Page 46 of A Most Beloved Sister
“What? Oh, yes, of course! I should ensure that all my guests are still comfortable. Miss Elizabeth, shall I inform my sister you will be returning in time for dinner?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth replied.
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Major,” Bingley added with a bow before turning his horse.
“George.” Darcy’s nod was brief, as was Wickham’s returning, “Fitzwilliam.”
Mrs. Philips and Lydia repeated their cries for Elizabeth and Wickham to enter the house, and the pair made their way into the parlor where Mrs. Philips and the three youngest Bennet girls were gathered. Wickham’s attentions were immediately monopolized, and there was no opportunity for Elizabeth to sate her curiosity as to the history between the soldier and Darcy.
At length, the conversation turned to local gossip. Lydia, in her typical dramatic fashion, said in a loud whisper, “You will scarcely believe what I heard yesterday about Mr. Harwood!”
“The blacksmith’s son?” gasped Mrs. Philips, ever ready for new tidbits of local news. She leaned closer to her niece. “Do tell!”
Lydia, hardly able to contain herself, said, “I heard from Miss Long, who heard it from Mary King, that Jenny Lamb—you know, the butcher’s daughter—has declared that she will follow Mr. Harwood to London for his apprenticeship, and her father has locked her in her room to keep her from going!”
Kitty, always eager for romantic tales, sighed. “How utterly romantic! But what will they do? She must be heartbroken.”
“Apparently, she tried to climb out of the window and sneak out to see him, but she ended up falling into the bushes! She made such a fuss that people were coming out of their homes to see what the matter was.”
Mrs. Philips chuckled, a gleam in her eye. “Such determination! But poor Jenny, thwarted by both love and gravity.”
Lydia bounced on her seat, thrilled by the drama. “Yes, and now everyone in Meryton is talking about it. Imagine, being the talk of the town over a love affair!”
Mary frowned severely. “Unhappy as the event must be for Jenny, we may draw from it these useful lessons—that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior towards the undeserving of the other sex.”
“Well said, Miss Mary.”
Everyone turned to look at Wickham, who had gone quiet once the conversations had turned its focus towards the local people and not the gentleman himself.
Mary flushed scarlet and murmured her thanks, looking down at her teacup. Lydia gave a snort of laughter, and Kitty merely said, “I don’t… I don’t think I understand.”
Wickham gave her a gentle smile. “I think that is a question best answered by someone more closely related to you. All I will say is that I have known of more than one woman whose entire life has been destroyed by nothing more than idle gossip.”
“If you want to discuss it further, Kitty, you and I can speak later,” Elizabeth said. “You are more than welcome to call on Jane and myself at Netherfield at any time, or I can come to you.”
“You are staying at Netherfield? With Fitz—with Mr. Darcy?” Wickham asked.
“Youarenew, aren’t you?” Lydia laughed. “Jane fell ill while visiting her friends and cannot be moved—or so says the London doctor. So Lizzy is staying there to tend to her.” The girl’s face turned to a scowl, as if remembering something. “Some people have all the luck.”
Mrs. Phillips, sipping her tea, did her best to smooth things over by saying a few minutes too late, “Well, it certainly adds a bit of excitement to our little Meryton. But let’s hope the young lovers find a way to reconcile with her father. Such family disputes can be quite distressing.”
At that, Wickham stood from his chair. “I’m afraid, ladies, that it is time for me to leave your most charming company. Alas, duty for king and country awaits me, and I must needs return to the barracks.”
“Are you not staying at the inn?” Kitty asked with surprise. “I thought all the senior officers stayed there or at the public house.”
“Many do, but they also come from wealthier families who could afford to purchase them a commission at that high of a rank. My father was a steward, and I only became a major due to battlefield promotions. I do not receive an additional allowance from my family as many of my fellow senior officers do, and I’m afraid even majors are not paid well.”
“How much are majors paid?”
“Lydia!” Elizabeth cried.
Wickham chuckled. “It’s quite all right, Miss Elizabeth. I earn about two fifty pounds per annum, Miss Libby.”
“It’sLydia,” the girl growled.
“So little?” Kitty asked with wide eyes.
He nodded. “A lieutenant receives much less—only four shillings, eight pence per day.”
