A summer in brighton, p.11
A Summer in Brighton, page 11
“No, indeed!” A thought occurred to Elizabeth, and she allowed a sly smile to steal over her face. “You know, Blanche declared the exact same thing before I left her house this morning. I dare say you and Blanche are far more alike than I had previously thought.”
“My dear Elizabeth!” cried Harriet, her disapproving frown belied by the upwardly twitching corners of her mouth. “I am most displeased that you would think me similar to such a meddling old woman!”
The two young women laughed at Harriet’s description of their friend.
“She is not quite that bad, Harriet! Nor is she even that old!”
“No, indeed, Elizabeth. But I should prefer that you keep such observations to yourself. Blanche can be very helpful and amiable at times, but even you must recognize that she can be somewhat of a busybody.”
“True. But she is also very pleasing. I am glad to have made her acquaintance.”
Chapter VIII
The days following Elizabeth’s confessions to her two friends were spent largely separate from the company of the officers. Harriet, sensitive to Elizabeth’s apprehension where Mr. Wickham was concerned, adroitly scheduled activities such as sea bathing which precluded the presence of any male companionship save the stolid Mr. Woodston.
It was during an outing when another incident occurred that induced some worry and concern. Elizabeth and Harriet had decided to investigate a circulating library. It was somewhat crowded, but Elizabeth and Harriet derived pleasure from it rather than the reverse. Though Harriet was not as much a student of character as Elizabeth was, both women nonetheless enjoyed speculating on the personalities or relationships of strangers. They were debating what kind of unfortunate bird had loaned its feather to a woman’s hat when Harriet suddenly moved close to Elizabeth, who was facing the opposite direction from her. Speaking slowly out of the corner of her mouth, Harriet murmured: “Is that Mr. Wickham?”
Elizabeth froze, surprised by her friend’s words. Was it an absolute certainty that Mr. Wickham had followed her this time?
Trying not to make any sudden movements, Elizabeth turned to gaze at the entrance, where Harriet’s eyes were still fixed. But the door was closing, and no one was in sight. Elizabeth looked back at Harriet, not certain if she should be relieved or disappointed at having missed the man’s appearance.
Harriet frowned, looking agitated as she peered from her friend to the entrance. “He was there, Elizabeth! I am certain it was him! Do you believe he fled because he saw us?”
“Perhaps it was someone who looks like Mr. Wickham, or perhaps he did not notice us,” said Elizabeth with a calmness she did not feel. In truth, she believed it had been Wickham, and that made her uneasy.
“Yes, perhaps he did not notice us,” echoed Harriet, but she sounded unsure.
“Let us not concern ourselves about it,” said Elizabeth firmly. She was beginning to detest every mention of the man’s name, and at that moment, she was not certain she could bear talking about him any longer. “I think we should move on to the next item on our agenda. You have planned everything so precisely that I should hate to be late for anything!”
“Ah, Elizabeth!” said Harriet with a chuckle. “You do tease me so! But you are correct. We should continue to follow the day’s itinerary.” Harriet’s love of planning was a constant source of amusement for them, and Elizabeth was often able to use it as a diversion from the less pleasant subject of Mr. Wickham. Harriet was clever enough that she likely recognized it as the diversion it was, but she was not forcefully assertive in the way that Blanche was, so Elizabeth knew that Harriet was generally willing to grant a reprieve from conversations that brought discomfort.
They became engaged in more pleasant activities, and Elizabeth was thus able to move past this near-encounter with Mr. Wickham and enjoy the rest of the afternoon with her friend. As the day was fine, they were soon caught up in pleasurable pursuits, though both were sad that they had not planned a bathing trip for that day, for the conditions were perfect.
Unfortunately, Mr. Wickham’s presence was soon felt all too closely by Elizabeth at a public assembly. The situation was, perhaps, exacerbated by the fact that Mr. Denny was not present. Elizabeth knew he could not serve as her personal barrier against Wickham’s malice all of the time, but Denny had managed to attend quite a few of the events at which she had seen her adversary.
