Not All Wealth is Bought with Gold

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|
Chapter X A departure from JA's convention to respect the gentleman's mental privacy.

Too rarely is incredulity given due recognition for its part in the affairs of love. For while charm, wit, opportunity, wealth, position, proximity, fate, God and even exasperation are lauded as the many hues of Cupid's arrows, righteous disbelief is seldom counted among them. Yet it was this very dart that had embedded itself in Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam's bosom and caused him to pace the length of the parlour long after the rest of the household had taken its rest.

Again and again he queried how it was possible for Miss Lucas and Lord Wendell to ever have formed an attachment, much less and understanding - 'twas impossible, incredible! - and yet it must be true. Such a veracity should not trouble him, though - indeed, Lord Wendell's boorish behaviour had long ceased to trouble Col Fitzwilliam - except that....

No. He, a bachelor colonel of thirty years, was not in love with Miss Lucas, he told himself again as he strode to the window and glanced at the quiet moon washed world outside. And even if he had been disposed to court her, yet their years if not their respective incomes would have prevented the match. But Miss Lucas was engaged...to his brother!...to Gregory!...and was beyond his reach regardless.

He laughed.

What fortune that every lady he met was impecunious and betrothed.

He was not in love with Miss Maria Lucas, he told himself again with as little success as before.

Yet the match between his brother and Miss Lucas troubled him. Somehow the knowledge did not ring true - and except that Col Fitzwilliam knew Lord Wendell to be rudely honest, he would have doubted the assertion altogether. But Lord Wendell possessed both the means and the station - as well as an eccentric reputation - to marry where he chose. And Mar...Miss Lucas was greatly matured from the wide-eyed debutante he had met two years ago.

The Colonel's eyes squinted as he recalled the farcical 'Court of Love.' Apparently, more than Lord Wendell recognized Miss Lucas' charms - but that she should accept the attentions of others! An engaged woman, flirting and laughing - dancing - with other men! It was absurd. It was criminal.

And his brother had in no way indicated that the engagement was secret. Indeed, knowing Gregory, his brother must have informed Lady Catherine of his victory as soon as it had been conceded. A genial smile overcame the Colonel's homely features for a moment as he imagined that formidable lady's face upon receipt of such news.

"'Twould send her into apoplexy," he chuckled, removing from the window to seat himself.

So ruminating for perhaps some half an hour, he played the scene out - imagining Gregory and Mari...Miss Lucas before the altar, picturing her look of adoration as she turned to recite her vows, the turn of her countenance, the arch of her neck, the brightness of her eyes....

'Twas too much.

He stood and walked to the mantle, leaned against it and rubbed his eyes. They would make a lovely couple, he decided bitterly - Gregory so tall and dark, she so slight and fair. Yes, they were charmingly grouped, indeed.

The blind boy's arrow, fletched as it was with astonishment and disbelief, dug deeply into Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam's heart that late night, and every mental turn and twist the Colonel made to remove it only bore its point deeper.

For he realized, as the sun rose against the white buildings, glaring off the lime and shivering pinks across its surface, that he desired Maria as his bride, and not as Lady Wendell or Mrs St Giles or Mrs Ladislaw....

But although Cupid had marked the Colonel well, the whims and regulations of Society held stronger precedence. So when Col Fitzwilliam found his weary way to bed just as the household stirred to wakefulness, he promised to remain silent on the issue - and...and to accord Miss Lucas no more than the distant respect due to one bound to be his sister.

Chapter XI. In which the Authoress returns the Reader to our Heroine's charming bewilderment, and the Colonel executes his duty.

Dearest Readers,

Again I thank you for all your support! Your little notes have been a source of much encouragement to me in this endeavour (although I am much surprised that some fancy Lord Wendell...but we shall see...).

I remain yours, &tc.,

Elspeth

Mr Bingley left that day amidst several cheerful farewells and promises to return soon and write sooner. The three girls, Mr Delford and Mrs Delford watched as the carriage drove down the street before going their separate ways. Mrs Delford had an engagement at the Pump Rooms with several acquaintances, among whom was Mrs Garvers. Mr Delford at once retired to his library, for the previous evening's exercise as well as that morning's parting had left him exhausted. Kitty and Else seized upon the notion of shopping in Milsom Street and invited Maria to join them, but she -- having spent another restless night (a most unfortunate habit, but a common one for many a young lady) -- begged leave to remain at home. This arrangement did not please Kitty at all, who worried about her friend, but Else must have a new bonnet and could certainly not walk by herself!

Maria enjoyed the solitude for as long as she was allowed R-- which was perhaps no more than an hour -- when the Colonel descended the stairs. Upon seeing her engaged in some her needlework, his face took on a look of determined good humour, and he entered the room and sat opposite her. Maria's embroidery was very ill indeed, but quickly regressed to the feeble attempts of a child as he cleared his throat.

"You...ah...you will pardon me for my ill humour last night, Miss Lucas?"

"Oh! I...I was quite unaware of you at all, Col Fitzwilliam! That is...you...I...did not...."

Maria returned to the embroidery with great ferocity and little art.

"I thank you," Col Fitzwilliam said after a few minutes. Then, pacing to the mantle, he choked out, "Might I be among the first to congratulate you?

"You might," Maria dithered, presuming that he continued to speak of the Court of Love. "But I did not in any way desire it, Colonel."

"Did you not?"

"No, indeed!"

"Then why -- pardon me -- why accept at all?"

"What choice had I?"

"You might have refused."

"La! In front of all those people?"

The Colonel was about to ask Miss Lucas what she meant, but at that moment -- as so often happens when Fate or Providence takes interest in our affairs -- the maid appeared to announce Mr Ladislaw's arrival. That gentleman was soon after ushered in, bows and curtsies were distributed all round, introductions made and seats taken.

"How long are you in Bath, Colonel?" Mr Ladislaw asked.

"My leave ends this week, when I am to rejoin my company in Bristol. The military has little time for grief, I fear."

"What could entice a defender of the land so close to the bounding main?"

"I confess I've no idea, except to keep an eye on the seamen there. I hear they are a reckless lot. Not unlike most young men."

"And you will guard every maiden's honour, will you?"

"With my very life."

The two men chuckled, casting simultaneous glances at Maria.

"Miss Lucas," Mr Ladislaw said turning fully to her. "Might I entreat a moment alone with you?"

Maria was about to accept when the Colonel said, "Certainly, there is nothing you could not say to her that might not be shared with the entire company?"

Mr Ladislaw darkened at this and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his words remained congenial. "You misunderstand me, sir." Then turning again to Maria, "I saw Mr St Giles on the street as I walked this way, Miss Lucas, and was greatly afraid I would arrive here too late. But I see that my arrival was propitious, after all."

"Rather," Col Fitzwilliam smiled.

