Trouble With Wickham (3 page)

“A year ago I would not have thought that I would enjoy their company as I do, as I always thought her manners a little flighty and he a tad sullen but now I am more than happy to include them in our party, as it is but a small repayment for the immense kindness she showed to me after your snub of Buckland. I still remember how Mrs. Bennet came right up to me in the churchyard and congratulated me quite loudly on your having landed Mr. Lancaster for your own! Especially since it was common knowledge that her own Mary had set her cap for our Guy. Mrs. Bennet is really so gracious in the face of defeat. Isn’t it funny how differences in rank seem to fade away when one realizes that kindness is the foundation on which neighborliness is built?”

“Poor Mary,” Charlotte said. “It was but two dances too many on Guy’s part.”

Lord Radcliffe, impatient with talk about the Bennets, stood up. “Are we done here now?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“Then let us move into the drawing room for our tea,” he directed.

Charlotte was more than happy to quit the library for the drawing room where, upon entering, she found Guy situated before the fire, reading, just as she imagined him. Her Pomeranians were curled up on the settee but jumped down excitedly and circled her upon her appearance. She walked to her husband and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, which did its job of drawing Guy away from his book. Guy was happy, as always, to be rejoined by his lovely wife, not only for the pleasure of her companionship, but for the tea that would inevitably be served once the family had assembled. Just then, the sound of pounding boots preceded the entrance into the drawing room of Charlotte’s oldest brother Hugh. He stopped short upon seeing his sister bent tenderly over his best friend.

“Must there be no end to the constant stream of affection between the two of you?” he complained. Hugh was only half teasing as the marriage of his good friend and his younger sister had been the best of developments.

“Your day will come brother, and I predict it will be when you least expect it. When it does you will be incapable of doing anything but following your heart’s promptings!” Charlotte said, assuming a wise tone to her voice.

“I certainly hope that my heart’s prompting does not force me to make a vulgar display in the Meryton assembly rooms as you did. One episode of public humiliation is all the Radcliffe family name can withstand.” Hugh was merciless in teasing his sister and Guy about their scandalous public kiss.

“I have no doubt that if you were about to lose your woman to an irascible lout as I was, you would behave as badly as I did, or worse,” Guy laughed.

Hugh tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Until that time I will continue to enjoy the bachelor life, for once married I intend to commit myself fully to the institution, per Guy’s example,” Hugh said.

Hastings poured hot tea and passed the cups around. Lord Radcliffe took a happy, noisy first slurp of the hot brew. Charlotte, however, held her teacup at arm’s length, examining the rising steam that served as evidence that, as usual, the tea served at Bennington Park was always too hot for immediate consumption.

As the mistress of Ludlow Lodge, she had requested that all the tea cool in the kitchen for seven minutes before being poured and served.  She really wished her parents would adopt the same technique. Perhaps she might suggest it to them at some point over the next few days. After all, she thought to herself, she was now the mistress of a fine home and her input on household issues should count for something.

“Where were you?” Lady Radcliffe asked her son.

“In Meryton to pick up my new boots,” he replied, flopping into a nearby chair as Hastings glided over to him with a cup of soothing tea.

“Thank you my good man,” Hugh smiled at the family retainer. He blew on his hot tea, shook his head and muttered, “Too hot. Oh say have you heard the latest about George Wickham? Now there’s a sorry sod, whose union with Lydia Bennett is the most glaring example of marital disharmony I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing. Based on the amount of time he spends at the Meryton Arms, I would wager to say he avoids his home life like the plague. Convincing the man to go home at closing time is a constant battle.”

His family let loose a guffaw of laughter. Hugh, much enjoying his possession of the stage, continued gossiping

“I hear that he has fallen into drink on a regular basis, literally and figuratively, as he took a nasty tumble the other night coming out of the Meryton Arms. Word is he has become even bolder in his risk taking behavior with other women—at least when he is in London, as there is little opportunity to get into such trouble in sleepy Meryton. And, in the short time since he was decommissioned and returned from the north, they have managed to make themselves unwelcome in all the shops by virtue of their unpaid accounts. Suffice it to say that his marriage with Miss Lydia is not a happy one.”

