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Part Twelve

‘Miss Bennet, Miss Mary,’ Mr Wagner said, ‘it is a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Welcome to Meryton, Mr Wagner,’ Elizabeth said, ‘I do hope you shall like it here.’

‘After this welcome, how could I not like it?’ Mr Wagner said and winked at her. ‘I feel at home already.’

‘What brings you here so early, Miss Bennet? ‘Mr Denny asked, ‘have Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia also come to Meryton?’

‘No, my sisters are still at breakfast,’ Elizabeth laughed, ‘Mary wanted to collect a book from Mr Williams’, so we came here before breakfast. I do not think Kitty and Lydia would want to miss breakfast for a mere book.’

‘Well, Wagner, this means we are denied the pleasure of seeing the rest of Miss Bennet’s and Miss Mary’s family,’ Mr Denny sighed, ‘and I hoped I could be the one to introduce you to all the beauties of Meryton - now I can only present you two of them.’

‘If you would stop saying silly things, Mr Denny,’ Mary said, ‘and will allow me to enter the bookshop, Elizabeth and I might allow you and Mr Wagner to walk us back to Longbourn and then we might invite you in to greet our sisters.’

‘In that case, Miss Mary, you have my word that Mr Wagner and I shall await you outside this very shop,’ Mr Denny replied seriously.

‘You are injured, Miss Bennet,’ Mr Wagner observed when they passed the vicarage. ‘I do hope it is nothing serious?’

‘What? Oh, my hand! No, it is just a bruise. I knocked it somewhere. But it is kind of you to ask,’ Elizabeth said.

‘Kind? Why? I think it only natural to inquire after the health of a young lady,’ Mr Wagner said seriously; he was, however, winking at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised by Mr Wagner. She had expected him to be a terrible flirt, judging by his greeting. It seemed, however, that he was just poking fun at the convention of paying ladies compliments by delivering them mock-seriously. He had, as she had noticed previously, a pleasing countenance and, as he was also witty, it seemed, she hoped that she could count him among her acquaintances very soon. She decided to find out more about him.

‘Mr Wagner,’ Elizabeth said, ‘forgive me for asking, but what is the origin of your name? It does not sound very English, if I may say so.’

She had realised that it was up to her to keep the conversation going, for Mary had buried her nose in her book already and had stumbled over a tree root twice already. It was, however, Elizabeth thought, not too great a burden, for Mr Wagner was pleasant to converse with.

‘Indeed, it is not,’ Mr Wagner answered. ‘It is a German name, as a matter of fact.’

‘Are you German as well?’ Elizabeth asked incredulously.

‘Why, you have found me out already,’ Mr Wagner said and laughed, ‘I confess, I am German - or rather, half-German. My father was a German. My mother, however, was English.’

‘You speak English remarkably well,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The other - I mean, other German speakers of English I have encountered were not as fluent. You must have practiced very hard.’

‘I grew up in England,’ Mr Wagner said, ‘so I am afraid I cannot accept that compliment.’

He hesitated; it seemed as if he wanted to say something else.

‘Miss Bennet - forgive me, but - did you say there were other German speakers in the area?’

‘Why, yes, there is Herr Darcy of course,’ Elizabeth said, recalling the previous evening only too well.

‘Not Friedrich Wilhelm Darcy?’ Mr Wagner asked incredulously. ‘The owner of Pemberley in Derbyshire?’

‘I believe so, yes, even though he never told me his birth name.’

'So you are acquainted with him personally?' Somehow, it seemed to Elizabeth that this was more than just pleasant conversation. Mr Wagner was eagerly awaiting the answer to his question; she saw him looking directly at her.

'Yes, I am,' she replied, studying his expression carefully. 'I have known him for a couple of weeks now.'

'Is he - I mean, dare I ask whether you are well -'

‘Herr Darcy is a good friend of our family, Mr Wagner,’ Mary suddenly said, ‘we consider him to be a very well-educated and informed gentleman and appreciate his company immensely.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Mr Wagner said and added hastily, ‘I did not mean to imply anything else.’

He seemed to be disappointed in some way, though, Elizabeth noticed, and his smile appeared rather forced to her all of a sudden.

‘Are you acquainted with Herr Darcy, Mr Wagner?’ she asked; she was rather curious what the stranger might tell her about Herr Darcy.

‘I have encountered him before.’

Mr Wagner remained silent for the rest of their walk and Elizabeth saw no occasion to talk to any of her companions. Mary was still attempting to walk and read at the same time, Mr Wagner was either sulking or pondering something, Elizabeth did not know which, and Mr Denny had taken the lead and was walking so fast that Elizabeth could hardly follow his strides.

At Longbourn, meanwhile, Mr Collins was nervously pacing up and down in the breakfast parlour. Now and then he stopped and peeked out of one of the windows, staring anxiously into the distance for a moment before resuming his solitary walk. Most unfortunately for him, nobody seemed to take any notice of the terror he was feeling. Mr Bennet was reading a letter full of delightful gossip that had just arrived for him from his sister, Mrs Philips.

‘Mrs Philips reminds us that we are invited to her house this evening,’ he told his wife. ‘Of course, Mr Collins, you are also invited.’

‘How very nice of her,’ said Mrs Bennet and buttered herself a slice of toast. ‘Will you be coming, Charlotte?’

‘Of course we will. Father would be very angry if Maria and I did not go.’

‘I do hope Charles can make it,’ Jane said dreamily. She tried to eat some porridge, but failed miserably in the attempt to bring spoon and bowl together. ‘He is not sure whether he can see me today, because he has visitors.’

‘Oh, who cares about Charles?’ Lydia asked.

‘I do!’ Jane protested, but nobody listened to her.

‘I hope that Denny and Carter can come, and little Chamberlayne. It is no fun without them!’

Kitty snickered. ‘I wonder whether Carter will bring his -’

She was not to finish that sentence, however, for Mr Collins had finally decided to speak about his worries.

‘My dear Mr Bennet,’ he asked his host, ‘are you quite, quite sure you do not want to send one of the servants after Miss Elizabeth, to make sure no harm has come to her, and to Miss Mary, of course?’

‘Oh, nonsense, Mr Collins. The girl does this all the time. Rumbles around the country, unaccompanied, stays out late, that kind of thing,’ Mr Bennet stated from behind the letter. ‘She shall turn up, sooner or later, and then I’ll have a word with her for abandoning you like this, Mr Collins.’

‘But these are dangerous times, sir. Lady von Burg herself has said it many times. ‘Mr Collins,’ she most graciously said when I took my leave, ‘Mr Collins, these are dangerous times. One never knows what to expect when one travels. Especially,’ she added most wisely, ‘especially in this country. You never know,’ she said, ‘this country is full of highwaymen. It is a sport of the English,’ she most condescendingly informed me, ‘they have an inclination for robbery on the highways.’ Therefore, Mr Bennet, I can only warn you of the dangers that might befall a young lady if she strolls out - all innocently, of that I am convinced, for I dare say Miss Elizabeth would not willingly subject us to this terror and anxiety that we feel as we are eagerly awaiting her return. We can not be too cautious in our actions, nor too careful in how we behave, for these are most dangerous times indeed.’

‘But Mr Collins, Lizzy is not even out on one of the main roads,’ Mrs Bennet said not unkindly. ‘I do think she should be safe in Meryton, together with Mary.’

‘Oh, Kitty, look!’ Lydia suddenly squealed. She pointed out of one of the windows and jumped up from the table.

‘Who is it?’ Kitty asked and got up as well.

