tiny moments to keep as paintings in her mind. The enraptured expression of her brother-to-be as his bride walked down the aisle. Jane simply glowed with joy, while their father looked as proud as could be. Miss Bingley appeared pleased for her brother, as did the Hursts.

The subdued but expressive look from William which made her feel undone. A glance at Anne, sitting with mère as part of Jane's family, showed her other elder sister enjoying the show at her expense. Lydia's mood was palpable from here, despite her attempts to mask it, for Jane’s sake.

The agog look of Richard towards Mary, which aligned with her suspicions. Richard's admiration of Jane at Rosings had not gone unnoticed -- and Mary, right now, looked every inch the little sister of Jane without being her replica. Mary's conversations with him in London were extensive, and she had occasionally asked questions explicitly about him since. Elizabeth felt few qualms at such a match for her sister.

In a breath of eternity, Mrs. Bennet's greatest ambition became fulfilled. Jane Bingley signed her name and the wedding party dispersed to Longbourn to celebrate. Elizabeth felt a loss, a tugging at her heart, when Jane left not only before her, but without her. The emotion warred with her deep joy for Jane. No such battles had taken place when Charlotte assumed the mantle of Mrs. Collins, even when she counted her friend was mostly lost to her by such a choice.

Her emotions continued to flutter about, as the party's removal increased her own anticipation.

"Shall we walk back to the house?" William asked, offering his arm.

She could not recall her exact words, but knew she assented. They walked slowly, and with Longbourn in sight, William turned her towards the hermitage.

For a moment, the only sounds were the rustling of the branches in the breeze, their footsteps, and their breathing. William pulled her towards one of the more secluded paths before speaking. "I believe we had a discussion to continue."

His tone was much as it had been at the pianoforte at Matlock House. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They continued walking, however slowly, until he halted her. "I must confess -- I have thought of a thousand little pretty speeches for right now, and I cannot recall a single one of them. All I can think of is your comment about us and how desperately I want that to be reality."

A ghost of a laugh, borne of amusement and nerves. "Ask, then, William. Ask me."

"Will you marry me, Elizabeth?"

"Ye -- mmph."

Several pleasant moments later, Elizabeth pressed a finger to his lips. "I believe it is certainly time to return to Longbourn and chaperones."

William chuckled, before agreeing with a sigh. "As wise as you are beautiful, my love."

They walked to her home quietly, with only a few comments about their intentions for the remainder of the day. They joined the festivities, her arm still entwined with William's. Jane spotted her, for the newlyweds had not yet adjourned to Netherfield, and cried for them to join her and Bingley. "I hope you enjoyed your walk," Jane teased Elizabeth quietly.

"We did," William replied with a faint smile. "And now I leave your sister in your capable hands for a moment." He clapped Bingley's shoulder with a congratulations, before heading to Mr. Bennet's side. Based on the sharp look that Mr. Bennet gave her, Elizabeth was certain that her father had been expecting this approach. She hoped that meant the progression from courting to engagement would not be unwelcome to her father. The two disappeared from the room.

Jane gave her a matching sharp look as their father left with William, to which Elizabeth just smiled. Lightly played strains on the pianoforte drew her attention to see Mary with Richard sitting beside her. Lydia's laughter, the first since the militia left just over a week ago, echoed as Anne smiled, and she spied Kitty and Georgiana in close conference.

Right here, right now, Elizabeth felt more at peace than she had in weeks. She would miss Jane's constant presence, but she would gain William's. Her family would be safe and hale.

A light touch on her arm drew her attention. "Go to your father, he wants you in the library," William whispered. In a moment, Elizabeth was seating herself across from her father.

"Mr. Darcy appears to have changed his mind about you being handsome enough to tempt him," Mr. Bennet observed after a moment of quiet.

Elizabeth blushed, and nodded. "I suppose so, sir."

"I know your opinion of him has improved, Lizzy, but I need your assurances. I cannot bear the thought that you might not have a true partner in your marriage."

