We Have Mary King to Thank – Part 9, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

I hope you enjoyed your time off last week. I’m back with the penultimate chapter of this novella. We’re back in Hertfordshire, where many questions will be answered. Somehow, I think you’re gonna like this offering. Just a feeling. Thanks goes to my lovely Beta Babe, Debbie!

Part 8 may be found HERE.

Back to our story:

Part 9

THE NEXT DAY ELIZABETH and Jane were welcomed back to Longbourn as they expected: Mary was reserved, Kitty was affectionate, and Lydia demanded gifts. Mrs. Bennet was both delighted for her daughters’ safe return and distraught at their lack of suitors. It had been decided by the travelers to withhold from their relations Mr. Bingley’s intentions until that gentleman returned to Netherfield.

Lydia was full of news. “Mr. Wickham is safe! Mary King has gone away, and good riddance to her!”

“Lydia!” scolded Elizabeth. “You should not speak so.”

Jane added, “I hope there is no strong attachment on either side.”

“I am sure there is not on his,” Lydia boldly declared. “I will answer for it he never cared three straws about her. Who could about such a nasty little freckled thing?”

Mr. Bennet took his daughter in hand. “That is enough, young lady. Into the house—all of you. I have news to impart.” He directed his family to gather in the parlor. Standing by the fireplace, he began.

“It has come to my attention that too much notice has been paid by the ladies of this house to the officers of the militia. This will cease. No officer will be allowed on Longbourn grounds without a written invitation from me.”

The outcry to this edict was tremendous. Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia wailed and screamed over each other so loudly the servants dashed in to see what disaster had befallen them.

“Stop your caterwauling at once!” Mr. Bennet roared. He was instantly obeyed, for it was rare that Mr. Bennet raised his voice. He sent the servants away just as Mrs. Bennet spoke up.

“You cannot deprive us of the officers’ company! They are so dashing and handsome, and so attentive to our girls! Oh, how you try my nerves! How will they ever catch husbands?”

“You would doom our girls to seven pounds a month?” he asked gravely.

The room fell silent. “Seven pounds? What do you mean, seven pounds?”

“Madam, these lieutenants you so admire are paid seven pounds a month. Four-and-eighty pounds per annum! A captain at fourteen, two and six is certainly better, but how would even he feed and clothe a gentleman’s daughter? We manage an entire estate with servants and five girls on two thousand a year and have little aside to show for it.”

“It is said lieutenants may not marry, captains might marry, majors should marry, and lieutenant-colonels must marry,” Mary recited.

“Oh, be quiet, girl!” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “No one wants your moralizing now! Mr. Bennet, surely some of the officers are younger sons!”

He crossed his arms. “Very well—then tell me their names. Show me your proof. For I will tell you most gentlemen buy commissions for sons of merchants to meet their five-year requirement. There are very few younger sons in the militia.”

“Mr. Wickham would have money if Mr. Darcy had not stolen it,” declared Lydia.

“Then you would have never met him, child,” Mr. Bennet countered, “for he would be at a parish in Derbyshire. But that brings up another matter. None of you are to speak to Mr. Wickham again or even acknowledge his presence. He is a liar, a wastrel, a gamester, and a scoundrel.”

The complaints were renewed. “Mr. Bennet, you cannot be in earnest!” cried his wife. “He is the most handsome and charming of the officers!”

“And the most wicked, from what I have learned. Madam, on this I am firm.” He glared at his two youngest. “Neither of you will leave the house without being escorted by your older sisters.” At the renewed howls, Mr. Bennet threw up his hands. “No more! I shall be in my book room, and I will not be disturbed! Jane, pray tell Mrs. Hill I shall dine at my desk.” With that, he quit the room.