‘Is it Miss Elizabeth? Is she unhurt?’ Mr Collins mopped his brow with an enormous checkered handkerchief.

‘Why, Kitty, I believe it may be Denny!’ Lydia cried.

‘Oooh! What can he want, so early in the morning?’

‘He must have found Miss Elizabeth. He is come to bring us the unhappy news - the news that she -’ Mr Collins clutched his chest in the area where he presumed his heart to be.

‘What is that noise?’ Charlotte asked when a rumbling could be heard outside the house. ‘Do you think that is a carriage?’

‘It must be Charles!’ Jane exclaimed and hastened to the door. ‘He managed to come after all!’

Elizabeth watched the carriage which had just overtaken them pulling up in front of the house.

‘Who would visit us so early in the morning?’ she asked Mary. Mary did not listen, but read on. Elizabeth grabbed her sleeve just in time before she tripped over the kitchen cat, who had enjoyed a nap in the autumn sun in the front yard.

‘Allow me to escort you to the house, Miss Mary,’ Mr Wagner said and gallantly offered his arm to Mary. ‘We do not want any accidents, do we?’

The carriage came to a halt in front of the door, which opened in that precise moment. Jane left the house, spoon still in her hand and rushed down the stairs. Elizabeth, fearing that something dreadful had happened, lifted her skirts and ran towards her, leaving a surprised Mr Denny behind.

‘Charles!’ Jane cried. In the same moment, Elizabeth cried, ‘Jane!’ and hastened to her sister.

‘Are you alright, Jane?’ she cried. ‘Has anything happened?’

The carriage door opened. ‘Charles!’ Jane cried again. Elizabeth had reached Jane. ‘What is the matter?’ she asked, grabbing Jane’s hand.

‘Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth! Thank the heavens I have found you!’

‘Miss Bingley?’ Elizabeth and Jane exclaimed in unison as Caroline Bingley stepped out of the carriage. She seemed to have departed in haste. The knot on her bonnet was awry, her pelisse was buttoned the wrong way and one of her gloves was worn inside out.

‘I need your help!’ Miss Bingley stated. ‘The most horrid thing -’

‘You made it safely!’ Mr Collins cried. Unnoticed by any of the others, he had left the house and quietly slipped down the stairs. ‘You are unharmed!’

He shook the hands of both Mr Denny and Mr Wagner. ‘Thank you, my dear sirs, for returning her to us. I assure you, we are most, most grateful to you. I cannot thank you enough.’

‘We did not -’ Mr Denny began, but he was interrupted by a shrill squeal of delight.

‘Denny! You sly thing, you wanted to surprise us!’ Lydia shrieked as she and Kitty rushed down the stairs. Elizabeth sighed. She could see Mary sneaking away quietly, book tightly clutched to her chest, seeking refuge in the kitchens.

‘Miss Catherine! What a pleasure to see you! And Miss Lydia, you as well. I hope you are well?’

‘Who is your friend, Denny?’ Lydia demanded. ‘I insist that you introduce us at once.’

‘Richard Wagner, at your service,’ Mr Wagner said and bowed, which earned him a giggle from Lydia. ‘And you must be Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia Bennet. I have heard so much about you already.’

‘Has anything happened to Charles?’ Jane asked Miss Bingley, ignoring the squeals of her younger sisters in the background. ‘Has he fallen ill?’

‘Oh, Charles is fine, of course,’ Miss Bingley replied. ‘He is fine. He does not know what I suffer!’

‘My dear cousin, you are unwell?’ Mr Collins said and took her hand. ‘You must sit down immediately. Let me assist you.’

‘Are you sure Charles is -’ Jane began, but Miss Bingley was already being led inside by Mr Collins, who had taken her arm and was ignoring her protests.

‘Can I get you a glass of water? A cordial? Anything to relieve your suffering?’ he asked anxiously after he had led her to an armchair in the parlour.

‘A glass of water would be nice,’ Miss Bingley admitted.

‘I shall see to it that you get it immediately,’ Mr Collins announced and strode off in search of the kitchens, for he did not trust any of the maids with this mission.

‘Are you alright, Miss Bingley?’ Elizabeth asked; she and Jane had followed them inside.

‘How is Charles?’ Jane asked again.

‘I have come to ask your help,’ Miss Bingley said. ‘Miss Bennet - my dear Jane, I should say - and Miss Elizabeth, you find me in despair. I need your help. I have no idea how to deal with the situation that has arisen at Netherfield.’

Part Thirteen

‘Ah, it is wonderful to enjoy a quiet breakfast for once,’ Mrs Bennet remarked to Charlotte. ‘I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it that my daughters left us to finish our meal in solitude.’

Just then, Mr Bennet finished his letter and looked up. ‘Where is everybody?’ he asked, very confused. ‘Where is Mr Collins?’

‘I think Elizabeth came back and he wanted to greet her, sir,’ Charlotte answered.

‘And where is Jane?’

‘She said that Mr Bingley was coming and rushed to see him, sir.’

‘And Kitty and my Liddy? They’re not distracting Mr Collins from courting Lizzy, I hope?’

‘Oh, no, sir. They saw two officers coming and went to greet them.’

Mr Bennet was momentarily overwhelmed. The idea that four of his five daughters were entertaining gentlemen that very moment was entirely too much for him. He drank a full cup of tea before he was able to speak again.

‘Officers, did you say, Miss Lucas? Officers coming to visit us this early in the day?’

‘Yes, I believe so, sir. I think Lydia said it was Mr Denny and a friend.’

‘Well, well, we are honoured indeed,’ Mr Bennet said and beamed. ‘You must make sure to tell your father about this, Miss Lucas, he will want to hear how -’

‘My dear Mr Bennet,’ said his wife, ‘had you not better see to it that Kitty and Lydia offer Mr Denny and his friend some refreshments? For all that I can see, the four of them are still standing out there in the yard, and I am sure they would all enjoy a cup of tea.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Mr Bennet said and left the room hastily. Mrs Bennet and Charlotte could hear him calling for Mrs Hill in the distance. Then, when he had ordered that tea be served in the parlour immediately, the house went quiet.

‘I have been dreaming of this for years,’ Mrs Bennet announced to the room in general and sipped her tea with her eyes closed.

‘Why exactly did we have to depart from Longbourn so hastily?’ Elizabeth asked as the carriage rumbled over the country lanes.

‘Your cousin,’ Miss Bingley pointed out, as if that was enough. ‘He came back with the water, and I was in no state to meet him again.’

‘I am sure he means well,’ Jane said softly.

‘I know he means well,’ Miss Bingley said. ‘He means much too well.’

‘I do not see how that could be bad -’ Jane began, but Miss Bingley interrupted her.

‘My dear Jane, surely you must have noticed how he did not leave me alone all night last night? He is courting me. And I have no mind to be courted by him, especially not now when I have more pressing things to deal with.’

When Miss Bingley had asked Jane and Elizabeth whether they would accompany her back to Netherfield, Jane had not hesitated and accepted the invitation in both their names. Elizabeth had found herself ushered into the carriage before she could ask anything. Miss Bingley suddenly seemed to view Jane and Elizabeth as her best friends, and that was what surprised Elizabeth most. She did not really dislike Miss Bingley, but she could not say that she liked her very much either. Before these incidents, she had thought that her feelings were returned, but now, she was not so sure anymore. She needed to find out what exactly Miss Bingley thought she was doing, and why she was being rushed to Netherfield in this manner.

‘And what are these things, pray? Why did we have to go to Netherfield immediately?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Because I do not dare to encounter them alone,’ Miss Bingley said matter-of-factly, ‘and my siblings are not much help.’

