Lydia Bennet's Story

by Jane Odiwe

  The ceremony passed off exceedingly well, Lydia decided, despite Mr Wickham’s voice being so quiet as to be hardly heard and for Lydia’s unfortunate trip up the aisle on the way out which scuffed her new shoes. “You should learn to keep a tighter hold on my arm,” she scolded. “Indeed, you are a little tardy in these matters, Mr Wickham. If only you would attend more.”

  “You should look where you are going,” he responded in a surly tone, letting go of her arm. “If your mouth were still for long enough, instead of being engaged in gabbing to anyone who will listen for two half seconds together, you might have been aware of the uneven paving and the direction in which you were walking!”

  Mr Darcy spoke only two words to her all morning and neither was an expression of congratulation for either of them. George held out his hand to him, but Lydia noticed that a moment or two passed before the other proffered his to shake, and then it was done in such a paltry manner she did not know why he bothered. To tell the truth, everyone seemed out of sorts, and why they could not be happy for her was a mystery. However, Lydia was determined to enjoy the day, even if she had to do it on her own! She smirked and smiled as though her life depended on it, and even when George left her on the steps of the church to take his seat in the carriage without first handing her in, she was able to forgive him and remain cheerful. She imagined he had merely forgotten her in his haste to escape from Mr Darcy!

  At last they were able to take leave of her relatives, and she imagined their regard for one another to be mutual, in that, were their paths never to cross again, no feelings on either side would be injured. They set off in the chaise and were to meet Mr Bennet’s carriage at Hoddesdon. Mr Wickham was very quiet throughout the entire journey; indeed Lydia declared he looked most ill.

  “You are very quiet today, Mr Wickham, I declare I never saw you such a ninny. Are you feeling quite well?” She put her hand on his forehead. “You do feel awfully clammy. I know what must ail you; Mr Darcy took you out last night to celebrate your impending nuptials and you had a bad oyster, am I right?” Mr Wickham stared out through the window, his expression remaining impassive.

  “La, you cannot even laugh at my jokes, you must be sickening for something. What is it George? I hope you are not going to be ill for our wedding night. George, I have an awful foreboding. Tell me I am wrong. Will it truly be as fun, now it is legal and aboveboard?” She laughed at her questions, but George Wickham would not be cajoled out of his silent inclination until they reached the inn, and he would not speak to his wife other than to say that she must not divulge the fact that Mr Darcy was at their wedding to anyone at home.

  “It is a secret which must be kept strictly between ourselves, do you understand, Lydia? You must not breathe a word of it to a single soul.”

  “I shouldn’t think there is a creature who could care less whether Mr Darcy was there or not,” Lydia scoffed, “but why does it have to be such a secret? I should have thought you would want everyone to know that, finally, he has paid his dues to you. I will certainly want people to know that he has at last seen the error of his ways.”

  Wickham roared at her in such a fashion, and with no explanation, that she was forced to consider the prudence of holding her tongue. “Do not speak of it, do you hear?” he shouted. “You are to tell no one, not a soul, have you got it? If I hear you have breathed a word of it to anyone, Lydia, I shall thrash you with my bare hands.”

  “Not even my father has ever shouted at me like that before, and if you think you are going to make a habit of it now we are married, you had best think again,” she shouted back. “I am so shocked, I shall burst into tears!”

  If George had a weakness where women were concerned it was that he hated to see them cry. Indeed, he took great pleasure in helping any lady in distress, often using the situation to his own advantage. There was nothing he enjoyed better than drying a young lady’s tears, especially if he could take her in his arms to alleviate her suffering. Knowing how much her Georgie would wish to comfort her, she put a little extra effort into her performance, which achieved the desired effect. He soon had his arm round her, and although she resisted for a full five minutes, she then let him kiss all his favourite places.

  He certainly cheered up after a drink to their health, in the very dining room where she had met her sisters all those months ago. They had a fine nuncheon; pink ham, roast beef, and a dressed salad, washed down with as much wine as they wished. After all, it was their wedding day, and they both knew that the most gruelling part of the day was yet to come.