Elizabeth and Jane shared an amazed look before they followed—Jane to find the housekeeper and Elizabeth to her room.

~~~

In an unusual happenstance, Mr. Bennet was gone from the house most of the next day. Without her spouse to hear her complaints, Mrs. Bennet let loose her lamentations in the sitting room, her visiting sister Mrs. Philips and her youngest daughters her willing audience.

“How terrible it is, Sister! Mr. Bennet is so cruel! We have no company, no amusements. He says the officers must stay away, and look at my poor girls! The bloom is already gone from Jane. They will all end up old maids, mark my words, and when Mr. Bennet is gone, those grasping Collinses will have us thrown in the hedgerows before he is cold in his grave!”

“Too true, too true. It is a terrible thing!” Strangely, Mrs. Philips did not appear upset at this possibility. In fact, she was clearly enjoying her sister’s alarm. Elizabeth and Jane held hands, silently consoling each other, knowing of Mr. Bingley’s plans to return to Netherfield. Lydia and Kitty joined in their mother’s misery while Mary stubbornly kept to her copy of sermons.

It was then Mr. Bennet walked in the door. “Look, the man returns!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet, you must see reason!”

“Good afternoon, Sister Philips. I hope you are well. Good afternoon, my dear, girls.” Mr. Bennet sarcastically kept to the proprieties. “Mrs. Bennet, have you no curiosity in how I have spent the day?”

“I am sure it is of no interest to me if you will not relent!”

“Oh, I should think it will be of the upmost interest.” He held up a scrap of paper. “I have here a list of the vowels of a certain officer of the militia. Would you care to see it?”

“What-what do you mean?”

He handed the paper to her with a flourish. “Mr. Wickham’s debts.”

She began to read. “I do not understand—sixty pounds? What does this mean?”

“It means Mr. Wickham owes at least sixty pounds to the merchants of Meryton. At least, I say, for Mr. Roberts of The Pig’s Snout was out, and therefore, I was unable to receive a figure from him.”

“This cannot be.”

“It is, madam, it is. Sixty pounds, almost the entirety of Mr. Wickham’s annual pay, and he has been in the militia only six months. Oh, he was clever about it—five pounds here, three pounds there, but it adds up. He paid back a pound or two every so often, just enough to keep the merchants happy. But, my dear, the man has no hope of settling the total. I admit to being charmed by Mr. Wickham’s imprudence, but audacity on such a scale? It is to be marveled at!”

“Let me see the list, Sister!” Mrs. Philips eagerly requested.

“I do not believe it!” cried Lydia. “It is all lies!”

Mr. Bennet cast a level glare at his youngest. “And that is why you and Kitty are returning to the nursery until the militia leaves.” Ignoring their outraged shrieks, he continued. “You are condemned by your own statements. This list details but a portion of Mr. Wickham’s bad behavior. I am certain he has debts of honor amongst his fellow officers.” He continued in a disgusted tone of voice, “I shall say no more, but Mrs. Bennet will surely be apprised by her friends of the salacious gossip now surrounding the lieutenant.” He paused and gave Mrs. Bennet a pointed look, causing her and Aunt Philips to gasp. Elizabeth could only deduce that Mr. Wickham may have harmed one or more of the girls in the village!

Mr. Bennet took a step closer to Lydia. “Yet, you and your sister would defend this man. And why? Because he looks well in his uniform.”

“Brother, I think you are too hard on the girls,” injected Mrs. Philips. “There are many other handsome gentlemen in the corps.”

“I would remind you that this is my house and these are my children,” Mr. Bennet stated coldly. “You can have no say on how matters are arranged.”

The doorbell rang. “Ah, Lady Lucas is here already, unless I miss my guess.” He turned to Kitty and Lydia. “Off with you two, or you will have a cold supper in your rooms tonight.”

With many tears and protests, the two did as they were commanded. Elizabeth was stunned by her father’s stern words. She could not remember him being so angry. Oh, if only he had taken Kitty and Lydia in hand before!

But the visitor was not Lady Lucas. It was Mr. Bingley, and he was not alone. He was accompanied by the last person on earth she expected to visit Meryton again.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth could not stifle her exclamation.

The gentleman’s eyes flew to hers before bowing to her parents. While Mr. Bingley dominated the greetings, Mr. Darcy stood silent and grave.

“It is a long time since you went away, Mr. Bingley, and I began to be afraid you would never come back again,” said an excited Mrs. Bennet. “People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas, but I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighborhood. Since you went away, Miss Lucas is married and settled. Did you hear of it?”

“I have,” he said, “and I intend to call upon the Lucases to offer my good wishes.”

“And here is our Jane, home from London. Does she not look well?”

Mr. Bingley turned openly to Jane. “Indeed. Miss Bennet, I am happy to see you arrived safely. The journey was not too taxing, I trust? But how could it be, in Darcy’s carriage?”

“What is this?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Did you know Jane was in town? Jane, why did you not say?”