"Then, if you are not engaged later, Miss Lucas, perhaps I could persuade you to walk with me this evening, alone?"

"I am afraid Miss Lucas is engaged, Mr Ladislaw."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"You misunderstand me, sir."

Mr Ladislaw, who was not quite as confused as Maria, glanced sharply at Col Fitzwilliam, saying, "Am I to understand...."

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded.

"Then...then I bid you a good day and great felicity, Miss Lucas, Colonel."

Mr Ladislaw excused himself with what dignity remained to him, and the Colonel, who felt the bitter satisfaction of duty, excused himself soon after to seek solace in a glass of wine.

Maria, whose embroidery was in complete shambles by this point and not worth salvaging whatsoever, found herself in a state of complete exasperation. For although the Colonel had as much as said she was betrothed, he had never said to whom! And his own hasty removal appeared to indicate no attention on his part....

As it was, Maria's musings were woefully shortened by the tumultuous arrival of Kitty and Else, who brought tidings that even Maria could not mistake.

Chapter XII. Which bears news of a most alarming nature.

"Maria!" Kitty called, bursting into every room, her bonnet still upon her head, as she sought for her friend. Such was her excited state that when she finally found Maria, the information that had urged her on was obliged to wait until Kitty could catch her breath. "Maria! Such news! You should never guess it. I shall not wait for your response. But think! Who has come! Lord! 'Tis most surprising! I cannot myself believe it!"

"Who has come, Kitty?"

"Why, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of course! And with her daughter, too. Although you may be glad to hear that Mr Collins has not attended her. Lord! What a dreary time Bath should be then, between the two of them! But they shall not arrive 'til tomorrow - and that's a blessing. And just when the most delightful thing has happened!"

"Delightful?"

"Yes, indeed! Mr Ellis - we met him on the street coming hither, Maria - well, Mr Ellis has asked me to walk with him tonight! - before the salon at Sir Nevil's. Should I ask the Colonel to escort us, Maria? He is distant kin now. I was going to ask you to join me, but you are most pale! Nay - you are trembling! Are you well, Maria?"

Our heroine professed to be perfectly well, and proceeded to set her embroidery aside for fear of sticking herself with the needle.

"Oh, but here comes Else. We met Mr Ladislaw just a moment before, you know. I have no doubt she has spent this whole time speaking with him. I dare say she will tell us whether he admires her new bonnet."

As promised, Miss Delford entered soon after - but her composure was anything but that of the triumphant ingenue. The much-anticipated bonnet was held limply in her hand, she still wore her spencer, and an unmistakably resentful gleam burned in her eye. "You are to be much congratulated, Miss Lucas," she said, raising her round country chin and smiling. "Colonel Fitzwilliam is a fine conquest."

"What?" Kitty asked, turning from one girl to another. "Maria, has the Colonel proposed to you?"

"So says Mr Ladislaw," Else answered, pacing to the divan. "Or did you not know, dear Kitty, that Miss Lucas has the remarkable ability to steal the hearts of other women's beaus?"

"Oh, but you are not being fair, Else! Maria - you must tell me how he proposed! Indeed, you must tell me every detail! How romantic - how exciting!"

"How very clever of her to have remained at home."

"Else!"

"Oh, do not trouble yourself on my account. I have always known Mr. St Giles, who I suppose I might see tonight at the salon. That is some comfort, at least. You, Kitty, shall be completely taken by Mr. Ellis, and you, Miss Lucas...well.... I shall leave you two to yourselves. No, no, Kitty. Remain with Miss Lucas, do. I Şam quite sure she is very much in want of the companionship of those of her own sex. Kitty, Miss Lucas."

And with that Else stalked up the steps to her room, every inch the tortured martyr.

"I am sorry, Maria. But I'm sure she shall forget the whole incident by this evening and we shall all be jolly friends again. But Maria - you are crying!"

Maria sniffled that she was not.

"Oh, do not mind Else's words. You must be joyful for your betrothed! And now, tell me all."

"I...there is nothing to tell, Kitty."

"Come, Maria. What did he say? Did he kneel?"

"He - he did none of those things. Oh, Kitty! - you are much mistaken! Col Fitzwilliam has not proposed!" And with that, through many tears and pacing and clumsy gesticulations Maria imparted the whole of the scene to her dearest friend who received the news with the constant repetition of, "Oh dear," and "Oh my." At the conclusion, Maria appealed to Kitty with the plaintive and well worn, "What shall I do?"

"There is very little to be done," Kitty said. "Mr Ladislaw has no doubt told more than Else, and Bath is such a small town that the entire neighborhood shall speak of nothing else for a week. Does the Colonel know?"

"No. For I only learnt of this dreadful accident now. And he has gone I know not where, and may yet be ignorant."

"Still, he must be informed."

"Oh, but Kitty, I cannot!"

The Delford household was undoubtedly the most eventful domain that day, for no sooner had Maria cried, "I cannot," than Mrs Delford, who normally kept to her social calls and rarely visited her own home except to sleep, bustled in, intent on finding anyone with two minutes together. Imagine her joy, then, when she found the very object of her announcement standing distraught in the middle of the parlour.

"Miss Lucas! Such felicity! I have only now heard the news! I congratulate you, my dear girl, yes I congratulate you! And, since you have been so sly as to not publish the news in any parish, I have paid the bill for its appearance in the paper - the least I can do for the daughter of my old friend. My only concern is that Mrs Garvers - you will remember Mrs Garvers, Miss Lucas, will you not? - Mrs Gavers, Miss Bennet, is Mr Ladislaw's Aunt - is that Mrs Garvers might spread the word more quickly than any print. You must be overjoyed...s'truth! You are very pale, Miss Lucas. Miss Bennet, fetch Miss Lucas a glass of wine. No - dear! Catch her, Miss Bennet! Quick, Miss Bennet, my salts! Miss Bennet! Fetch the Colonel! Oh - Miss Lucas!"

So it was that Maria recovered her senses in the arms of the Colonel, as he brought her up the stairs and to her room. Kitty followed her friend and tended to her, all the while wondering how to broach such a delicate subject to the Colonel. Finally Kitty decided that the a great amount of common sense lay behind the axiom that cowardice is the better part of valour, and did not broach the subject at all. Indeed, she so aptly avoided her kinsman, that she did not apply to him to escort her excursion with Mr Ellis, instead recommending her situation to Mr Delford - who, after the initial agony of such a careless request, agreed to the role of indifferent guardian rather than gallant suitor.

As for the Colonel - with so much hullabaloo within those walls - how could he not discover that morning's mistake? Wine was a mild stupefacient - greater remedy was required. So soon after leaving Miss Lucas' bedside, he strode around the whole of the town twice, stopping neither to receive information nor to assuage curiosity. And - as silence often will - Bath took the Colonel's reticence as proof of their assumption, and went happily about their business.