  “I am not afraid of my father,” Lydia professed, “but I know his reception is not going to be the same as the rapturous welcome we shall certainly have from my mother.” She took her seat in the carriage. “Small wonder that you have been so quiet at the start of our journey, Mr Wickham. What a silly girl I am! For a moment, I had begun to think you might have regretted marrying me after all.” No, she thought, it was clear he had been thinking of her papa, and so she assured him that all would be well; her mama would not let her papa misbehave and she would see that everything would be affability itself.

  Tuesday, August 31st

  I am married today to dear Georgie. Mrs Lydia Wickham—how droll to see my name so! We arrived at Longbourn just in time for dinner, to an ecstatic reception from mama, a chilly one from papa, and a diffident response from my sisters, who are such perfect ninnies at times that anyone would imagine that they did not know me, except Kitty of course. It took a full fifteen minutes before they could be roused to congratulate me on my marriage, and as usual, I had to do all the talking. Mama and I held sway, which is the norm, but even my poor husband had to struggle to make Lizzy have any conversation. I have not noticed it before, but there is something in my sisters’ manners which sets them quite apart as old maids, and I fear their lack of spirit will not endear them to the neighbourhood beaux. I certainly think the fact of their impending spinsterhood was brought home to my sister Jane, who needed a gentle reminder as we passed through into the dining room that, as a married woman, I must now take her place next to mama. Poor mama, how is she ever to get rid of them?

  I have received two letters of congratulation from those dear friends Harriet and Isabella. They, at least, are very happy for me and eager to hear news of my new life. They seem very pleased, though Harriet is by all accounts a little vexed that she had not been let into my secret earlier. She implied her husband, the Colonel, had been put out by the worry that I had caused, but said she was sure everything would blow over in due course and that I am not to concern myself. Dear me! I must say it had not occurred to me to be too troubled, but I will make amends to Harriet; indeed, I will see that she is invited to Newcastle. What fun we will have!

  Mrs Hill, Rebecca, and Mary were so pleased to see me downstairs in the kitchen and wanted to hear all about Brighton and have all the particulars of my wedding. I showed them my ring, and it has to be said they were far more interested to see it than any of my sisters. I suspect a little of the green-eyed monster is behind my sisters’ reticence to hear all about my wedding, and they do not seem to admire Wickham at all, especially Lizzy, but then I daresay he did break her heart and it must be difficult for her to see how much he is in love with me.

  Friday, September 3rd

  How I long to be in Newcastle! We have less than a fortnight to moulder here and the thought of leaving is sweet rapture!!!!

  I cannot wait to be gone, and though it has been pleasant to be the centre of attention, in the warmth of family love, and the envy of all the maids in Meryton, I feel a desperate need to be away and to be setting up my own home. I have related all the details of my nuptials to everyone I know, and though Lizzy has not seemed to be so interested in listening to any account of my wedding, I felt obliged to relate it all to her as she was the only person who had not heard all the fine details and arrangements. It has to be said she remained completely disinterested until I
happened to let slip that Mr Darcy had been there and then she had such a look of amazement on her countenance that I knew I had a captive audience in her and Jane at last. Of course, I told them I was sworn to secrecy and could not tell them how Darcy had owed Wickham lots of money—at least I think that was what Georgie said. I forget the particulars, but it was something to do with money to which he was entitled.

  Anyway, Mr Darcy has finally decided to make amends for the living promised by his father to my dear Wickham. It is little wonder George cannot abide him; and to think they were brought up together like brothers!

  I do not care. All I know is that we were very poor and now we are quite well off. I am sure dear Georgie will soon be promoted and I will see him as a Colonel of the regiment yet.

  I do think him the most handsome man I ever set eyes on!!!

