I fell behind with the whole record and post thing. So now I am just posting these chapters so I can get to posting Moralities of Marriage, because I need to finish that book. One day, maybe? I won’t bite off more than I can chew, LOL.
THANK YOU FOR READING!
-Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 9 - For the Love of a Bennet a Pride and Prejudice Variation
The journey to Brighton might have put Elizabeth Bennet off travel altogether if she had never ventured beyond Longbourn before. The pace had been slow, Lydia had been especially irksome, and Elizabeth’s patience was at an end. However, the seaside town’s architecture stood unlike anything Elizabeth had ever seen apart from brief glimpses of the most fashionable parts of London.
She watched, unbothered, out the window as the houses transformed from closely bound, short wooden terraces that looked practically weary from decades of standing up to the sea’s unrelenting winds and waves. Brighton, as a town on the way up, boasted new home construction as the carriage neared the fashionable town home to be their residence for the eight weeks Elizabeth expected them to remain with the regiment. The town changed so swiftly, that Elizabeth found she could not consult her guidebook quickly enough to recognize the sights she spied, apart from the Prince Regent’s grand royal residence.
Upon arrival, Lydia proclaimed an immediate desire to take a promenade on the wide walk along the shore and breathe in the sea air. Even though she agreed with Lydia’s desire, Elizabeth managed to convince her younger sister their priority must be to unpack. Lydia, averse to any kind of labor when an opportunity to play presented itself, only agreed to the task when Elizabeth reminded her they were expected to begin dining and dancing that very night.
“What would you wear this evening if all of your frocks are horridly horribly wrinkled and unsuitable?” Elizabeth challenged her sister.
“La, you are already unpacking your trunk, why not unpack mine? I can then keep our hostess occupied, and you may avoid conversation like you did most of our journey,” Lydia suggested, not bothering to look at the astonished expression on her older sister’s face. Instead, she gazed at herself in the simple mirror hanging upon the wall, adjusting the curls that framed her face. The more she tugged and touched them, the curls became loose and softened in the spiral.
Elizabeth slammed the lid of her trunk down in anger. “You need to work on your humor, dear sister. For it must’ve been a jest to think that I would unpack your trunks. Mrs. Forster is very likely engaged in seeing to her belongings with her maid,” Elizabeth explained and sighed. Her anger had been rather silly. With chagrin, she reopened her trunk, and pulled out another carefully folded gown from the luggage, and therefore minimally wrinkled.
Lydia stomped her foot, then spun on her heel to face her sister properly. “You’re no fun!”
Her older sister shrugged. “I’m not here to amuse you, nor please you,” Elizabeth paused, and then made her aims clear. “I only came to keep you out of trouble.”
“I do not need a mother, or Papa would have sent Mama. I know what I’m about and if you would just get out of my way, I shall be the first to secure a husband. You had your chance, so you really must be jealous of me that the officers find my company superior to yours.” As Lydia spoke, her voice sounded so sure of herself. She pushed, twisted, and fought with the lock on her trunks. When she finally managed to open the lid, she promptly walked over to one of the two small beds in the room and laid down.
Elizabeth stood frozen, utterly perplexed by her sister’s words. Lydia truly believed she was in Brighton to find a husband? She was not yet sixteen! The entire prospect of Lydia becoming some soldier’s wife had not been their father’s plans. Elizabeth realized she had been tricked out to the seaside to be nothing but a full parent. Still, there was nothing to say to Lydia that could change her sister’s mind nor did Elizabeth wish to begin a discussion about proposals from soldiers.
After a quarter-hour, Elizabeth had placed most of her belongings in their proper place, in the pleasant room of two beds on the backside of the home. There would be no romantic views of the sea from their window, but that also meant only the back alley used by the servants to navigate the avenue was there to distract. Elizabeth doubted very much that her sister would find much reason to languish in their modest lodgings, and that suited her plans just fine.