‘Where is Charles?’ Jane asked at once.

‘Why, in his study,’ Miss Bingley said, ‘writing a poem, or so it sounds. Oh, heavens, I was not supposed to tell you. Do not tell him I told you. He locked himself into the study before breakfast and has not left it since, as far as I know. And Louisa claims that Mr Hurst is ill from the port he had last night and she needs to nurse him.’

She sighed impressively, obviously waiting for empathy, but Jane was staring out of the window dreamily, and Elizabeth was eagerly waiting for the punchline of Miss Bingley’s story.

‘Yes,’ Miss Bingley said and sighed again, ‘and thus I was left all alone with them.’

‘But who are they?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘And why are they wherever they are?’

‘I have no idea why they are there,’ Miss Bingley admitted. ‘I am not even quite sure who they are, but they frighten me. They all flock around Herr Darcy, it is incredible. And those pestilential dogs - they are everywhere. There must be at least a dozen of them.’

‘Are you talking about Herr Darcy’s relatives?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Yes, of course. Who else?’

‘And they are trying to scare you?’

‘Well, I am not absolutely sure what exactly they want to do, but they surely drive me mad. One of them - I think she is his aunt - knocked on my door at five in the morning and demanded that I go on a walk with her. And she keeps making hints about my appearance, I think.’

‘So they do speak English?’ Elizabeth asked, remembering that Miss Bingley’s knowledge of German was limited.

‘In a way.’

Elizabeth was about to ask Miss Bingley what she meant by this cryptic comment, but at that moment the carriage stopped in front of the steps at Netherfield.

‘Jane!’ cried Mr Bingley and rushed out of the house, spoon still in his hand. Elizabeth concluded that he probably had finished writing his poem, for otherwise, it would probably have been a pen. He jumped down the stairs, three at a time, and landed at the bottom at the same moment that the carriage came to a halt.

‘Charles!’ cried Jane and jumped out of the carriage, spoon still in her hand. Elizabeth was unable to say who hugged the other first, but by the time she and Miss Bingley had climbed out of the carriage, the two of them were embracing tightly and oblivious to all that happened around them. Miss Bingley cleared her throat loudly while Elizabeth tried to tug Jane’s gown, but it did not help at all. Suddenly, a woman screeched.

‘What art thou doing, scoundrel? Unhand the maiden ere my stick hitteth you!’

A woman of rather large proportions stood at the top of the stairs. She was clad in an enormous amount of what looked like brown tweed. Her greying hair was wound around her head in two large braids that were held together by what seemed to be a bow out of the brown material. She was followed by several dogs which looked exactly like Herr Darcy’s Wilhelmina, varying only in size.

‘Thou hast been warned, scoundrel!’ she screeched and climbed down the stairs with an amazing speed, and without the aid of the walking stick she was carrying.

‘I said, thou art a scoundrel, sir, and thou shalt unhand her!’

Mr Bingley still did not react, but the woman now lifted the stick above her head.

‘Was zum Henker machen Sie dort, Tante?’ Herr Darcy had appeared at the top of the stairs and was staring incredulously at the woman in brown.

‘Wonach sieht es aus? Ich bringe dem Halunken Manieren bei!‘

‘Tante, Sie koennen doch - but zat is Mr Bingley, aunt, and his fiancée! You cannot - er ist Ihr Gastgeber, Tante!’* Herr Darcy’s face looked flushed as he jumped down the stairs and placed himself between his aunt and Mr Bingley.

The woman in brown reluctantly lowered her stick again and wheezed loudly, then slowly went back into the house, muttering in German. Only now did Herr Darcy realise that there were other people witnessing the scene.
‘Miss Bennet,’ he said and bowed stiffly, ‘how nice to see you again.’

‘Herr Darcy,’ Elizabeth said and curtsied. She had not forgotten his outrageous proposal.

‘Vhy - err - vhy do you not come in and join us for breakfast? I vould love to introduce you to my family.’ Herr Darcy offered his arm to her.

‘Oh, that is an excellent idea,’ Miss Bingley said and took his arm, signalling to Elizabeth that she should take the other. ‘Do come in, Miss Elizabeth, you must be hungry.’

‘You have already met my aunt, Fraeulein von Wilhelm - she is my mother's sister - Tante Wilhelmina, zis is Miss Elizabeth Bennet -’

The woman in brown, who was standing next to a window, inclined her head a little, which Elizabeth took as an acknowledgement of her presence.

‘And may I introduce you to my cousin, Fraeulein von Wilhelm - her father was my mother's brother - Heidi, meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

The second Fraeulein von Wilhelm was a young girl in a pale pink dress. She was short and thin and her blonde hair was hanging in looped plaits behind her ears. Upon seeing Elizabeth, she blushed and hastily averted her eyes.

‘And my cousin, Herr von Wilhelm - the eldest son of my uncle - Fritz, meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

This cousin was a tall, thin gentleman with a receding hairline. He was also blond and seemed to be a little older than his cousin. Upon seeing Elizabeth, he got up, mumbled a greeting and bowed awkwardly before setting down again.

‘And you have already met Oberst von Wilhelm yesterday - he is my uncle's younger son.’

Elizabeth was not entirely sure whether she had understood Herr Darcy's genealogical explanations, but it appeared that the two gentlemen and the young girl were siblings and that the elder lady was their aunt.

‘Fraeulein Elisabeth,’ the blond giant Elizabeth had met the previous evening said and got up, ‘it is a pleasure to meet you again so soon. Ve haff not had an opportoonity to talk.’

Elizabeth was glad that at least one of Herr Darcy’s relatives deemed her worthy to talk to and set down next to him. He helped her to a cup of coffee and assisted her in buttering a roll. The elder Fraeulein von Wilhelm was still peeking out of the window.

‘Yon scoundrel hath not yet released the maid,’ she said finally and wheezed again.

‘Aunt, will you not sit down with us?’ Herr Darcy, who was sitting across from Elizabeth, next to the younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm, asked.

‘Methinks the lady ought protest,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm said, wheezed again and said down on Herr Darcy’s other side.

‘You speak English very well, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Your accent is practically flawless.’

Miss Bingley snickered, but Fraeulein von Wilhelm did not seem to care. ‘I thank ye, Miss Elizabeth,’ she boomed and inclined her head again. ‘ ‘twas the Bard from Stratford who taught me.’

‘What, Shakespeare?’ Miss Bingley asked incredulously. ‘But he has been dead these two hundred years.’

‘And he hath taught me well,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm continued, ignoring Miss Bingley. ‘The praise of course belongeth to my father. When I was young a girl, whene’er I misbehaved, he let me copy passages from Shakespeare and then learn them by heart.’

‘Your father must have been a clever man,’ Elizabeth said, privately thinking that the statement explained a lot. ‘You must be happy to be able to communicate with Englishmen without any problems.’

‘I am,’ the lady stated loudly. ‘Yon swain and maid are not as happy.’

She pointed at Herr von Wilhelm, who was looking dumbstruck as Miss Bingley lifted the coffeepot and asked him, very loudly, ‘Do you want coffee?’ Herr von Wilhelm blushed and shook his head. Miss Bingley, taking this as a sign of him not understanding her, then asked, even louder, ‘Voulez-vous du café?‘ Herr von Wilhelm shook his head again. Before Miss Bingley could try another language, however, the young girl spoke up.

‘Ve drink not coffee,’ she said very quietly. ‘Our aunt not vants zat.’

