A Covenant of Marriage Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by C. P. Odom

  A Most Civil Proposal

  Consequences

  Pride, Prejudice, and Secrets

  Perilous Siege

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A COVENANT OF MARRIAGE

  Copyright © 2019 by C. P. Odom

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information: P.O. Box 34, Oysterville WA 98641

  ISBN: 978-1-68131-035-0

  Cover design and layout by Ellen Pickels

  Front cover images: stock.adobe.com and shutterstock.com

  Back cover image: Edmund Blair Leighton, “Prospects” (1883)

  Dedication

  To Linnea Eileen Smith, my friend and fellow Arizona State Sun Devil football fan, who urged me to work on this story when I was struggling with writer’s block on Perilous Siege. She believed the fan-fiction version of A Covenant of Marriage was my best work.

  I should have listened to her earlier. Thanks, Linnea!

  Prologue

  Marriage is by nature a covenant. Not just a private contract one may cancel at will.

  — Bruce C. Hafen (1940–), American attorney, academic, and religious leader

  Monday, May 18, 1812

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  On the very last day of the militia regiment’s stay at Meryton, Elizabeth Bennet was to see Mr. Wickham for a final time when he and some of the other officers dined at Longbourn. Since her return from Kent and her astonishing and turbulent encounters with Mr. Darcy, she had been in company with Mr. Wickham a sufficient number of times to relieve any agitation at the thought of seeing him. In fact, more than any other emotion, she now felt disgust at the prospect, for she had been repelled after her return from Kent by the manner in which he had attempted to renew those attentions to her that had marked the early part of their acquaintance. To be selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry served only to irritate her; thus, Elizabeth had no particular desire to part from him in good humour.

  Accordingly, when Mr. Wickham made an enquiry during the evening as to how she had passed her time at Hunsford, she regarded him levelly for a moment and then decided to see whether she could provoke a response.

  “We were fortunate to have the company of Mr. Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam for three weeks while they visited their aunt. Are you acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  Wickham reacted as she had hoped—surprised, displeased, and alarmed—but he rallied quickly.

  “Before I was forced to leave Pemberley, I had seen him often. I remember him being a very gentlemanlike man. How did you get on with him?”

  “Oh, very well!” Elizabeth said warmly. “He is undoubtedly a very well-bred man, and his manners are easy and delightful.”

  “How long did you say he was at Rosings?” Mr. Wickham asked with what appeared to be an air of indifference.

  “Nearly three weeks.”

  “And you saw him frequently?”

  “Yes, almost every day.”

  “His manners are very different from his cousin’s.”

  “Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance.”

  This remark seemed to stagger Wickham, and Elizabeth rather enjoyed his discomfiture when he was unable at first to make a complete statement. He again recovered, adopting a gayer tone as he said, mockingly, “Does he improve in address? Or has he changed his ordinary style to include a modicum of civility? For I know better than to hope he is improved in essentials.”

  “Oh no!” Elizabeth said. “In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was.”

  The obliqueness of her remark seemed to puzzle Wickham. He looked uncertain as to whether she agreed with what he had said or whether her words had some hidden meaning.

  “When I said he improved on acquaintance,” Elizabeth said, “I did not mean to say it was his mind or his manners that were in a state of improvement. Rather, my point related to my own view. Knowing him better led me to an improved understanding of his disposition.”

  Wickham’s face went red, and he could not hide his agitation. It took him some moments to shake off his embarrassment and use the gentleness of his speech and the ease of his manners to return to the old subject of his grievances against Mr. Darcy. But Elizabeth was in no mood to indulge him, and her dismissive smile brought an end to the conversation.

  For the rest of the evening, Wickham gave every indication of his usual cheerfulness, but he made no further effort to distinguish her. When they parted at last, their farewells were perfectly civil, and Elizabeth believed they shared a desire never to meet again.

  After the departure of the regiment, life at Longbourn settled down to a lower level of excitement, but Elizabeth did not find the relief she had expected with the departure of Wickham. Their parties abroad were less varied than before the regiment had left, of course, and with Lydia gone to Brighton with Mrs. Forster, her mother and Kitty indulged themselves in complaining of the dullness of everything around them.

  Elizabeth had her tour to the Lake District with her aunt and uncle to promise an improvement in felicity. It was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours when her mother and Kitty expressed their discontent, and had she been able to include Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.

  ***

  Monday, June 29, 1812

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  The time fixed for the beginning of Elizabeth’s northern tour finally arrived, and on a Monday at the end of June, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived at Longbourn with their four children who were to be left in the care of their cousin Jane. She was the particular favourite of all the children, and she responded in kind since her own steadiness and even temper suited her exactly to the task.