  Part Two

  Chapter 20

  LYDIA KNEW VERY WELL that the written accounts of her new life, penned in the only proper letter her mama was to receive for a month after her marriage, would be read by half the neighbourhood, and if not read, then its contents would be relayed by word of mouth or written and passed on again in missives to her sisters in their new homes: Jane at Netherfield and Lizzy at Pemberley. She was careful not to make any reference to her thoughts on her sisters’ recent marriages. She could not help but envy their good fortune. Jane had got her Mr Bingley at last, and Lizzy had surprised them all by marrying Mr Darcy, though Lydia would not have swapped her husband for that gentleman, despite all his money. She had never got to the bottom of how exactly her sister had come to fall in love with Mr Darcy, but according to Kitty, she had not been persuaded by his fortune and huge house alone. Shortly after they had arrived in Newcastle, Lizzy had acquainted Lydia by letter of the news of both sisters’ engagements, along with a detailed account of the extent of Mr Darcy’s involvement in securing Lydia’s marriage to George Wickham. Lizzy’s object had not been to set out to upset her sister, she wrote, but she could not suffer to hear Lydia abuse her fiancé any longer when, indeed, she should have been grateful to Mr Darcy for his thoughtful actions. Whilst Lydia did not want to believe the accuracy of it, her more intimate knowledge of her husband’s character had eventually led her to surmise that it must, in part, be true. Mr Wickham, it seemed, had been bought, made to marry her in an effort to save her reputation, and Mr Darcy had paid for it all. Still, on the whole, she was convinced that, though her husband might not be as enamoured of her as she was of him, his affection for her was something near enough and she would make the best of it. She would love him so much that he wouldn’t be able to resist loving her back. In a letter, therefore, she had to ensure that her family had something on which to cogitate and converse. She was determined to show them all how happy she was with her new situation, how in love she was with her husband, and how there had not been a more lively nor likeable town to live in than Newcastle, a rival for Brighton with all its diversions.

  Pilgrim’s Buildings, Tuesday, October 12th

  Dearest Mama,

  You will be wondering why it has been so long since you have heard from me, but I am sure you understand that being a married woman makes many demands and, as such, letter writing has lamentably had to remain at the bottom of my list of impending and important duties.

  Wickham and I are settled for the present in lodgings in the town, and whilst we wish for a house of our own, dear George has so many commitments and is called away so frequently by his regiment that we have had little time to attend to house hunting. George assures me that it will not be long before we will have an abode to call our own, but to tell the truth, we are so happy, it would not matter to me if I were living in a hovel on High Friar Street!

  I have been shopping for some items of furniture, as it all desperately required updating, and I have filled our sitting room with a new sofa and chairs, some small occasional tables, and have green blinds at the window. Everyone who calls comments on my style, and all say I have the most exquisite taste. Was it not always so, mama? My talent for trimming a new bonnet has held me in good stead for decorating a new home.

  I have made many friends already; Lucy Fenwick has been very kind, though I am not so partial to her particular friend Evelina Armstrong. Quite frankly, this lady sees me as a threat to her position as leader in all matters of fashion and society soirées; though to speak plainly, while it had been my intention to entertain frequently, our current expenditure forbids it. Still, it does not seem to deter others from inviting us, and despite our lack of returning hospitality, we remain as popular as ever. I have written to Lizzy and Jane, but you might hint that it would be a kindness to their younger sister if they were to think of her whilst her husband is still making his way in the world. I have never been of a proud disposition and, therefore, they should not hesitate to send me money. They need not worry that it will be insulting to me in any way. Indeed, if I could clear a few bills, I might be able to buy the bonnet of lilac crape with a shade and puffing of white muslin and grey feather to match that I spied yesterday in the milliners. We are not so hard up for the necessities of life, you understand, but a few luxuries help to pass the days more pleasantly, I know you will agree. In any case, I shall see Jane at Christmas, and she is always generous. Wickham and I have been invited to Netherfield; at least one dear sister does not ignore my fond requests to visit. I daresay I shall see Pemberley one day, though later than I should like.