‘Thou art not old enough,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm promptly said.

‘Do you want milk then, perhaps?’ Miss Bingley asked. ‘Du lait?‘

‘Is she fresh?’ Herr von Wilhelm mumbled.

‘He likes not old milk,’ the young girl explained. ‘He not dares try it.’

‘Well, of course it is fresh,’ Miss Bingley said and momentarily forgot to speak very slow and very loud.

‘Is she cow?’

Miss Bingley almost spat her coffee on the table.

‘Fritz!’ Herr Darcy and Oberst von Wilhelm exclaimed in unison.

‘Benimm dich, Bursche!‘** roared Fraeulein von Wilhelm.

The younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm, however, was not taken aback, but whispered, ‘He likes not goat-milk.’

‘I think Herr von Wilhelm wants to ask whether the milk is from a cow,’ Elizabeth said quietly.

‘Why, yes, of course it is fresh cow-milk,’ Miss Bingley said, confused.

‘Drink thy milk, swain!’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm commanded. She took a large gulp of coffee from her cup and a hearty bite from her roll, then said to Herr Darcy, in a very audible whisper, ‘Yon maid is lean and meagre. Methinks she needeth fattening.’

‘Tante! Von wem sprechen Sie?‘ Herr Darcy hissed back.

‘Yon maid of course. The scoundrel’s sister,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm whispered just as audible. ‘Methinks Wilhelm could marry her.’

‘Tante! Wuerden Sie das bitte nicht am Fruehstueckstisch besprechen?‘***

‘It is a shame your sister Mary is not here,’ Miss Bingley said, obviously unperturbed by the recent conversation. ‘She could interpret for us.’

‘Oh, yes, she would love that,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘She likes nothing better than foreign languages.’

‘Is zat your sister Mary?’ Oberst von Wilhelm suddenly asked as Mr Bingley and Jane, both flushed, entered the room. ‘Huebsches Ding, Darcy, eh?‘****

‘Wilhelm! Behave yourself!’ Herr Darcy hissed.

As Herr Darcy introduced Jane to his family, Elizabeth could not fail to notice that his two cousins reacted very much in the same way to Jane as they had reacted to herself. She wondered why they were so very much intimidated by strangers. The elder Fraeulein von Wilhelm, however, motioned for Jane to sit next to her and began to interrogate her about her engagement and her plans for the wedding in great detail.

‘Nothing doth give me more pleasure than a wedding,’ she told Jane. ‘Yon swain can be happy to have ye, fair maid.’

‘I am happy to have him,’ Jane beamed. ‘Charles is so good to me. He is the most wonderful man on earth.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Charles, sit down, please! Have some coffee,’ Herr Darcy said as Mr Bingley continued to gape at his fiancée open-mouthed. The younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm handed the coffeepot to Mr Bingley with trembling hands.

‘What was that?’ Miss Bingley suddenly squeaked. ‘Something cold - and wet - and gross - it touched my hand just now!’

* ‘What on earth are you doing there, aunt?’ Herr Darcy […] was staring incredulously at the woman in brown.
‘What does it look like? I am teaching the scoundrel some manners.’
‘Aunt, you cannot - but zat is Mr Bingley, aunt, and his fiancée! You cannot - he is your host, aunt!’

** ’Behave, boy!’ roared Fraeulein von Wilhelm.

*** ‘Aunt! Who are you talking about?‘ Herr Darcy hissed back.
‘Yon maid of course. […] Methinks Wilhelm could marry her.’
‘Aunt! Would you please not discuss such things at the breakfast table!’

**** ‘Pretty girl, Darcy, eh?’

Part Fourteen

‘Est-ce que vous n’aimez pas des chiens?‘* Oberst von Wilhelm asked innocently.

‘Art that thou, Siegfried?’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm boomed. ‘Under yon table?’

‘That not is Siegfried.’

‘Oh, those pestilential dogs!’ Miss Bingley cried. ‘How many of them are there?’

‘Let me find it out for you, madame,’ Oberst von Wilhelm said and dove under the table. ‘Zere is Kriemhild, Gunther, Oedipus -’

‘Mine Oedipus!’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm said. ‘Poor little babe! Thou frighten’st him, Wilhelm!’

‘And here come Chlodwig and Sieglinde -’

‘Sacres chiens,’ mumbled Miss Bingley.

‘Aunt, could you please take ze dogs outside?’ Herr Darcy asked. ‘I zink Chlodwig is trying to eat my shoe and Gunther is gnawing on ze leg of ze table.’

The elder Fraeulein von Wilhelm wheezed loudly, got up and limped out of the room, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Much to Elizabeth’s surprise, all five Alsatians followed her in line. Meanwhile, Miss Bingley and Oberst von Wilhelm had started a conversation in rapid French which Elizabeth was unable to follow.

‘You speak not French?’ the younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm asked her shyly.

‘Just a very little,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘My sister Mary has a greater talent for languages than I have.’

‘I speak not French eizer. My aunt likes not zat. She zinks not French is unimportant,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm said. She then realised how much she had said and blushed.

‘Has anyone made any plans for the day?’ Mr Bingley, who had hitherto just stared at his fiancée, suddenly asked.

‘Ve have not plans yet,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm whispered. ‘Our aunt has said not vhat ve vill do.’

‘Jane and I will go into the village,’ Mr Bingley announced. He beamed; obviously he had asked about the others’ plans just to be able to make that announcement.

‘I take it you vant to tell us vhy you are going zere? I am full of anticipation,’ Herr Darcy said.

‘We are going to ask the priest to read the banns for us next Sunday,’ Mr Bingley said, missing the sarcasm in Herr Darcy’s voice.

‘You are having ze banns read?’ Oberst von Wilhelm said, switching back to English, ‘I zought ze English bought licenses for zeir brides? Are not ze banns terribly common?’

‘I think it romantic,’ Miss Bingley sighed.

‘Vous pensez-ça?‘**

‘If we have the banns read next Sunday, we can be married in three weeks’ time,’ Jane said.

‘But you vill have not time for ze preparations,’ Fraeulein von Wilhelm whispered.

‘Oh, we do not need anything special,’ Jane said. ‘We just want to get married.’

‘We will have a little party on Saturday,’ Mr Bingley announced. ‘To celebrate our engagement.’

‘But Saturday is in two days, Charles! You cannot plan a party in two days!’ Herr Darcy said. ‘Zis is madness.’

‘It will not be a big party,’ Mr Bingley conceded. ‘Just a family affair. We shall invite Jane’s family, and mine, and yours of course, Darcy, and some friends from Meryton - the Lucases, the Longs and some of the officers. We will not have anything formal, just a dinner and some dancing in the ballroom afterwards. Jane and I have it all planned.’

‘Vhen did you plan -’

‘Oh, yesterday evening of course, when we retired to Mr Bennet’s library. What did you think we were doing in there?’

Here, Herr Darcy blushed and Elizabeth tried to hide a smile. She remembered Herr Darcy finding them in the library only too well.

‘Your guests are not at all as bad as you made them to be,’ Elizabeth said to Miss Bingley as they were sitting down on a bench in the park. After breakfast, Jane and Mr Bingley had left in the direction of the village and the elder Fraeulein von Wilhelm had announced that it was time for grooming the dogs and that everybody who wished to participate was heartily invited. Sensing Miss Bingley’s growing discomfort, Elizabeth had asked her to accompany her on a walk. Miss Bingley had readily accepted and extended the invitation to Herr Darcy and the Colonel, who had declined it. They claimed they had business to discuss, but judging by their clothing, Elizabeth guessed they wanted to venture out shooting.