  The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn before setting off the next morning with Elizabeth, all of them highly anticipating six weeks of touring the Lake District. Elizabeth had heard much of the region and looked forward to days of diversion and pleasure, especially since she was in company with her beloved aunt and uncle. She knew she could not have picked more suitable travelling companions, and the inconveniences that so often afflicted travellers would not put a damper on their own excursion. Whether they faced inclement weather, a broken carriage wheel, or problems with inns along the way, she knew Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would deal with them in the same way she would: with good temper, intelligence, and common sense.

  Elizabeth recorded no descriptions of the area they toured or the places that provided del
ightful diversions during their journey, and in later years, she found she could not remember any of those places with any distinction.

  Thus, after a month and a half of travel, the party bent their path towards Hertfordshire, and after sleeping two nights on the road, arrived at Longbourn, expecting to be greeted with predictable enthusiasm by the children as well as the rest of the family.

  Only half of their expectations were met.

  Chapter 1

  How many times had those awful words—“I know what I’m doing”—been uttered throughout history as prelude to disaster?

  — Christopher Buckley (1952–) American political satirist

  Wednesday, August 12, 1812

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  As soon as the carriage entered the paddock at Longbourn, Elizabeth saw her cousins standing on the steps of the house, having been attracted by either the sight or sound of their vehicle. When the carriage arrived at the door, their faces lit up with joyful surprise that seemed to spread to the rest of their bodies since they began to caper and frisk about the carriage even before the door could be opened.

  Elizabeth was the first to climb down, and she stooped to give each of them a kiss and an embrace while her aunt and uncle exited the carriage. As she rose to her feet, she was surprised to see Jane running down the steps in a most unusual haste, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. Elizabeth had not even time to ask whether she was feeling ill before her elder sister embraced her.

  “Oh, Lizzy, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you!” Jane cried, and Elizabeth was startled to see tears running freely down her sister’s cheeks.

  “What is wrong?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly afraid some illness or accident might have afflicted a member of the family during her absence.

  “Did you not receive my letters?” Jane asked in confusion.

  “I got only four or five while we were gone, but I received nothing during the past several weeks. Come, what is wrong? Are my mother and father well? Did something happen to one of my sisters?”

  “No, everyone is well, but Lydia—oh, it is so distressing!”

  By this time, both her aunt and uncle had joined them and realised something was wrong.

  “Perhaps it would be best to take the children inside and entrust them to the care of the housekeeper before we discuss this further,” Mrs. Gardiner said quietly. “We do not want to upset them unduly. Are your mother and father inside?”

  “My father is in town searching for—” Jane stopped when her aunt raised a finger to her lips.

  “My father is not here, and my mother is upstairs in her room,” Jane said, choosing her words more carefully. “I am afraid Hill is sitting with her, so she cannot take the children. My mother is too—”

  “Then one of the other servants,” Mrs. Gardiner interrupted forcibly. “Come, one need only look at your face to see how upset you are. We want to know what has happened as soon as possible, but we want to discuss it in private.”

  This was obviously sensible, and Jane allowed herself to be guided inside to the front parlour. Within a few minutes, the children had been taken upstairs, and Mrs. Gardiner returned, closing the doors firmly behind her.

  “Now, pray tell us what has happened,” Mr. Gardiner said calmly.

  “As I told Lizzy, it concerns Lydia. I assume you know she went to Brighton with her friend Mrs. Forster?”

  “Yes, Lizzy mentioned it,” Mrs. Gardiner said flatly, and Elizabeth noted her aunt’s admirable self-control in not showing her displeasure. Lydia was not a favourite with her aunt and uncle, and both had thought it the height of rashness that she was allowed to go to such a place as Brighton without a family escort.

  “On Sunday last, an express came at about midnight when we were all gone to bed. It was from Colonel Forster, and it contained dreadful news. He informed us that Lydia had gone off to Scotland with one of his officers.”

  “Scotland!” exclaimed Mr. Gardiner. “Gretna Green?”

  “I presume so, but I do not know for certain. Colonel Forster’s express only mentioned Scotland.”

  “Which officer?” Elizabeth asked. “Lieutenant Denny?”

  “No, it was…it was Mr. Wickham.”

  “Mr. Wickham!” exclaimed Elizabeth, jumping to her feet. “That cannot be!”

  “And why is that?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

  “It is simple, Uncle. Mr. Wickham would never marry a woman with no money. He has none himself, and he has already proved himself a complete mercenary!”

  “Be calm, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “I agree it does seem inexplicable from what you wrote us about his previous engagement.”

  “To Miss King,” Elizabeth said, recovering her composure and sitting down. “Miss King and her ten thousand pounds.”

  “Yes, I remember, but perhaps we might be wrong,” her aunt said gently. “It may be possible he truly loves Lydia—loves her enough to marry her despite her lack of fortune.”