It struck her suddenly as she once more studied her surroundings that she always searched for the two aforementioned men when attending assemblies of any sort in Brighton, for she felt it necessary to determine what situation she would be facing and how she needed to handle herself. If Denny was not present and Mr. Wickham was, then she needed to attempt to make herself scarce.
At this assembly, Mr. Wickham did not appear to see her at first, so she hurriedly endeavored to pull Harriet with her toward a crowd of people behind whom she could hide. The line of dancers already separated her from Mr. Wickham, yet she did not trust that alone to serve as cover from the man’s eyes.
“Elizabeth?” said Harriet in confusion after her friend had stopped. Though Harriet had allowed Elizabeth to guide her to a new location, it was obvious she had failed to see Mr. Wickham. “Is there something wrong? Do you feel ill?”
“I was simply hoping to avoid Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth with a grimace. Perhaps her actions were cowardly, but she was tired of facing the insufferable man!
Harriet frowned. “If you would prefer that we leave the assembly, Elizabeth—”
“No,” said Elizabeth quickly. “We need not leave.” She gave her companion a light smile. “Besides, do you not wish to see your favorite Brighton friend again?”
The corner of Harriet’s lip quirked upward in amusement; she knew immediately of whom Elizabeth was speaking. “I am certain I will be able to see Blanche another time, Elizabeth. After all, she does live in Brighton.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but she may have details on that mysterious man from Germany of whom everyone has been speaking. Surely you would not deprive yourself of such valuable information? Perhaps he may even prove worthy of marrying dear Miss Araby?”
Harriet shook her head, obviously amused. “Ah, Elizabeth! I suppose it would indeed be a tragedy to fail to attain such intelligence. After all, what should we talk about if not the doings of others? And what should we do if not attempting to match every single woman with a single man?”
“Exactly,” said Elizabeth brightly. “We should be very bored indeed without the aid of gossip and matchmaking to entertain us. Why, they serve as one of our most important forms of sustenance, coming only after air and perhaps food.”
“I still have yet to find a proper man for you, Elizabeth,” said Harriet with a slight pout.
“Well, perhaps I am simply not meant for a military man,” said Elizabeth. “And as dear Mr. Denny is not here, perhaps we should focus on finding me a more dependable suitor. Perhaps the German man is wealthy and wishes to settle down in England!”
As Harriet laughed, Elizabeth smiled and tilted her head in greeting. The jovial Colonel Forster was walking toward them, beaming.
“Harriet!” cried he with pleasure. “And Miss Bennet! I had wondered where you wandered off to! Please tell me what secrets you are discussing so intently. I am always deeply interested in the conversation of young ladies such as yourselves, and you dare not deprive me of the content of your discussion. It would simply not be fair for me to be left out of such engaging communications.”
“Ah, but if we should tell you, then they should not be secrets anymore,” said Harriet fondly to her husband. “Surely you do not begrudge us our intrigue?”
“Never!” proclaimed Colonel Forster. “I wish only to be a part of it, my dear. But I shall not insist upon your compliance. I suppose women must be allowed to keep some secrets. And so long as you do not talk to me of ribbons or reticules, then I suppose I can remain satisfied.”
He turned to regard Elizabeth with a warm expression. “Miss Bennet, I am surprised you are not out among the dancers. I am certain there is an officer or two around here who would rejoice should you favor them with a dance. You do not wish to disappoint them, do you? Surely at least one of them is handsome enough to catch your eye. I dare say we may find you a husband among my men yet!”
“Colonel Forster,” said Elizabeth fondly, “you are beginning to sound like Sir William Lucas. Do not worry. There are plenty of women present to dance with your officers, who appear not to be feeling the loss of a dance partner, and I am quite content to observe the couples and rest my feet. The assemblies here are a little different from those in Hertfordshire, so I have entertainment enough in merely watching.”
Colonel Forster smiled. “Well, Miss Bennet, if you are not inclined to dance, then I shall not try to persuade you. But I must make a request. Do you mind if I steal my wife away for the next set? I know you women have things to discuss, but perhaps you could spare her for a little while?”
