Page 49 of The Fee Entail

Young Simon was at least a good idea, as he had our trunks ready to go as soon as we got to his cart, and then it hit me!

I actually stopped walking, swayed a bit dizzily, and gasped loudly enough that Simon asked, “Are you well, madam? May I help you in any way?”

It was all so clear. It was all so obvious. His walk, his dress, his manner of speaking, even particular words he used were now pointing directly at a conclusion that explained everything. I was not happy, but at least satisfied to understand my reaction, though less sanguine about his still standing a dozen paces from me.

This man had a much more than passing connection to George Wickham. I would bet my fortune on it. Whether he was brother, cousin, or just of similar disposition, I hoped to never know, but I was now certain that was what set my hackles on end and had me ready to scratch his eyes out from the moment he appeared. That blinding rage apparently prevented me from seeing the severity of injury to his leg, which made me think he appeared more tap-hackled than he actually was. How long had he been injured?

I had to think hard for a moment before I came to the embarrassing conclusion that he had not actually done anything bad, aside from his forwardness and inability to take direction. However, the idea of apologising, or frankly talking to him ever again, made me shudder. He was hobbling off down the street, so I put him out of my mind as yesterday’s problem.

With my head somewhat cleared, I asked young Simon, “Do you know where the parsonage is? I am told it is not far.”

That seemed simple enough, but I heard the man I thought I was done with gasp, much like I had, and he once again nearly toppled in the mud as he turned around too abruptly for his injured leg.

Much to my displeasure, he spoke again.

“I beg your pardon, madam, and please do not think me interfering in your private affairs… again, but I could not help overhearing. Did you say the parsonage?”

I had another set-down for the ages on the tip of my tongue, but then remembered my remorse for my actions a few minutes earlier, and calmed myself… just barely. I would not scream at him… not yet anyway.

“Yes.” Any more words were too much for me.

I looked at him, and he seemed to have sobered up a bit. I had no earthly idea what kind of connection a man like this colonel could possibly have with the parsonage. Perhaps he was related to Elizabeth’s patroness that her husband blathered on about endlessly.

He said quite possibly the last thing I expected. “Are you looking for Elizabeth? She is not there. She is at Rosings with her sisters, and she is… unwell.”

Now he had my complete and undivided attention.

I stared at him. “How do you know this?”

He nodded and looked almost… defeated, though I had no earthly idea why. I was certainly not the first woman to give him a set-down, and given his manner, I was unlikely to be the last.

He glanced at me with a look of something like pain.

“She was… ah… badly injured, and has been abed since the fourth of December. I am told her fever has abated, and we are just waiting and hoping for her recovery. There is quite a long story, but it is not my place to tell it. I must leave that to either Jane or my cousin Darcy.”

He went from truly annoying to frightening immediately. Did this mean he was in company with Jane and her sisters? If that were the case, and Lizzy was indisposed, it seemed my scheme had failed before it even began. It was a good thing I still had Scotland as an alternative, as I could not abide being in this man’s company very much longer, and I doubted very much that an unwed yet increasing woman would be welcomed in Rosings even once, should I be inclined to visit, which I was not.

He walked a few paces closer, so our business was not being shouted to the whole village.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and just spat out the first incongruity I could. “Elizabeth?”

Having arrived a pace or two away, he was wise enough to come no closer.

“I apologise. That must seem terribly forward and unexpected, but we all use given names. It started with Darcy when he noticed Elizabeth did not like her new surname, and she invited him to use ‘Elizabeth’. Once that was done, all six sisters simply adopted the same convention and gave me leave to do the same.”

The man made less and less sense as he went along, and he now had his hat in his hands, though I was uncertain it would ever fit back on his head if he did not quit wringing it.

“Six sisters, you say?”

“My apologies, madam. We started so badly that I am quite nervous now. You must be from Hertfordshire, and I presume, if you are friends with Elizabeth, you knew my cousin Darcy last winter?”

I gave him a very cold, “I did.”

“Did you share Elizabeth’s bad opinion?”

The conversation was becoming more confusing by the moment, but I answered candidly, though I have no idea why.

“She could barely stand the sight of him. I did not think so badly of him… until he and his friend Bingley abandoned Jane without a word, and his other friend—”