  “I understand what you mean. You think I might be upset at the thought of Wickham seeking to marry Lydia when he made no offer for me despite having earlier shown a preference for me. But I assure you it is not wounded vanity that makes me critical of him. I know Wickham’s true character, as does Jane. He has been profligate in every sense of the word. He has neither integrity nor honour, and he is as false and deceitful as he is cunning.”

  “But, how do you know all this?” cried Mrs. Gardiner.

  “I am quite sure,” replied Elizabeth, colouring somewhat as she remembered Mr. Darcy’s letter. “I am not at liberty to give you all the particulars, but pray believe me when I say I have reason to believe my information is true. It has been verified by personal testimony as well as unbiased witnesses.”

  Both Mr. Gardiner and his wife looked at Jane, who nodded unhappily in agreement with her sister. Her face showed distress at having to openly criticise another person.

  “There is good reason to doubt Mr. Wickham’s intentions—though I must admit I was originally hesitant to accept what Lizzy told me.”

  “Jane wishes to think well of everyone,” Elizabeth said. “And despite what I had shared with her that refuted the lies Mr. Wickham told me and everyone else about how badly he had been misused by Mr. Darcy, she still tried to find some way to prove everything had been a misunderstanding. But she was finally forced to agree with me about Mr. Wickham. Am I not correct, Jane?”

  “I am afraid she is, Aunt Gardiner,” Jane said, nodding in agreement even though her face showed her unhappiness. “And I have to confess that at first I was disposed to think the same thing in this case. As I wrote in my first letter—the one that never reached you—I originally hoped the reported elopement marked nothing malicious in his heart. As thoughtless and indiscreet as both had been, I believed Wickham had chosen Lydia because of disinterested love for he had to know my father could give her nothing. But then Colonel Forster called here on the very next day after I sent my first letter. He had questioned Lieutenant Denny, who disclosed the unhappy information that Mr. Wickham had never intended to go to Gretna Green—or to marry Lydia at all.”

  The effect of this disclosure was utterly and immediately disturbing to the others, and everyone began talking at the same time, trying to ask questions of Jane and of each other until Mr. Gardiner was finally able to bring a measure of quiet to the room. Jane could not stop the tears running down her cheeks as her uncle turned to her.

  “What happened after Colonel Forster related his news?”

  Jane wiped her eyes with a handkerchief her aunt handed her before replying. “Colonel Forster said he had immediately taken alarm. Evidently, he had begun to distrust Mr. Wickham because of something he called debts of honour.”

  “Gambling debts,” Mr. Gardiner said flatly.

  “A gamester!” Jane cried.
“How horrible! And in addition to everything else! I had not an idea of it.”

  “Sadly, it is all too common and not only among army officers. More than one duel has been fought among the nobility for similar reasons. What else did Colonel Forster tell you?”

  “It seems Colonel Forster left Brighton soon after dispatching the express we received, and he tried to trace their route. He was not able to follow Lydia and Wickham beyond Clapham for the chaise was dismissed there. They evidently removed into a hackney coach that was seen to take the London road. Colonel Forster made inquiries but was unable to get any word of them at the turnpikes and inns between there and Longbourn. When he reached here, he told my father of all his apprehensions, and they both left immediately afterwards with the intention of searching for Wickham in town. My father charged me to look after my mother and sisters in his absence, which I have tried to do, but I am so relieved and thankful all of you have returned!”

  “Poor Jane!” Elizabeth said, comforting and embracing her sister. “You are so pale. How you must have suffered while we were enjoying our travels in blissful ignorance of all these calamities!”

  “So they are not married,” Mrs. Gardiner said calmly, but a tightness around her eyes betrayed her worry.

  “So it would seem,” Jane said morosely, “though I am very distressed by the thought of my sister acting in such an improper manner. I cannot help feeling quite unhappy to think so ill of either Lydia or Mr. Wickham.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot feel as you do,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps I am not doing Lydia justice. It is most shocking to be forced to doubt a sister’s virtue, but Lydia is very young, and my mother has indulged her most shamelessly, allowing her to dispose of her time in the most idle and frivolous manner and to give greater susceptibility to feelings that are more than sufficiently lively. You know how often we have tried to talk to her about the unsuitability of her behaviour, but since she had the indulgence of my mother, she simply ignored us completely.

  “I have no idea how Lydia might have come to form an attachment to Mr. Wickham. I never saw any sign of special interest on the part of either of them while they were in Hertfordshire, and I do not think she meant to elope without any intent of marriage. But I have no difficulty in believing neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her from becoming easy prey to such a person as Wickham. We all know he is capable of every charm of person and address that can captivate a woman. To my shame, I can easily give testimony to how amiable he can be.”