Elizabeth inclined her head and told him warmly: “Far be it from me to separate you from my dear friend! Indeed, if you did not dance with her at least once, then I might think you a neglectful husband!”
“I should hope that would not happen!” cried he. “I am as fond of my dear Harriet now as I was the day I married her.”
Elizabeth smiled. “And I do not doubt it. You are obviously a fine husband to Harriet—and above reproach.”
“Well! I do not know if I am above reproach, but I do know my dear Harriet is.”
“Ah,” said Harriet, smiling broadly, “the two of you had best leave off this line of conversation. I dare say you shall make me blush.”
Colonel Forster turned to look at Elizabeth. “Then, by all means, Miss Bennet, you and I should continue to talk in such a fashion. I must own that I am fond of Harriet’s blushes.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Spoken like a true doting husband!”
Harriet joined in with her laughter. “I suppose I am indeed a fortunate wife.”
For several more minutes, they continued to talk in such a pleasant fashion. Finally, however, it was time for the next set.
“I am afraid you must excuse us, Miss Bennet,” said Colonel Forster apologetically.
“By all means, go. And enjoy yourselves.”
Colonel Forster gave a bow, and Harriet favored Elizabeth with a bright smile. They really did love each other, and for that, Elizabeth was glad; in a world where possessions were often valued above all else, Elizabeth was firmly of the opinion that nothing could match the importance of true marital felicity.
As Colonel Forster took Harriet away, Elizabeth turned slightly and saw Blanche approaching. Smiling at her friend, Elizabeth waited for her to come closer. Unfortunately, however, Mr. Wickham—whom she had not even realized was nearby—reached Elizabeth first.
“Miss Bennet,” said he in a low voice.
Elizabeth stiffened upon seeing and hearing him. She did not understand why Mr. Wickham even feigned courtesy any longer—she had made her unhappiness with him more than clear, and he would have been better off leaving her alone and seeking out a woman actually willing to fall prey to his charms, though, of course, she would never wish such a fate on another of her sex.
After staring at him with a look she deemed sufficiently cold, Elizabeth offered in a stiff and unwelcoming tone: “Mr. Wickham.”
“I was hoping you would dance a set with me.” His voice was pleasant enough, but there was no mistaking the villainous glitter of those eyes.
What gall! Elizabeth could not understand the man. What possessed him to believe that he could make an application for her hand in a dance and expect it to be accepted? Did he take her for a fool or a coward? Did he believe persistence would finally enable him to take hold of her?
Fighting against her simmering anger, she forced herself to speak to him in a calm but soft voice. “Mr. Wickham, should you be the last man remaining in England, I would still not wish to dance with you. You have been nothing but rude and unappreciative of my feelings. Can you not content yourself with being in the same room as I am? Must you attempt to encourage me to do something which you must know can only be repugnant to me?”
“Repugnant?” replied he, almost in disbelief. It was apparently still difficult for him to recognize the failure of his charms.
“Yes,” hissed Elizabeth, her wrath growing. “I may frankly say that you disgust me, Mr. Wickham. You are not a gentleman in any sense of the word. You are but a wolf in sheep’s clothing, professing to be that which you are not.”
His eyes narrowed in anger. “Miss Bennet,” growled he, “you shall not speak to me so.” His hand darted out and grabbed her arm with strong fingers.
She wrenched herself from his grasp. Then she glared at him as if her mere expression were enough to cause him to burst out into flames.
“Mr. Wickham,” said she in a dangerously low voice, “if you touch me like that again, I shall ensure that you regret it. Or do you forget that my dear friend is the wife of your commanding officer? I am not without protection.”
He stared back at her darkly. “Is that a threat, Miss Bennet?”
“A threat implies probable trouble,” scoffed Elizabeth. “I can assure you that there shall most certainly be trouble should you venture to take me into your grasp again, Mr. Wickham. Do you understand what I am saying, or must I use smaller words?”
