by Leenie Brown
Wickham nodded. “Of course.”
“Very well, sir. You have been more a stranger to this house than its master.”
Wickham sighed.
Matthew continued, “As you have noted yourself, she has worked very diligently. She has toiled when she was more inclined to give up than continue. Do you wish to know why?”
Wickham nodded. He was not entirely sure he wished to know, but he knew he must know.
“She fears disappointing you.”
“She has not disappointed me.” Wickham’s brows were drawn together in concern.
“I see and hear things, sir.”
“You have heard her say it?”
Matthew gave a half shrug. “I may have, but I do not speak of what I see or hear, sir.”
Wickham had to admire the loyalty Matthew was showing Lydia even though that loyalty was presently frustrating him. “You will not tell me?”
Matthew shook his head. “Just as I have not told her about your sleeping in your study, sir.”
Wickham nodded. “I see.” He thought for a moment. There must be some way that he could gain a bit more information.
“Did you hear Mrs. Jacobs’ daughter had her baby?”
The sudden change of topic took Wickham by surprise. “Yes, I had heard. It was early, was it not?” Wickham removed his coat.
“It was indeed. Her son came running just as the biscuits were going into the oven. She was beside herself as to what to do, but Mrs. Wickham offered to finish the baking and cooking so Mrs. Jacobs could assist her daughter.” Matthew folded Wickham’s jacket and waistcoat and laid them on the desk, then held out his hand for the shirt which Wickham was pulling over his head. “Mrs. Wickham did an excellent job with both the biscuits and soup, but there was an incident involving some broken dishes.”
Wickham paused in removing his sock. “She did not mention needing to replace any dishes.”
“As I understand it, they were not needed.”
Wickham finished removing his socks and breeches and slipped into his night shirt. He was unaware that they had a surplus of dishes, but perhaps it was a seldom used item.
“Which dishes were broken,” he asked.
Matthew, arms laden with clothing, turned as he opened the door and gave his master a pointed look. “They were yours, sir.”
Wickham stared at the closed door. His? She had broken his dishes because they were not needed? He climbed beneath the covers on his cot. It was as Denny had said. She did feel abandoned. The sinking feeling of failure settled in his stomach and pounded behind his eyes. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he would spend the evening at home despite the temptation it might cause him. He would right his wrong. Tomorrow.
Chapter 7
“Where is Papa?” Louisa sat down next to where her mother was pulling weeds.
Lydia laid aside the weeds she had just pulled and removed her gloves. “He is at the shop.”
“He is always at the shop or with Uncle Denny.”
Lydia heard the accusation and hurt that lay behind the words. She hoped that finally her daughter was going to speak of what had been keeping her silent and withdrawn for the last month. Lydia placed an arm around Louisa’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I am sorry. He stays away because of me.” She blinked to keep the tears from falling. It had hurt to think such things, but to put a voice to them was even more cutting. “He loves you.” Even if he does not love me.
Louisa sniffled. “I miss him.”
As do I. “I know.” She used her handkerchief to dry her daughter’s eyes as a tear escaped her own.
“Why?” Louisa looked up at her. “Why did you leave us? It made Thomas and Papa very sad.”
Lydia expelled the breath she had been holding. “I was foolish. I wished to see my sister.” She blew out another breath. Telling your child of your shortcomings was not an easy task. “I had spent more money than I was allowed, and my sister’s husband is very rich. I thought if I could go see her, she might give me the money so your father would not know of the over expenditure and be unhappy with me.” She played with a lock of Louisa’s hair as she held her close. “It was not a well-thought-out plan.”
“Papa was angry. He yelled at everyone, and then Uncle Denny yelled back and Aunt Kitty took us to her house.”
“I am so sorry,” Lydia said again. “He was angry at me. I had left on a trip without his approval and with a man who was not my husband. I only meant to have someone with me to make sure of my safety. Travelling can be dangerous, especially for a woman. But it was wrong.” She pulled back from her daughter, so that she could see Louisa’s face. “He was right to be angry with me.”
Louisa brushed a tear from her mother’s cheek. “Is that why he stays away? He is still angry with you?” Her voice was hushed.
Lydia nodded and pulled her daughter close once again. “I believe so.” Her heart ached at the thought. “We could go see him. I need some fabric to make a cloth for the table.” She released her daughter from her hug. “Help me gather these weeds for the fire, and then we will get our things.”
Louisa piled the weeds into her apron and gathered it up like a sack. She bent and placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Mama?”
“Yes, love.”
“I love you.” She scampered off to dispose of the weeds.
Lydia smiled and gathered her gloves and both her hat and Louisa’s. At least one person was no longer angry with her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Papa!” Louisa wrapped her arms around her father. “Mama came to get material for the table.”
“Did she?” Wickham nodded a greeting to Lydia and rubbed Louisa’s back. “I have some new ribbons in the back. Would you like to see them?” Her head rubbed against his side as she nodded. “Do you mind?” He asked Lydia.
“No, not at all. I will be a few moments picking out what I need.” She smiled and moved toward the counter where Mrs. Edmonds stood.