‘Oh, you do not know what they were yesterday,’ Miss Bingley sighed. ‘When I came home from your little party yesterday, we heard them in the parlour. They were speaking in German, obviously, so we did not understand them, but the Oberst later told me that Herr Darcy and his aunt were heavily disagreeing on some matter. Charles of course was just smiling and saying that they were all welcome to stay as long as they liked. Then, Mr Hurst fell ill in the parlour and Louisa was screaming that port did not agree with him, and then the poor dear started crying because it upset her so much. I had to ask Fawcett to assist Mr Hurst upstairs and Cook to bring Louisa upstairs.’

‘That must have been a very unpleasant evening for you,’ Elizabeth said sympathetically. It was true, she found Miss Bingley a self-centred creature at times, but even if one allowed for some exaggerations, she had had enough to deal with the evening before. If Elizabeth understood her correctly, her guests could not have arrived at a worse moment. Miss Bingley’s brother had fallen ill that evening, her sister had no concern but for her husband and her brother was blissfully ignorant of his duties as a host. The task of entertaining the guests therefore fell to Miss Bingley as well as the task of providing for them. The housekeeper, it turned out, had been given leave for that night because her niece had been confined and had, in her excitement, taken the keys to the linen cupboard with her. The housemaids had therefore not known how to make the beds and Miss Bingley had had to ask a footman to break the cupboard open; she also had had to endure the complaints of the cook, who did not have enough food in the house for such a large party, especially because, as it turned out, Fraeulein von Wilhelm had provided her with a list of items which her nephews and niece would not eat.

‘That was just the beginning,’ Miss Bingley said. ’Herr Darcy and his aunt just continued arguing until the early hours. When the rooms had been readied, the dogs had to be fed, and then they wanted to change rooms because the dogs needed to sleep on the ground floor, and I had just gone to bed and fallen asleep when Herr Darcy’s aunt woke me again because she wanted to walk the dogs. I then realised I had to speak to the housekeeper about the guests. Poor Louisa was in hysterics because she thought Mr Hurst had taken a turn for the worse during the night and she asked me to send for the apothecary. Then I went to the kitchen to ask Cook for more herbal teas and I found her with a new list from Herr Darcy’s aunt. And then I -’

Miss Bingley broke off in the middle of the sentence and almost fell over on the seat.

‘Are you well?’ Elizabeth did not know what to do. She had heard that society ladies chose to faint at times, but she had never witnessed it. She was not sure what she was expected to do; in fact, she was not even sure whether Miss Bingley had fainted at all or whether something else ailed her.

‘Miss Bingley, can you -’

Miss Bingley snored loudly. Elizabeth was confused and relieved at the same time. This was not a faint, she decided, at least not the type of faint that romantic novels described. The fact that Miss Bingley was unconscious and sitting on a seat in the gardens remained, however, and she was sure that Miss Bingley would prefer to nap indoors. Elizabeth did not think that she would be able to handle her alone, especially not with her injured hand. Surely the best way to deal with this would be to get help from the house, she decided. She made sure that Miss Bingley was not in any immediate danger and set off in a brisk walk.

‘Charles scheint zufrieden zu sein, oder?’***

Elizabeth was glad she had taken the shortcut through the shrubbery. On the lawn beyond, she could clearly make out Herr Darcy and the Oberst, probably talking about Mr Bingley’s impending nuptials. They would certainly help Miss Bingley back into the house without drawing too much attention to the fact that she had fallen asleep in the gardens. Elizabeth was sure that Miss Bingley would prefer them to Fraeulein von Wilhelm, who would probably be accompanied by her dogs. She was just about to step out of the shrubbery and approach the two gentleman with her request when she heard her sister’s name.

‘Wilhelm, ich gebe zu, Jane Bennet ist ein reizendes Maedchen, aber -’****

Elizabeth had never learnt to speak German fluently, like Mary did. She had never attempted to become proficient in that field of study and, unlike Mary, she rarely picked up a German book or practiced her language skills and she had therefore forgotten most of what she had learnt. When Herr Darcy mentioned her sister, however, she kept listening to the German conversation, hidden behind a juniper tree. She wanted to find out what it was that Herr Darcy had to say about her sister, and to her amazement, even though she did not recognise every word, she understood the gist of what he was talking about.

‘You have not met her family yet,’ Herr Darcy said. ‘Jane Bennet is all that is good and great, I realise that, and I am sure Charles loves her, but Wilhelm, her family!’

‘But Miss Elizabeth is a charming -’

‘I know that she is, Wilhelm, but she is part of that family! She is part of that incredibly stupid, vulgar, horrid family! You have not met them, otherwise you would understand me. They are just not acceptable. The father is positively stupid, Wilhelm! He knows nothing about good manners. He shouts and screams and behaves in every vulgar way known to mankind. I am sure he has never read a book or had an intelligent conversation in all his life. His two youngest daughters are female versions of him, just as loud and vulgar and perhaps even sillier than he is, if that is at all possible.’

‘Darcy, are you not perhaps too hard on -’

‘No, no, I am not! I have watched them carefully, I have tried to find something to redeem them I assure you!’

Herr Darcy had now started to pace up and down on the lawn. He was heavily gesticulating and both Elizabeth and Oberst von Wilhelm watched him in amazement.

‘But there is nothing to redeem them, Wilhelm, absolutely nothing. They are just plain stupid, it is as easy as that.’

‘So the father and the two youngest children are not well-mannered, but surely, the mother and -’

‘The mother! She is a nice woman, I grant you. She is gentle and intelligent, but she is not exactly well-bred either. She was born in the country and she behaves like a country-woman. She does not mean any harm, but she has no real idea of how the more refined society works. She has no connections worth knowing. Her brother is in trade, Miss Bingley tells me. Her sister is the biggest gossip in town. Her husband is a stupid clown, and she does nothing about it. She has no influence over her family, Wilhelm. She ignores how bad her daughters have turned out. She simply does not want to see reality.’

‘Darcy, you are clearly over-reacting -’ the Oberst interrupted, but Herr Darcy did not seem to listen. He was pacing agitatedly and his voice became steadily louder.

‘It is a wonder that the eldest three girls have turned out the way they have. Still, no man could ever want to be connected to them. All Jane Bennet’s kindness, all Mary Bennet’s intelligence will not help them at all. They are country girls without money and little to recommend themselves apart from their personal charms. They have received no formal education, they have no standing in society outside this little village, they have little knowledge of the world beyond and no connection to it apart from an uncle in trade. Plainly speaking, they are a family one does not want to be connected with, and I am fearing that Charles is making a great mistake.’

‘But he loves her, Darcy! Have you seen him with her? He loves her, and she is a wonderful creature.’

‘What good is that, Wilhelm? I know he thinks he loves her, and she is the most wonderful creature in the world, but would that be enough? Would I be truly happy? I just keep thinking I would regret this step all my life, but she is - she is amazing, Wilhelm, she is just amazing. I cannot even say why, she just is. And yet - but as a man of honour, how could I - and still -’

‘Darcy, what on earth are you talking about?’ The Oberst had walked over to Herr Darcy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Herr Darcy was now very red in the face and his carefully arranged curls were tousled and on end because he had run his hand through his hair repeatedly.

‘What were you talking about, Darcy?’ The Oberst asked again. ‘Who were you talking about?’

‘Nothing, Wilhelm, nothing,’ Herr Darcy said and ran his hand through his hair again. ‘I have no idea what I was talking about. I have been having a headache all morning, I do not know what came over me.’