His eyes were mere slits. “I understand.”
“Good,” said she sharply. Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she shot him one last disdainful glare before sidestepping him and walking toward Blanche with her head held high and her back stiff.
As Mr. Wickham did not step in front of her, Elizabeth assumed he was letting her go without any trouble, but she dared not look behind her to give him any reason to believe she felt fear or doubt.
Though she had temporarily solved that problem—if only for the night—she was unfortunately walking straight up to another. The expression on Blanche’s face was enough to tell Elizabeth that her friend had witnessed the entire episode. And Blanche was not the type to let something such as this pass without addressing it.
It did not take long for Blanche to speak: “Elizabeth—”
“Now is not the place,” murmured Elizabeth, who was already hoping desperately that no one else had noticed the confrontation. Her blood was now rushing through her veins, and she felt weak. “Might we discuss it later?”
Blanche sighed but gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose we may.”
Elizabeth made a morning visit to Blanche the next day. The rest of the assembly had been blissfully free of Mr. Wickham—save for her occasional glimpses of his angry eyes from across the room, which merely served to make her even angrier with him—yet at the end of the evening, Blanche had been certain to remind Elizabeth of their need to meet in order to discuss “a few pressing issues.” Elizabeth had thus agreed to visit her the next morning, knowing there would be no sense in delaying the inevitable.
Fortunately, when Elizabeth mentioned the visit, Harriet did not seem to realize that the cause for it was Mr. Wickham. Rather, Harriet simply let Elizabeth go with the instruction to tell “that harpy” she sent her good wishes. Elizabeth had snorted a little at the epithet but had not bothered to admonish her friend. This time, Blanche and Elizabeth did not even bother starting with petty conversation topics in an attempt to transition into the reasons behind Elizabeth’s visit. Rather, Blanche closed them both inside her drawing-room and said without preamble: “What happened last night?”
Fortunately, an answer did not require much thought, as there was not much to say. Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow and said lightly: “I should think you would have seen what happened. Mr. Wickham grabbed my arm in hopes of forcing me to dance, and I disabused him of the notion that I would ever be interested in dancing with him.”
“Elizabeth!” cried Blanche in consternation. “It is not nearly so simple as you make it out to be! Did he believe you had given him permission to dance with you, or did he presume to grab you without caring for your preference? I was frightened when I saw that, Elizabeth. I wished to come to your aid, but I was afraid he might become violent if I did so.”
“Violent?” echoed Elizabeth skeptically. “I do not think it would have come to that.” She believed Mr. Wickham to be a serpent without any real venom—a garden snake rather than an asp. He was capable of inducing worry and even a little fear, but he lacked the ability to hurt.
“But he took your arm forcibly, Elizabeth! Was it with permission?”
“I should think Mr. Wickham believes he can take anything he desires by sheer virtue of his looks and personality,” said Elizabeth with some heat. “He asked me to dance, but there is no way he could have misinterpreted what I told him when I declined his entreaty.”
Blanche appeared worried. “Are you not frightened of him, Elizabeth?”
“As of this moment, all I feel toward the man is anger! He has no right to importune me in this manner!”
“Elizabeth,” said Blanche carefully, “this behavior is worrisome. Perhaps you should consider returning to Hertfordshire—”
Elizabeth shook her head adamantly. “No, Blanche. I refuse to cower before Mr. Wickham. I will not allow him to ruin my stay in Brighton. Do you not see, Blanche? This is exactly what Wickham wants. He has spent his whole life making himself agreeable with the use of his good looks and his pleasing manners, yet there is not a jot of substance to the man. Now that he cannot impress as he desires, using methods which have never before failed him, he has turned out to be nothing more than a common bully, and like a bully, he is a coward at heart. He wishes to intimidate me into fleeing from him so he may congratulate himself on his courage and ability to frighten defenseless young women.
“I will not allow myself to be intimidated by such a man! He has not the wherewithal to truly harm me, and I shall not give him the satisfaction he so obviously desires.”