“Cloth for a table, did I hear, Mrs. Wickham?” Mrs. Edmonds was a pleasant woman who was advanced in her years but spry and with a quick wit and a strong constitution. “Did you have a particular colour in mind?”
“Something light in colour that would be good for brightening up the room.”
“You will be stitching it?” The woman peered over her spectacles at Lydia expecting an affirmative response.
“Of course.”
“Do you require a large piece or a small one?”
“Enough for a runner about this long.” Lydia held out her arms to demonstrate.
Mrs. Edmonds smiled and pulled open a drawer. “I’ve just the thing. A pale yellow, cheery as a summer’s day and with a few flowers would be just the thing to brighten any room.” She searched for a moment. “Oh my, it seems it has been moved. I am sure it has not been sold, but Sally does not always remember the correct drawer for returning things. I do apologize, Mrs. Wickham, but I shall have to ask her to help me locate it. It really is just what you need.” The woman scooted off to find the forgetful salesgirl.
Mrs. Edmonds was correct, the piece of material was just what Lydia wanted. With wrapped parcel in hand, she moved to stand near the front door as she waited for her daughter and husband. She looked around the store. The counters were tidy; the workers were pleasant; and the customers were not sparse. Her husband had done well. A small bit of pride at his accomplishments crept into her heart, and she smiled. He had begun by working alongside the former owner, paying him bit by bit until the store was fully his and the gentleman was able to take his ease at his daughter’s home in a southern town. Lydia remembered the walks they had taken through town as he looked at the activity around them and made note of articles which were needed and his store could provide. It was why he had so many customers. He knew their needs and met them. His charm also did him no harm in that regard. He had an easy way with everyone.
She shifted to look out the window at the street. His charm and his ability to read people’s desires
had at one time been used to do ill. She had heard Denny speak of the many scrapes the two had only just managed to avoid due to her husband’s skill.
She moved a bit closer to the open door to catch some of the fresh spring air that flowed through it. She breathed deeply and sighed. This, this store, her husband, her family was what she wanted. Not the ribbons and lace. Not the hats and gowns. Not the carriages and fine estates. No, what she wanted was this feeling of accomplishment, of having done something of value. Perhaps that was why Papa had insisted on Kitty and the others spending time each day in doing something to be of service to others. Perhaps tomorrow she and Louisa could ask Kitty for ideas where they could begin such a practice.
“And with a soldier.”
She heard a woman’s voice drift through the door on the breeze. She looked out and saw Miss Cooper and Miss Howe standing on the street outside the shop.
“Oh,” said Miss Howe, “I heard they were gone for a se’ennight, and the officer has been sent to another unit. She is lucky her husband took her back. I heard he was forced to marry her after she ran off with him. Quite a patched-up affair. I would think he would take this as a chance to be rid of her.”
Lydia’s hand lay on her heart; her eyes were fixed on the two women; her breathing stopped. They were speaking of her.
“He is a handsome man even if he is a bit old,” said Miss Cooper, the younger of the two ladies. “I would not mind taking her place, even if it meant caring for her children along with my own.”
The other lady giggled. “You’d not find me running off with another when that was available at home.”
Lydia gasped and blinked as she heard her name.
“Lydia, I said ’Are you well?’” Wickham’s voice held a note of concern. His wife was looking decidedly pale and distraught.
“Yes, yes, I am well.” She gave him a quick smile. “I was just lost in thought.” She looked down at his boots and blinked away the tears. “Louisa, is she ready?”
“I had thought to ask if she might remain here this afternoon. I can bring her home in time for tea.” He tipped his head to the side and studied her. “Are you certain you are well?” He was certain she was not.
She rubbed her temple. “I think I have a bit of a headache beginning. Perhaps I was out in the sun too long this morning.”
“Come. Sit and rest for a moment.” He took her arm to lead her to the back of the store.
“No.” She pulled her arm away. “I would not wish to be an inconvenience. Besides, taking some air might be better.” She smoothed her sleeve where he had held her. She needed to get out of this place before her composure completely shattered. “I will look for you and Louisa for tea.” She turned and left quickly. Her nerves were at their breaking point as she passed the two gossips.
“Mrs. Wickham,” said Miss Howe. “A beautiful day, is it not?”
“Too fine to waste it in gossiping and minding business which is not your own. Perhaps you would do well to use it to find your own husbands.” She knew she should not say it. She should count as Lizzy did, but she could not make her mouth mind her instructions. She gave the startled young ladies a small nod and continued on her way.
She walked in the direction of home but found she could not bear the thought of being confined to surroundings so full of him. Reaching the edge of town and a small wooded area where she often took walks, she finally allowed her tears to fall as she sank down next to a tree. She pulled her knees up and buried her face in her skirts. Calming a bit, she leaned back against the tree and stared at the leaves overhead. She remembered the excitement of sneaking away with George from Brighton. She thought of the time they had spent whispering their plans behind cards at parties and stealing away for secret meetings. She remembered the tenderness of his caresses, the sweetness of his words. And then they had stopped in London. To claim an old debt, he had said. She had waited patiently in the rooms they had let for him to complete his business, which she had always thought had been interrupted by Darcy.