‘Good,’ the Oberst said, ‘for a moment I thought you were confessing your love for Fraeulein Bennet to me.’

‘Fraeulein Bennet! Of course not! The idea is ridiculous!’

Elizabeth could hardly believe what she had heard. She had always known that Herr Darcy fancied himself to be better than the people of Meryton, and especially her family, but she had no idea that he was that much disgusted with her family. Who did he think he was? He had no right, none at all, to say these horrible things about anybody, and certainly not about her family. Her good hand had clenched into a fist, she noticed now, and she was shaking with anger. How dared he say these things? What made him think he was so much better than others, that he had the right to censure them and insult them behind their backs? Did he not realise that people might be listening who would be upset, she asked herself. Then she realised. It was no use getting angry. She had been eavesdropping on him and his cousin. There was no way she could reprimand him about what he had said about her family without admitting she had eavesdropped. A man might have been able to call him out without stating a reason, but she was not. There was no way she could bring her opinion of him to his attention without reinforcing his notion that her family was impolite and vulgar. She would have to live with the knowledge that he, and possibly also Miss Bingley and her sister, thought her family beneath them. Upon thinking of Miss Bingley, she remembered why she had walked into the shrubbery in the first place. She swallowed her anger as good as she could and stepped out onto the grass. Herr Darcy was now standing with his back to her and the Oberst spotted her first and inclined his head to acknowledge her. Then Herr Darcy spun around and, upon seeing her, his face instantly turned pale.

‘Fraeulein Bennet!’ he stammered and bowed awkwardly.

‘I was looking for you,’ Elizabeth replied in English, ‘and I heard you talking.’

‘You - you heard zat ve vere talking?’ Herr Darcy asked, switching back to English. His face was ashen; his smile forced.

‘But you were speaking German,’ Elizabeth said calmly, not wanting to betray any emotion, ‘of course I could not understand you.’

* ‘Do you not like dogs?’

** ‘You think so?’

*** ‘Charles seems to be content, does he not?’

**** ‘Wilhelm, I admit, Jane Bennet is a charming girl, but …’

Part Fifteen

Posted on 2009-04-05

'Why again did Miss Bingley choose to come here together with her brother?' Mary asked as she was doing Elizabeth's hair.

'I cannot tell you,' Elizabeth said. 'When Mr Bingley announced that he would escort Jane and me home and then go to the Phillips' with us, she sort of shrieked and announced she was coming with us; she did not want to stay at Netherfield alone. She would not have been alone, of course, Herr Darcy and his family and the Hursts are still there, even though the Hursts have not been seen all day, Mr Hurst not feeling very well. Aunt Phillips of course invited the whole party from Netherfield, but Herr Darcy and his relatives declined, because they cannot leave the dogs alone; they are not used yet to their new surroundings.'

Elizabeth snorted. 'I suspect that it is rather the lack of refined company that holds Herr Darcy back. He surely cannot mix with people as vulgar as we are, with nothing to recommend us.'

'Lizzy, I am sure that you must have misunderstood him - I am sure that Herr Darcy would never say what you think he said.' Mary resolutely swept up Elizabeth's hair from her neck and tried to pin it up, but had no luck.

'If only it would curl properly,' she sighed. 'This is a right frizz. I cannot make anything nice out of it.'

'I told you, Mary, I did not misunderstand him,' Elizabeth said. 'Um es deutlich zu sagen, das ist eine Familie, mit der man nicht in Verbindung gebracht werden will. Those were his words. Es sind Maedchen vom Lande ohne Vermögen und mit keinen Qualitaeten ausser ihrer Persoenlichkeit. I did not misunderstand that.'*

Mary twisted Elizabeth's hair into a tight knot and began pinning it.

'Well, he does have a point, does he not,' she said. 'And I suppose that you could say that our father's manners are not the most refined either.'

'Remember what I told you he said about mama!' Elizabeth said. 'And even if it were true, he has no right - no right at all - to speak of our family like this. Who does he think he is? He comes into this village - our village! - and he is determined to hate every single one of us. I ask you, are those good manners? How dare he speak like that about our family? His family - his faithful disciples, I should say - are no better. They certainly do not have very refined manners themselves.'

'All the more reason to suppose that he was not criticising us nearly as severely as you think he was, is it not?' Mary asked. 'These curls in the fringe are far too curly. This will never do. You look like a formidable poodle!'

'I could stay at home and wash my hair,' Elizabeth suggested. 'I am in no mood to smile the whole evening anyway.'

'You could not,' Mary said, 'our father would never let you wash your hair tonight, when there is the engagement party in two days. I imagine there will be much to-do with the hot kettles tomorrow. And in any case, I am sure that Mr Wagner will be at Aunt Phillips', will he not?'

'I suppose so,' Elizabeth said, 'not that I care for his company at all, but at least he is civil. Do you think you could get the curls half-way decent?'

'Not me, I am useless, but I know just who might.'

Mary went over to the door, poked her head into the corridor and yelled, 'Kitty! Can you come over for a second?' The door on her right opened and Mr Bennet looked out.

'Mary, you are not yet dressed!' he pointed out. 'Hurry, girl, you know Mr Hare-Darcy has an eye on you.'

'Well, I do not have any part of my body on him,' Mary snapped, 'and he is not coming to the Phillips' party in any case.'

'Is not?' Mr Bennet repeated. 'Did you say anything to upset him?'

'I did not speak to him all day, sir,' Mary pointed out, 'I was reading my book.'

'I tell you, Mary, if you do not stop reading those books, you shall never find a husband, and when I am dead, what shall become of you? You will be quite at your sisters' mercy and I do not suppose that either Mrs Bingley's or Mrs Collins' husband shall be willing to take you in, if you do not stop reading those horrid books. Go and get dressed, my girl, and try to be nice to Mr Hare-Darcy!'

'I am doing Lizzy's hair at the moment, sir,' Mary replied, unmoved. She was far too used to her father's schemes to try to argue with him. 'Have you seen Kitty?'

'Mr Collins as good as offered for Lizzy, there is no need to do anything about her hair!' Mr Bennet exclaimed. 'It is your hair you should worry about! Does it have to be that straight?'

The door on Mary's left opened and Mrs Bennet emerged.

'My dear, do you have to shout so much in the corridors?' she asked. 'You know how my ear is always bad in this weather.'

'Have you seen Kitty, mama?' Mary asked.

The door opposite Mary opened to reveal Kitty in a pale pink shift the same moment that Mr Collins stepped out of the door to his room. He saw Kitty in her shift, Mary in her grey dressing-gown, with her hair hanging loose around her face and Mrs Bennet with her hair in pin curls and a plaid around her shoulders, emitted a faint squeak, blushed to the roots of his hair and tumbled down the stairs, only to run into Jane and Mr Bingley, who had sneaked into the hallway for some privacy.

'So you have been in Hertfordshire all your life?' Caroline Bingley asked Charlotte Lucas. The silence in the drawing-room had grown rather uncomfortable when Mr Bingley and Jane had left them, and Miss Bingley, as the more worldly of the two, had felt it her duty to start a conversation. She could not explain why she was feeling so benign of late; not only had she made efforts to befriend the Bennet girls, but she had encouraged her brother in his engagement to Jane, when she had previously vouched that she should guarantee he would not marry anyone but dear Georgie Darcy. It had then, of course, turned out that Miss Darcy's name was not Georgie after all, and that she was, it appeared, not even fluent in the English language.

'I have been to London with my parents,' Charlotte said, 'and once I stayed with my grandmother in Wales for the summer.'

