by Jann Rowland
Lydia, of course, was enjoying herself in Brighton during this time. And perhaps she was enjoying herself a little too much, given the reports she gleefully sent back whenever she had the chance. As the summer wore on and the wedding approached, however, Mr. Bennet began to talk about calling his youngest daughter home so she could be present. Soon, unfortunately, her return became necessary.
On a beautiful August morning only a week before her wedding, Elizabeth was called into her father’s study. She had spent many pleasant hours in the room since her return when Mr. Darcy was not available, sitting with the parent with whom she had always been close, reminiscing, speaking of the imminent changes facing the family. This, however, was not to be a discussion so benign.
“Sit down, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, and brandished a letter. “It seems you were more correct than I had thought with respect to your sister’s determination to ruin us.”
“What has she done?” asked Elizabeth. Though her voice was calm, her hands were clenched into fists; she knew Mr. Darcy would not forsake her, regardless of what Lydia had done, but she would never forgive Lydia if she did something to tarnish the old and respected name she was soon to take for her own.
“Oh, nothing so dreadful, I suppose,” replied Mr. Bennet with a smile Elizabeth knew to be forced. “It appears Forster caught her with a young man of the regiment—Mr. Denny, to be precise—engaged in amorous activities.”
“And you call this not dreadful?” exclaimed Elizabeth. It was nearly a shriek.
Mr. Bennet chuckled and shook his head. “From what the colonel said in his letter, I believe they were both still fully clothed. It was nothing more than a kiss, from what I understand.”
“That is bad enough!” said Elizabeth.
“I am sorry to make such a gauche reference, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. “Colonel Forster is sending my wayward daughter home with an escort to avoid any further trouble, which is actually rather convenient, for it saves me the trouble of retrieving her myself.”
“And when is she expected?”
“This very afternoon, unless they are delayed. The reason I called you in is to discuss what to do with her. Your mother, as you know, is busy with your wedding, and cannot be counted on to control Lydia regardless. I expect your sister will be offended by her ill use, claiming that she would have been married before you and Jane had the colonel only let her be.”
“That is Lydia, without a doubt,” said Elizabeth quietly.
“As your young man and his family will be here this afternoon, I thought it might be best to sequester Lydia until I can ensure she will not embarrass us all with her antics. I thought to ask for your opinion on how it might be done.”
“I am certain I do not know,” said Elizabeth. She paused, considering the matter. “You know Lydia will be loud and obnoxious, as she usually is, and I cannot imagine being confined to her room will check her tantrums to any great extent.”
“I suppose not. Still, I shall do my best to ensure she is as well behaved as possible.”
And with that Elizabeth was forced to be content. But contentment was a state which was elusive, for as the time approached for Lydia to arrive, Elizabeth became nervous, and all the things Lady Catherine likely thought about her family were no more than an hour or two away from being proven correct.
“What is it, Elizabeth?” asked Anne. Elizabeth, even amid her worries, had noted her friend’s growing understanding of her perturbation of mind, and she had wondered when Anne would ask her about it. Elizabeth attempted to demur, but Anne was not about to allow it.
“It is obvious something is bothering you,” said Anne, her stern tone demanding answers. “Surely you may share it with me.”
Elizabeth sighed, knowing that Anne could be as inexorable as Lady Catherine when she put her mind to it. “My youngest sister is to return home today,” said Elizabeth with a sigh. “Apparently, she has had some . . . trouble in Brighton and is not likely to behave well when she arrives.”
Contrary to Elizabeth’s expectation, Anne only laughed. “Then I am certain we shall weather the storm. You need not worry for our opinions, Elizabeth. You will find that we Fitzwilliams are a hardy lot—we shall not be frightened away by a spoiled child.”
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, there was another who overheard their conversation, and when the carriage was sighted and Mr. Bennet made his way out to greet it, Elizabeth followed along with Anne. She did not realize it until she made her presence known, but their eavesdropper also made her way outside at the same time.
The complaints began as soon as the carriage stopped, and Lydia made her way—reluctantly—from the coach to stand in front of them. She blamed the Forsters, the officers, and even her sisters who had been left behind in Hertfordshire for her near disgrace. Even Mary did not escape her censure, and she was not due to return with the Gardiners for another few days! In short, everyone was to blame except for Lydia herself.
Elizabeth attempted to speak to her sister to quiet her, but she was the only one who tried. Mr. Bennet was shaking his head and giving directions for her luggage to be brought into the house, and even Anne was watching Lydia, eyes wide, no doubt understanding for the first time what Elizabeth had informed her of Lydia’s behavior. That was when the other made herself known.
“Miss Lydia Bennet!” Lady Catherine’s voice cracked like a whip, and for the first time since descending from the carriage, Lydia ceased speaking, staring at Lady Catherine with her mouth wide open.
“That is much better,” said Lady Catherine, but while her voice was quieter, the authority inherent in it was not diminished at all. “You are quite the most ill-mannered, childish young lady I have ever met! What is the meaning of this?”