Jane, blushing furiously, disregarded her mother, thanked Mr. Bingley for his concern, and bid him to be seated. Meanwhile, after offering the barest of greetings to the ladies, Mr. Darcy turned and spoke softly to Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth was surprised to see her father nod and lead the gentleman out of the room.

“Well!” said Mrs. Bennet. “It is good of your father to take the trouble of relieving us of that man’s company! Any friend of Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure, but I must say that I hate the very sight of him!”

A mortified Elizabeth saw that Mr. Bingley was completely engrossed in conversation with Jane and did not appear to hear her mother’s ill-bred comment. As for Elizabeth, she could not imagine any conversation Mr. Darcy could be having with her father that did not concern her. It was rude, it was impertinent, but she could not stop herself from fleeing the parlor to seek out the book room. She had to find some way to apologize to Mr. Darcy. Without knocking, she slipped in, to the bewilderment of the gentlemen.

“Lizzy, what are you doing here?” cried her father. “This is a private meeting.”

She did not answer. Instead, she stared at Mr. Darcy.

A small smile grew on his face. “Miss Elizabeth is a lady of decided opinions on what signifies a private meeting,” he said.

She curtsied. “That I do. Papa, I am certain I know the subject of Mr. Darcy’s visit, and I believe I should be here.”

“You do, do you?” Mr. Bennet glared at Darcy. “I do not believe I know everything that occurred in Kent, but I shall before this hour is done.”

Elizabeth quickly said, “Mr. Darcy, you should know that I have shared the entirety of our conversations with my father. I apologize if I have violated your confidence, but I thought he should be made aware of your warnings, and I knew no better way of convincing him.” She blushed and cast her eyes down.

Mr. Darcy paled at first, but recovered quickly. “Quite right, Miss Elizabeth. I depend upon your discretion, and I trust it has not been misplaced.” He turned to Mr. Bennet. “I am willing to answer any questions you have.”

Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? Sit down, sir. You too, Lizzy.” Once all were seated, Mr. Bennet spoke again. “Mr. Darcy, I assure you that the account of your sister will, of course, remain in this room as will your perplexing offer to my daughter. Now, I am at my leisure to entertain your request for a private conference.”

“Very well, sir. Some of what I wished to relate today you already know. Allow me to humbly apologize for my offensive words and behaviors, both here in Hertfordshire and in Kent. I have already apologized to Bingley and owned up to my errors there. Pray believe me when I say I respect your family and hold Miss Elizabeth in the highest esteem, despite my actions in the past.” He paused. “No punishment can be worse than what I have already suffered. I know what I have lost.”

During this remarkable statement, Darcy steadfastly refused to look at Elizabeth. Consciously or not, the pain she felt was all the greater. A lump was in her throat. She was happy that she owned a handkerchief to wipe away the traitorous tear that ran down her cheek.

Mr. Darcy continued. “I would never presume to inflict my presence upon you or your family but for this dire matter. I am here to be of service to you and the people of Meryton—to end the danger Mr. Wickham poses to you and your neighbors, particularly your daughter’s friend Miss King, whom I understand Wickham is courting. He is undoubtedly after her fortune. Such has always been his way.”

Elizabeth’s distress grew. First, he reunited Jane with Mr. Bingley, and now Mr. Darcy offered to protect the people of Meryton. Was there a better man in all the world? He was all that she had hoped for in a companion of her future life, and she had rejected him.

Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and smiled. “There I can relieve your anxiety, sir. Miss King is no longer in Meryton. Her uncle has carried her away to Liverpool, and I understand there are no plans for her return. Mr. Wickham has lost his victim. So you see, your chivalrous offer is unnecessary.”

“Papa, that is unfair!” Elizabeth cried, upset at her father’s teasing manner. “Mr. Darcy is in earnest.”

“Lizzy, I will conduct this interview as I see fit. Mr. Darcy, is there anything else you wish to relate? I would like to return to my books.”

“Mr. Wickham is still at large, sir. He is sure to cause mischief.”

“On that we agree. I have a partial list of that gentleman’s debts. He is truly an industrious rascal, to be sure! I plan to have it delivered to Colonel Forster—or perhaps you would like to see to it yourself?” He offered the paper to him.

Expressionless, Darcy stood and took the list. Elizabeth somehow knew he was deeply offended. “I pray you accept my apology for my ungentlemanly behavior, sir.”

“I do.” Mr. Bennet began to reach for a book when Elizabeth spoke.

“I do not.”

Both men turned to her.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Darcy has not apologized to me.”

“Miss Elizabeth—”

She held up her hand. “Not here, sir. We would not wish to disturb my father’s reading.” She sent her father a glare. “Perhaps a walk in our gardens would grace the occasion with a proper atmosphere.”

A puzzled Mr. Darcy held out his arm. “As you wish.” She took it and gestured at the French doors leading outside.