Miss Bingley tried her best to suppress her yawn. It was not as easy as people supposed to mingle with the locals, one really had to be on one's guard. She thought she was doing quite well with the Bennet sisters by now, who had at least some spirit, but Charlotte Lucas, in spite of probably being an admirable young lady, proved to be much more difficult.

'Wales?' she asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. 'Really?'

The door sprung open and admitted Mr Collins, fairly red in the face and gasping for air. After having awkwardly stumbled onto his feet again after his crash into Jane and Mr Bingley, he had run into Lydia, who, with nothing but pin curls and petticoats on herself, had come from the kitchen where she had searched for lavender oil.

'Embarrassing,' he wheezed. 'Nudity! Embracing in the hallway! Indecency! Full frontal nudity! Embarrassing!'

'Indeed,' said Miss Bingley, glad for any reason not to talk about Wales. 'How uncomfortable.'

Mr Collins dropped into the seat next to her and took her hand.

'You are quite right,' he said, 'your delicate feelings must naturally - and let me tell you that I do admire the rightfulness of -'

Miss Bingley tried to move away from him without appearing uncivil, but found that it was not possible. She was already sitting at the edge of the sofa and Mr Collins' sweating hands had hers in a tight grip. She grimaced uncomfortably, which was, unfortunately, mistaken by Mr Collins for a smile.

'My dear, dear cousin,' he said and tried to move even closer to her, 'you must allow me to tell you how ardently -'

Miss Bingley was saved, this time, by Charlotte, who gave a little cough and cleared her throat. Mr Collins perceived that he had almost committed a horrible faux pas, in declaring himself to his intended in front of her sister (for he was still suffering under the misapprehension that both Miss Bingley and Miss Lucas were cousins of his), which was, as he pondered, probably not the way these delicate affairs were usually handled.

'You are quite right, of course,' he said and moved away from Miss Bingley, 'the situation is most inappropriate, as indeed, your sense of propriety will already have told you. I must beg your pardon for behaving so shamefully just now - there can be no excuse - none at all - indeed, if my dear patroness, Lady von Burg, knew how abominably - but fortunately, my fair cousin Charlotte had the presence of mind -'

Charlotte stopped his stuttered effusions with a gracious smile. Miss Bingley, on the other hand, was about to launch into an explanation that neither she nor Charlotte were cousins of his, whether fair or dear. It was bad enough, she thought, to be mistaken for a sister of the Bennet girls, but to be brought into a connection with Miss Lucas, for whom a trip to Wales was the height of fashion, was intolerable and she had to rectify this misapprehension of her unwanted suitor at once. She was cut short, however, by the door bursting open once more and admitting Mr Bingley and Jane, whose arms were still around each other.

'So Charlotte was here all day?' Elizabeth asked.

'Yes, she and mama were re-arranging the books in the library or some such boring thing,' Kitty said. She had a comb in one hand and a large, hard brush in the other and tried her best to reform Elizabeth's curls. 'You would think they might do something more interesting, but there they were, all day, talking about books, of all things, if you will imagine, or something equally dull. Why, I believe Charlotte even got her embroidery out.'

'Mary, did you not join them?' Elizabeth asked.

'I was helping out in the kitchen,' Mary said curtly. Elizabeth inferred from this, rightly, that Mary had sought refuge in the kitchen with her new book, and that Cook, who doted on Mary, had allowed her to read it in front of the kitchen fire and had provided her with a plate of hot crumpets and a glass of cold milk.

'You should have come with us,' Kitty said. 'We had such a good time with Denny and Mr Wagner, and then we went into the village and Lydia bought ribbons in the most hideous colour, and then we went to our aunt's, and she told us what she has planned for tonight, and she said she thought Lydia's ribbons very revolting, and then we met Denny and Mr Wagner again and they walked us back home and we had so much fun.'

'Did you?' Mary asked unconcernedly. Now that Kitty had taken over the task of making Elizabeth presentable, she had felt free to bury her nose in her book again, and she intended to do so for the rest of the evening, party or no party.

'You really should have joined us,' Kitty insisted again. 'You would have had so much fun with Mr Wagner. Lydia says he is the best-looking of all the officers, but I think that Mr Denny is also very handsome, but anyway, Mr Wagner is very nice, and so friendly, and he speaks a foreign language, you know.'

'I do not like him, he is perfectly gothic,' muttered Mary and with that cryptic remark left the room in search of a quiet place. She had no such luck, however, because she ran into her father again, who seriously reprimanded her for still not having done her hair or put on her good dress, confiscated her book and promised she should only have it back when she looked like a girl that Mr Hare-Darcy might want to marry.

* "Plainly speaking, they are a family one does not want to be connected with …They are country girls without money and little to recommend themselves apart from their personal charms."

Part Sixteen

Posted on 2009-04-12

Little did Mrs Phillips know it, but her party was a great success, in that the majority of her guests found exactly what they had hoped for. Mary Bennet, for example, managed to sneak into her aunt's kitchen early in the evening and spent the night there, with a glass of milk and her new book and fully ignorant of the mayhem upstairs. It was a shame, perhaps, that this way, no young man got to see her carefully arranged curls and the pale pink gown that Kitty had lent her, but as there was no young man present on whom Mary wished to make an impression, it did not really matter to her. Her father had not noticed that she had vanished from the party and was thus delighted to think that all five of his daughters looked their best this night, that Jane was already engaged, that Elizabeth was on the brink of becoming so, that Mary had caught the eye of a gentleman from East Anglia and that Kitty and Lydia had befriended a new officer who was looking very promising indeed. He spent most of the evening chatting to his favourite rival, Sir William, and did not enjoy anything as much as casually mentioning these facts to him. Jane and Mr Bingley had retired into one corner of the room, where they spent the evening squeezing each other's hands when no one was looking, and making plans for their wedding, the journey to the North Sea coast that was to follow it and their life at Netherfield.

'I insist we shall have a kitten - or better two!' Mr Bingley said and patted Jane's hand. 'Mr Paws must have brothers and sisters.'

'He will like that,' Jane smiled. Then a thought seemed to hit her. 'I have been wondering though, my dear,' she said to her betrothed, 'could we not also have a dog? I have never had a dog, and I would dearly love one.'

'You shall have one, love,' Mr Bingley assured her, 'and as many stray kittens as find their way into our kitchen. I shall speak to Darcy, and as soon as Wilhelmina has pups, we will adopt one.'

'I know I shall be very happy with you,' Jane said. She smiled at Mr Bingley in such a way as to make them both blush deeply and to force Miss Bingley, who had been sitting next to Jane, looking bored, to suppress a gagging reflex.

Caroline Bingley stood up and moved away from them. She tried to stretch her stiff back without anyone noticing; unfortunately, Mr Collins, who had been observing her from his place at the whist table, left Mrs Phillips and their opponents and rushed to her side. Fearing that she was fatigued from the morning's exertions, or else, that she had gravely injured herself, he offered to supply her with whatever refreshment had caught her fancy, or, alternatively, to fetch the carriage and have her brought home. Dogs of various sizes and taciturn Germans paraded before Caroline's inner eye and not even the thought of spending the rest of the evening with Louisa could intrigue her. She declined Mr Collins' offer under the pretence of having to relay a message to Charlotte Lucas, and soon found herself talking once more about the unspoilt beauty of Wales. To her surprise, however, she discovered that once the conversation was steered away from this topic, Charlotte Lucas was at least preferable to Mr Collins as a partner in conversation. Even though this lady knew little of the gossip of town, and even less of London fashion, she could easily sympathise with the responsibilities of housekeeping, and the difficulties of entertaining visitors at such short notice.