"Even when I thought I hated him, he treated me as an equal. Apart from that overheard comment, he has been perfectly respectful. When I cared for Jane at Netherfield, he solicited my opinion several times, although there was certainly no requirement that he do so. We have lively discussions, even if we do not agree. I could go on," Elizabeth offered.

Mr. Bennet nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point. "That fits with my observations," he agreed. His attention focused back on her as he leaned back in his chair. "You will have more than sufficient pin money certainly. Will you be happy?"

Elizabeth hesitated, searching for the words to reassure her father. "When I agreed to the courtship, it was only not an engagement because I did not wish to overshadow Jane's happiness. William sat with me at the pianoforte at Matlock House, and he made a comment that our aunt was unhappy with us. I realized that I found comfort in he and I being 'us.' "

Mr. Bennet smiled slightly at that, his eyes looking suspiciously bright. "I find comfort in the idea that someone worthy will treasure you. I believe he may be the only man I could have allowed to take you from me." He rose from his seat and offered a hand to Elizabeth. "Come. We should announce this. Your mothers will be pleased, as will Jane."

"Now?"

"Jane has had her moment, and perhaps this will permit her and Bingley to escape quietly." Mr. Bennet shrugged. "Darcy suggested it, in fact."

Elizabeth tried valiantly to not blush, knowing full well why William suggested it. She found no issues with the plan, however.

By the time they returned, a few neighbours and many of Bingley's friends had already taken their leave. Mrs. Bennet and Lady Catherine monopolized the remaining conversation, effectively detaining the newlyweds. William was carefully attempting to distract the elder ladies to give his friend a respite. Into this, Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth stepped into the room. Mr. Bennet loudly cleared his throat, and beckoned Darcy over. The conversation in the parlour stilled.

"It is my great pleasure to announce, on a day already filled with joy, the engagement of Elizabeth Bennet de Bourgh to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Finally!" Lady Catherine cried. Jane and Bingley immediately were at their side, congratulating them, and taking leave. Neighbours followed, departing before the presumed outbursts from Mrs. Bennet. All had experienced her nerves at some point or another.

Mrs. Bennet, however, was so shocked she did not even twitch for a full minute.

By the time Mrs. Bennet began to recover, only family, excepting the Bingleys, remained. "Is it true?" she finally asked.

"Yes, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet blinked and nodded, before looking at Lady Catherine with disconcertion. "And … and … will you be married from Rosings?"

"Nay," Lady Catherine answered even as Elizabeth started to do so. "I believe it is best if she is married from here, where most of her friends will be. If, of course, you are willing to plan and host another such event so soon?"

"For so great a family? I do not --" Mrs. Bennet started.

"My dear Mrs. Bennet," Lady Catherine interrupted, "my brother the Earl, myself, and all of our Elizabeth's relations will be happy to simply enjoy her wedding. We only dared dream of such an occurrence, not three months ago." She paused. "I will, of course, cover the expense."

"Much appreciated, of course," Mr. Bennet replied, seeing his wife still mostly dumbstruck. "But only some of the expense. She is our daughter, as well."

A little playful back and forth ensued between Mr. Bennet and Lady Catherine about which family should supply the greatest support for their daughter's wedding. Despite the peace of barely an hour ago, Elizabeth abruptly felt overwhelmed, and excused herself. William followed, quiet concern in his expression.

She collected the bonnet and gloves she had set aside when they returned from the wedding. "Elizabeth?"

"Half an hour ought be enough," she said.

William blinked, before nodding slowly. "Would you prefer to walk out alone? It would not be quite the same as being sent to fetch you by your cousin, but I can wait until your father asks for your presence."

Elizabeth half-smiled, remembering the quiet little pond at Rosings. "No, not the same." She tugged the gloves on and fastened the bonnet. "I just need time to think."

When she finally met his gaze, she took in the depth of the uncertainty in those eyes. "You are not …" he did not finish the question, for she had pressed a gloved finger to his lips.

"I am not." She tilted her head to the side. "I simply need time to think. And you, my dearest William, make that quite difficult."

He nodded, before pulling her finger away and kissing her exposed wrist. She shivered. "Half an hour," he agreed.

