by Wells, Linda
“Lydia open the door!” A girl’s voice called. There was a pause and knocking began. “Lydia!!!”
Another girl’s muffled voice was heard. “What is wrong?”
“She has locked the door. I heard her talking to Jessica’s sisters.”
“I feel so terrible for them. Their lives will be ruined along with Jessica’s if this gets out.”
“You know that it will; it is bound to.” There was another pause and then a knock. “Lydia? It is Susan, please open the door.” The eldest of the girls, and the one appointed by Miss Edwards to watch Lydia hesitated, then seeing the housekeeper passing, asked her to open the door.
Lydia kept sobbing and did not move. The sound of a key turning preceded the door opening and closing. Susan took in the scene and sat down on the bed next to Lydia, placing her hand on her back. “You talked to Jessica’s sisters. They are devastated.”
“They blame me.” Lydia gasped and wiped her eyes. “They said I helped her.”
“Did you?”
“I … I thought we were having fun. I thought it was all a joke, but I did not know she would run away! She … She was my friend! Nobody else likes me here, nobody talks to me. Everybody hates me! My family hates me! I … I … I did not want to come here! Everything was fine until I came here! It is all Lizzy’s fault! She married Mr. Darcy and everything changed! Papa made us start doing lessons, Mama used to do everything for me, now she is telling me that I am bad. But … I am only doing what she said was good before! Kitty does not like me, she used to do anything I said, but now she only cares about Georgiana Darcy and the girls at her school! It is not my fault!” She sat up and stared at Susan. “Is it my fault?”
“No, it is not your fault. Jessica chose to leave with Lieutenant Tike all on her own. It is her parents’ fault for not doing a better job of teaching her, and making her the way she became, and it is her fault for not taking advantage of this school to improve herself. She was determined to resist all that was offered here, just as you are.” She saw Lydia look up at her in confusion. “All of us who go to this school behaved badly in one way or another. Most of us have parents who do not really care about us or who overindulged us. Nearly every girl here has learned the lesson of how to be a lady and we are grateful for the opportunity to change. That is why the girls here do not like you, Lydia. You have sneered at the teachers’ efforts and laughed at the other girls’ accomplishments. Nobody likes to be laughed at. I think that you understand that feeling now, do you not?”
“Yes.” She sniffed and whispered. “I did not know how it hurt.”
“Did you ever laugh at your sisters?”
“Yes.” She hugged her pillow. “I laughed at Kitty. She used to follow me around, even though I was the youngest.”
“It sounds like she was very lonely and wanted a friend. You used her for your entertainment.” Susan stood up and walked over to the desk. There was a stack of unopened letters there. She picked them up and started looking at the return addresses. “You have letters here from Derbyshire, Hertfordshire, London, Gracechurch Street, Longbourn … this is a man’s handwriting, your father wrote to you? Do you know how many girls would give their eye teeth to have their father write to them?” She put them down and turned. “And you have not read any of them and have not shown the courtesy of responding? I find it hard to have sympathy for a girl who shows so little respect. Your claims of your family’s abandonment are false. You are the reason you are alone here.”
“I want to go home.” She whispered.
“Home is not going to ever be what it was before, Lydia. Your family is moving forward, and they are hoping that you do, too. Stop waiting for Jessica to come back here and make things as they were before. She is never coming back here, and she will never get to go home again. Wherever she is, I can assure you, she is wishing she was in your shoes now, with the opportunities you still have. Tell me, do you want her fate?”
“No.” Lydia sniffed.
“There is a school full of girls here who understand you better than you can ever know, but they all had to decide that they wanted to improve themselves and none of them will offer you any friendship until you prove to them that you are serious. Are you ready to do that?”
“Yes.” She looked up and wiped her eyes. “How do I do that?”
“Well, to begin with,” she handed her the stack of letters, “apologize to everyone in your family for ignoring their letters and treating them badly. Then just start working very hard and listening to your teachers. If you do that, the other girls will come around. It is up to you, Lydia. I would hate to see your family suffer as Jessica’s family will for the rest of their lives for your foolishness.” Susan patted her shoulder and left the room.
