Chapter Forty

Elizabeth was both dreading and anticipating her return to her ancestral home. Her time in London must be counted as a success, both professionally and socially.

Working with the researchers at the Alien Office she was able not only to train several other augers to detect altered individuals, and discriminate between them and the naturally gifted; but she learned that, with effort, she could remove the temporary gifts as well. This last feat proved beyond the other somatic manipulators available to Mr. Wickham. Her success caused her to consider the possibility that she might also be able to instill these temporary gifts as well, though she had kept that prospect to herself.

On a social level, she found that given the larger society of London she was much more desirable as a potential match. She also found that there were a greater variety of men to consider as future partners. The drawback being that she found herself constantly contrasting each man to a certain Derbyshire gentleman who, unfortunately, belonged to another woman.

She dreaded the resumption of the hectoring her mother had visited upon her since discovering her refusal of Captain Hawthorne. Even the rare maternal correspondence from Longbourn had continued the remonstrations of which she was so weary. As was proper, she had received no word directly from the surgeon, but his compliments had been passed along in her father’s letters, though always with a sense of whimsy. She was not anticipating their eventual, inevitable reunion with equanimity.

But, as the familiar lanes and fields appeared out of the carriage windows, she found herself relaxing, releasing tensions that she had not been aware she had been carrying. Her breathing deepened and a fond smile made its way onto her face as she basked in the familiar scents and sounds of home. Her father was waiting in the doorway as the carriage pulled into the courtyard. She stepped out and into his waiting arms. “Welcome home, daughter.”

“Still unmarried, I see,” Mrs. Bennet stated flatly upon meeting Elizabeth in the sitting room. “It is too bad that you wasted so much time with men’s affairs, and not on finding yourself a man. I had hoped for more from my sister.”

“I am happy to see you are doing well, Mother.”

Elizabeth turned to see Mary and Kitty waiting with joyful greetings. Lydia was out on an errand. After a number of embraces, the family settled in for the afternoon. The youngest daughter returned late that afternoon, looking flushed and happy. That evening Jane and Charles, as he insisted on being called, joined them for a reunion dinner.

“In your absence, I have been returning the favor owed to you for your years of service, by extending my own patrols to include Longbourn,” Charles said with a smile. “It has been quiet, and I admit I lack your dab hand at healing or the veterinary arts. But the tenantry seem to have survived the deprivation.”

“I appreciate your assistance, as does my father I am sure,” Elizabeth replied. “Lydia, perhaps you would consider patrolling with me some mornings. It would be good to have more resources to bring to bear should the need arise again. You certainly proved your mettle after the ball. I will be going to visit Charlotte in a few weeks. You might be able to lighten Father and Mr. Bingley’s load.”

“That would be wonderful!” the youngest Miss Bennet enthused. “I’m certain I could be of real help. I have been … that is, I would be very glad of the opportunity, Lizzy.”

“Then be prepared. I patrol early.”

“How early?” The younger girl sounded suddenly somewhat less eager.

The following days were an odd mixture of happiness and heartache. She relished the time she spent with Jane, but recognized the gulf which was growing between them as her sister grew into her new role as Charles’ wife. Elizabeth took pleasure in reconnecting with the denizens of the estate, but was beginning to realize that, while still her home, Longbourn was not her future. And that time and fate would separate her from them eventually.

She met with Sir John and the militia officers, to brief them on the events in London and those discoveries that the Superintendent had agreed to make public. In this role, she found professional satisfaction and validation of her value as more than a potential wife and mother. At the same time, she realized that Captain Hawthorne had not wholly abandoned his dreams of a future with her. She was convinced that he saw her as a means to an end rather than as a woman to be cherished.

His persistent intimations of the prosperous future they might have together reminded her of the man from Derbyshire, with whom she had developed a real partnership, both professionally and personally, or so she had thought. She compared the behavior of the two gentlemen and found the physician wanting. Her thoughts often wandered to Mr. Darcy, much more so in Hertfordshire than in London. She realized, as she came upon the clearing where the Strangers had camped, it was because the fields and forests which she had known all her life now contained constant reminders of her time with the man who still held her heart. As pleased as she was to be home, she began to look forward to leaving for Kent, not so much because of the destination, but because she was finding Hertfordshire harder on her heart than she had anticipated.

Lydia had joined her on her patrols on three different mornings, though each time she complained when they found nothing amiss. On the fourth day, the younger girl cried off, claiming she was feeling poorly. Therefor Elizabeth was surprised to catch her scent leading off the estate towards Oakham Mount. She followed the trail at a desultory pace, until her sharp ears caught sound of gunfire in the distance.

She raced towards the shots, bounding through the woods like a hart. On the far side of the Mount she found her sister sprinting uphill towards Lieutenant Wickham, who was firing muskets down at her as she ran towards the crest. Lydia dodged the incoming shots, taking full advantage of the trees, rocks, and other covers the hillside provided. In her hand she carried a saber.

Elizabeth saw red and immediately pounced on the militia man attacking her sister. She wrenched the weapon from his hand and slammed him against a tree. As she drew back her hand to deliver a fatal blow she heard Lydia crying out. “No, Lizzy! Don’t hurt him!”

The older sister stopped and looked over her shoulder at her rapidly approaching sibling. A part of her noticed the grace and speed with which Lydia moved through the woods. She was barely winded when she arrived. “Don’t hurt him. We were just training.”