The last part of unpacking she needed to do included supplies for her toilette, including a hairbrush and comb set. She had also unwrapped a few bottles of lavender water in a luxurious dressing robe that was a birthday gift from her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She smiled briefly that none of her favored scent had broken across such a long journey. Just before leaving Lydia to finish up solitarily, Elizabeth suddenly reasoned out what her sister’s plans had likely been all along.
“You may have borrowed a gown or three from Jane when you did not see to your own attire, but you forget that I am three inches shorter. If you do not act in your interest, you’ll be forced to wear a hemline that will make you look utterly ridiculous to other ladies tonight, and possibly prevent you from going at all with your ankles bare,” Elizabeth warned.
Lydia whined in frustration at her sister’s logic. “I should have told Papa that I wanted Jane to travel with me, not you!” Lydia complained. “Or at least, we should have brought a maid!”
At home, the five Bennet daughters shared one maid, a woman hired when Jane came of age to be “out” at thirteen. Their mother had accelerated her favorite daughter’s trek to adulthood, partly because Jane’s beauty made her needlessly worry about her daughter’s future, and the behavior of the young men around her. Mostly though, Mrs. Bennet wished a companion to go with her on social visits in their small hamlet, and Jane behaved serenely while Elizabeth remained stubbornly the daughter of her father.
Eighteen months younger than Jane, and without any interest in the activities of her mother, Elizabeth managed to avoid her social responsibility until sixteen. By then,their maid had developed a stronger bond with Jane. A year later, Mary joined adulthood mostly for the pursuit of musical performances. The following spring, Kitty and Lydia demanded to be out, throwing fits over their exclusion until their parents relented.
As Elizabeth had not insisted on a maid for herself, and Mary joined their ranks in a bad harvest year, the Bennet family had never hired another. Lydia learned early on that the girls’ maid, Betsy, would work her way down the line of precedence from Jane to herself. Any time the call to dress was made, she languished about feigning an inability to take care of herself. This produced the expected result of making the family routinely late for their social engagements, angering Mrs. Bennet.
Therefore, a new arrangement came where Betsy saw to her normal routines, and Mrs. Bennet’s maid, Lucy, would begin with Lydia and work her way back up the line of daughters. After Lydia’s outcry of selfishness, Elizabeth could see how her refusal to push for precedence after Jane in all things had opened the door for her youngest sister’s sense of entitlement. But it was too late to close that Pandora’s box.
“I suppose you could ask Mrs. Forster if she can spare her maid after she’s done, but you risk your appearance at tonight’s dinner and ball,” Elizabeth said, then excused herself to begin her letter to Jane at the desk in the downstairs parlor, that she would finish in the morning after the night’s revelry.
Walking down the stairs to the front parlor, Elizabeth noticed that Colonel Forster had taken the small room off the hall as his office. The door stood ajar, and she spied two men moving inside. In Meryton, the Forsters had quartered with her aunt and uncle Philips. She understood they enjoyed a luckier set of circumstances for the orders to Brighton: the owners of the town home had vacated the property for other summer plans. Elizabeth believed that perhaps the colonel had merely forgotten he still had house guests and gently, she closed the door to give the colonel his privacy.
Spinning around the front parlor, Elizabeth finally felt a modicum of happiness for her predicament. Yes, Lydia was by far the worst sister to take on as a responsibility. But as she sat at the small writing desk in front of the open window, hearing the ocean waves and the calls of gulls, soon settled her mind. The salty air tickled her nasal passages and she began to capture every detail for Jane. Mrs. Forster soon appeared in the front parlor, asking Elizabeth if she had all that she required.
“Yes, how could we need anything more in such a haven?” Elizabeth asked, waving her hand towards the sea. Mrs. Forster giggled and for once, Elizabeth allowed a girlish giggle to escape her lips as well. The two women exchanged their first true bonds of friendship not overshadowed by Lydia’s need for constant attention.
