Page 46 of Wickham Likes 'Em Young
As they strolled back to the house, Elizabeth thought through again her decision not to raise the spectre that the baby might not be Mr Goulding’s. She did not feel guilty for withholding that speculation, but she wondered if she were the one not privy to such speculations, would she want to know? Would she resent being left out?
No, it would not be right to add speculation to what was already speculation. The possibility that Jane was with child explained several things very well, which became a tentative sort of evidence.
In contrast, speculation on the identity of the father would remain forever in the arena of no evidence available, unless Jane wished to speak honestly about the question. Therefore, it should remain unspoken…other than, of course, between her and Darcy. Because that connection would always, she felt more and more certain, include communication about anything and everything.
When Mr and Miss Darcy arrived for dinner, Elizabeth immediately conveyed the happy news that Jane had married that morning and set off for London.
Georgiana looked surprised, but when Darcy courteously congratulated Elizabeth’s parents, as if such news was quite expected, she covered her response with a smile and soft-voiced congratulations of her own. The two of them entered into the celebratory feel of the dinner, much to Mrs Bennet’s satisfaction, and the entire evening was very pleasant, despite the fact that itdid not offer even a few seconds of privacy for the couple still waiting for their own wedding.
When she went upstairs to retire for the night, Elizabeth discovered that her possessions had been moved back into the room she had shared with Jane. She accepted that; she loved that room, and had many fond memories of it. Still, she stuck her head into Mary’s room and said, “Are you coming to bed?”
Mary chuckled and said, “Yes, please,” as she followed Elizabeth to the larger room.
The two sisters helped each other unbutton dresses and plait hair while chatting about the momentous events of the day.
“The bed is awfully crooked to the wall,” Mary said.
Elizabeth said, "I imagine that Jones and Parker took the opportunity of having none of the luggage under the bed to do a really good sweep. We can straighten it.” She positioned herself on one side as Mary tended to the other, but when they moved the bed, there was quite a loud squeal of metal against wood. Mary cringed and whispered, “I hope we did not wake anyone.”
But Elizabeth barely noticed the sound, because she was staring at a piece of folded paper which was somehow protruding from a small hole in the stitching of the feather bed.
Jane’s side of the feather bed had a secret note inside?
“What are you—” Mary began to ask, but then she must have spied the paper, as well. She started to pick up the feather bed so that they could investigate, and both girls froze, silently staring at the piece of bedding. Because there had been a distinct sound of crackling paper at a substantial distance from that hole.
“I could have sworn I was three minutes away from falling fast asleep,” Elizabeth whispered, “and yet now I cannot imagine ever being sleepy again.” She opened her sewing basket and handed a small pair of scissors to Mary and took the medium-sized pair for herself. “Let me know if you need a needle to pick out the stitches,” she said.
The girls worked opposite sides of the seam and, once they were entirely finished, they fished four letters and three notes from the bedding.
“We are going to be so cold if we do not have this feather bed," Mary said softly. “I think we risk losing too many feathers if we wait. We should stitch it closed tonight.”
“I agree,” Elizabeth confirmed. She lit another candle, and they set to work sewing the seam with more motivation than they usually demonstrated for a sewing project.
Only when that was done did the two sisters spread out all of the letters and notes. “I am trying not to read any portion of the messages,” Elizabeth whispered, “since I assume they are private, but I just want to confirm that they were meant for Jane.”
“I do not see any name on this one. No direction, no name, no signature from the sender.”
Speaking in a low voice that barely rose above a whisper, Elizabeth said, “This one might be from Mr Bingley. I have heard Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst tease him about his messy handwriting and excessive blots.”
“Would it not be shocking for Jane to receive notes from Mr Bingley?” Mary murmured. “They were never engaged.” She frowned and picked up one of the short notes and said, “This is Mr Wickham’s handwriting. I recognise it from the one he sent to Lydia.”
“Let us sort these by handwriting,” Elizabeth suggested.
There were three letters in what might be Mr Bingley’s hand, three notes in Mr Wickham’s hand, and one letter in a third hand.
None of the letters were addressed to Jane, and none of them were signed, but the singular letter, which had unfamiliar handwriting, was addressed “To J” and signed, “all my love, W.”
“That clearly is to Jane, from Mr William Goulding,” Elizabeth whispered.
“I agree.”
“So let us assume that these three are letters to Jane from Mr Bingley, and that those three are notes to Jane from Mr Wickham.”
“That seems like the best assumption.”
“And we are assuming that, given the evidence that otherwise seems inexplicable, Jane is with child. I will tell you now, Mary,” Elizabeth paused and decided that even her lowest voice might be too loud for this next revelation. She switched again to a whisper: “…these are the three men I speculated might be the baby’s father.”
“Oh!” In Mary’s shock, she spoke at an almost-normal volume. She instantly reverted to whispering, “I apologise. But I never thought that anyone other than….”