“Training?” Elizabeth demanded. She turned to Wickham and growled out, “What is the meaning of this? Tell me and know that if I am not satisfied with your explanation I will visit such wrath upon you that the day would quake to look upon.”

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“Ergh …” the militia officer batted feebly at her hand, which held him tightly by the collar, causing his stiff stock to bite into his throat. She glared at him, but loosened her grip. At the same time, she ripped his sword from his side, tossing it into a nearby bush.

“Talk!”

“It … it is as she said. We were training.” The man’s silver tongue tried to make the statement less nonsensical. With one finger touching his skin, Elizabeth blocked his gift. She did not need him confusing the situation further.

“Training for what?”

“He can’t tell you. It’s a secret!” Lydia crowed. Elizabeth knew her youngest sister relished the idea of having a secret from her.

“Exactly,” Wickham agreed. “I am afraid you are not cleared for the information. But, if you will allow me to contact the necessary people, I may be able to get permission to read you in.”

“I think we shall contact the appropriate people right now.” Elizabeth said as she stunned Wickham and secured his hands behind his back with his belt. “We are going home right now. You will have to tell Father your secret, Lydia. And we will all have to hope that this debacle can be kept secret.”

Employing all her skill at stealth, Elizabeth managed to bring her prisoner to Longbourn without being seen, trying to prevent exposing the family to ridicule. Needless to say, her appearance with her captive was not well received at home. After sending Mrs. Bennet to her room for a fortifying rest, Mr. Bennet interrogated all three of those involved. Wickham maintained the secrecy of his purpose, claiming operational security. As Lydia was adamant that nothing untoward had occurred Mr. Bennet was stymied.

“While I am certain you are a scoundrel, sir, I cannot prove it at this time. Nonetheless, I forbid you from ever seeing my daughter again, sir. If you attempt to do so, if I ever see you around my property again, I will bring my complaints before your Colonel. If that does not give me the satisfaction I require, that I will call upon you for that satisfaction. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?” Elizabeth had never heard her father so angry before. She was almost surprised he did not call the villain out at that moment.

“You do, sir. I will take my leave. My compliments to your wife, sir. Good day.”

Lydia was disconsolate that she was restricted to the house until she offered the reason behind her behavior. She maintained that the secret of her actions was too important to reveal. And she made plain where she placed the blame for her current circumstances, squarely on Elizabeth. Between her hostile sister and her deeply disappointed mother, Elizabeth’s peaceful domesticity was a thing of the past. This only increased her anticipation for her journey to Hunsford.

When the trip finally came, Elizabeth could not be more relieved. Even her father received some of her growing disapprobation. He had relented and released Lydia on her own surety. Elizabeth had argued against the decision, but her father could not abide the constant tumult keeping his youngest daughter a virtual prisoner entailed. Instead, he assured Elizabeth that he had spoken to the Colonel about the situation, and had that officer’s pledge that Lieutenant Wickham would be kept too occupied to further trouble his daughter.

“You must be aware,” said Elizabeth, “of the very great disadvantage to us all, which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner. I urge you to judge differently in this affair.”

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia remains in durance vile. Let her go. Sir John is a sensible man, and will keep Wickham out of any real mischief.” When it looked as if Elizabeth would renew her objections, he finally said, “It is done, Lizzy. Please do not concern yourself with it any longer.”

With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition.

On the 5th of March, Elizabeth set out with Sir William and Maria Lucas to visit Charlotte in her new situation. Once they had passed the familiar environs of London, every object in the day's journey was new and interesting to Elizabeth. She relished the opportunity to see new places and every novelty was a source of delight. When they left the high-road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side.

Elizabeth’s smile dimmed at the recollection of what she had been told of its inhabitants. Knowing that Mr. Darcy’s betrothed was so close diminished her delight at the prospect of being reunited with her dearest friend. At length the Parsonage was discernable. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything declared that they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at a small gate, which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other.

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had been already written. When it ended, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, meditated upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, acknowledging the slight but noticeable improvement in her husband’s behavior and bearing, recognizing the comfort of her new home, and conceded that her friend had made a prudent match. When the invitation to dine at Rosings after services on Sunday came, Elizabeth was more interested in seeing this other great influence on her friend’s life than she was dreading meeting with her romantic rival.

Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner might not wholly overpower them. When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth, “Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us, which becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest. There is no occasion for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved.”

“A most proper sentiment,” Elizabeth agreed.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across the park. When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard little of their hostess, save from her cousin’s wholly biased accounts. That Lady Catherine was related to Mister Darcy suggested that she was likely socially awkward, but decent enough at heart. Elizabeth wondered if her providing a living to the overly obsequious Mr. Collins was a sign of subtle charity, giving him such a patron to expend his admiration upon.

They followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and a lady introduced as Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship, with great condescension, arose to receive them. In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word. And his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself quite equal to the scene, and could observe the ladies before her composedly.

Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone as marked her self-importance.

When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the daughter, she was astonished at her being so thin, and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between the ladies. Miss De Bourgh was pale and sickly; her features, though not plain, were insignificant. Something about her led Elizabeth to desire to touch her, to assess her health and even the state of her gift. Her essence seemed damaged somehow, though without further examination, Elizabeth could not be certain as to the nature of the imbalance.

She thought to herself, No! She will not do for him. She cannot make him a proper wife.