Mrs. Forster knocked on the door to the colonel’s office, and Elizabeth returned to finish her letter. When Colonel Forster opened the door, Lieutenant Denny exited and made his farewells to Mrs. Forster and Miss Bennet. Elizabeth offered the minimal acknowledgment of his niceties, while Mrs. Forster reminded him to save a set for her.
“It is tradition, Mr. Denny. Do not leave me for the last set of the night,” she teased, and Mr. Denny took the chiding with good humor.
After a short interview with Colonel Forster, Mrs. Forster excused herself to retire to her room. Half an hour later, Elizabeth finished with her tales to Jane for the time being and returned to her room to check on Lydia’s progress. Three frocks were unpacked and hanging in their shared wardrobe. Her sister left the remaining work for another time.
Yawning, Elizabeth assumed her missing sister prevailed upon Mrs. Forster’s good nature and welcomed the quiet. With the evening’s demands looming over her to inspire no small amount of anxiety and anticipation, she laid upon the bed closest to the window to take a proper rest. The small bed on its own merits boasted little, but to Elizabeth, it was the first time she could sleep properly. It was not a camp cot or a louse-infested mattress of a less-favored inn, all indignities she had suffered since she had left Longbourn. Not one to believe herself spoiled, more than a week of poor sleeping conditions had made her eternally grateful for the comforts around her.
Snuggled down below the quilt sewn in hues of blue to reflect the home’s affinity to the sea, Elizabeth allowed her naturally positive disposition to dream of an evening full of delights and diversions. True, her charge to chaperone Lydia would be an enormous task. But the second eldest daughter of Mr. Bennet of Hertfordshire never met a challenge she didn’t rise up to beat.
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 10 - For the Love of a Bennet, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“Fitzwilliam, why are we not driving by the sea?” Georgiana asked, impertinently as their carriage took a wide circle drive and stopped in front of a grotesquely large house of three flat facades of white limestone. The only bit of interest in the architecture was the recess of the middle facade, with the entryway, flanked by two dramatically arched windows. The home’s scale, standing isolated from the other homes nearby, clashed horrendously with the smaller terraces they passed on the main road.
“We can see the shoreline tomorrow. You cannot pretend this is your first time to the sea,” he said, cautiously and Georgiana gave a small sound of displeasure.
“This will not be a repeat of Ramsgate, if that is what you are afraid of,” she said, meeting her brother in the eye as a sign of maturity.
Mr. Darcy nervously cleared his throat and looked for a reaction from Mrs. Annesley. His sister expanded on what she meant.
“I confessed my mistakes to Mrs. Annesley, and she scolded me for being so recklessly silly, Brother. But this time will be different. I’m a year older, and you and Richard are here with me,” she pointed out, hoping her brother would not become irritatingly strict.
Darcy avoided answering his sister as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of Marlborough House. After spending two nights longer at his aunt’s estate in Kent, where he managed to avoid bringing his cousin Anne and Lady Catherine to Brighton, Mr. Darcy felt quite keen on securing his freedom once more. He stood next to Georgiana and squinted up at the monstrous edifice before them.
“Why does it look so plain?” she asked, and he attempted to define the Neoclassical design elements, but finally sighed and gave up.
“Perhaps it looks better on the inside?” he suggested, making his sister smile.
“Was it truly the last place available to lease?” she asked, as they jubilantly walked into the house, with the exuberance only they shared from years of bonding over the mutual loss of their parents.
Standing in the marbled entry hall was none other than the man they had come to support.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam made a great show of tsking at his pocket watch, a necessity for running drills and keeping military order. “You were expected hours ago, did you break an axle?”
Georgiana greeted him with an embrace and explanation. “Aunt Catherine was terrible! We scarcely survived three days of her nagging. And the food! Every meal lasted for over an hour, she required so much ceremony.”
“Georgie,” Mr. Darcy whispered, pointing out that they were not among only their staff. But she waved him off.
“I shall retire to my room and refresh myself. Then Mrs. Annesley and I can take a drive along the shore,” she announced.