Mr. Bennet smirked. “Begone, the both of you. Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul call to me.”

The pair left and walked quietly together for a short time among Mrs. Bennet’s flowers. Elizabeth labored to gather her wits and say what must be said. Finally, she began.

“I am a very selfish creature and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. It is my most earnest wish to apologize for my cruel words at Hunsford. I know what you have done for Jane and must thank you sincerely for your kindness to my sister and my family. My mother, my sisters, all of Meryton will never know of your unselfish goodness, so you must be satisfied with my gratitude alone.”

Darcy stopped suddenly, forcing her to do likewise. In a voice filled with surprise and remorse, he answered, “If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. Your family and friends owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

“How can you say such a thing after I abused you so abominably to your face at the parsonage?”

“You have no reason to apologize over the events of that evening. What did you say of me that I did not deserve? My behavior to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: ‘had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.’ You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how it has tortured me.”

“Oh! Do not repeat what I then said. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it. We must not quarrel for the greater share of blame! Both of us behaved badly.”

Mr. Darcy bowed his head. “My avowed object today was to do whatever was in my power to remove Mr. Wickham’s bad influence upon you and your friends. I shall not deny it was my only wish. I do desire to show you, by every civility, that I am not so mean as to resent the past. I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to.”

Mr. Darcy’s dark eyes captured hers. He searched her countenance, for what she knew not. While her feelings remained unsettled, disguise was impossible.

“Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, have I any chance of ever succeeding?”

Elizabeth was too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion continued. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were in Kent, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

She had to speak! “I-I am not the creature you knew in Hunsford. I cannot be, not after what we shared. My feelings—my feelings are different, but to what extent I cannot say.” Her eyes fell to her slippers.

“My presence is not painful to you?”

“No!” she almost cried. In a softer voice, she added, “Not at all, sir.”

Darcy nervously licked his lips. “Would you permit me the very great honor of calling on you?”

“But my family, my situation—they were so offensive to you.”

“Must I fall on my knees to show my remorse, my repugnance of those thoughts and words? I am heartily ashamed of myself. How dare I compare your family to mine! Lady Catherine’s behavior was beyond everything—and she the daughter of an earl. You are loved. I cannot say the same for my aunt.

“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. I was spoilt by my parents who, though good themselves, allowed—almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing. To care for none beyond my own family circle.

“What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you at Hunsford without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

More gently, he continued, “I have learned from this. In Kent, I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses. I shall not make that mistake again. Allow me to court you openly, properly. Pray give me an undeserved chance to prove to you I am worthy of your notice.”

An irresistible force of wondrous affection drew her eyes to his. She had never thought his expression could be so soft, so humble, so deep and dark and warm. Yes—warm and inviting. She felt herself fall into his ardent look, and only with the greatest of efforts was she able to break away and whisper, “Yes.”

Mr. Darcy’s anguished expression transformed into the greatest joy. Elizabeth realized she had never before seen him happy. His bright eyes and dimpled open-mouth smile suited him exceptionally well. He was the handsomest man she had ever beheld. A giddiness rose within her, and she began to laugh.

“Miss Elizabeth?”

She found her hands in his. “You must not mind me, sir. I would very much welcome your calls.” She felt as light as air. All was right in the world.

He lifted her hands to his lips. “May I?”

She nervously nodded, and Mr. Darcy graced the back of each hand with a kiss. She felt his heat through her gloves. Her joy sobered to a gentle happiness.

“May I go to your father?”

“No! I-I mean, yes, of course—but not now.” She offered a soft smile. “I would not so soon lose your company.”

Pleasantly perplexed, Mr. Darcy suggested they use a nearby bench for conversation, an idea she readily approved. Once seated, Elizabeth asked of his plans for Mr. Wickham. Almost at once she regretted her curiosity, for her companion became grave.

“I am relieved of some labors, with Miss King gone from the neighborhood and your father inquiring of Wickham’s debts. I can buy those, and added to what I already hold, I have a considerable advantage over him. I could have him sent to debtor’s prison, but that would still leave him in the country. I cannot be easy with that. So, I shall offer him a choice.

