P&P The Untold Stories: Elizabeth Discovers Wickham’s Interest in Mary King

In which Wickham shows his true colors…

January 3, 1812

“You are keeping the warm brick to yourself, Lydia, and my toes are turning numb!” complained Kitty Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet elbowed her. “You are sitting in the middle, and that should be enough to keep you warm. Why does your father not have the carriage window fixed? It lets in the cold so terribly. If I die from a chill, it shall be his fault.”

Kitty shoved Lydia to the edge of the carriage bench, receiving a sideways kick in response.

Elizabeth shook her head with amusement. True, it was an unusually cold day, even for January, but nothing could interfere with her pleasure today. Soon she would be dancing with Mr. Wickham, and she had no doubt he would be as attentive to her as always. That thought was enough to keep her warm.

She had dressed with great care so she would look her best for the festivities—or more particularly, for him. It had been ten days since she had seen him last—not that she was counting—and she had missed his amiable company. Even then he had seemed more interested in speaking to her aunt about Derbyshire than in talking to Elizabeth. No doubt it was simply because he missed his home there. Another thing to blame Mr. Darcy for!

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Lucas Lodge, the windows already ablaze with light even though it was barely dusk. How typical! Sir William liked everyone to know how rich he was, and wasting expensive candles was an effective way to show it. But candles were the least of her cares tonight; she planned to enjoy Mr. Wickham’s company to the fullest, even if her aunt had reminded her at Christmas not to fall in love with him. She could still find pleasure in being with him, could she not?

Lydia pushed her way out of the carriage first, followed by a fluttering Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth waited until last, wanting to make a poised entry just in case a certain someone was watching for her. But it turned out she had no audience except the ostentatiously dressed footmen.

Inside it was a crush of people. Charlotte had warned her most of the neighborhood was invited, since her father saw this also as a celebration of her upcoming wedding. Of course, that also meant Mr. Collins would be there, but with luck Elizabeth could avoid dancing with him this time. The humiliation of their last clumsy dance at the Netherfield Ball still stung.

Elizabeth stood up on tiptoe and craned her neck to see over Lydia’s shoulder. A year ago, she could have done it easily, but now her youngest sister was taller than she, as she never missed a chance of pointing out. As if height determined maturity! But none of the red-coated officers in the room had Wickham’s golden curls. He must be further in the crowd.

A little disappointed not to find him waiting for her, she shouldered her way past a variety of neighbors, but of course that meant stopping to converse with some of them, since she could hardly admit she was looking for a gentleman. She was able to excuse herself from several conversations, but then she was accosted by Miss Penelope Harrington and her sister, Harriet. They greeted her extravagantly, each taking one of her arms.

What mischief were they up to? Neither were particular friends of hers, and she had not forgiven them for mocking her sister Jane for failing to secure Mr. Bingley. “You both look lovely tonight,” she said. That was inoffensive.

“As do you,” giggled Penelope. “Is that not new lace you have sewn on your dress? It looks almost like this year’s styles.”

“And new shoe roses,” added Harriet. “You do not usually go to such efforts for an occasion like this. Is there someone in particular you are trying to impress?”

As if they did not know she had been keeping company with Mr. Wickham! She had heard enough of their jealous whispers about what he could possibly see in her. “Just to give honor to Sir William and Lady Lucas for inviting us. Have you seen Charlotte Lucas? I must give her my best wishes on her engagement.” And that might let her escape them.

“Oh, she is in the sitting room with all the dull people. You should go to the saloon where the dancing is. Have you seen Miss King tonight?” Harriet placed great weight on the name.

They were definitely up to mischief. Elizabeth said, “Not yet. I have only just arrived.”

The two girls exchanged a smirk. Penelope said, “You must make a point to find her. She is in particularly good looks tonight.”

Why in the world did they want her to see Mary King? She barely knew the shy, retiring girl. “I will tell her you said so. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me?”

“Oh, we could not possibly desert you in this crush! Do let us go into the saloon. Perhaps one of the officers will ask us to dance.”

Since she wished to go there in any case, she saw no point in resisting their efforts. She allowed them to lead her through the throng of people to the saloon. Most of the furniture had been moved out and the rugs rolled up to make room for dancing. Mariah Lucas was playing a reel on the piano as half a dozen couples circled each other in a country dance.