With obvious affront, Lydia sucked in a breath to unleash a torrent of abuse on the lady, when Lady Catherine stepped up to her and directed a glare so fierce at her that Lydia stepped back in alarm. “Children, Miss Lydia, are to be seen and not heard, and you are most definitely a child who has not learned to behave herself. Now, you will pick up your reticule and march inside the house to your room, and there I shall attend you as you are bathing and preparing for dinner. I will explain to you exactly how you shall behave, and if you put one foot out of line, it shall go very ill for you. Am I clear?”
A mutinous glint appeared in Lydia’s eyes, and she cast a glance at her father. But Mr. Bennet, far from being offended by this obvious usurpation of his authority, instead looked on with amusement, and when Lydia looked at him, he only shook his head and turned his attention to the disposition of the carriage and Lydia’s trunks. She made one more futile gesture at asserting her independence, but it was ruthlessly quashed by Lady Catherine once again.
“Now, Miss Lydia.” And so saying, Lady Catherine grasped the girl by the arm and marched her into the house and up the stairs. Elizabeth might have expected Lydia to complain the entire way, but she made not a sound.
By her side, Anne burst into laughter, and though she was still concerned about Lydia’s ability to be fractious, Elizabeth joined in, releasing the tension she had been feeling all day.
“I had not thought to find a useful purpose for my mother’s imperious nature,” chortled Anne, “but in this case, I must own she has outdone herself.”
“If anyone possesses the means to be more stubborn than my sister, I must confess that person to be your mother!” replied Elizabeth.
When they descended the stairs that evening for dinner, Lady Catherine stayed by Lydia’s side to ensure her good behavior. It was the quietest Elizabeth had ever seen her sister, and though she was not certain this would be a permanent improvement, anything was better than she had been before. And though Lydia would have times where her true nature shone forth, Elizabeth was continually astonished at the change Lady Catherine was able to effect in her sister. Lydia would never be a quiet, proper lady like Georgiana, but she eventually grew to the point where she
did not continually embarrass her sisters.
The season for their courtship was a happy one for Elizabeth, and she truly came to love Mr. Darcy more and more each day. When the day arrived that she was to resign the name of her birth in favor of her new husband’s, she was able to do so without any hint of concern or hesitation, for he was truly the best man she had ever known.
“This is the happiest day of my life, Mrs. Darcy,” said Mr. Darcy.
“It is for me too,” replied Elizabeth, feeling overwhelmed by a ceremony that, even now only minutes after, she could remember but little.
“How long shall we stay for the wedding breakfast?”
Elizabeth playfully swatted him. “Shall we offend our family by leaving so early?”
“If it means I am to be alone with you at last, my dear, then I am happy to offend anyone.”
With a laugh, Elizabeth steered her husband back to her mother’s guests, who were arriving from the chapel. “We will be able to leave soon enough, Husband. For now, let us give them whatever attention we can spare.”
And Mr. Darcy did so with as much grace as an impatient man could muster. But in this instance, Elizabeth could not fault his lack of civility. In fact, she was feeling a little impatient herself.
It was spring, and the flowers were in bloom. It was a time Anne loved, for she had so often been denied the simple pleasure of watching an industrious bee, making its way from flower to flower, or the feeling of the wind on her face. Elizabeth’s entrance into her life the year before had been both boon and blessing, neither of which Anne had never thought she would receive. To top it off, she was once again visiting her dearest friend and could not be happier.
This bench on which she sat, the bench Elizabeth so favored whenever she was in London, was in such a peaceful locale that Anne had taken to sitting here, thinking about the changes her life had seen. She was hardly the same woman, she knew, and she owed much of it to her dearest friend and now cousin. She had been truly blessed.
The spring was the first time since the previous summer that the Darcys had been in town, for after their wedding, they had returned to London for a period of only three days, after which they had departed for Pemberley, where they had spent the winter after a short journey to the Darcy family lodge in the Lake Country. Though she might have thought a newly married couple would prefer to remain alone throughout the winter, the Darcys had hosted the Bennets, the Fitzwilliams, the de Bourgh’s, and even Mr. and Mrs. Collins for the Christmas season, and laughter and joy had abounded at Pemberley. She was a good mistress of Darcy’s estates, thought Anne, as Anne had always known she would be.
Those days had not been without their trials, however. Anne had taken to Elizabeth’s sisters and family without reservation, amused at their differing characters and not put off by their sometimes less than proper behavior. But her mother still struggled at times, though she was perfectly polite. Miss Lydia, in particular, still tried all their nerves, though the girl had made a little improvement. But she was obviously fearful of Lady Catherine, for all it took was a glare, and Lydia would cease whatever objectionable behavior in which she was engaged. Georgiana still got on famously with Miss Kitty and Miss Mary, and while Mrs. Bennet remained her exuberant self, there was no harm in her. As for Mr. Bennet, there were few men as eager to avoid society as he—not even Darcy was so taciturn—but his sense of humor was diverting, and Anne found many similarities between him and his second daughter.