Chapter XIII Wherein we are diverted to the quieter frustrations of another gentleman.

Mr Delford was not in the habit of charming humanity, having grown up with two very silly women and a father dead. His own sickly disposition had greatly aided and excused his queer behaviour - which Bath, being now some ten years accustomed to the misanthropic Mr Delford, looked upon as merely another oddity. Indeed, had not the wild excitement surrounding his guests eclipsed his own tentative steps in the quagmire of society, Mr Delford's astounding number of excursions beyond the library and the baths would have provided ample scuttlebutt! But Miss Lucas, ever the stalwart if ingenuous friend, had thoughtfully provided entertainment for my lady waggle-tongues, leaving Mr Delford's highly irregular promenade with Miss Bennet quite unmarked.

Their rendezvous with Mr Ellis was along the Royal Avenue, in the Park by the Crescent - a goodly walk, but far too short for Mr Delford who was beginning to think eternity infuriatingly brief when in the delightful company of the charming Miss Bennet. Her chatter, the heightened colour in her cheeks all added to Mr. Delford's quiet euphoria. Her presence roused Mr Delford to courage, her smile elevated him to laughter, her speech drew forth his speech. Almost, Mr Delford felt healthy, as though Miss Bennet's youthful hardiness were somehow imparted to him as well.

As they walked, he inquired after Miss Bennet's familial connections, her distant relation to both the Colonel and Miss Lucas, her friendship with the latter, her enjoyment of Bath - indeed every particular that a cautious lover desires to know when puzzling out the character of the beloved. She, in polite turn, inquired after his family and his stay in Bath. Mr. Delford answered her questions genially, if with a greater reserve than she had exhibited. Miss Bennet, left with only health and the weather to comment on, and afraid to mention the first to one proclaimed sickly, said that it would be a fine afternoon for a walk, and thanked Mr Delford again for accompanying her. He responded in kind, acutely aware that his ailment distressed her, saying - with the very great effort of a studious poet - that he knew of no more lovely season than downy Winter in Oxford.

"Winter!" Kitty exclaimed. "What a dreary season! So grey and cold."

"But Oxford is so often a grey town, Miss Bennet. To shroud the High in white seems quite appropriate, when one is inside before a fire. 'Tis altogether pleasant, I assure you."

"I much prefer Spring myself."

"I should be disappointed if you did not," Mr Delford said in a sudden burst of gallantry.

The Park was in all its green finery, and the addition of Mr. Ellis in no way diminished the view. He was one of those sturdy gentlemen who balds at a young age and, although not of an overly short stature, yet seems less imposing because of his mild width. To add to this, Mr Ellis possessed a face that was open and guileless - a beneficial countenance indeed, for his business (when not courting young ladies) was primarily ambassadorial.

If Mr Ellis was surprised at Miss Bennet's escort, he hid it well - shaking Mr Delford's hand before offering his arm to Miss Bennet. They proceeded down the avenue, nodding to other passerbys and waxing eloquent on the sumptuous weather. The incidentals disposed of, the conversation turned to Miss Bennet's plans once the Summer concluded.

"I shall return to Pemberley, I dare say. And you, Mr Ellis?"

"I am afraid that I shall be obliged to break my promise to Miss Delford - I am to France by late July."

"And when shall you return?"

"I do not know. Monsieur Bonaparte may rise again!"

"Do you truly believe so, sir?" Mr Delford interrupted. He had strayed a pace behind the couple, his eyes fixed avidly on Miss Bennet's laughing face as though to burn her image upon his heart. He surprised himself by speaking - although as interim paladin he might have interfered at any point - but he had followed the goings-on in France with great interest ever since he was a boy, finding solace in distant wars and unattainable glories, and could not help but interview one who was so intimately connected with that violent nation.

"Indeed I do, Mr. Delford," Mr. Ellis said, turning. His jovial facade slipped and a moment of solemn understanding passed between the two gentlemen, as though to warn the other of the present lady's sensibilities.

"My sister shall be most distressed," Mr Delford responded lightly.

"But shall recover within a week, non?"

"Oh, I hardly think she could mourn over a day."

Both men laughed and the party continued their walk with no more talk of politics. As they completed the final circuit, though, Mr Ellis inquired of Miss Bennet whether she was to attend Sir Nevil's salon that evening. She replied that if Miss Lucas were recovered, she would certainly make an appearance. On the strength of this, Mr Ellis asked if Miss Bennet could bear his company for any duration that evening. She answered affirmatively and the afternoon ended.

The conversation was but little as Kitty and Mr Delford walked homeward, for each was lost in the wonderings of what Mr Ellis' final obtestation meant - and while Kitty fluttered, Mr Delford despaired. He was not unaware that Miss Bennet's connections and charms would recommend her to many more eligible suitors than himself; he was not unaware that few women desire a sickly husband with a modest fortune; he was not unaware that a match between Miss Bennet and Mr Ellis would be altogether suitable - but the human heart is not a rational creature, and although Mr Delford had long ago surrendered all hope of soldiering, yet he was a born Knight in soul...one who only wanted for a Lady.

Chapter XIV. Wherein the opinions of Bath are very nearly vindicated.

Society takes great pleasure in a secret disclosed. They grin knowingly at one another, nodding their heads sagely and humming to themselves smugly. But, although they have pried into the innermost recesses of another, yet humanity shows its own strange respect by never boorishly mentioning the facts to the exposed party. Indeed, if any reference must be made to the published information, it is always done obliquely - and with a wink - as though to reassure the other that the demands of privacy have still been met.

So it was that Maria and the Colonel were deliberately left to themselves at Sir Nevil's salon, with no party to rescue them from each other. They were, by this time, both aware of the unfortunate rumour, begun early that morning by their own foolishness, yet - like the others assembled there - neither could quite bring themselves to mention it outright.(r)

"Are you recovered, Miss Lucas?" the Colonel asked at last.

"I am still a little faint," Maria replied with perfect honesty.

"Then you should have remained at home."

"But Else was determined to come, and I could not, in good conscience, deprive Kitty of such festivities."

Their attention strayed - grateful for any distraction - to Miss Bennet who was flanked on one side by the jovial Mr Ellis and on the other by the resolute Mr Delford. She appeared diverted by each but attracted to neither, speaking with good humour and convivial warmth equally to both.

"Yes, it would have been a shame if Miss Bennet had not come. Yet..." the Colonel said, screwing up his courage, "...I might have stayed with you."

Maria blushed and bit her lip. Was this the moment then? she wondered. So many men had proposed to her recently, that she could only presume that Col Fitzwilliam intended a similar declaration. She was at once elated and alarmed, as are we all when confronted with our desires.