There he was! Wickham was among the dancers, his golden hair shining in the candlelight. He was facing away from her, but once he reached the top of the set, he would turn and walk right by her. Then he would give her that wonderful warm look that made her insides seem to turn upside down.

“Oh, look!” cried Harriet. “Mary King is dancing with Mr. Wickham!”

Did she suppose Elizabeth would be jealous because Wickham was dancing with another woman? He always did seek out other partners after the two dances he could properly dance with her. He always asked her teasingly for a third, but he knew as well as she that it would cause gossip. “I imagine she is enjoying it, then. He is a good dancer.”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you?” said Penelope archly.

Elizabeth ignored her. Wickham and Mary King had reached the top of the set and turned to walk down the outside of the set. Her heart beat faster as he approached, a welcoming smile suffusing her face.

He did not catch her eye. In fact, he looked straight through her as he passed, as if she were not even there, though he nodded to another acquaintance further down the line.

A heavy stone seemed to have taken up residence in Elizabeth’s stomach. Why was he cutting her? Had she done something to upset him? She could not imagine what it would be, though he had been a bit cool when he called at Christmas. And why were Harriet and Penelope watching her with such avid expressions? They must have known what was coming, and attached themselves to gloat over her response.

Could it perhaps be a joke? Had Wickham set this up with them as a jest, or to see how she would respond? She would not give them the satisfaction of showing distress. “How much more pleasant dances are since the militia arrived in town! I think all the officers must be here,” she said coolly.

Surely Wickham would come to her when the dance ended.

But he did not. Instead, he offered his arm to Mary King and took her to the far end of the room where a few chairs lined the wall. He sat down beside her, a little closer than was proper, and turned towards her. Elizabeth could not see his face, but Mary King was gazing up at him with adoring eyes. She felt sick.

A man in a red coat approached her and bowed. “Miss Elizabeth, might I have the honor of this dance?”

In her shock, it took her a moment to recognize Mr. Chamberlayne. She pasted a smile to her face. “I would be delighted, sir.”

He led her to the head of the line, just a few feet away from Wickham and Mary King. She refused to look in their direction, but she could not avoid their voices. Wickham’s familiar tones came first “…the next dance?”

“You know we cannot, Mr. Wickham! People would talk.”

He gave a rumbly laugh. “I do not care if people know how I feel about you.”

The room was overheated, but Elizabeth felt suddenly cold. To her everlasting gratitude, the music started. Numbly, she took the hand Mr. Chamberlayne offered her.

He leaned towards her. “Smile,” he said quietly. “People are watching. Do not give them the satisfaction.”

So he knew. Everyone knew. Everyone but her.

At least Mr. Chamberlayne was being kind, rather than glorying in her distress. Fluttering her eyelashes, she gave him the most brilliant smile she could manage. “Mr. Chamberlayne, you do say the loveliest things!”

He patted her hand proprietarily. “It is easy to pay compliments to so charming a partner.”

They took hands across with the couple beneath them, precluding any further discussion. Elizabeth kept the smile fixed to her face as they cast down the line, most especially when she had to pass Wickham and Mary King.

So Wickham had thrown her over without a word, and Mary King was her replacement. But why? They had not quarreled, and she would not have thought Mary would hold any particular attraction for him. She was far from a beauty, and could certainly not be called clever. Wickham and Mary King. The image of the two of them together seemed burned on the inside of her eyelids. It was too painful to contemplate when she had to keep her composure.

Somehow she made it through the first dance of the set. During the pause before the music began again, Mr. Chamberlayne said, “Well done. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

His sympathy threatened her composure. Lightly she said, “Mr. Wickham does not owe me anything. If he prefers the company of Miss King, it is nothing to me.”

He smiled understandingly, and then said in her ear, “I believe it is not so much her company he prefers as her fortune.”

“Her fortune? You must be mistaken. She has no particular prospects.”

“Have you not heard? She recently inherited ten thousand pounds, and Wickham has debts of honor. He is not the only officer to have suddenly noticed her appeal, but he found her first.”

Suddenly it was less painful to swallow. To be thrown over for money was more tolerable than if he had done it out of preference for Mary King; still painful, but not as personal. “No, I had not heard. Thank you for enlightening me. It explains a great many things.” But she still had no desire to watch him pay court to another woman while he ignored her.

It was going to be a very long evening.

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