Page 64 of A Debt Inherited

Kerr remained still until the air thinned. He took up Sir Montgomery Price’s card. The engraved name sat black and neat beneath his thumb. Not a gentleman calling upon a gentleman. A notice served by hand.

He set it down beside the ledger.

Wickham had spoken of a coach at dawn. Country air. A red coat. Distance from London.

Kerr looked towards the bell cord and left it untouched. Servants asked questions by not asking them. Mrs Price would have the whole of it in Sykes’s ear before the door closed.

He arranged the papers, journal, and letters upon his desk, then took a worn leather satchel from atop the bookcase. The journal went in first. The letters followed.

He secured the straps himself.

By dawn, the satchel would go where he went.

And Bennet lived in Hertfordshire.

Chapter 24

Longbourn, September 1811

The day had settled into that half-light between tea and dinner, when the air outside turned lavender and the house forgot its haste. Bennet sat by the window with his pipe unlit, listening to the scrape of wheels along the drive. Hill’s measured tread crossed the passage; a door opened, a voice answered.

Mrs Bennet came in, composed and trim, her gloves still on. “Well, my dear, the Lucases are much as they were. Sir William’s cough is no better, though Lady Lucas will have him improved whenever he is silent. Charlotte sends her love, and Maria has grown half an inch since spring, by her own account.”

She unpinned her bonnet, laying it beside her with the neatness of habit.

“Mrs Ecclestone insists that we dine before full dark; she says that Kitty and Lydia behave better before the candles are lit.”

“I defer to Mrs Ecclestone,” Bennet said. “She governs this house more wisely than I ever could.”

A faint smile showed she knew it might be true. “The girls are upstairs dressing. Lydia is never satisfied with a ribbon that stays where it is, and Kitty follows to judge the changes.”

“As an artiste should.”

Mrs Bennet gave him a look half amusement, half warning. “Do not provoke them at table, Mr Bennet. They are restless as colts before a gate.”

He bowed slightly in his chair. “Then we shall dine like horse-masters.”

Dinner came on the hour: roast and pudding, plain and hot, the smell of home that money could not improve. Mrs Ecclestone took her place near the younger girls, a still presence among the chatter. Jane sat with her usual composed sweetness; Elizabeth watched, the spark behind her calm.

Conversation began in small, proper turns—Mrs Bennet relating her calls, Jane speaking kindly of Charlotte Lucas, Mary quoting Dr Johnson to the table’s polite endurance. Kitty and Lydia whispered over the colour of a gown seen in Meryton until Mrs Ecclestone laid down her knife and the whispering ceased.

“Mrs Phillips had company from town,” Mrs Bennet said after a pause. “Mr Goulding called there and brought intelligence from Colonel Forster. It appears a militia regiment is ordered to quarters in Meryton before the month’s end.”

The clink of cutlery faltered. Kitty’s eyes brightened; Lydia’s fork hung mid-air. “Soldiers, Mama? In Meryton?”

“Such things are said.” Mrs Bennet’s tone held neither excitement nor alarm, merely statement. “The town will be lively enough, though one hopes the gentlemen behave as guests should.”

Bennet looked towards Hill, who was pouring wine. Their eyes met once—an old understanding, wordless and exact.

Lydia leant forward, her voice barely polite. “Do they wear the red coats, Papa? They must look handsome in the sun.”

Before Bennet could answer, Mrs Ecclestone spoke, quiet but certain. “Red is handsome, Miss Lydia, but it is a coat often bought at a price. Many who wear it are second or third sons with fortunes too small to keep them idle. A gentleman’s commission may lift one man—and ruin another.”

Kitty looked puzzled. “But they are officers, ma’am.”

“Titles on paper,” Mrs Ecclestone said. “Character decides the rest.”

Mrs Bennet set down her glass. “Pray remember, girls, the King’s service is no game of courtship. You may admire a uniform at a distance; that is safest for all concerned.”