But the Colonel only said, with a laughing stutter, "We are nearly brother and sister - 'twould have been no impropriety, especially in light of...."

"Lady Catherine is to come tomorrow!" Maria exclaimed in the Colonel's treacherous pause.

He blinked. "My Aunt?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Alone?"

"No."

"Then with...."

"Miss De Bourgh."

"And?"

"Mrs Jenkinson."

"And?"

"No one else."

"Not - not my brother?"

"Your brother!"

"Yes. Lord Wendell."

"Lord Wendell...."

"Your - a-hem, your...ah...."

"My what, Colonel?"

"Your...the, ahm, the man whom you are...to whom you.... Shall I fetch a glass of wine?"

"By all means."

The Colonel did as he suggested, suffering several placid smiles and a pat on the arm. Upon his return, the promised glass remained untouched on the table between them like the wall betwixt Pyramus and Thisbe.

The silence extended for several minutes, each party deliberating the next step. Maria looked at Kitty for support, but none was forthcoming. She believed that must inform the Colonel of the unfortunate rumour, and since no gentle passage had presented itself, she burst forth, "There is something I must tell you, sir!"

He shook his head and smiled, responding to the matter that plagued him and not the favour she had asked. "No fear, Miss Lucas. I am quite aware already."

"Oh. That is...good."

How potent is silence! Its discomfort leads us to lay bare truths that might have remained hidden behind idle speech. Thus the Colonel, shifting in his seat, acutely aware of Miss Lucas' presence, confessed, "I do envy him."

"Him? Whom?"

The Colonel looked at her in surprise, before responding, "My brother, Lord Wendell."

"La! Why should you envy Lord Wendell?"

"Because...." Again the Colonel looked at her, leaned forward, touched the glass. "Because," he said in the tones of one unraveling a mystery, "you are engaged to him."

Maria was silent - although whether from faintness or shock, he did not know. The hope that had begun to rise in the Colonel's heart wavered, held its breath, was supported solely by militaristic discipline and previous disappointment.

"Who - who has told you this?"

"I have heard it from my brother himself."

"Oh." She reached for the table to steady herself, and so doing, touched the glass as well.

"You are engaged to Lord Wendell - are you not?"

Maria faltered. Her eyes flit in every direction - where was Kitty? Else? Charlotte? She looked everywhere, felt a pair of eyes staring intently at her, turned to face those eyes, encountered the Colonel.

"No," she breathed at last. "You are mistaken, sir. I am not."

The tenseness in Col Fitzwilliam fled, his hope soared. The glass moved - he moved it. He might have said something - they neither remembered. For their fingertips were so close they almost touched, and their faces so close the air they breathed was nearly one. And there passed in that silence, amazement and understanding at the revelation of the other - the secret of the self from which even society is barred.

And might have the Colonel found fortitude enough to utter those sacred words in such a wild, lucid moment as this? I think he might have. But for the voice which said, "Richard. Miss Lucas. I am all astonishment."

Part III

Chapter XV. Wherein Maria is much to be pitied.

Bath had not enjoyed such an agreeable season since the Romans were routed!

What had been expected to be another dull summer of old news and ancient tenants transformed into the protean romance of a complete unknown. Greater felicity could not be supposed. Indeed, Bath had no desire to prophesy which way this wind would turn, preferring to merely watch the sad dilemma of one Miss Maria Lucas, like a gay party aboard a pleasure barge laughs in delight at the feeble attempts of a mermaid ensnared among waterlilies.

For, oh! She was unattached, and had made many conquests - but no, she was engaged! - twice at once, or so it seemed - and now, oh Lord! the Aunt descended and claimed the girl, took her into her own home - and such a scene! the poor Delfords, and the son so sickly - and the tall nephew (you know, the one to whom Miss Lucas is now engaged? - was engaged all along, or so I hear - Lord Wendell? Yes, yes, the very same as dwells in Blackthorne Hall? And a more handsome gentleman, I've never seen), well he - so I have heard - has had a row with the brother! The brother? Oh, no one of note, a Colonel of some sort, apparently formed an attachment to the girl.... Jealous caprice do you think? Indeed I do! That's what comes of second sons, always with an eye on their better's wealth - well he's been sent to Bristol early, there's some talk of joining Wellington's men - and a good riddance to him. Oh, but surely you don't think so, for I saw them at Sir Nevil's, and they seemed most.... No, no, I am thoroughly persuaded the attachment was all his. Such impropriety! Indeed.

From the Pump Room to the Baths, from the Crescent to the Abbey, along the sloping grounds of Prior Park and the lush banks of the Avon, such a conversation, whispered with ignorant glee, was passed from ear to ear. And not even the eventual removal of the "Engagement of Miss Maria Lucas, daughter of Sir William Lucas, Bt. to the Honourable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam" from the papers arrested my lady waggle-tongues.

Yes, no diversion could ever have been preconcocted that would surpass the adventures of the utterly charming Miss Lucas. But for those involved in the affair, the enjoyment was less than droll. Mr Delford had remarked in that first Elysian week that Miss Lucas was fortunate to live her life like a novel - but such fortune can only be ascertained long after the event, and is seldom regarded as anything but unfortunate when in its midst.

"And I am perhaps the most unfortunate girl of all," Maria thought, sitting in the window seat of Lady Catherine's exquisite townhouse.

What else could she conclude?

Last night she had achieved the brink, she had looked over the daunting mountain of her own trepidation and found the world of another. She sensed that she had met a boundary she had not known existed and that - given a moment more of time - she might have passed it.

But that moment had been shattered, and the Other she had discovered shattered, by the approach of Lord Wendell who brought with him the reason of the world.

"Richard. Miss Lucas. I am all astonishment," was all he had said.

"Gregory," the Colonel responded, drawing away from Maria and nodding to his brother.

"And have you nothing to say to me, madam?"

Maria had been unable to speak, but the Colonel had come to her defense, "What should she say to you?"

"Miss Lucas - will you not greet me, at least?"

"Good evening, Lord Wendell. We had not expected you."

"'Twould seem not."

"I was informed that you were not of our Aunt's party," the Colonel had interjected.

"I am not now. I came to see Miss Lucas of my own accord. Having found she µwas not at home, I sought her out - and here I find you, madam, in quite another bower. Shall you sing for us tonight?"

"I think not..." Maria had begun, only to be interrupted once again by the Colonel.

"Miss Lucas has been most faint, today."

"And you have allowed her out, Richard? For shame."

"She insisted."

"And well she might. Miss Lucas is sprightly in her own way."

"I..." Maria had attempted vehemently to no avail. The Colonel had risen to face his brother, the genial smile hardening to the set face of the battlefield.

"Miss Lucas is present, Gregory. If you desire to speak of her again, I would be delighted to do so - outside."

"I would remind you of your place."

"I know my place well - you have reminded me for years."