Mr. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. A small voice behind him interjected.
“Don’t worry, sir, I won’t let Miss Darcy leave the vehicle. I believe she needs a small dose of independence,” Mrs. Annesley said, and Mr. Darcy reluctantly agreed with the woman he trusted with his sister’s care for the many months he was away.
After answering the questions from his valet, and the butler of Marlborough House, Mr. Darcy attempted to excuse himself from his cousin. To his dismay, Richard insisted on following Darcy to his suite on the first floor, complete with an oversized dressing room and a shocking lack of alcoholic spirits.
Picking up the empty crystal decanter, Richard teased his cousin. “This is not to be borne!” he said, in a shrill voice to sound like their much-despised aunt just thirty miles north.
Mr. Darcy allowed his man to assist him in changing clothes, but Richard interrupted and gave instructions to his cousin. “You best have your man order you a bath. You have a ball to attend, sir.”
Darcy frowned as his cravat was untied. “I did not leave London to ride some sixty miles so that I may suffer in a new society. I will join Georgiana on her drive around the village and then see to the various needs of this house be tended to,” he complained.
The cost to lease Marlborough House had been steep, and it was a surprise as to why it had sat empty with its proximity to the Royal Pavilion. Unfortunately for the Beal family who bought the home some decades ago from the Member of Parliament who bought it from the Duke of Marlborough, the Prince Regent’s closest friends neither wanted nor required outside lodgings. The Royal Pavilion had more than enough room to host all of his admirers, and their admirers.
Additionally, the nearly constant wars with France and lawlessness of the harbors with the Navy employed elsewhere put the Brighton real estate market in crisis. Marlborough House was no exception; the house was too new to be close enough to the shore for the spectacular views and too old to sport the latest interior comforts.
Still, Richard listened as Darcy complained about how adamant the agent had been to stress that the house was also available for purchase. When his cousin, at last, had changed his clothes behind the screen to alleviate the discomfort of the dusty road, Richard contradicted Darcy’s wishes to stay home.
“I could not write to you and explain what I discovered upon arrival. Not in writing. My neck is quite literally on the line.”
Darcy dismissed his valet and invited his cousin to sit down with him in the two chairs before the fireplace. He reached to pour them both a drink, only to have his efforts dashed by the empty decanter, making them both curse in frustration. Richard pulled a flask from his hip and took a swig, offering the same to Darcy. The gentleman declined. So Richard took another swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“How badly is it? Why didn’t you tell me to leave Georgiana in London?” Darcy demanded.
“Georgie? She’s perfectly safe. No, it’s Shawcroft.”
Darcy stared at his cousin pacing back and forth in his temporary dressing room with a look of utter bewilderment. So Richard expounded.
“Winmarleigh.”
The mention of the ancient barony near Matlock finally jostled Mr. Darcy’s memories.
“The man who nearly killed us both in that stupid phaeton race.” Darcy reached for the flask from his cousin and thought better of his decision to abstain. Richard nodded.
“Framed Farrington. He’s been skimming off the top. Fobbing the ledgers. Got the whole bloody officer unit on his side.” Richard spoke, gasping for air as he held back a belch.
Mr. Darcy shook his head as the cheap spirits in the flask inflamed his senses. He closed his eyes and smacked his lips as he handed the offending flask back to his cousin. “Your letter said the Major-General was impressed with your work.”
Richard held up his hands. “Oh, I convinced them that we had to turn the unit around, or the upper brass will never believe it was all Farrington’s failure. They’re pretending to be good men of the King to hide their larceny!”
Mr. Darcy sighed and stood up from the chair, uncomfortable talking to Richard while he was so agitated and Darcy was sitting like an old matron by the fire. “And so I must go to a ball?”
Richard nodded. “Shawcroft will be there. I don’t know how I will catch him, but I can’t do it alone.”
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes once more and recounted the details of Richard’s letters to him. “There’s a new regiment in town, you mentioned.”