A bird alighted on a branch, and Lydia watched it for a bit as it straightened its feathers. “Mr. Darcy was very grumpy,” she said to the bird. “And he came to our wedding, as if ensuring it really happened.” Her eyes grew wide. “He wanted to make sure George married me. It is true! He was forced to marry me! He had no intention of doing so!” Her loud accusations startled the bird, and it flew away. She gasped as the hints Kitty had given her collided with this new knowledge. “Mr. Darcy paid him to marry me.”
Abruptly, she stood and shook out her skirts, the misery of earlier being overtaken by anger. “The lying scoundrel.” She swatted a leaf off her skirt. “All those pretty words! Empty, meaningless words!” She began her march toward home. It would soon be time for tea.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Wickham watched Lydia stop and speak to the young ladies in front of his store. Her words carried to him, and, despite his concern for her, he smiled at her temerity.
“Well!” Miss Howe flicked her head, raising her chin quite high. “It is no wonder he had to be forced to marry such a woman.” The two approached the store. “Though it makes me wonder all the more why he would go fetch her. I would have left her and good riddance. He could do far better.”
“Louisa,” he called to his daughter. “I think we shall go for a walk before returning home.”
Louisa clapped her hands and snatched up her package of ribbons. “May we stop in the woods?” She ran to the back of the store to fetch her father’s hat.
Wickham nodded to the two offensive females as they entered his store. He would allow them to be served. He felt no qualms about taking their money. What he would not tolerate was their disrespect for his wife. “Good day,” he said before lowering his voice. “Did you know the breeze can carry a conversation?” They looked at him in confusion. “I would have you know I can do no better than my wife, but she could have probably done far better than marrying the likes of me. Do not speak of what you do not know.”
“Papa?” Louisa stood beside him and held out his hat. She looked first at his scowl and then the ladies who offered her a quick greeting. She grabbed her father’s hand and hurried with him into the street and off toward the edge of town. She had to nearly run to keep pace with him. “Papa?” She pulled on his hand. “Papa?”
He slowed and turned his head in her direction. “Promise me you will never be the sort of young lady who spreads hurtful tales.”
Her brows drew together, and her lips pursed as she nodded her head in promise. “Were those ladies telling tales?”
“They were.”
“Can you not tell their papas?”
He chuckled and shook his head slightly at her innocent questioning. “I could, and I might. But, I think I need to find your mama first.”
“Why?”
“Because, Poppet, I believe your mama heard their story and might be rather unhappy.” Noting how quickly she was walking, he slowed his pace.
“Papa?” Her head was cocked to one side as she looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Yes.”
“I love, Mama.”
He smiled and released her hand as they drew near the woods. “So do I.”
The question in her eyes was replaced by a happy light. “You should tell her,” she said as she skipped toward the trees.
Chapter 8
“Stay close,” Wickham called after his daughter.
“I will,” she called back.
He knew she would play where she always played. He did not really fear her wandering off, but the thought of her being lost or harmed always got the best of his logic. He laughed lightly at his anxiousness. Had he possessed the knowledge of a father’s concern for his children ─ his daughters in particular, perhaps he would have taken more care in his dealings with the young maids he met. Perhaps Darcy’s reaction to his attempted elopement with Georgiana would not have come as such a surprise. He had expected displeasure but not to the extent he had received. He rubbed h
is chin at the memory. A flitter of yellow caught his eye.
“Lydia,” he called. He paused for a moment before pursuing her. Her uncle had been unhappy with him when they met before the wedding, but Lydia’s father had been quite welcoming. He had never found that strange until now. If some young buck had run off with his Louisa, he would not be welcoming him into his home without making sure the young man knew his displeasure. He shook his head. Mr. Bennet was personable and intelligent, but he had failed in more than one area with his daughter it seemed. “Lydia,” he called again as he moved quickly in her direction.
She stopped and turned toward him. He could tell by the way she stood with her feet slightly apart and her arms folded that she was not happy, and he had a feeling that he had somehow become the object of her displeasure. “Louisa and I came to find you.”
“I was not lost.” There was a definite note of displeasure in her voice.
“How is your headache? Did your walk help?” He was close enough now to see the redness of her eyes. “You have been crying. I thought you said you were well?”
She glowered at him. “I lied. I was not well, and my head did not ache, but then lying should be of no great significance to you. You are quite proficient at it.”
“I beg your pardon?” He stepped close enough to grab her should she decide to walk away. There was no way he was going to allow this anger to fester any longer than it had.
“I heard some news ─”
“Gossip, you mean.”
“Yes, George, I mean gossip.” She rolled her eyes.
“And this gossip was about you?”
She huffed. “Of course it was about me! I am obviously the most stupid of females, and it makes for great news.” She threw her hands up in exasperation before placing them firmly on her hips. “He paid you. He paid you to marry me. ” Her lip trembled. “And here I thought you married me because you loved me.”
Wickham furrowed his brow. “They said Darcy paid me to marry you? How would they know that?”