"Then I would also remind you of my engagement to Miss Lucas."

"She has informed me that there is no such engagement."

Lord Wendell had coloured at this and turned to her, saying in the most gentle tones, "Is this true, Maria?"

By now the whole assemblage had noticed the goings-on and had turned to watch. Maria felt the immense weight of so much attention and crumbled. She did the only sensible thing one can do in such a situation: she pushed her way between the two brothers and rushed out to the foyer.

Kitty had followed soon afterwards, attended by Mr. Ellis. The carriage was called for and the girls driven home. And while Maria went immediately upstairs, Kitty loitered for some few minutes with Mr. Ellis, before returning to her friend. Maria told Kitty of the whole affair, from her stay at the Parsonage to that very afternoon, and Kitty had responded accordingly but with little advice - her own thoughts being on Mr. Ellis' strange but wonderful request to call on her privately a few days' hence.

And then, Lady Catherine had come...!

Maria groaned - she was indeed to be pitied.

The door opened, admitting a peruked servant who brought tidings that Lady Catherine desired to speak with Miss Lucas at once. Maria agreed, following the servant docilely to the sitting room, which resembled nothing so much as the grand stuffiness of Rosings.

"Miss Lucas - I am most seriously vexed!" Lady Catherine began as soon as Maria rounded the corner. "I have been not three minutes in Bath and I am greeted with the news of your licentious behaviour. What have you to say for yourself, madam?"

Maria looked around but there was no one to save her now. She fidgeted her hands, feeling all her youthful simplicity crashing upon her. "I...I am sorry, Lady Catherine."

"Sorry will not do, Miss Lucas! You have insulted our family name, you have played the sly coquette - yes I have had my eye on you since Rosings - you insolent girl. Shameful. Disgraceful! Is it to be borne? Nay - it shall not be borne again. I require that you break off allè engagements from my nephews at once, Miss Lucas! I shall brook no opposition."

"But I am engaged to neither!" Maria pleaded, throwing her hands in the air and pacing restlessly across the room. Her fear of Lady Catherine diminished tremendously in the face of all she had endured since her mother, Lady Lucas, first took note of her. "Lord Wendell asked me, true - and most rudely, Lady Catherine! And Colonel Fitzwilliam had not the time - I know not if he had the inclination. And I am the laughingstock of Bath, and oh, how my Mother shall receive me!"

Overcome with grief, she threw herself into a chair and proceeded to weep. Lady Catherine, naturally shocked at such an outcry, and perhaps a bit relieved, hesitated before saying kindly, "But you are young yet, Miss Lucas. There shall be other gentlemen. And I am very pleased to hear that you have not accepted my nephews' foolish offerings - they were most ill-done indeed! ...Why not spend some time with Anne? She and Miss Jenkinson shall return shortly from the baths, and you might dine with her - none shall bother you. And I am sure that you and Miss Jenkinson will find it quite pleasant to room together. I would have put you in your own room, Miss Lucas, but I feel it were best that Anne have a sitting room as well as a bed chamber - and you are a hardy girl and certainly accustomed to sharing quarters at Lucas Lodge? No tears now! You shall spoil your complexion! We shall find you a nice tradesman, or a minor baronet - that should do for you, Miss Lucas - and then you shall have nothing to fear from your mother. Yes, I am very pleased. Get along with you, Miss Lucas. There is no need to dawdle."

Maria at once retreated, kicking her way back up the stairs. Lady Catherine watched her new ward's progress with little interest before ordering the servants to keep Lord Wendell from her house at all costs.

Chapter XVI. Wherein our Heroine is the subject of both Courtship and Advyce.

Lord Wendell, of course, would not be kept.

He tracked Maria's whereabouts, appearing - sometimes miraculously - at places that she had not known she would visit until an hour before. He was at every ball, at every tea - his cards were left ad nauseum in Lady Catherine's townhouse. He was found at the park, at the Circus - on horseback or walking. He even visited the baths on the one day Maria found courage enough to join Miss De Bourgh there.

Yet it is a curious but unmistakable phenomenon that those to whom we are least grateful are those to whom a great deal is owed. For Lord Wendell possessed the remarkable ability to bring out the worst in Miss Lucas - which is to say that he brought her out of her own self.

So that, on that very same disastrous day when Lord Wendell strolled fully clad into the bath, his dark eyes moving restlessly about the columned chamber until they rested triumphantly on Maria, he was not at all aware that he was about to do a great service both for his object but also for his cousin.

"Miss Lucas!" Lord Wendell boomed across the pool.

A titter ran through the immersed assembled, parting to reveal Maria in all her miserable glory. She found strength enough to nod her head and then return his gaze.

He laughed and strode around the edge until he stood beside her.

"Lord Wendell."

"You never cease to astonish, Miss Lucas."

"Astonish, sir?"

"One never knows what you might chuse to do. I find you in the most original situations."

"Are you going to take the waters?"

"I might, if you remain." At this he crouched low to her saying, "You grow more lovely every day, Maria."

"You insult me, sir!" Maria cried, flinching away.

"On the contrary, Miss Lucas. I do you great honour."

"I do not seek your attentions, sir. I-I pray you would leave me."

He stood and bowed. "Until tonight, then."

Maria watched him exit with a mingled sense of relief and anxiety. But this was soon replaced with wonder as she heard the hesitant sound of a sickly laugh from beside her. Turning, she saw the faintest glimmer of a smile around Miss De Bourgh's lips. Her large, ringed eyes glanced upward to Maria as a petitioner beholds a saint.

"I have never liked him," she said quietly, before coughing out another tepid laugh.

That afternoon a letter arrived from Charlotte - a welcome diversion. Maria obtained dismissal from Lady Catherine's company and hurried to the second floor window seat - which was quickly becoming her favourite haunt.

Kent

Monday, -- June, 1814

My dear Maria,

I regret that I have not written to you sooner. Little Catherine has kept me busy, and Mr Collins suffered from a cold that made him most distempered. You will be pleased to know that he has stalwartly refused to relinquish his pastoral duties - and, as a result of his illness, his homilies have improved considerably.

However, 'twas not to inform you of homely matters that I have taken pen to paper.

Maria - I have heard from several quarters, including the Darcys and our own Parents - that your behaviour in Bath has been of a most...questionable nature. We have, I am afraid, read the papers, but have also been informed that such news is incorrect. The gentleman, I am told, has been removed - yet while this should elate me, I find myself disturbed. Perhaps I am not the best judge in the affairs of the heart, Maria. I have never been romantic. But I have learned that...that one ought to, if not love, yet still appreciate the company of ones husband.

We are not of the same disposition, Maria - I am aware of that. And for that reason, I encourage you to consider what you truly desire. You are not entirely without friends nor resources, Maria.

You are yet young.