“From Meryton,” Richard said, and Mr. Darcy’s eyes flew open.
“An outfit commanded by Colonel Forster?”
Richard shrugged. “That’s the fellow’s name,” he said, walking to the far window as though to check for an enemy threat. But the lane below was full of fashionable vehicles and smartly-dressed men and women taking their mid-day stroll. The seaside village stood in stark contrast to the hectic bustle of London.
“George Wickham is in that ragtag bunch of red coats,” Mr. Darcy said, through clenched teeth.
Holding up his hands, Richard urged his cousin to have caution. “His name was not on the roster, I verified.”
Mr. Darcy slanted his eyes, unwilling to believe such luck. “He was a member this past winter when I left for London.”
“I believe you, but the militia is a different breed altogether. They come and go like actors on a stage. But . . . if you know this Colonel Forster . . .” Richard started to form new solutions to his problem, but his cousin cut his hope short.
“I do not. At least, not well.”
“Damn.”
The two cousins remained silent for a moment. Darcy waited for Richard to acknowledge the terrible position he had placed Georgiana.
“There’s a chance Wickham is here. I will leave with Georgiana in the morning,” Darcy said.
“You can’t! The penalty for theft is not a slap on the wrist!”
“However did Farrington merely get reassigned?” Mr. Darcy asked, stalking toward his cousin by the window out of frustration. But Richard stood his ground against his taller cousin.
“The man has money and friends. I only have one of those,” Richard declared.
“I’ll pay . . .”
But Richard walked past his cousin, being sure to knock his shoulder with his own in a demonstration of dominance. “Your money won’t be good enough, not in this case. I don’t think Shawcroft will pull the same stunt he did with Farrington, but I can’t be certain.”
A knock earned a cross shout from Mr. Darcy and the poor butler opened the door looking very embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, sir, I wished to inform you that your vehicles are unpacked, and Miss Darcy has requested one of them for her drive. Er, with Mrs. Annesley.”
Darcy started to step forward, but Richard stayed in front. “Thank you, Saunders. I will ride with Miss Darcy. My cousin needs to prepare for this evening’s ball.”
“The hell I do!” Mr. Darcy roared, but the butler accepted Richard’s orders, to the consternation of his cousin. “Oho, that man answers to you? What game are you playing, Richard?”
Despite his anger, when Richard turned around Darcy witnessed an expression in his cousin’s face that gave him pause. The man who stood as Colonel in His Majesty’s Finest set his jaw in a rigid display of complete resolution. Understanding that his cousin, who often played foolhardy with ladies and was keen to make a friend, declared the circumstances to be most dire finally made Darcy accept there was no choice.
“I am keeping myself alive. Not just for my sake, but yours and hers. I fell for this snare by way of my pride, and I’ll not lose my reputation or life for that cretin Shawcroft.
Darcy sighed. He then turned away and held his hands up in defeat. “Fine, I will attend your ridiculous ball. But I will be leaving with my sister in the morning.”
“We’ll see,” Richard retorted, and then left the room.
Looking around the dressing room for something to throw at the door as it closed, Darcy clenched his fists and growled in frustration. Of the few items in the room within reach, he owned none of them. Never one to lose his temper so badly as to destroy another man’s property, Mr. Darcy jerked open the door and yelled for his bath.
If what Richard said was true, he needed time to think.
You’ve been reading For the Love of a Bennet.
Now available everywhere ebooks are sold!
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 11 - For the Love of a Bennet, a Pride and Prejudice Variation1
Nightfall brought new expectations. Well-rested and attired, Elizabeth and Lydia joined Colonel and Mrs. Forster in their carriage for the short drive down King’s Road to the Old Ship Inn. Colonel Forster dominated the conversation in the carriage by relaying information to his wife, and the Bennet sisters by proximity, about the attendees.
“I’m afraid a favorite of yours is not here, my love. Colonel Farrington was recalled to London, along with his wife,” Colonel Forster announced, allowing Mrs. Forster to express her disappointment.