“But isn’t there a child, now? A son, I believe?” Charlotte asked, knowing she shouldn’t enjoy the feeling of superiority that arose within her whenever Lydia Wickham’s exploits were discussed.

“Yes, poor thing, locked out of Pemberley so the gossip goes. Darcy will not receive his father so Lydia is barred as well.”

Lord Radcliffe chuckled. “Sounds like they deserve each other. Well at least she is no threat to becoming the next mistress of Bennington Park, a position that remains unfilled,” he said, staring intently at his eldest son. “Our silver is safe from her!”

Hugh disregarded his father’s pointed comment about his unattached state and took a slurp of his tea.  “Memories of an unattached Lydia Bennet terrify me.”

“That is indeed the stuff of nightmares,” Charlotte agreed with an unconscious shudder.

“But no risk to our party, or to the future of Bennington Park, it would seem,” Guy pointed out.

“One would think that by now consequences would have caught up with the bloke, but Wickham always seems to find fresh territory on which to wreak his havoc. Makes the gentleman in me wonder why I bother acting correctly,” Hugh wondered aloud.

“Now son, just you wait. Life hasn’t caught up with Wickham, yet, but it is the rare ne’er-do-well that has a happy end. Trust me.”

Lady Radcliffe cleared her throat and leveled a pointed glance at each member of her family. “I dare say if Lydia and her husband were on our guest list I would hasten to shut down this type of gossip, as the first rule of hospitality is that a hostess does not gossip about her guests, either before they arrive or particularly after they depart. May I remind you, Charlotte and Hugh, how important it is to keep your counsel and resist relaying any intimate details our guests reveal to us when staying under our roof, as you may hear or see things during the hunt that you would be tempted to gossip about, but should be held in confidence and handled with the utmost discretion.”

Charlotte and Hugh nodded compliantly. Satisfied that she had instructed her children properly in the art of genteel hostessing, Lady Radcliffe redirected the conversation. “So let us think of happier subjects! Hugh did you hear that we are to have a little girl around the house again?” she asked, growing misty eyed.

Hugh smiled across the room at his sensitive mother. “How wonderful for you Mamma. I certainly hope she is a well behaved little girl and not a shrieker, like the terror that was Lady Mounthill’s child.”

Charlotte’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, which had fallen open in horror, remembering an earlier hunt that had been overtaken by a former guest’s undisciplined child who was not properly restrained in the nursery. “Oh, brother what a terrible memory you bring up. That horrible child tormented my pups in the worst possible way. The hunt can be a most excruciating few days for my poor Pomeranians, who are simply too agitated by the strange faces and the never-ending braying of the hounds. All my animals are quite attuned to humans and do not suffer foolish ones very well.”

Lord Radcliffe said, “Now, now, Charlotte, your pups will survive the ordeal, as this is Mr. Darcy’s little sister we are talking about, and he is the last man on earth I would expect to inflict a wild, misbehaving child on us. Your pups can rest easy as we take care to only invite sensible guests into our homes as overnight guests.”

Hastings distributed moist slices of walnut cake to the party. Lord Radcliffe shifted in his chaise lounge to look out the drawing room window as he took a bite of cake.

“Thank goodness for all of us the weather has turned clement. I thought after a week of intermittent thunderstorms that the pack and the hounds would be pounding away on soggy grounds but that fear has not been borne out, as by my touch the earth is now firm and dry,” he said.

“Except for the marsh, which after a week of storms continues to retain an inch or two of standing water, despite all the laborious effort we put into draining it,” Lady Radcliffe fretted, gazing at what she could see of the sky from her perch on the sofa.

“No one will ride their horse directly into the marsh my dear! It is quite easy to avoid and remember that we have engaged the services of the most esteemed Oliver Cumberland as our Master of the Hounds to keep the party from going astray,” Lord Radcliffe tried to soothe her. He had practically jumped for joy when the sought-after Cumberland had accepted the invitation to attend.

“Pray they all follow his lead, as mud is simply a most unwelcome guest that causes the worst inconvenience,” she said.