But I shall not preach to you longer. By this time, I have no doubt, Lady Catherine has descended upon you. Do attempt to be civil, if not for Mr Collins, then for your sister.

I remain,

Yours, &tc.,

Charlotte Collins

Slowly Maria folded the letter. Charlotte's intent may have been to ward her sister from a similar fate, but the effect upon Maria was one of guilt.

She had behaved badly. She had allowed her desire and not her reason to guide her. And her affair - if it could be named such - with the Colonel had been a tempest, with little to recommend it but the heart.

And surely, she thought, had there been more than passion and...and competition, then surely Col Fitzwilliam would not have been daunted by his relatives, would not have left.

And who remained but the essence of all that was desirable in a match? - and a most persistent suitor as well!

...One ought to, if not love, yet still appreciate the company of one's husband....

Women had married with less to recommend the situation.

Fortunately, Maria's unusually sober ruminations were interrupted by the dinner bell, which must also interrupt our narrative, to explain precisely what had driven "the gentleman" from Miss Lucas and from Bath.

Chapter XVII. An apology.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was not of that sort of gentlemen, typified by other militaristic men of questionable motives, who collect young girl's hearts as one might collect spoons. Neither was he that sort of gentleman who falls violently in and out of love with each change of location.

For when he believed himself to be in love with Miss Maria Lucas, he had not erred in the judgement of his own heart - any more than a human can judge himself with any accuracy - and when he left Bath it was not out of waning passion but the result of waxing duty.

That Miss Lucas had returned his attentions, he dared not question. For while Maria - unused, as she was, to relationships with those of the opposite sex - had thought the revelation at the salon but momentary, the Colonel - being older and of a more congenial disposition with most of his acquaintance - knew that such a lifting of the polite veil, while abrupt, is eternal.

He had not been deterred when she ran from the salon - he had followed her, until forcibly detained by his brother. Nor did Lady Catherine's and Lord Wendell's haranguing the next day convince him to quit the environs of the town. They might have argued 'til doomsday with little effect, for their behaviour invariably grated on the temperate Colonel. But he received, later that same day, a letter from his cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, who within the course of the missive bluntly asked how he proposed to support a wife and family.

There is no objection to the lady, Darcy had written, - for I am no longer able to criticise on that point. And I trust your judgement, although such an attachment seems sudden on every side. You, no doubt, will laugh at me for my reservation, and quickly convince me of no better match.

But you have no estate and little fortune, and Miss Lucas - if I remember her correctly, I met her but infrequently, and was preoccupied - although devoted to you, has no fortune, either. She may, in her youth, be ignorant of the demands attendant to a Colonel's wife, much less the necessity for a place to live....

...If it is at all amenable, I have obtained the promise of a position in Wellington's regiment for you. There is some hope for advancement there, since that gentleman's own rise to the Duchy. If I thought more would be accepted, I would offer what greater aid I could.

I pray you would forgive my intrusion - it is not my desire to see you unhappy, but rather I wish for you all the joy that my own marriage has afforded me.

Your cousin,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

The Colonel received the letter whilst in Mr Delford's library, enjoying a rare moment with his host whom he found to be a delightful conversationalist, and surprisingly sympathetic to the Colonel's position. Mr Delford readily supplied pen and paper for the Colonel's return letters, occupying himself with a book in the nonce.

Col Fitzwilliam wrote to Mr Darcy first, thanking him for the position and accepting it, pending his own superiors' agreement. He would apply to his regiment as soon as he arrived in Bristol. But as for Miss Lucas....

He could not leave her in any doubt of his intentions - he must not.

Begging leave from his host's company for a while longer, he retired to his room and, over the course of several hours, composed the following:

My dear Miss Lucas,

I regret to inform you that I shall be quitting Bath the day after tomorrow, to rejoin my company briefly, before I enlist with Wellington's men and whatever campaign that may lead me. There is, I am told, the possibility of advancement in such a company - whether that be the result of warfare or society, I know not. Yet, though I have little thought that I should see action, it is probable that I should not see any of my acquaintance for some time.

I do not tell you this as mere information, but rather as a prelude to something that weighs on my heart far more than where'er Providence should send me.

Perhaps, I have not behaved as a lover ought. God knows, I have never dared to hope that I might marry - but I have come to hope for you. I have no wealth, no estate, no fortune - I have nothing I can offer you, dear Miss Lucas, except myself.

Do I presume too much that you may love me in return? Last night I came to believe my feelings - strong and sudden as they are - were returned by you. Was I wrong in that regard? Or would you dare to wait for me, on the hope - thin itself - that I may one day prove a worthy husband for you? I pray so.

Dear Miss Lucas - I hope I may one day call you by another name more dear - I must depart, but shall return, if you but whisper "yea."

I shall not press you. Mr Delford has promised to act as intermediary, should you find my offer abhorrent. I pray you would forgive the manner of my leaving - if I saw you now, I could not go, and I must if I am ever to provide for you.

I remain your devoted servant,

Richard Fitzwilliam

The lamplighter had executed his duty by the time the Colonel stood to face the world again. Our hero, unable to remain the tortured soul for long, could not help but laugh at himself, feeling for all the world like a young boy just come into his inheritance. Quickly, he hurried down the stairs to obtain Mr Delford's assistance - oblivious to Elsie who, surprised to see such a bright fervour in the Colonel's eye,- determined to discover the cause, and happened upon his first, splotched draft, which she jealously confiscated.

The next day the letter was delivered, and that by the Colonel himself at an hour he knew the family would be away. But Lady Catherine, being the first to return, recognised the hand and the address, and discreetly opened the letter to read it. No fire was available except in Anne's rooms - for she took cold even in the summer months - and so upward Lady Catherine climbed. The servants were unpacking Maria's things in Mrs Jenkinson's rooms - revealing nothing of interest or scandal, much to my lady's disappointment - but had a little fire burning despite the summer heat. Into this fire the letter fell, and if one of the servants saw, they had long ago learnt caution. And so, on that first tearful night, and on the long nights that followed, when Maria lay restless in the foreign room, her own heart scarred and burnt, she did not know that the Colonel's heart lay with her, waiting - silenced - for her response.*

Chapter XVIII. Which proves that 'All the World's a Stage'

When Maria descended for dinner, she was much surprised to find Lord Wendell at the end of the staircase, waiting with his hands clasped behind his back and his chin very high. He was dressed well - far better than was required for a social call - and all in all cut so fine a figure that had this been Maria's first impression of him, had she not known his disposition, she might have been inclined to like him.

For a minute he held the pose, and then with that preternatural awareness she found so disturbing, he turned to her and bowed. There was no escaping unnoticed now, and thus our heroine bravely thrust back her shoulders and proceeded down the steps. Her attempt at indifferent elegance may have been enough to gain her passage, but for her heel catching on the drape of her skirt some three steps from the floor, and the consequent landing in my lord's arms.