“Mrs. Farrington is a brilliant card player, we will be poorer off without her,” Mrs. Forster explained to the Bennet sisters as the carriage slowed, reaching the long line of vehicles waiting to unload their passengers. Mrs. Forster looked out the window and clucked her tongue. “I thought the reception was to be at the Major General’s house, up in Preston?”
Colonel Forster shook his head, then reached down to pat his wife’s hand. Elizabeth smiled at the diligent care Colonel Forster showed his young wife, and for a fleeting moment considered that not all soldiers were of the misbehaving sort. “That is why I explained Farrington is out. A Fitzwilliam is in, and he has turned the outfit of officers at Russell House into a respectable bunch. Had cadets and privates scrubbing the walls and floors and even lieutenants I’m told banging out the carpets. Major General was so impressed, he wished to recognize the young man’s leadership… more work!” The Forsters laughed at the common phrase of rewards one might receive for exemplary performance, and Elizabeth stiffened on the bench next to her sister.
“I beg your pardon,” she interrupted, “could you say the name of the commanding officer once more?”
Colonel Forster coughed to clear his throat and tore his gaze away from his lovely wife to give Miss Elizabeth his undivided attention. His brows knit together as he tried to recall what he knew of the man. “Colonel Fitzwilliam. They say he served with Wellesley himself in the Peninsular campaigns. Cavalryman.”
Elizabeth held her breath. There couldn’t possibly be another Colonel Fitzwilliam in the kingdom, also in the cavalry and with experience under General Wellington himself. What had meant to be a night of easy companionship with her host and new strangers was suddenly a reunion with a family member of Mr. Darcy! Mrs. Forster, always a keen observer, stopped her explanation of the evening to Lydia to remark on Elizabeth’s distress.
“My dear, are you unwell?” Mrs. Forster asked, and Elizabeth quickly braced herself to feign a fake smile for her host’s benefit.
“Quite well. I believe that I am acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but we shall have to see.”
Colonel Forster slapped his knee in amusement. “Acquainted? My, what a small world we live in after all! You travel all this way from Hertfordshire only to dine and dance with your existing friends!” Colonel Forster elevated the mere acquaintance to a friendship, and Lydia pounced on the opportunity.
“I’ve never heard of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Where did you meet him, Lizzy?”
“In Kent, when I visited Mrs. Collins at Easter.” Elizabeth prayed that if she offered the most basic details, the conversation would move past her familiarity with the man about to be their host for the evening, or that their carriage would be next to unload. In the end, it was the latter that saved her from further explanation.
To Elizabeth’s dismay, there was no sign of Colonel Fitzwilliam as they exited the carriage into a crush of military uniforms Instead, the familiar faces of Lieutenant Denny and Mr. Wickham soon found their party, along with Mrs. Warrender and the Lennoxes. Elizabeth craned her neck as introductions and pleasantries were exchanged, hoping to spy her friend from Kent. She rose out of her stupor when Mrs. Warrender’s shrill voice drew her attention by speaking about Miss Bennet instead of Miss Lydia. Absent Jane, Elizabeth held the precedent of birth order to be called by her last name.
“Out of order, Mr. Wickham! Out of order!” Mrs. Warrender complained. “You cannot invite the younger sister to dance while the eldest has yet to secure a partner!”
Elizabeth’s face began to turn red as she understood what had transpired. Mr. Wickham had asked Lydia to dance, and Mrs. Warrender’s meddling was about to force her hand to dance with Mr. Wickham!
“I am not envious, Mrs. Warrender. Let Lydia have her fun, I am sure to find a partner for the first set,” Elizabeth looked pointedly at Lieutenant Denny, but the man was far too engrossed in conversation with Colonel Forster to pay her any mind. It was a shame, as Elizabeth infinitely preferred Lieutenant Denny’s manners over Mr. Wickham’s lack thereof.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Wickham said, bowing low. “Please forgive my oversight, I presumed your hand was spoken for the first set. Please, may I have the honor?” George Wickham smiled with a roguish charm that elicited sighs from her sister and other ladies around her. Anyone with a gown seemed to easily fall in love with Mr. Wickham’s toothy smile, save for Elizabeth who knew the truth about the shark’s bite.