Lydia started to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, then standing, went to a drawer and found a handkerchief. She blew her nose and sat back down on the bed, then picked up the first letter, and shakily broke the seal.
BINGLEY LEFT MR. GARDINER’S warehouse and began strolling down the street towards the spot where his carriage was parked. The air was cold and damp, a marked change from the cheery fire and rather fine port that they had enjoyed in Mr. Gardiner’s office as they went over the returns on his investments. The numbers were swirling around in his mind and he considered what he should do with his profits, add them to his savings or perhaps find some other worthy enterprise? Lost in thought, he was taken by surprise when a large raindrop splashed on his nose, and was quickly followed by a sudden downpour. All around him voices cried out in dismay, and spotting a nearby doorway, he ducked inside to escape. Stamping his feet and staring out at the rain, he was disconcerted by the voice at his elbow.
“May I help you, sir?” He took a quick glance around the shop and realized that he was in a purveyor of fabrics, and relaxing, he smiled and turned to face a young man.
“Thank you, yes. May I ask the name of your master?”
“Mr. Martin, sir. He is the proprietor here.” The boy said quickly. “He is in the back, if you wish to see him?”
“Mr. Martin!” Bingley nodded and smiled. “Yes, please.” Strolling around the room, he relaxed further, and examined the fabrics, recognizing some from his own mills and unconsciously examining the quality of the competition. His brow furrowed as he stood between two bolts and compared them. Mr. Martin bustled up and cleared his throat.
“Ah, I see that you have an eye for the best, sir. That one there in your left hand is a product of this very country, the mills in Scarborough, that is finely done, notice the fine hand weave sir, very tight, perfect for a lady’s morning frock, or perhaps for a young girl’s dress. Now that fabric in your right, that is from the Manchester mill, but they use a uniform weave, just begun experimenting with those steam looms. I don’t know if I hold with them, sir, put a lot of good men out of work, but I suppose that is the way of progress, and well, you have to stay ahead. Likely the prices will drop then, don’t have to pay a loom, do you sir? Women and children are cheap labour and good enough to work them.” He paused for breath and Bingley turned to look at him. “Why as I live and breathe, Mr. Bingley! Well then, this is a mighty surprise! I say, it’s a damn good thing I was praising your product, eh sir!” Mr. Martin bowed. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Bingley chuckled. “You have not changed in the least, Mr. Martin.”
“No sir, don’t mean to.” He laughed and ushered him back to his parlour located behind the curtain separating the showroom from the workroom. Bingley looked around and saw a miniature beehive of activity. “You do not do tailoring here, do you?”
“Oh a bit, a bit. Branching out, you see. Was thinking of being an all-inclusive shop, but the competition does not look kindly on it.” He shrugged. “But I offer it cheap and quick, so why not?”
“Why not indeed?” Bingley took a chair and smiled. “Well I will be honest with you; I was just ducking out of the rain.”
“Well you picked the right spot! A friendly place!” Mar
tin saw the young boy who had first greeted him and called out, “Round up some tea, Alfie!”
“Yes, sir!”
“That is not necessary, sir, really …” Bingley protested.
“Of course it is! We are men of business, let us have a cup and discuss things a bit.” Martin sniffed and looked him over shrewdly. “I hear you were in Derbyshire this winter.”
Bingley startled. “Oh. Yes, I was, I …” A slow smile appeared. “How is Miss Martin?”
“Ahhhh, my girl is just lovely, sir.” He nodded and looked very pleased to see that Bingley remembered her. “She enjoyed meeting you at your friend’s estate. Pemberley was it?”
“Yes, it was. A beautiful and very great estate.”
“So I was told, sir. I looked into the Darcys; Mr. Darcy took the niece of one of my neighbours to wife.”
“Yes, Mrs. Darcy is the niece of Mr. Gardiner. I was just visiting with him.”