It was, of course, precisely at that moment that Lady Catherine chose to make her appearance.

No condemnation or inquiry was required. Maria, blushed, struggled, and freed herself. Lady Catherine found grace enough to raise an eyebrow and inquire why Lord Wendell had come? Lord Wendell professed his purpose to be an invitation to the theatre. The theatre? Yes; he had reserved a box. And what, pray tell, was playing at the theatre that the household should be thus disturbed? Why, nothing more than the whole of Bath.

With such inducement, who would not capitulate? But dinner must be had, and Lord Wendell grudgingly invited to join. Preparations were made with but a small portion of the excitement that normally attends a party of women arming themselves in jewels and ribbons for an evening's hunt. Lady Catherine retired to dress in great state, and Mrs Jenkinson doted solely on Anne who showed signs of distress at the thought of travelling anywhere past dinner. Maria's toilette, then, was solitary.

The thought that she might see some of her acquaintance cheered her - an expectation that was raised by Lord Wendell, who mentioned that the tiresome Sir Nevil would be there, no doubt, as well as Mr St Giles, and was fulfilled upon arrival when Maria saw the Delfords in the brightly lit hall. She dared not leave her party, but strained her neck this way and that to keep her sometime hosts in sight.

A knot of people barred both the path and the view, causing Maria to emit a little sigh of disappointment, that caught the attention of Lord Wendell who turned to question her.

"I cannot see my friends, the Delfords," Maria admitted. "And I am sure Kitty is with them, and I dearly long to speak with her."

"Then you must lead me to them," Lord Wendell said, disengaging himself from Lady Catherine and taking Maria's arm, despite the indignant cries of both ladies.

They came upon that family soon after and introductions were made on both sides. Else at once assured Maria that she was so terribly glad to see her friend, that she had missed her dearly, that it had been most cruel of Maria to leave her for such an age, and that they must visit each other at every intermezzo. Mrs Delford engaged Lord Wendell in polite conversation, whose main purpose on my lady's side was the discovery of any news or gossip. Mr Delford caught Maria's eye and smiled warmly - which smile implied more true friendship than all of his relations' chattering.

At a convenient break, afforded by Mrs Delfords eventual reintroduction of her children to Lord Wendell and the inevitable transferal of Else's attentions from Maria to a male of high rank, our heroine found a quiet moment to inquire of Mr Delford the whereabouts of Miss Bennet. He replied with an air that bespoke great burden, that Miss Bennet had for this week been nearly always in the company of Mr Ellis, and that this evening that gentleman had claimed a promise made a week ago - the very night of Sir Nevil's salon - for a private word with Miss Bennet.

Maria received the news with great shock, asking, "Do you think the attachment is serious?"

"I have no doubt in that regard. For some time I have acted as a third to them, and have seen her grow more fond of him with every passing hour."

"And...and you, Mr Delford?"

"I shall not deny that my own feelings quite parallel Mr Ellis', Miss Lucas. I thank you for your concern."

Maria - who was not yet resigned to the firmness of her friend's affections - could not respond, for Lord Wendell reclaimed her attention, and the two parties went their separate ways. Lady Catherine was not pleased with her nephew's sudden removal, and voiced her opinion on the matter in no uncertain terms. Lord Wendell made no apologies, but ushered them all to his box - securing a seat by Maria.

"Have you been to the theatre before this, Miss Lucas?" Lord Wendell asked.

"Twice before with Else - Miss Delford. They were comedies of some sort - I hardly know, for we had so many visitors. Will tonight be another comedy, do you think, Lord Wendell?"

"Indubitably. It is the only form of entertainment that appeals to the general masses. For it requires neither thought nor taste, and is therefore admirably suited to society. If one desires tragedy, one must travel abroad."

"And have you travelled to the continent?"

"On occasion. But I have no particular regard for foreign matters."

"You prefer to keep your sights limited?" Maria asked archly.

But the rebuke was lost on Lord Wendell who responded, "Indeed. What care I for the Peninsula or Bonaparte or Jackson? 'Tis base - I leave it to the military to civilize them - as much as the military is itself civilized."

"You profess to hold no esteem for either foreigners or countrymen. You show contempt for your own relations. I wonder that you can tolerate anyone!"

"Do you?"

"Yes. 'Tis remarkable that you burden society with your company when you despise it."

"But society, you must admit, is far different from the companionship of an attractive woman."

Maria could think of no way to respond to this.

But the curtain rose and the actors stepped forth to strut and fret their hour upon the stage. Lord Wendell was very close - Maria almost fancied his hand upon hers - as he commented on the scene and the spectators.

And, as has been remarked elsewhere by an authoress of great renown: that for some people five minutes will disclose the whole of the beloved, while five years is insufficient for others - so might we acknowledge that five years will sometimes pass with little gained or moved, while for others, five acts is sufficient to fill five chapters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter XIX Act the First

The play was indeed a comedy, a farce by a nameless author who had the distinction of being neither Shakespeare nor Cosgrove and therefore having no clever connection with the action of our play whatsoever. One might point out that in the course of the five acts, two couples fell in love and were married, while another couple were reconciled, and the elderly and villainous made a laughingstock - but that signifies little - every comedy is made of these things.

The performance itself was very ill: the actors seemed acutely aware that perhaps but three members of the audience were actually concerned with their fictitious affairs. The scenery also lacked, showing none of the Italian influence or grandeur, instead remaining true to patriotic wings-and-shutters. The costumes were the equal, and at times the poor cousin, of the assembled - for no Garrick was required here, no history except the immediate. But what need had the audience of a single entertainment when each box was a stage, each member an actor?

Sir Nevil called on them first, as though to set the scene, hallooing as he came.

"Well, well, and what do you think of the play, Miss Lucas? I dare say you never saw anything half so fine, even when you went to London."

Miss Lucas proclaimed that she had only visited that fair town a few times, and had not been old enough to enjoy the theatre there.

"Then, permit me - excuse me, sir - permit me, Miss Lucas to instruct you in the glories of the London stage."

And with that he elucidated on the new acting that was "done in flashes, madam - yes done in flashes" - and with great feeling. Within the course of three scenes, then, the entire box learnt more than they ever desired to know of Sir Nevil's opinions on matters of the theatre, art, taste, society, knighthood, St. James', London, hunting, sportsmanship and estates. In short - they learnt very little that they could not have guessed from his smart fobs and awkward coat.

His departure caused great relief in the occupants of Lord Wendell's box. Even Maria - whose gratitude towards Sir Nevil sprang doubly from the blissful moments at his failed salon and this most recent escape from the constant attentions of Lord Wendell - yes even she sighed thanks when the interview ceased.

