Page 22 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

“What a pleasure to be able to wear colours again,” Jane remarked, breaking the silence. “Mama, your jade dress was quite lovely, and even Colonel Forster, who is usually quite grave, seemed taken with your conversation. I believe I even heard him laugh.”

Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks coloured faintly. “Oh, nonsense, Jane. I am sure it was just the novelty of speaking with us—we haven’t been in society for twelve months, and conversing with the same four and twenty families must, after a short while, become quite tedious.”

“No, I disagree, you were much admired,” I said.

She demurred with a little wave of her hand. “Lizzy, do not tease. I have no wish to be admired. In spite of this evening, I should prefer to be let alone, to enjoy peace and my garden, and perhaps, occasionally, a little whist with the neighbours.”

“I daresay that you may find it difficult to hide,” said Jane. “You are much too young and handsome for that.”

“Jane, that is too cruel! You know how much I loved your father. Please, I have no wish for company other than his.”

“I do not think, Mama, that dear Papa would have wished you to become a recluse. You and he enjoyed so much pleasure during your marriage. I, for one, would wish that you could find similar contentment once again.” I took her hand, then leant my head against her shoulder.

“No, Lizzy, it is not I who should seek the diversion of a good man.” Mama inadvertently glanced at Mr. Bingley, who smiled, leaning just a little closer to Jane.

I laughed. “I am quite content, Mama. For I have my walks in the morning, and the conversation of my mother in the evening. There is nothing more that I wish for.”

Was this true? I had so looked forward to changing from the drab greys of mourning into colour; to escape the strictures forced upon women to publicly display their grief, as if all the world wished to exult in their sorrow. But, having taken that first step, I found there was a restlessness within me. Meryton, which once had been horizon enough, now seemed constricting.

* * *

The following week was filled with visits from the ladies of the neighbourhood, which Mama, I, and often together with Jane, returned. Life had become normal—so it seemed.

The following week, Mr. Denny kept his promise, and both he and his friend, Mr. Wickham, were announced by Mrs. Hill as we sat in the parlour. We were expecting calls, for this was our day at home; but gentlemen callers were unexpected.

“Mr. Denny, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hill, announcing the gentleman. Denny entered with a bow. “Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, what a pleasure to see you this morning. If I may, might I introduce my friend, Mr. Wickham, who has accepted a commission in our corps?”

The gentleman followed Mr. Denny into the room, his eyes lingering, perhaps a little too long, on Mrs. Bennet. She looked particularly fine in a sky-blue muslin dress, a few curls of fair hair escaping from beneath her lace cap. Mr. Wickham’s own appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best parts of beauty—a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address; the man wanted only his regimentals to make him completely charming. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming. He spoke with a ready civility, and his words soon set us at ease. He offered his condolences, then moved on with pleasing delicacy, making several remarks on the pleasantness of Meryton and its inhabitants.

We did not call for tea, for it would be improper on first acquaintance to have the visit last over half an hour, but the conversation was pleasant and free-flowing.

“Is the regiment to Brighton?” I enquired, for the officers had taken lodgings in town and seemed ready for a longer occupancy than usual.

“In good time, Miss Bennet,” replied Mr. Denny. “But I confess that Meryton holds more allure for me than Brighton, for all that the Prince Regent and his sisters are in residence there.”

“Is that so? Why, we have nothing of such grandeur and elegance as the Pavilion. I’m sure the assembly hall is but a fraction of the Pavilion’s size.”

Denny laughed, but his reply was interrupted by Mr. Wickham. “Indeed, Miss Bennet. But I understand that the return of certain ladies to society has quite altered the landscape hereabouts.”

Mama raised her brows. “I daresay you will find plenty of lively company in Brighton, Mr. Wickham. The young ladies of Sussex are much admired.”

He laughed lightly. “None could compare, I assure you.”

I caught Mama’s eye, and she pressed her lips together; though whether she smiled or pouted at his obvious flattery, I could not say.

The gentlemen departed soon after, and Mama and I settled back to our embroidery.

“How did you find Mr. Wickham?” asked Mama, after a while. “I thought him a pleasant young man; though, a little too willing to please.”

“Certainly, he is handsome; and accustomed, I believe, to expecting and accepting the admiration of others. It is strange, however, that he has just accepted a commission into the militia, yet by all measures he cannot be less than eight and twenty. Surely, that is a little old to take only a lieutenancy—I would have expected him to hold a more senior rank.”

“He might have taken up the commission in place of another gentleman, a common practice among those who do not wish to serve,” said Mama. “To purchase a captaincy or majority is likely beyond his or their means. Did you notice that his coat was worn, and the weave, perhaps, a little coarse?”

“Oh, Mama, whenever did you bother about such things—there are many men in our neighbourhood who sport similar clothing.”

“But we know their characters, Lizzy. Whereas, for all Mr. Wickham’s congeniality, we know nothing further than that he is a friend of Mr. Denny, who himself is scarcely known to us, except that he prefers Vingt-un better than Commerce.”

I laughed. “Of course, I had not thought of it.”