A moment later, after he ascertained her intended direction, she felt him watch her from the front steps of her childhood home.

Here, in Hertfordshire, it had not been deemed necessary to assign anyone to walk with her, provided she kept to known paths. Indeed, until this moment, she had not actually walked out on her own since her return, for she had been accompanied by at least one sister, William, or Bingley at all times.

The solitude she had been bereft since that day at Rosings wrapped itself around her like a shawl borrowed from an old friend. One could not be properly alone inside a home, even in a library full of books, for human thought swirled around in such places. Inside, in all directions, human touch and thought were on display. Here, however, the rustling of the leaves and the call of birds and insects coloured the air. The road, worn from carriage wheels and horse hooves, shewd the only significant imprint of humans just now. No doubt, in a few moments, a carriage or rider would turn around a corner and into her sight or hearing, or perhaps William would come up from Longbourn to fetch her.

She did not reflect on any serious thoughts, no pressing concerns, no mysteries of life. She simply was for an entire, glorious, half hour.

At length, she found herself near the small rise where she had stood the morning her mother had come home aflutter with news about the new tenant at Netherfield. Such high hopes Mrs. Bennet had professed! And lo! her dearest Jane was now Mrs. Bingley, fulfilling both Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth’s hopes for her future.

And she … she was no longer Lizzy Bennet.

The realization was abrupt, and for a moment, it nearly snatched her breath away.

Oh, she had rationally come to terms with being the lost de Bourgh daughter. She had accepted that her frequent yearnings for elsewhere were, in fact, the faintest memories of another life, and the need to find her family. She recognized her easy trust of Wickham had been that same faint memory, and her reaction to William’s dismissal at the assembly likely found its roots there, as well.

The realization, as she looked out over that familiar landscape, that shook her so was that home was no longer Longbourn. Even when her heart wished to wander and look for her first home, Longbourn had been her home. The distress that overcame her in the parlour while her parents bandied about which household held more responsibility for her wedding found its source. Neither was her home.

She was not quite sure where "home" was, now, although she suspected her heart’s allegiances had declared it to be wherever William was. This sensation was more than just the comfort of ‘us’, and she wondered if this is what fuelled Jane’s declarations about "hang the plans" in London.

She caught sight of William, in his pursuit of her, and called to him. He paused and raised his hand to acknowledge, and she gestured for him to join her.

A few moments later, and he was by her side. She watched as he took in the view. "I see why you chose this spot for today," he said after a moment.

"Oh?" she asked.

"Distant enough to soothe the restlessness, near enough to still be comfortable, and," he added as he smiled at her, "a lovely view does not hurt."

"It has been a momentous day," she replied.

"I certainly am not going to disagree with that description. A friend I love as much as I could a brother has gained a happiness he has long wished for, and the most handsome, most brilliant, most talented woman I have ever met has consented to be my wife."

"I am not," she protested.

William smiled, before glancing back out over the view. "You are to me." She flushed, and he continued, "I will, of course, allow that Bingley may think the same of Jane, and suitors that come to call on our other sisters, including Anne and Georgiana, have the same courtesy. It would be dreadful to think otherwise."

How quickly the man, one who had expressed such visible distaste for her family, adopted all of the Bennets. "Such fine condescension!" she teased. "Next you will tell me that you will be excessively attentive to all of those suitors!"

William barked a laugh and then affected a grave mien. "But of course, my dear. They will need to understand the worthiness of their chosen lady." He paused ever so briefly. "After all, I do hope to need to put the fear of father into a lad, in a score of years or so, when he comes to beg for my daughter’s hand."

A brief image of a curly haired little girl, peering over William’s shoulder at her, flashed across Elizabeth’s imagination. Her heart clenched. "Only a daughter?" she asked, trying to sound still playful. She failed.

"As many sons and daughters as we can reasonably hope to have," William replied. Elizabeth decided then and there that Jane was eminently correct about "post the banns and hang the plans," and that her wedding day could not come soon enough.]]> JessicaS Derbyshire Writers' GuildSat, 17 Jan 2026 02:19:05 +0000