“Good that someone as powerful as Mr. Darcy is willing to … shall we say, bend to be friends with men of business.”
Bingley smiled. “Yes, I am grateful for his condescension.”
“Ah, you are a gentleman, sir.”
“My roots are as soiled as yours, sir.”
“So they are, so they are. But I remember talking to your father, wanting to do right by my girls, giving them an education, a leg up, if you will.”
“Yes, I recall that, and may I say that Miss Martin is a lovely and wonderful example of the benefits of education. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with her.” Bingley’s smile was warm and his expression, soft.
“Did you, now?” Martin’s eyes glimmered and he spoke quietly. “She had some things to say of you.”
“Oh?” He laughed and leaned forward eagerly. “And?”
“She said you were a friendly, kind, and pleasing young man.” Bingley blushed. “She wondered if there was once something between you and Mrs. Darcy.”
“What?” Bingley sat up and frowned. “What did she say?”
Martin startled with the abrupt change and spoke quickly. “Oh, do not take that the wrong way, sir. I am sure she did not mean to imply that you and she were …”
Bingley stood. “Sir, I do not appreciate any implication that I would engage in any such activity with a woman as fine and excellent as Mrs. Darcy!” He took a few steps and turned to find Martin on his feet and coming after him. “How dare anyone imply such a thing! She is the kindest, most loyal wife to my best and treasured friend, and I consider her a sister and friend to myself! If your daughter is such a conniving wretch to wish and imply anything so … so … disgusting between me and … well, I seriously misread her and I obviously am … a failure at judging people. Thank you for bringing my failings to my attention. I will be far more staid in my welcome of strangers in future. Good day, sir!”
“Now wait a minute, Mr. Bingley! Wait!” Martin ran after him. “Sir …”
At that moment, Abbey walked into the shop and removed her bonnet to shake it out. She looked up to come face to face with Bingley. She gasped and gazed at him, and a becoming blush spread over her cheeks before she realized that he was glaring at her. “Mr. Bingley!”
“Miss Martin.” He said coldly. “Excuse me; I will remove myself from your presence since I obviously inspire your worst instincts.”
“What?” She stared and did not move. “What are you saying?”
“I do not believe this is the time or place to discuss it.” Bingley’s mouth set. “Now, please step aside so that I may leave this place.”
“No!” Abbey glared. “You cannot just accuse me of something and … barrel out of here like some … stuck-up snob and expect me to bend over and thank you for it! Now explain your accusations!” She crossed her arms and did not move.
“Miss Martin …”
“I am not moving, sir.”
“I am trying to remain a gentleman.”
“Well then behave like one and answer a lady’s question.”
The two continued to look intently at each other and finally Mr. Martin stood between them. “Now then, why don’t we just retire to the parlour …”
Bingley shot a look at Martin. “Why, so she can accuse me of some other indiscretion? Perhaps she thinks that I am sweet on my best friend’s fourteen-year-old sister as well as his wife?”
Abbey’s face grew white. “Papa, what did you say to him?”
“I only repeated what you said. You told me that you wondered at his care for Mrs. Darcy and if there had ever been something …” His voice trailed off and he saw his daughter’s and Bingley’s matched mortification. “Obviously someone here got something wrong.”
“Mr. Bingley, I apologize if my musings were misunderstood or repeated in any way that questions your friendship with the Darcys or Mrs. Darcy’s fidelity to her husband. I … I only saw an unusually close relationship, and I knew that you were not blood. I … I am very much unaccustomed to such displays of …” She glanced at her father, “Camaraderie.”
Bingley breathed through his nose and searched her face for sincerity. “I will have you know, Miss Martin, that my loyalty and care for the people in my life is very sincere and strong. If what I display seems inappropriate to an outsider than I will have to check myself. Thank you for telling me what my friends might feel.” He frowned deeper still. “However, my friends who know me well do not doubt me. They trust me. They care for me, as I do them.” His face reflected his deep hurt and she saw it. “Excuse me.”