  As I have already intimated, I have been received with great cordiality by the officers’ wives and even more so by the officers themselves. Mama, I am sure you are not surprised to hear that I have several favourites already. Mr Gascoigne is so attentive and so like dear Denny, whom I am sure I shall miss to the end of my days. Captain Welby is the most handsome man I ever set eyes on, and Mr Lambert is so sweet, he blushes like a girl whenever I look his way. Needless to say, I could fill two sides writing of just these lovely fellows and their antics to present. Other notables include Annesley, Bostock, and Herbert, so you see, I neither lack for company nor friendship! The society may not be quite so refined as in Hertfordshire but does not suffer for it in my eyes; I am as happy to befriend a milliner’s daughter as anyone of higher standing. Indeed, there are many more people here made wealthy by trade, the ship industry, and coal than are what we would call gentry. The ladies certainly spend a lot of money on their appearance and are as fashionable as any I saw in Brighton, if not more so. I can almost understand what they are saying now, for their way of talking takes getting used to, and for the first week, I thought I was in a foreign country and asked dear George what language they were speaking. Quite frankly, it is not unpleasant to the ear, and I am sure I have picked it up in the few weeks I have been here; certainly, if Mr Gascoigne spends any longer whispering in my ear, I shall be a true proficient! I expect to see the latter and all his comrades at the Assembly Ball this week. There are many dances and occasions for socialising; how you would love it here! Everyone is vastly pleasant and great fun. Please rest assured, dearest mama, that I am happy, hale, and hearty, and if in my next letter I do not write with “increasing news,” if you take my meaning, I assure you it will not be for want of trying; George and I are meticulous in that endeavour! Do not worry if you do not hear from me for a while; believe me to be living my life to the fullest.

  Your loving daughter,

  Lydia Wickham

  That Lydia was prone to flights of fancy was well known, and with the exception of her doting mama, the others of her family received her news with more than a liberal sprinkling of salt. Lydia was very pleased with her composition, which she felt evinced just the right tone, giving both an impression of marital bliss and domestic felicity, which would surely strike a note of envy in her siblings whom she was sure would receive a suitably embellished account from their mama.

  The truth of the situation was that, on reaching Newcastle, Lydia had been delighted and disappointed in equal measures. �
�Is this what all of Newcastle is like, my love? Grand and ramshackle buildings sat side by side? I confess, I did think there would be a little more grandeur; and everywhere is so dirty, even more so than in the country. There’s coal dust everywhere. The entire town seems black with it!”

  “I am sure when we have been all over the town, we shall find cleanliness and grandeur enough to satisfy even your sensibilities, my dear,” was her husband’s answer. “For now, we must make haste to our modest lodgings and remember this is only the start. We will soon be moving on.”

  “Oh, I do hope Mr Darcy can help you to obtain a higher commission soon,” Lydia cried. “Lizzy has promised that she will speak to him and then we shall have a house of our own.”

  Lucy Fenwick was the first to call with her friend Mrs Armstrong. Lucy was engaged to Captain Bostock, on the point of getting married herself, and so they soon found they had a lot in common, though when pressed for particulars of her own wedding, Lydia had glossed over all the parts that she felt might not withstand close scrutiny. Lucy was amiable enough, but Lydia did not like Evelina Armstrong at all. She was one of those women who were always ready to be vindictive or spread some malicious falsehood. She enjoyed sniffing out any hint of gossip and was forever telling tales about errant husbands in the regiment. It was a well-known fact that her own husband had more than a roving eye, and Lydia presumed that being spiteful at everyone else’s expense was the only way Mrs Armstrong could divert unwanted attention from the Major.

  “Mr Wickham called in to see me with one or two of the officers yesterday morning,” she said, addressing Lydia as they sat in her best parlour, a fortnight after Lydia’s arrival. “There was quite a little party. Mr Gascoigne’s cousin Miss Arabella was with them, and a very lively young lady she is too. I hope you do not mind me passing this on, Mrs Wickham, but I do not think I would be letting my husband enjoy the company of such a forward miss.”