Unfortunately, she also had no choice but to accept Mr. Wickham’s paltry ballroom games. If she refused to dance the first set with him, she could not dance any set the rest of the evening. Not even the punishment of standing up with Mr. Wickham was worth voluntarily spending a dull night without exercise.
“Yes, Mr. Wickham, I shall be happy to dance with you,” Elizabeth said, as Lydia laughed when finally, Lieutenant Denny rejoined their party’s larger conversation and asked Lydia to dance.
The assembly rooms of the Old Ship Inn scarcely held the officers of three regiments in the area and the limited wives and young ladies invited to the evening’s ball. Elizabeth performed a quick calculation and realized with so many more men than ladies present, especially unmarried ladies, it was unlikely she would sit a single set out! The situation was a far cry different from her experiences at local assemblies in Meryton.
As Mr. Wickham offered his hand to lead Elizabeth to the dance floor, she felt as though ice coursed through her veins. She did not doubt the veracity of Mr. Darcy’s letter, accusing the man of nearly ruining the underage Georgiana Darcy. But she did see how difficult it truly was to spot a cad amongst the chivalrous. Mr. Wickham’s charming demeanor proved effective at disarming even the most scrupulous chaperone and matron. Elizabeth had witnessed it herself but a moment ago. A less handsome man would have been turned away altogether by Mrs. Warrender for such a breach in etiquette.
To her relief, the man did not begin a conversation. The musicians finished their perfunctory warmup and the first strains of a violin started the dancing off with a flourish. Nearly forty couples stood up on the dance floor, and Elizabeth grew nervous about the unfamiliar settings and company around her.
She tried to focus her gaze on Mr. Wickham as she took her turns and cues for the dance, but that only served to anger her further while the man ignored her. She began to wonder how she ever found his face handsome, and his manners pleasing. Knowing the man wished nothing more than to find an heiress to ease his way in the world, the unsuitable nature of his present situation seemed at odds with his desire. If nothing else, perhaps if he gave up his position in the militia, then Lydia would be safe from his dalliances.
“I wonder, Mr. Wickham, why you persist in soldiering. A man of your intellect and abilities would certainly find such a profession beyond tedious.” Elizabeth cared not if her brazen outburst offended the man. Suddenly, the irony of Mr. Wickham’s restricted lifestyle due to the militia began to amuse her.
“You know the profession I preferred, Miss Bennet. It was my deepest wish to go into the Church.”
“Never any interest in the law, then?” she asked, and as soon as the question tumbled from her lips, she recognized her danger. He had never spoken of such a thing to her and he could rightly guess where she had received such intelligence.
Mr. Wickham’s mask of congeniality slipped for a moment and she caught a glimpse at the ruthless man who would stop at nothing to achieve his aims. Frightened, she blinked and braved a smile to soothe over the revelation that she knew more about him than she let on. However, her smile was unnecessary as Mr. Wickham laughed off her query in a resemblance of the man he wanted others to believe him to be.
“I cannot say that the law held any interest to me,” he confessed, diplomatically. His eyes flashed a warning that he was near the limit of his patience if she nettled him further.
Elizabeth frowned. She heard his twist of words that could not be used against him. Even if he admitted to studying the law at some point in his career, corroborating Mr. Darcy’s tale, he was not currently pursuing the law. Therefore, it was reasonable to state the profession did not hold his interest.
The set could not end fast enough for Elizabeth as she fought back a cringe each time she had to return to her partner. She lamented that merely a few months ago, she wished for nothing more than to dance with Mr. Wickham at Mr. Bingley’s ball. The comedy of her predicament served as a distraction from the displeasure she felt in finishing the set. By the fourth couple they passed in the line, repeating the dance steps over and over, she resolved the dance to be a penance for her poor judgment of men. At last, when the song ended, Elizabeth bowed her head in the slightest way to grant him a polite adieu and hurried to find Lydia to keep an eye on her.