They had returned to London for the season, though the Bennets returned to Hertfordshire, and though Darcy was his usual self when it came to socializing, Elizabeth was fond of society, and he indulged her whenever he could. The Bingleys, though they did not live in nearly so fashionable a neighborhood, were also nearby, giving both Elizabeth and Anne another dear friend with whom they could face society.
As for Mr. Bingley’s sisters, well, they were present, and while the elder was now with child and was to return to her husband’s estate before long, the younger was not nearly so objectionable as she had been before. She had a suitor now, or so Anne understood, a circumstance which was a relief to Mr. Bingley. For his sake, Anne hoped Miss Bingley succeeded in eliciting a proposal and that Miss Bingley would be induced to accept.
“Anne?” a voice called from the doorway, and Anne turned and smiled at the approaching figure of her closest friend. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Yes, I believe I have usurped your favorite place in London!” said Anne in a teasing tone.
“Perhaps you have,” replied Elizabeth. “But I am not averse to sharing it, I assure you.”
Elizabeth came and sat next to Anne, and for a short time they sat in companionable silence, watching the world pass them by in their idyllic retreat.
“Shall you come into the house now?” asked Elizabeth, turning to Anne after a time. “If I am not very much mistaken, Mr. Ashdown should be visiting soon. I sure he will after the attention he paid to you last night.”
“I will not be the subject of your teasing,” said Anne, attempting to display a mock displeasure with her friend.
Elizabeth only raised an eyebrow. “After all the teasing to which you subjected me, I should think you would expect it.”
“Perhaps I should,” replied Anne with a laugh. “But that does not mean I will accept it.”
“You do like him very well, do you not?” asked Elizabeth.
“I do not object to his attentions,” said Anne. “We shall simply need to see.”
“Then you may keep your secrets. But you must inform me as soon as there are any developments.”
“I surely shall.”
Together they rose and made their way back into the house. For Anne, it felt like she was home, a home she had never had before. And it was in a large part due to this wonderful woman whose arm she was holding. Elizabeth Darcy was her companion, her friend, her confidante, and was quite the best person Anne had ever known.
The End
Please enjoy the following excerpt from the upcoming novel On Tides of Fate, book three of the Earth and Sky trilogy.
Wisteria was much as Terrace remembered. She was heavyset, though not quite overweight, with the brown hair and eyes of her people, and though her younger sister was delicate and slender, Wisteria was rather like a battering ram in comparison. She was not unattractive, but Terrace knew many men would be put off by her plainer features and the contemptuous curl of her lips. If, indeed, they had not already been put off by her domineering manner and poisonous tongue. With some interest, Terrace noted a few pockmarked scars on Wisteria’s face, including one—quite deep—just under her left eye. Terrace wondered whether she had been in a battle of some kind.
There were a number of noble men and women standing by in the room, gazing on Terrace, as though wondering what she would do. Wisteria held her hand out to a nearby servant, who placed a goblet in her hand, backing away deferentially, almost genuflecting before the woman.
Terrace watched this scene with shock. Groundbreathers had never required such strong obeisance from their subjects. Most of those who lived in the castle were Groundbreathers themselves, descended from the same people who had originally been blessed by Terrain. Tillman’s requirements for respect had been almost perfunctory in nature, though Sequoia had always been more stringent. But even that imperious woman, who Terrace knew to be a good person at heart, had not acted the way her oldest daughter did. The girl almost seemed to think that she was Terrain himself.
“Welcome, Aunt,” Wisteria said, her contemptuous amusement not hidden when she paused to drink deeply from the goblet that had been provided to her. “To what do I owe the honor of this unannounced visit?”
“I am sure you understand exactly why I am here, Wisteria. I wish to know what happened to my brother, and I want to know what you have done with River.”
Wisteria cocked her head to the side. “You were informed, were you not?”
“I was. B
ut I would hear it from you nonetheless.”
Wisteria shrugged. “It is as you were told. There was an attempt to take over the castle, and my father was an unfortunate casualty.”
“You speak of him as if he was nothing more than a Groundwalker,” Terrace spat. “He was king of our people!”
“You had best moderate your tone,” the chamberlain said. “Your niece is to be addressed with the respect she deserves and referred to as ‘Your Majesty.’“
“I changed her soiled linens when she was a child and swatted her bottom when she misbehaved,” Terrace snapped. “You had best mind your manners, or my niece will need a new toady to do her bidding.”
The man stiffened at the insult, but Terrace’s glare must have been fierce enough that he knew better than to speak any further. The sullen glare he directed at her, however, informed Terrace that she had made an enemy. But she did not fear what a man who kissed her niece’s feet could do, and she turned her stony gaze back on Wisteria.
“Well, Wisteria?” Terrace prompted. “I am waiting for your answer.”
“I do not make light of my father’s death,” Wisteria responded. “I mourn his passing as much as anyone, but as I am the eldest and the leadership of our people must be maintained, I have put my personal feelings aside for the good of the people and so that I might act in obedience to Terrain.”