by Jemma Thorne
I turned away from her and focused on banishing her from my presence. I had no answer for Clarice. The same concerns she espoused filled my mind with a terrible desire for some sort of justice that I knew would not be answered. And I doubted that Lydia understood what she had done at all.
Three days later, another letter. Still no sign of Lydia, but reading between the lines of Mr. Gardiner’s letter, he had become concerned about Father’s patience in the matter. It was suggested that Mr. Bennet return to Longbourn within the week.
Mrs. Gardiner was eager to return to her home, which she hadn’t seen since early summer. So it was arranged that the carriage that took her to Gracechurch Street would return with Mr. Bennet.
I had no tears left when I parted with my aunt, and the wan smile of thanks I offered felt like paltry gratitude for the lovely trip we’d enjoyed before all this. Now there was only anxiousness between us. She had left her hopes for Darcy and I unspoken since the very day we left Derbyshire. She knew as well as I that such hopes were now ill founded and pointless. All of his gentle words and expressions of concern and regard when we were in Derbyshire must now be forgotten. I would not hold out hope for so unlikely a future.
Maybe Clarice was right. Maybe I would never find my match now at all. And to acknowledge my heart’s truth, if I could not have Darcy, I was not sure any other man would do.
Father’s return did nothing to lift Mother’s mood. She was determined to be ill. She proclaimed herself sickened at the slightest provocation, though she ate well enough when Cook brought her meals to her room. Now she bemoaned the fact that Father was not in London to fight for Lydia’s honor, whereas during his absence she had worried over a most dramatic end of him. She was insensible, but this was her usual state.
Every one of us wondered what would become of the Bennets. News had gotten around the neighborhood. I watched Clarice humorlessly as she stood behind Mrs. Long’s chair while Mrs. Long related just how far our poor news had traveled. Clarice laughed at our misfortune. I wondered at her betrayal. How could she feel so little for us, for the remainder of her family? And yet, with Lydia’s actions, who in their right mind would not laugh? I had known my sister to be far from wise, but I had never assumed that Lydia would do something so foolish as this.
* * *
Days and more days passed before we heard again from London. Jane and I were just returning from a walk when Kitty rushed up to us and asked, “Did Father show you the letter? He walked off with it and all Mother and I know is that it was marked from Mr. Gardiner.”
Jane and I gave each other a single weighty glance and dodged off to find Father. Kitty thought he’d gone to the copse of trees to read it and that’s where we found him. He wasn’t seated and leisurely reading, instead he paced between the trees and the benches. From this posture we understood there was more of note in this letter than any of the previous ones.
Jane spoke first. “Father, what does it say?”
He thrust it toward her. “If you must know, you can read it yourself.” Chin in hand he continued to pace.
Jane and I stood and read together. She was a bit faster than me and when she let out a squeal of surprise it made me jump, I was so focused on the letter’s contents.
Lydia would be married. And it had been arranged for a sum I thought wanting. How had Wickham agreed to this? Mr. Gardiner said that Lydia was to come the next day to stay with them. If that was the case, it had already happened. Jane clutched my arm as if she too feared to hope. “Can it all be arranged so easily as that?”
Father looked at her. “Easily? I worry he has not told me the true measure of what he has done to keep our family’s reputation intact. I owe my brother a great debt now that I must see erased as quickly as possible. How to repay it, I do not know.”
“But it doesn’t seem much,” I said hesitantly.
“No. That is why I believe my dear brother is not being completely honest.”
With the settlement laid out in the letter, Lydia and Wickham would barely be able to keep house. But it seemed Wickham had a new commission that was to take care of them. It all seemed neat enough.
“Have you replied?” Jane asked urgently.
“Not yet. I was framing my reply when you arrived.”
“Father, it is too important!” Jane said, alarmed. “Please, you must write back at once. If the idea wearies you, you can dictate and I will write it for you with my hand. But you must do it now!”
Father nodded. “If the two of you will give me some peace I will be at it.”
“Does Mother know of this?” Jane asked.
“I only received it twenty minutes ago. Your silly mother has not seen its contents yet.”
“Can we take it to her?”
He shrugged. “The task would bring no pleasure to me.”
Father stomped off to the house to craft his reply.
Could this truly be? Could Lydia emerge with a husband and the rest of us with hope?
Mother’s reaction dissolved any notion of illness. She practically leapt from bed and determined that she would leave her room at once for the first time in nearly two weeks. She sent the servants into a bit of an uproar preparing for this visit and that visit, and even began to think of ordering clothes for the upcoming wedding. I groaned and left her to it, unable to watch. Would the woman never learn?
The wedding was to be held in London in the parish of Wickham’s most recent lodgings. Mr. Gardiner thought it best that Lydia and Wickham receive a reception at Longbourn directly after their wedding and before they traveled north. Father grumbled at it, but Mother prevailed this time, aided by Mr. Gardiner’s advice on her side of the argument. Father would rather have never seen this particular daughter again, or so he said. Mother was having none of that. After all, Lydia had long been her favorite.