"Intolerable," Lady Catherine declared as the curtain fell, raising the opera glasses to her eyes.

"I wonder if she meant the company or the play," Lord Wendell remarked to Maria.

"Both, if you would know, sirrah. Yes, I am not so feeble that I cannot hear you well enough. They are listless on the stage and in the boxes." Then turning kindly to Maria, she said, "When I was young - ah what entertainment was there! What goings on! The masque was barely in style, true, but it had its charms, Miss Lucas. I would not be adverse to its re-emergence. Pantomimes, too. And I was known to be an excellent player, myself, at a game of charades. For I had my plenitude of admirers when I was your age. I was quite the beauty."

"I am sure you were, Aunt. There can be no doubt of that."

Lady Catherine judiciously ignored her nephew, instead motioning to a manservant to bring around her card to an acquaintance she had spied across the theatre.

"A Lady Dalrymple," she answered upon questioning. "Have you met her?"

He proclaimed that he had not, nor had the desire.

"But you shall, Gregory."

"Only if she has a sickly child who is likely to inherit. Nay - do not frown so, Miss Lucas! I shall renege. Do you propose to visit her, Aunt?"

"She may come here if she likes - the move is hers."

"Then I am assured of never meeting her. You have greatly relieved my mind."

"La! Lord Wendell - must you always teaze so?" Maria cried, unable to contain her displeasure any longer.

"Would you have a brooding lover, Miss Lucas? I should have thought you preferred a man of wit to a man of thought."

"I care for neither."

"A man of action, then?"

"You know my heart, Lord Wendell."

"I would know it better."

"Lady Dalrymple's card, Lady Catherine," the servant returned, just as Maria called with warm gratitude, "The curtain rises!"

Chapter XX. Act the Second

The second act began with a diversion, and so shall ours. For while Maria cried "the curtain rises!" and leant anxiously forward to view the action, Mr St Giles had just arrived at the Delford's box with every intention of soliciting Else's hand in marriage. This in itself was not uncommon, for he had proposed to her seven times already, and would have proposed a hundred and seventy times more had she not the power to melt his resolve with a look. But tonight, he decided, would be the last. He was a man of five and thirty and could no longer dally upon fancies. His estate in Cornwall, which Else disparaged as mere and provincial, was sizable and -- more importantly -- much in want of an heir. Duty could not be ignored -- Penrose Park must be peopled.

He squared his shoulders as best he could before entering -- a much wasted effort, for as soon as Else glanced over her shoulder, he crumpled and made such a bow that he nearly fell to his knee just then. A smile shadowed her lips, but never reached her eyes, as she turned studiously back to the play. Mr St Giles might have lost his determination with so careless a gesture, had not Mr Delford risen to greet him.

"St Giles, a pleasure to see you here."

"Th-the p-pleasure is a-all mine," Mr St Giles replied with a bow.

"You will remember my mother, Mrs Delford, will you not?"

"I-indeed, I d-do."

Mrs Delford was delighted to see Mr St Giles again, for she was aware as her daughter was not, that London was not the only place for social advancement.

"Dear Mr St Giles," she gushed, "it has been far too long since I saw you last. At your ball was it? Wonderful entertainment, simply wonderful. Have you met Mrs Garvers? Madeline, Mr St Giles. Mr St Giles, Mrs Garvers. We have become very close friends as you can see, Mr St Giles. We have become nearly inseparable!"

"Char-charmed, madam."

"But why do you not sit, my dear man? Look, there is a seat beside me, although I dare say that Eduard will remove. He cannot be that interested in this play -- are you Eduard?"

Mr Delford replied that he had never seen anything so tedious -- although he had followed the action avidly, occasionally turning to his side as though Miss Bennet were there to share his thoughts -- and took the seat beside his Mother, freeing the place next to Else. Mr St Giles, left with no other recourse, puffed up his chest and muttered his rehearsed speech. Else's mouth was very set and angry, and except that she held the opera glasses to her eye, Mr Delford would have set money that her eyes were likewise squinted. Beside him, Mrs Delford and Mrs Garvers giggled and poked each other, glancing significantly at the unhappy couple before them and mouthing "seven!" Mr Delford felt the impropriety of his relations with great acuteness, and longed once again for the companionship of the amiable Colonel or the charming Miss Lucas. Glancing up at the box where our heroine was nearly gripping the edge to escape her own misfortunes, he envied her seeming felicity -- for who could not be joyous in such august company? Miss Bennet he thought of too, but since she was constantly upon his heart, he paid the familiar ache little heed.

"D-do you enjoy the...?" Mr St Giles began.

"Yes, very much," Else replied, looking across the room for any distraction.

Mr St Giles had not the heart to mention that she had not once glanced at the stage. "I d-do as well." He grinned. "Ver-very much."

"Lord, but look at Lady Beauchamp! She looks very ill in purple, don't you agree? And her plumes are altogether too green. She's positively sallow."

"S-sallow, yes in-indeed. I...."

"I do believe Mr Ladislaw has just come in! Look, Mrs Garvers, is that not Mr Ladislaw? Lord, I haven't seen him for an age. Mr St Giles, isn't that Mr Ladislaw?"

He could not deny the figure was very like. <...p>"Yes, very like. I do believe it is he. Mr. St Giles," turning to him and laying her hand upon his arm, "might I entreat you to entice dear Mr. Ladislaw here? I have not seen him for such an age and I do believe he is heartbroken. I take very great mind of a broken heart, Mr. St Giles. It pains me to see someone rejected like he was, and then to have the object of his adoration thrown into a welter of such gossip -- it must be very hard indeed. Would you fetch him, Mr. St Giles? I'm sure you could do it in half a minute."

"C-certainly, Miss D-del...."

"No, no St Giles," Mr. Delford interjected. "Our man Charles shall go."

Thus the befuddled lover regained his place and purpose. "Miss D-delford, I have some-something t-to tell you."

"Do you, sir?" she asked in the sweetest tones.

"I am re-returning to m-my home...."

"Are you? Well you shall be much missed in Bath, I am sure."

"I sh-should hope I am m-missed by...b-by you?"

"Of course, Mr. St Giles. We have known each other for years. Certainly."

"Then...th-then..."

"Where is Charles?"

"M-miss D-d-delford..."

"He needn't dawdle about!"

"Else...."

"Lord!" Else exclaimed, jumping to her feet and fanning herself furiously. "I shall not wait longer for him! I shall seek him out myself!"

"Else," Mr Delford began, standing to intercept his sister. But she sidestepped and hurried to the corridor. Mr St Giles hesitated for a moment, torn between passion and propriety, finally bowing his way out of the box to follow his unworthy beloved.

"Seven?" Mrs Garvers said, pressing her friend who responded, "No, I daresay eight!"

************

Continued in Part 3

© 2000 Copyright held by author