“Hastings and Mrs. Holmes are more than capable of containing muddy knickers and riding boots and orchestrating plenty of hot baths afterwards. Although, for one’s personal comfort there is nothing worse than soggy weather for a hunt,” Lord Radcliffe agreed. “But today looks dry and let’s hope for clement weather with any rain holding off until the riding to the hounds has ended. After that it can pour buckets as far as I am concerned.”

“I find an autumn rain to be much more melancholy than a spring shower,” Charlotte mused.

“But provides a fine excuse for remaining indoors with a book,” Guy noted. “When does the company arrive?” he added. He was dreading the forced socializing he was required to participate in and had already secured Charlotte’s leave to hide out in the library as long as he promised to act as host to any other guests that were to wander in.

“We expect the first carriages in the early afternoon tomorrow and everyone assembled by evening for the dinner party,” Lord Radcliffe said.

“Well then,” Hugh said, feeling the same discomfort as Guy about the impending commotion. “Tomorrow Guy and I will spend the day happily installed at the Meryton Arms and out of everyone’s way. It’s my opinion that company is best in small doses. We will see everyone for the first time at the dinner party.”

G
eorgiana Darcy was not happy with her brother Fitzwilliam. He had just announced during the breakfast service that he expected her to accompany him and Elizabeth to Bennington Park where he was invited to ride to the hounds in a large party.

“What will I do there? I am acquainted with none of the society of Meryton,” she complained. It was not fair of her brother to drag her along through the countryside to his horse parties.

Fitzwilliam tried to persuade her of the benefits of accompanying them.

“Our hosts, the Radcliffes, are a fine family and will provide amusing entertainment that I know you will enjoy. Their daughter is recently married and a most agreeable companion for you. Between her and Elizabeth you will have many amiable distractions.”

“Why can I not stay at Pemberley?”

“That is impossible.”

“I shan’t ride out to watch the hunt or any activity such as that,” Georgiana protested moodily, biting deeply into her buttered toast.

“You will change your mind once you get there, I predict,” Darcy said. “Thank you for the breakfast,” he said to the serving girl, as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a thick napkin, folded it methodically and laid it next to his empty plate. He strode purposefully out of the breakfast parlor with the confidence of a man used to getting his way, particularly where the comings and goings of his sister were concerned.

Georgiana sighed deeply and dramatically as Fitzwilliam waltzed out of the room without meeting her eyes, his heavy boots clomping away on the wooden floors. He pretended not to hear her exaggerated sigh of exasperation.

She slumped in her chair and blinked as a shaft of sunlight broke through the cloud cover and radiated through the window of the room, flooding it with light. She squinted and raised her hand to her forehead to shield herself from the sun. Outside bursts of orange and crimson and yellow leaves shimmered in the bright daylight. She raised her thin china cup of warm milky coffee to her lips and sipped it slowly. Mornings at Pemberley could be so beautiful but the day had hardly begun and she was already annoyed with Fitzwilliam.

And right when she thought everything was working out so well.

That morning’s disagreement was the second time in recent memory that she had occasion to be miffed at him. The first occurred a month ago, when he insisted that she be removed from their London townhouse and its society and required to take up permanent residence at Pemberley. Her most recent chaperone, Mrs. Annesley, was a kind, well-bred woman with impeccable connections and manners, who laughed easily and was lax with Georgiana in areas of comportment that did not matter.

Darcy, however, concluded otherwise.

“Not a substitute for your loving family,” was how he had worded it on that rainy day when he arrived unannounced at their London address with a coach and four and three empty trunks, ordering Georgiana to pack up her things and move to Pemberley for good. Darcy insisted that, with Elizabeth firmly ensconced as the lady of the manor, Georgiana must live with the new family.

“As we must be at Pemberley, so must you.”

Georgiana tried to argue but he would not hear it. She was happy to spend the summer months in Derbyshire, but she loved her life in London too. He raised his hand up, anticipating her protestations, and turned his head to look out the rain splattered drawing room windows. “Elizabeth is the most suitable companion a young woman could wish for,” he informed her. “As your guardian I am always acting in your best interests. Is this room always so chilly?” He took a quick glance at the fireplace, and picked up the poker to rustle the small fire, but his efforts produced little result and he returned the poker and brushed his gloved hands together meticulously.