Father absolutely put his foot down when it came to buying Lydia another stitch of clothing. “She has cost me enough and nearly cost the rest of you everything.”
Mother simpered on, but he would not budge. She was left to wail about the loss of her only married daughter to a home so far north, but that was not in Mr. Bennet’s power to change. The commission had been purchased. Its purchase was a topic Father had heart palpitations over as he wondered at its cost. He had yet to hear the amount from his brother, but he was convinced he would prevail. He kept insisting we didn’t need that handout from the Gardiners.
Mrs. Bennet shook her head in exasperation at that. “If he hadn’t had children of his own, we would get what is his in the end. It’s the least he can do.”
Father turned and walked out without bothering to respond to this insensible claim and I went with him.
“When do they arrive?” I asked him in the hall.
“Next Tuesday. And then the entire affair will be over and we can go back to our normal quiet life, reputations intact.”
I shook my head and wondered at my father’s ability to set such a weighty topic so easily out of his mind.
Until Tuesday we waited, on pins and needles. When the marriage was done, little more could be said of it. And so we could only hope all was going smoothly in London.
On Monday, we had a letter from Mrs. Gardiner.
Dear Jane and Lizzy,
How I miss your sane company. Your sister has been a trial to my wits.
I have attempted to instill in Lydia an understanding of how far she has gone and how much grief she has caused all of you. Yet she is silly as ever.
Three more days and she will be a married woman.
Mrs. Gardiner
I grimaced at Jane. Our aunt was not a cross woman. I could only imagine the things Lydia had said while staying in her house that would engender such an unkind sentiment in her note.
But Lydia wouldn’t bother the Gardiners much longer. She would marry Wickham in the morning. Tomorrow we would see them both.
Chapter 3
I woke in the night. All was dark yet I saw a movement next to my bed.
>
I opened my eyes wider, alarmed. But it was just Clarice.
Her spectre stood at the window, looking down at the yard. For some reason her posture made me remember the melancholy I’d felt upon leaving Pemberley nearly two weeks ago. The realization that what I loved, I was likely never to have. That understanding had been reinforced several times since, with no relief. Just when I had decided that Darcy and I were made for each other, circumstances beyond either of our control made a wedge between us that neither of us could see past.
If Darcy did love me still…how could he ever accept Wickham as a brother? He would never stand for it. So we must be heartbroken, the both of us.
I sat up in bed and whispered to the spirit, praying Jane would sleep on. “Clarice? What are you doing?”
The ghost rubbed her hands over her arms as though she was cold. Of course she was cold. Ghosts knew no warmth. No matter that she was a passenger everywhere I went, my warmth could not touch her. The warmth of this world was lost to her forever and she knew only the cold.
A lump formed in my throat.
“So much of my life in this house… I do not wish to be here any longer.”
I smiled brightly. “Then you should hope that I find a husband. It is our only hope of leaving, Clarice.”
“Not the only hope.”
“What do you mean?”
Clarice’s ghost lifted her shoulders as if to shrug, but then she disappeared in the next heartbeat.
I sat staring at the place where she had stood and then all that I had been feeling over the last weeks crashed forth.
I remembered Darcy’s face when he understood how grave a situation my sister had gotten herself into. I recalled my fantasies during those sweet days in Derbyshire, when such affection had grown between us.
I cried and I cried.
Jane awoke. “Lizzy, it will not be so bad.”
Then she started to cry too, joining me on my bed. “It seems that as soon as I’ve struck out in one direction, something bars my path. I have no more expectations – I don’t know how to form them. Are we ruined, or aren’t we?”
I wrapped an arm around her and cradled her head against my shoulder. “We are not ruined. And after this night, neither of us need ever feel this wound again.”
I did not tell her that for me, the pain would go on. I desperately wanted a different outcome for Jane, but I could not harbor the same hope for myself. For my dear sister’s sake, I lied.
Dawn was coming, and with it the Wickhams. I could only celebrate that I need not dread it any longer.
* * *
In the morning I blinked the sleep from my eyes and forced myself out of bed with the attitude of a woman facing the gallows. I wanted nothing more than to slip back into bed and avoid this entire awful day and all it was sure to bring with it. But I wouldn’t let Jane face the day alone, and it would not be seemly for me to miss my sister’s arrival with her new husband. By dinnertime the carriage would bring them and I had little hope to find the entertainment in it that my good humor usually sought. Father would be disappointed in me. And that was just one more disappointment the day held in store.
I shook off the gloomy thoughts and went downstairs. At breakfast Mother was the only Bennet in command of her words. “My dear Lydia. I finally get to see her again today. Who would’ve thought my youngest, married first. Married at sixteen!”
Kitty was a bit more enthusiastic than us others. At least she would see her favorite sister again. After breakfast, Jane and I slipped out for a walk.
When we’d barely left Longbourn’s drive, I felt a sudden draft at my right side and gooseflesh appeared on my arms. Clarice was walking with us.
“How long do you think until Mother turns her sights toward marrying another of us off?” Jane asked when we reached the little copse of woods.