“My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam has some influence in Horse Guards and, with the permission of Wickham’s superior, can have him set up in a regiment outside of England. The selling of his militia commission will help offset the price of a lieutenancy in the regulars.

“Wickham would surely reject joining Wellington in Spain, which is well. Fitzwilliam would not desire an officer of his suspect abilities to serve on an important battlefield. Therefore, his choice will be between the Canadas, India, or Fleet Prison.”

“Are we not at war with the Americans?”

Darcy smiled. “I believe even Wickham could stand before the shopkeepers and farmers that make up their army.”

“For all the evil he has done you, your kindness and generosity are extraordinary.”

Darcy sighed. “Fitzwilliam would agree with you. Wickham deserves punishment, yet I recall the time I called him friend, and he was some comfort for my father in the wake of my mother’s passing.”

“Your father did not turn to you?”

“No, I was poor company, struggling with my grief. It was all I could do to offer succor to my poor sister—she was but six years of age at the time.”

Elizabeth reflected on Mr. Darcy’s revelations. He must have been seventeen years old when his mother died, and yet he set aside his pain to aid his sister. Where was his father? It was his duty, but he left it to his son while he entertained his favorite. I should not judge the dead, but I cannot help my anger and disappointment with that gentleman. Poor Mr. Darcy! So young, yet so responsible! She looked at him with renewed affection. He would not abandon his children! Our children… She bit her lip.

Mr. Darcy must have noticed the change in her expression. “Miss Elizabeth, I cannot help but wonder at your thoughts.”

Elizabeth blushed and turned away. “Nothing of interest, I assure you.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Is your business at Rosings concluded?”

Some of Mr. Darcy’s joy faded. “It is. Once my uncle the earl arrived, a quick conference settled the business. Lady Catherine has been deposed and is now established at the dower house. My cousin Anne will assume what duties she desires; the rest will be left to the steward and housekeeper.” He paused. “Anne has requested her will be amended, making Colonel Fitzwilliam her heir. My uncle will soon meet with the solicitors.”

He brightened. “Fitzwilliam remains at Rosings, finalizing the changes and helping Anne, before returning to his regiment. I should tell you Mr. Collins has turned his attentions from my aunt to Fitzwilliam, following him about like one of his troopers.”

Elizabeth laughed. “And how is Charlotte?”

“She is happy with the changes and intends to befriend Anne. I am grateful for that—Anne needs a friend. Oh, and Mrs. Collins sends her regards.”

Elizabeth nodded, knowing her she and Charlotte would never have the same relationship as before. It was foolish to believe they could, once Charlotte accepted Mr. Collins’ suit. She looked up at her admirer. So tall, so handsome, so strong of body and character. Suddenly, she wanted everything settled between them. She took his hand with a smile. “Come, sir! It is time you faced the dragon. I hope you brought your sword and shield!”

“I thought we were to see your father, not your mother.” He offered a mischievous grin.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped in wonder at his teasing. She then laughed delightedly as they walked to the house. This courtship was beginning most agreeably! A few steps from the door, she halted their progress.

“Before we go in, you really must tell me how you came to know of Miss King’s inheritance.”

“Miss King?” Darcy was clearly puzzled. “I certainly do not know any such thing. In fact, I do not believe I have ever been introduced to your friend. Why do you ask?”

“Because you said Mr. Wickham would not marry for less than ten thousand pounds.”

“I did. I take it that is the amount of her fortune. Did you happen to say? I do not recall.” At Elizabeth’s nod, he surprised her with a laugh. “Ten thousand pounds is an amount Wickham holds in great esteem. When he requested money in place of the Kympton living, he initially demanded that sum. Of course, I refused, and we settled at a more reasonable figure.”

“Ten thousand pounds! Why, to my way of thinking, three thousand was too much. I am of the opinion Mr. Wickham took advantage of you.”

Darcy nodded. “Such has been pointed out to me by my relations. I promise you he has done so for the very last time.” He then drew a finger along Elizabeth’s cheek. “That is not to say someone else may capture my liberality.”

Elizabeth shivered. “A fortunate person, indeed.”

---

Wow! Mr. Bennet does something useful for once, Mr. Darcy is back in town, and Elizabeth gains a courtier! I hope you forgive me for stealing a line from Emma, but it seemed to fit the moment. (As for Darcy’s arrogant dismissal of the American Army, this is set in 1812, well before the battles at Baltimore, Plattsburg, and New Orleans. The world will learn differently. Excuse the historian in me.)

But have you figured out the meaning of the title?

If not, don’t worry. All will be made clear next week in the concluding chapter of We Have Mary King to Thank.

Until next week, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…