'And then, will you believe it, Charles - my brother - had the audacity to invite everyone to a dance the day after tomorrow,' she said, and added, after a slight pause, 'not that you are not all very welcome, but I have no idea how to organise everything at such short notice. The housekeeper is, I fear, not wholly up to the task.'

'No, Mrs Nicholls has never had to cater for so many people in the last decade, I believe,' Miss Lucas said sympathetically.

'And it is not as if she had not enough to do anyway,' Miss Bingley said. 'Our guests from Prussia need special diets, and I am not exactly sure what the dogs eat, but it does smell awful.'

Mr Collins had had to return to the card table, but found that the game had already broken up. Mrs Phillips, however, was not seriously displeased and even went so far as to take up the entertainment of Mr Collins. Taking him for the man of the world that he himself wanted to be, she had decided to show him her favourite pieces.

'This is, as you will undoubtedly see at once, the finest,' she said and pointed at an engraving in an ornamental silver frame that was sitting on the mantelpiece. 'It is by far the largest, and I dare say it is also very close to the original.'

'A very nice mantelpiece,' Mr Collins said, 'very nice indeed. Though perhaps not quite as nice as those in Lady von Burg's summer parlour, but still -'

'Not the mantelpiece,' Mrs Phillips said impatiently. 'The engraving, Mr Collins! Do you not see it?'

'By Jove!' Mr Collins exclaimed. 'Is it - can it be - the Duke of Bronte - Lord Nelson?'

His voice quivered slightly when he pronounced the great name, and Mrs Phillips showed her approval of his sentiment by nodding solemnly. She took the picture frame and rubbed at an imaginary stain with her sleeve.

'Himself,' she said. 'I collect engravings of his lordship. I dare say I am one of his fondest admirers.'

'As is only right,' Mr Collins said. 'He was our nation's greatest son. His death was an abysmal shock.'

'Quite so,' Mrs Phillips agreed and wiped away a tear, 'the most noble and honourable man in Britain. Although some of the rumours that I have heard lately - such shocking tales. Would you believe it, Mr Collins, that they are linking His Grace's name with that of a female -'

'Ungrateful slander,' Mr Collins muttered. 'Horridly untrue. As Lady von Burg always observes, there is no sense of decorum in people these days. One can only wonder -'

Elizabeth, meanwhile, found herself seated next to Mr Wagner on a sofa. She was most anxious to bring up the topic of Herr Darcy again, but knew not how to mention it without being awfully forward. She need not have concerned herself overly much though, for as soon as he had made sure that no one was within earshot, Mr Wagner himself started a conversation on this subject. Having after some tender inquiries assured himself that she was no great friend of Herr Darcy, he finally gave a sigh and said gravely, 'It will not do, Miss Bennet. I can keep this secret no longer. I must unburden my soul and lay before you my previous history with the gentleman we were mentioning. In you, at least, I dare to have complete trust; you, I know, will not trifle with my feelings as other persons are wont to.'

Elizabeth nodded, all eagerness to hear more.

'Have no fear, Mr Wagner,' she said and smiled sweetly, 'whatever secret you wish to tell me will be safe with me. Regard me as a true friend: I will listen to what you have to say, however unpleasant it may be.'

'That it is unpleasant is a given, where Herr Darcy is concerned,' Mr Wagner said grimly. 'But you know not yet half of the crimes this man has committed.'

'How black that man's soul must be!' Elizabeth exclaimed when she saw the serious expression upon Mr Wagner's face. 'If you cannot even speak of him but with pain.'

'His soul, I cannot speak of,' Mr Wagner replied. 'Sometimes I even doubt that he has one. His character, however, is as despicable as can be.'

'I do not doubt it,' Elizabeth said, 'and I do not think you would maliciously slander him.'

'If only everyone were as kind and trusting as you,' Mr Wagner sighed and kissed her hand. He seemed so delighted in Elizabeth's profession of her trust in him, so relieved to finally have found someone in whom to confide, that a rush of affection and pity surged through Elizabeth.

'I am just as kind as you deserve,' Elizabeth replied. 'I know that you must have been wronged greatly, and by such a small-minded man.'

'Small-minded!' ejaculated Mr Wagner. 'Yes, that he is indeed; and always was, I am sorry to say. You must know that I have known him ever since he was very young and though he has grown up, his character has not changed one jot. Inside that - as the ladies call it - attractive shell, there is still the spirit of the boy who used to try to drown me in the stream and teased me mercilessly because of my old and unfashionable clothing.'

He sighed deeply.

'Yes, how clearly I recall those days,' he said. 'Lumpenhans - ragged Hans - he always called me, and used to laugh and sing songs at me.'

'But why Hans?' Elizabeth asked, hoping to distract him, for she feared he was about to be overcome with emotions. 'Forgive me such an intimate question, but I always thought your name was Richard?'

Mr Wagner seemed momentarily startled.

'Why, yes, it is,' he said after a brief pause, 'but I guess that Darcy just did not care. I do not think my name was important enough for him to know.

'You see,' he continued, 'father was the secretary of Darcy's grandfather, Herr von Wilhelm. My mother was the daughter of the rector in Kympton, which is near Pemberley - you must have heard of Pemberley?'

Elizabeth assured him that she had and urged him to continue.

'How they met precisely, I do not know, but they married very soon and moved back to Germany, where my mother gave birth to me and died very soon afterwards.'

Elizabeth gave a sympathetic noise. 'How dreadful!' she muttered.

'Do not feel sorry for me,' Mr Wagner said. 'What has been, has been. I most surely have learned that you can never change the past, however badly you wish to do so.

'My father, you see,' he continued, 'assisted by his brother, brought me up. I grew up in Wilhelmsburg, where the von Wilhelms reside. They never saw me as their equal. However friendly I was, however similar our interests and talents were - for all boys have similar interests to pursue - the young von Wilhelms and young Darcy, when he visited his mother's family, never felt inclined to spend time with me. I grew up an outcast, in a way.'

Elizabeth had to constrain herself not to pat his hand in sympathy. Her heart reached out to the little, motherless boy in his ragged, mismatching clothes, who had no companions and was despised by everyone.

'When I was twelve,' Mr Wagner continued after another heavy sigh, 'my father died as well. I most surely do not blame Herr von Wilhelm, but - well, I am sure that his draughty and cold room at Wilhelmsburg quickened the consumption from which my father was suffering. Herr von Wilhelm probably did not care enough to have sent for the doctor, whom he knew my father could not afford, and the illness was beyond the local apothecary's powers. Herr von Wilhelm surely did not mean to kill him, but -'

Mr Wagner paused in his narrative, his voice suddenly hoarse as if his throat was constricted, and Elizabeth, who had been unable to suppress a gasp of shock, felt tears well up in her eyes.

'My uncle was not able to support me alone,' Mr Wagner continued with a thick voice, 'and Herr von Wilhelm apparently felt not inclined to assist him, so it was agreed that I would be sent to England when Darcy went there for the summer, to live with my grandfather at Kympton. The journey with Darcy - well, you can well imagine who got all the blankets in the inns where we rested, who was the one to occupy a whole seat in the carriage, while the other boy and the teacher who was accompanying us had to squeeze into the backward seat - you will know what it must be like to be locked into a tiny ship's even tinier cabin with your worst enemy -'

He paused, evidently overcome with emotions once more.

'I mean, my father had just died, and -' he whispered.

Elizabeth swallowed hard.