In reward for her sisterly supervision, Elizabeth won the next set with Lieutenant Denny. But to her dismay, Lydia took the arm of Mr. Wickham and stood up with him at the opposite end of the line-up. She had not only failed to keep an eye on Lydia, but her callous conversation on the dance floor might provoke his worst behavior.
Mr. Denny used the set to begin a pleasing conversation and Elizabeth gave up hope of constantly glancing down to the other end of the assembly room. Too many people bustled about in eagerness to make introductions and secure dance partners.
“I was unaware that during our time in Meryton you had grown particularly close to the Forsters, Miss Bennet. Why I hardly ever saw you in our afternoons at your Aunt Philips.” Mr. Denny marveled at the turn of events that saw the Bennet sister he knew the least to be in residence in Brighton.
Elizabeth smiled mischievously at the good lieutenant, assuming he had wished Kitty had accompanied Lydia instead of her. “Is there another of my sisters that you wish had come to Brighton?” she teased.
Mr. Denny blushed. “On my honor, Ma’am, it would not be right of me to say such a thing.”
Elizabeth nodded but granted the man the freedom to speak about her sisters, promising to keep his confidence. “You will not offend me in the slightest, sir. I readily admit that I was the last choice for this particular assignment,” she said, taking a short hop with the other ladies in time to the music as the step required. Elizabeth found herself quite breathless at the speed at which dances were performed in Brighton. Either her travels earlier in the day were too taxing or the quartet leaders conducted a pace befitting a soldier’s stamina!
Mr. Denny’s cheeks remained crimson, from embarrassment or exertion, Elizabeth could not tell which. Together, they stepped left and right, greeting their corners, then stepped left and right once more. “I was there, the day Miss Lydia was invited. Poor Miss Catherine turned white as a ghost. I don’t believe Mrs. Forster intended to slight your sister, and I said as much to the Colonel.”
“You advocated—” Elizabeth began, having to pause in her conversation as another couple passed between them, while they kept time with their claps. “What did the Colonel say?” Elizabeth asked, rather interested now Kitty had been on the precipice of an invitation.
Mr. Denny shrugged. “He said the dilemma was solved by Mr. Bennet.”
The song ended and rather than return to the party of Mrs. Forster and Mrs. Warrender, Elizabeth thanked Mr. Denny and began to walk away. The poor man tried to stop her from walking in the opposite direction, but the room was too much of a crush for him to be effective.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!” he called, but Elizabeth marched away, determined to find Colonel Fitzwilliam in the assembly room.
Another set began, and Elizabeth walked more freely against the wall, feeling the floor shake and shudder under the tremendous efforts of the dancers. A table with refreshments along the back wall captured her eye and she moved to serve herself a glass of punch. Unfortunately, Mr. Denny caught up to her and handed her the glass.
“Miss Bennet, we really ought to return to our party,” he stressed.
But Elizabeth stood up on her tiptoes and craned her neck to try to spot her query.
“Do you know Colonel Fitzwilliam?” she asked Mr. Denny, not expecting him to know such a man.
“But of course, he’s standing right over there. Come, I will make the introduction,” Mr. Denny said, looping his arm in Elizabeth’s and leading her away from the group of officers by the punch bowl before anyone could ask to meet her.
Elizabeth finally spotted where Mr. Denny was leading her and her feet fumbled a step, but she regained her balance. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood with his back to them, talking animatedly to another officer and a tall man, not in uniform. Gasping to see him in Brighton of all places, Elizabeth locked gazes with the sad, soulful eyes of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
You’ve been reading For the Love of a Bennet.
Now available everywhere ebooks are sold!
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
Keep reading more by clicking below!
A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.