Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were precisely akin to a couple of his retired military uncles and their wives. Now dwelling at and managing the family estates, they were simple folk who loved the land they had given so much to protect. Mr. and Mrs. Daniels were like a few cousins, and also his youngest brother, Reginald, who were content to be clerks or serve in other noncommissioned capacities.
Mr. Darcy, although far younger, reminded him greatly of his father. General Artois was tall, brawny, and unbending. Unlike all but one of his sons, Randall’s eldest brother, Roderick, General Artois seemed physically unable to relax his ingrained military demeanor. Yet he was wry and witty, his humor and empathy emerging through the regulated discipline so that even his numerous grandchildren knew he was lovable.
The other six Artois offspring were universally ebullient with emotions worn on their sleeves. This fact was primarily why his brother Roland had gravitated toward Richard Fitzwilliam during Academy, the two developing a tight friendship that more often than not lead to rabble-rousing and activities best left omitted from polite conversation! It was also why Randall meshed with the natural gaiety that ruled his fiancée’s relatives. Lord and Lady Matlock, and the widowed wife of the famous Lord Fotherby, were warm in their formality, teasing and laughing frequently. It was an altogether pleasing assembly, and he accepted the situation with his inborn peaceful assurance that it was meant to be. He looked down at Kitty, meeting her eyes and squeezing the hands resting so lovingly on his arm, contentment wrapping his soul.
Later, he would wonder if it was a divine warning of events to come, but at the time Randall merely thought it odd that in the midst of his happiness he reacted so strongly to the interruption. Yet, the instant he heard the raised voice in the outer corridor, before the words consciously registered, his instincts prevailed.
“I tell you we are expected! We are family and do not need to be announced!”
The indignant exclamation rang through the open door, the Major General stiffening before the first words were released. Impulsively, he nudged Kitty away from his side, turning his body toward the door and in front of her while his left arm shot out as a barrier before her to shield. Simultaneously, his right hand swung about in a flash to grasp the hilt of the sword that normally would be hanging on his hip. He squelched the curse that threatened to pass his lips at the realization that, in this setting of familial felicity, he was not armed. He had no time to experience embarrassment at his reflexive response due to the palpable tension that invaded the room when the visitors revealed themselves.
The owner of the brash voice was a young woman dressed in a revealing gown of a fashionable style. She wore a feathered hat cocked to one side, with her brown hair curled becomingly and framing a pretty face. Rouged cheeks and painted lips lent an air of maturity to what was obviously a young face devoid of intelligence or wisdom. All of this the trained military man concluded in less than a second—observing, categorizing, deducing, and dismissing her as not the cause of his hackles being raised.
Rather, that came from the man who trailed behind her. He traveled in her wake but strode into the room as if he owned it. Of medium height, slender-framed with a small paunch, dark blonde hair stylishly cut and curled, and dressed in a fine suit of beige wool, he swaggered in and swept the room with dark blue eyes inundated with condescension. His face was handsome but arrogant, and with a lewd sensuality inherent in the set of his full lips and half-lidded eyes. His gaze rested on Randall, noting the mass of medals and ribbons on the officer’s chest and the rank insignia on his collar before lifting to meet the older man’s return inspection. Steely black eyes pierced the blue ones that momentarily lost their haughtiness to flickers of fear. Randall noted the unease and foolishness behind the bluster in the younger man’s gaze before the haughty survey moved on to inventory each occupant of the room.
“Mama! Papa! Oh! You are all here!” The woman clapped her hands, rushing toward Mrs. Bennet, who had already rose.
“My Lydia! My baby!!” Mrs. Bennet sobbed, embracing her youngest daughter. “We did not know when to expect you! Oh, Mr. Bennet! Is it not marvelous?”
“I could wait no longer, Mama. I told my Wickham we needed to make haste. We only tarried at Longbourn, briefly, so I could freshen up. I wanted you to see me looking my best! Is not this dress divine? And my hat? I told this servant here that we were expected and welcome. Such impertinence treating us so! Oh, Kitty! Look at you all grown up and getting married! An officer too. Well done, Sister, ranked higher than my dear Wickham, but I shall not be jealous! Papa! Have you missed me? I have missed you so. Devon is such a dreadfully long way away. Such a horrid journey it was, and you would not believe what we had to pay to have the coach take us out to Longbourn! As if it is so far away from the Meryton Station! Nonsense! And then we had to wait until Mr. Hill hitched the phaeton, I hope you do not mind, Papa, but I could not walk all this way! We were afraid we would miss dinner. But we clearly did not!”
Lydia Wickham’s voice pierced the abrupt quiet that had fallen. She appeared utterly unaware of the taut atmosphere as she chattered in an endless stream. Mr. Bennet joined his wife and daughter, embracing and attempting to insert normalcy into the situation. Richard’s sunny expression settled into the rarely seen commanding mien of a colonel. Darcy’s neutral face held except for a fleeting clench of his jaw and frigid iciness infusing his eyes. Dr. Darcy’s countenance assumed an identical pose as his nephew’s, Randall momentarily interrupting his appraisal of the overall scene to register how strange it was to see anything other than gay animation on the physician’s face.
Kitty patted Randall’s arm, drawing his engrossed attention back to her. “It is well, Randall. I have told you of my sister and her husband. I apologize again for their attendance at our wedding. Are you so distressed?”
He smiled, face softening as his body relaxed slightly. “No dear, I was merely startled. Anything that pleases you pleases me.”
“How gallant! You need not pretend completely, however. Nor express any great enthusiasm toward Mr. Wickham. I daresay he will receive little welcome, but you know some of that matter.” Her face shone with pride as she leaned closer. “You far outrank him, as Lydia said, and are physically superior in every way. So my guess is he will be frightened of you.”
“Excellent! A secret, Miss Bennet, for your ears only…” He leaned to whisper into her ear. “I delight in frightening my underlings. They all think me terrifying. It is a reputation I feed as often as possible.”
“I shall keep your secret, Major General. None but I shall know what a lamb you truly are.”
“Come, you two lovebirds!” Mrs. Bennet interrupted. “Do not be so rude. Welcome your sister, Kitty, and introduce your fiancé.”
Everyone but the oblivious Mrs. Bennet felt the undercurrents, but few knew the entire tale of Wickham. In fact, only Darcy, Richard, George, and Lizzy knew all of the history from childhood on to the present. Georgiana knew of her own travails with the scoundrel, but only hints of his past interactions with her brother. Lord and Lady Matlock knew of Georgiana’s narrow escape, of Wickham’s wild ways during University, his squandering James Darcy’s honest inheritance, and the attempt to swindle Darcy later, but nothing of his youthful mischief or the seduction and subsequent forced-marriage to Lydia Bennet.