Page 36 of A Most Favourable Match

“Wretched man!” Elizabeth muttered after he had gone downstairs. “Why must he loiter on landings and around corners where he is not wanted?”

“I do wish that he would go and stay with the Lucases,” responded her mother, now united with her daughter in resentment against Mr Collins, whose stock fell ever lower as hopes of any offer of marriage to Mary dwindled. “I am sure they enjoy his company more than we do.”

“There is no way to suggest that without causing offence,” Elizabeth cautioned her with a regretful sigh. “Even if he will not marry Mary, he will inherit Longbourn one day, and you should not antagonise him unnecessarily.”

It was true that Charlotte Lucas handled their cousin well when she came for tea, and sometimes persuaded him to dine at Lucas Lodge, to everyone’s relief. Still, Elizabeth would feel guilty for foisting him on her friend.

“True. Ah well, once Jane is Countess of Grantchester, Mr Collins won’t matter one fig. All my girls will be thrown in the paths of rich men and you will all marry well, no doubt…. Hmm, perhaps not Mary.”

“I must get on with the packing, if we are to reunite the future Countess of Grantchester with her husband-to-be tomorrow,” Elizabeth reminded her mother with a smile.

They parted on amicable terms.

∞∞∞

“Tell Mary she must not play any dirges this afternoon, Lizzy,” Lydia pleaded as soon as Jane and Elizabeth came downstairs for tea. “Denny and Carter are coming for tea, and we would much rather be merry.”

“Sanderson is coming too,” Kitty added. “We might even dance if Mary will play the right music and mother will let us roll back the carpet. Do tell her, Jane!”

“Of course you might, my pets,” announced their indulgent mother, sweeping ahead of them into the parlour. “No dirges, Mary, do you understand? My nerves cannot take it. Is that nice Mr Wickham coming too?”

“No, for he is dancing attendance upon Mary King,” Lydia replied unhappily.

“Or least upon her ten thousand pounds, Charlotte said,” Kitty added.

“You ought not to repeat such gossip,” Elizabeth reproved her. “If Mr Wickham has affection and respect for Miss King, I do not see why her ten thousand pounds need be brought into it.”

“Affection and respect? Ha! That would be impossible,” Lydia declared viciously. “Nasty, freckled little thing! Only her fortune could attract anyone, never mind a man as handsome and amiable as Wickham.”

“I believe that is your envy talking, Lydia,” Elizabeth told her. “You must not judge your favourite by your own worst impulses. I am sure Wickham’s intentions are honourable.”

“Don’t be so pious, Lizzy,” Lydia groaned. “You sound almost as bad as Mary, although not so awful asMr Collins.”

“Go outside, Kitty and Lydia, and see whether the officers are on their way in the lane,” urged their mother. “I shall not ring for tea until you tell me they are here.”

As the younger girls rushed off eagerly in search of red coats, Mrs Bennet and Jane settled themselves on the sofa. Jane took up some embroidery that she hoped to finish before leaving for London, but her mother was too much engaged with the business of matchmaking and gossip for any other employment.

“What a shame we will not have Lieutenant Wickham this afternoon,” Mrs Bennet tutted. “He is so very easy to talk to, and he has suffered so very much at the hands of that awful Mr Darcy. First the will, and then the poor man’s chances at marriage. How very unchristian Mr Darcy has shown himself to be! I hope he gets his comeuppance in the end.”

“George Wickham told you of all that himself?” Elizabeth questioned, a little surprised, given the sensitivity of the subject and her mother’s well-known garrulous tongue. “I am not sure we ought to be talking about it at all without his permission.”

“Fiddlesticks, Lizzy! The whole neighbourhood knows the story, and from Mr Wickham’s own lips too. There is no reason to be squeamish about it if he is not. Well, I only hope that Mary King accepts Mr Wickham’s hand, and he gets the fortune he deserves, despite Mr Darcy’s efforts.”

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, folding herarms and meeting Jane’s troubled gaze. Her sister seemed not to like the conversation either, although Jane’s motives were likely nobler than her own. Elizabeth could not deny that part of her reaction came from learning that George Wickham had told everyone the same story freely, rather than confiding only in her. Had she really thought she was special? How silly she had been!

“Remember that Mr Darcy is a good friend of Lord Grantchester,” Elizabeth reminded her mother. The milder reproof seemed to have some effect.

“Of course. Jane, dear, do not think my views on Mr Darcy any slight on your betrothed. Lord Grantchester is the noblest of men, and I am sure he has only been taken in by Mr Darcy because of his kind heart.”

“Mother,” Elizabeth put in warningly.

“I will not say another word of Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet promised. “Now, Jane, tell me which dresses you are taking with you to London.”

As the conversation turned to fashions and fripperies, Elizabeth excused herself, saying that she wanted to check that her boots and Jane’s had all been polished for tomorrow. Outside the room, she almost walked straight into Mr Collins.

Elizabeth jumped back, doing her best to keep a civil smile on her face under what seemed a considerable provocation. Insufferable man! She might almost have thought him to be lurking about deliberately, but what he might mean by it was beyond her.

“Ah, Cousin Eliza. I was hoping to see you,” MrCollins greeted her cordially, as though he had not noticed either their near-collision or her poorly concealed irritation. “I wished to speak to your father first, but the library is locked and there is no answer. I must assume he has gone out.”