“This afternoon, after she greets Lydia. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t mention something of the sort then,” I answered.
Clarice gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, to be a marriageable woman with such trifling concerns hanging over my head. Just wait until that marriage you crave brings you five sodding brats who are never grateful for all you give to them.”
I looked askance at that.
“I feel as if fate has slung a noose around my neck and is swinging me this way and that with it,” Jane complained. “Just last week we were assured of our family’s ruin. I had begun to expect we’d grow into old maids together.”
“If we were to be old maids, I agree. Yours is the only presence I can accept that constantly.” I did not look at Clarice, though my words were as much for her as for my sweet sister Jane.
“It is all so entertaining. I do believe there’s a chance yet that you shall be relegated to old maid status. Who knows what Kitty will do next week?” Clarice cackled.
“And what do you get out of that?” I ground out between clenched teeth.
“What was that?” Jane asked.
I shook my head. “Sorry… I –”
“How long must we wait? I feel as if the minutes are dragging. What do you think she’ll be like?”
“Same as always, I presume. I am not holding out hope that she has seen the evil of her ways.”
“Listen, Lizzy. I do not know what the future holds for us. But I’m not going to look on it with disdain. I am not going to give every new choice the same rebuke. It is no way to live. If I do not marry, then I do not marry. But I should like it very much if I did.”
Jane was the wisest of us. And for that, she was likely to be the happiest.
Clarice fumed at my right hand. “Neither of you know of what you speak. Just try to find him, then. Find the man and the marriage that complements rather than detracts from you. But you will not. Such an arrangement is beyond rare.”
I turned back toward the house. “I need something to do with my hands. I think I’ll pick up that hat where I left it yesterday.”
Jane nodded. “As good a use of these terribly long minutes as any.”
* * *
The hours did tick away as we worked, and then Kitty ran through the sitting room with a shout. “The carriage is coming down the drive now! She’s home!”
Lydia most certainly was not home; she was a visitor at Longbourn now.
We all entered the hall to greet them. Mother was bubbling over with a ferocious sort of delight at what she anticipated to be one of the best moments of her life – greeting a newly married daughter. She had finally reached the height of her life’s accomplishments.
Father was grim, his lips turned downward and his eyes distant as though he would rather be anywhere else. His library, preferably.
Kitty itched to talk to her closest sister. Jane and I stood with Mary toward the back.
I tried not to fret. It would be what it would be. I had no control over the scene.
And then the door was thrown open and Lydia breezed through it.
Mother stepped forward and took her daughter in her arms, a mirthful laugh escaping her. “Lydia, my dear!”
“Lydia Wickham, Mother,” Lydia said haughtily.
Mother clasped her kerchief and pressed it to her eyes. “Nothing has ever made me happier, my darling girl!”
I gritted my teeth.
Father’s welcome was far more staid. He barely opened his lips. This was the worst of it for him – he who had not had his own marriageability on the line. Having to greet his daughter and avoid mention of her repugnant behavior, as it had now been remedied by matrimony.
But Lydia just moved past him swiftly, ignoring his scowl. In the sitting room, Lydia looked about and noticed a new piece of embroidery near Mother’s chair. Her eyes lit on it and she exclaimed, “It is all so different! It is as if I haven’t been here in half a lifetime. Though it could as easily be a fortnight. Time is so difficult to measure. Things change so fast! I should not have thought when I left here three months ago that I would return a married woman! Though if I’d been told I would have thought it
sounded quite fun.”
Wickham sat next to me. When he tried to engage me in conversation about his local acquaintances I answered distractedly. Would they both act as though this were a cheerful visit the entire time?
Clarice stood behind Father’s chair, wearing the same expression he did. It seemed as if Lydia were actually having fun after all of the trouble she had caused.
When I could bear it no longer, I stepped from the room.
Clarice followed. “If you could choose, would you take this man as a brother, just for the ability to marry should you find a suitable man?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. What was this assumption that I might have any trouble at all finding a suitable man? Was I really so terrible? Was the idea of marriage?
I engaged her with a whisper. “Clarice, please speak to me again when you have something useful to offer or a bit of a bright note, perhaps. I do not need an angel of gloom and doom standing over my shoulder at every moment.”
“I am merely adding my perspective. I believe you look on all of this with a sort of romance – as though it’s a grand story you’re playing out. It is drudgery, I tell you. Marriage is nothing but drudgery.”
“Who are you trying to convince? I do not believe that my view of marriage is so very far off from your own. However, every time you tell me of the awful aspects, I think only more highly of the good to come of it. Do you think I want to stay in my parents’ house my entire life? Here I must deal with Mother.”
I turned from her and stomped away. I did not want to talk to her anymore today.
The call to lunch came a short while later. I joined the family as they were walking in from the sitting room.
I entered in time to see Lydia dart past Jane to her mother’s right hand, her need to be seen there absolutely comical. “Jane, you must’ve forgotten. I now sit next to Mother, as I am a married woman. You must move down.”
Jane was too sweet to say anything nasty, as I would have done. She took a place next to Mary and didn’t look the slightest bit put out.