“Please, Mr. Bingley …”
“No, Miss Martin, I … I must leave. I … I bear you no … animosity.” He put his hat on his head and walked out into the rain.
“Oh, Papa!” Abbey turned to her father. “Why did you have to say that? I did not mean what you implied!” She stared out at Bingley’s retreating figure and crossed her arms protectively around her chest. “I liked him. I liked him so much, and I thought that he liked me.”
“I am sorry, Daughter.” Martin put his arm around her. “I thought that I was …well, it is done now. Come, let’s get you some tea. You’re chilled to the bone.”
Abbey saw Bingley disappear and nodded sadly. “Yes, Papa.” She stopped and wiped her eyes. “Did he say anything about me?” When her father hesitated, she stared up at him. “He hated me!”
“No, no. He said that you were lovely and he enjoyed his time with you.” He watched her hands fly to her face and he hugged her. “Why did you wonder about his feelings for Mrs. Darcy?”
She sobbed and buried her face on his shoulder. “Because I … I had been imagining what it might be like to … be cared for by him. I … I thought that I was not so different from his sister and … and his friends liked me and I … I was daydreaming, Papa! I was wondering how any man could be so kind and happy with his friends … I wondered if what he displayed with Mrs. Darcy was what it would be like to be loved by him.” Her shoulders shook and he held her tightly. “Oh why did you tell him!”
Mr. Martin rested his chin in her hair and rubbed her back. “I will make this right, Daughter. I will find a way to make this right.”
“CHARLES, YOU WOULD NOT believe the number of invitations that have come for you, today!” Louisa smiled and approached him as he walked through the door. “Caroline will be kicking herself for … why, you are drenched!” She watched the servants taking his coat and hat and saw that the heavy fabric had not protected him from the storm. “Did you walk here from Cheapside?”
“Almost.” He murmured and started up the stairs. “I will be in my rooms.”
“Charles, what is wrong?” Louisa took his hand. “This is not like you.”
He looked down at his feet. “Perhaps this is the way I am supposed to be.” Shaking his head he squeezed her hand and continued on his way. Louisa looked after him then turned to go into Hurst’s study. He was asleep in a chair by the fire.
“Gerald.” She shook his shoulder and he grunted. “Wake up!”
“What is it Louisa?” He jumped an
d blinked.
“Charles came home soaking wet and went to his rooms.”
He glanced out at the downpour and raised his brows. “And this is worrying because …”
“He is despondent.” She grew impatient with his obtuseness. “Go and speak to him.”
“The man wants to be left alone, he does not …” Seeing her glare he sighed and pushed himself up and out of the chair. “Yes, dear.” He walked up the stairs with a bottle and two glasses in hand; debating what could possibly make Bingley despondent, and decided it had to be a woman. “What else could it be?” He smiled to himself, and arriving at his brother’s chambers, knocked, then opened the door. Bingley was standing by the window staring out at the street below. Hurst closed the door behind him and poured out the port, then walked over to Bingley and nudging him, held out a glass. “Here, to warm you.”
Bingley looked down and silently took the glass. They drank and Hurst leaned against the window frame. “You may as well spill it, Louisa will not let up until she knows what is bothering you. And frankly, I was rather enjoying my nap by the fire.” Taking his brother by the arm, he pulled him over to a chair and sat him down, refilled his glass, and took a seat for himself. “A woman.”
“How …”
“Anyone I know?”
“Miss Martin.”
“Ahhhhhh.” Hurst smiled. “You did remember her.”
“I never forgot her.” Bingley glanced up at him. “I felt a very strong attraction to her.”
“And yet you did not pursue her upon our return.”
Bingley bristled. “I have suddenly found myself in the enviable position of being pursued. Can you blame me for wanting to see what that was like? For the first time since coming to this town I am worthy of attention from the first circles.”
“Yes, the invitations are rather remarkable, according to Louisa. It is a sign that your connection to Darcy and Matlock is very well-established and envied.” He watched him nod and smiled. “Not to mention that your worth has been authenticated.”