by J P Christy
“Mrs. Bennet, consider this,” her husband said, “Mr. Bingley will be better prepared to marry when he has more confidence about being an estate owner.”
“Mr. Bennet, consider this, a gentleman with an estate needs a wife—and he could do no better than our Jane.”
“Which I shall tell Mr. Bingley at lunch tomorrow.”
Mrs. Bennet made a sound to indicate her doubts as to her husband’s efficacy in relaying such an important message. She swept out of the parlor and started up the stairs, pausing only to call to the maid, “I will have a tea tray in my room.”
≈≈≈
June 6, 1811
As agreed, Mr. Bennet attended nuncheon the next day with the gentlemen of Netherfield, returning home later than his wife would have liked. During dinner, Mr. Bennet was more voluble than usual; after praising the intelligence of the other gentlemen, he gave favorable assessments of their knowledge of estate management. When he finished recounting his afternoon, Mrs. Bennet glared at him. “Mr. Bingley did not call today.”
“As our nuncheon lasted longer than expected, Mr. Bingley sent his apologies and said he will call tomorrow.”
“I hope he is not losing interest,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Quite the opposite, don’t you think?” Mary said, “He spent the afternoon with Papa to learn about being a country squire.”
“Mama, please do not worry so,” Jane said.
“Perhaps he can only endure one Bennet encounter per day,” Elizabeth teased.
“If that was a joke, I see no humor in it!” Mrs. Bennet snapped.
“I was also asked to convey an invitation to our daughters for Saturday,” Mr. Bennet said. “Miss Darcy would like you girls to come to tea. I will again be joining the gentlemen, for Mr. Bingley has asked me to view Netherfield on horseback.”
“And what about me?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“I believe Miss Darcy wants to visit with her peers. And as it is my wish to invite the Netherfield party to Sunday dinner, do you not wish to be overseeing the preparations?”
“Well, I do not want to be in Miss Darcy’s company, Papa,” Lydia announced. “Wickham says she is very proud and arrogant.”
“Lydia, you know she is not!” Kitty exclaimed.
“Georgiana is gracious and kind,” Jane said.
“She is everything Scripture says a maiden should be,” Mary said.
“However, if you do not believe you can be gracious and kind in Georgiana’s company, I will happily make your excuses, and you can stay home,” Elizabeth said.
Mrs. Bennet smiled at her youngest. “But Lydia is so lively; might not Miss Darcy feel slighted by her absence?”
“I would rather have her feel slighted by Lydia’s absence than feel insulted by something Lydia says in her presence.”
“You are very hard on your little sister, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said disapprovingly.
≈≈≈
June 7, 1811
The day after learning she would be required to join her sisters at Netherfield for tea, Lydia accompanied her mother to dinner and card party at her Aunt Phillips’ home in Meryton. (“To raise your spirits, dear girl,” Mrs. Bennet said.) Thus, at Longbourn, the other Bennets shared a meal with the Netherfield party and Ainsworth: a tasty collation of meats, cheeses, bread, and fruit.
During the day, Ainsworth assisted his aunt and uncle on their farm; however, he often spent evenings at Longbourn, where the Bennets welcomed him as an equal—which, as a gentleman’s son, he was. Elizabeth was pleased to note that Georgiana, Bingley, and Fitzwilliam also treated Ainsworth as their peer, but she was uncertain as to Darcy’s feelings. He had spoken approvingly of Ainsworth’s grandfather and had helped to locate the Laidlaw children. Still, the master of Pemberley was noticeably aloof, and Elizabeth wondered if this was due to arrogance or shyness.
After dinner, Mr. Bennet retired to his study while the others repaired to the parlor. Kitty quickly seized the moment, asking, “Mary, would you play a Scotch reel so we may dance?”
Mary nodded but without enthusiasm; although generally eager to demonstrate her musical skills, tonight she wanted very much to dance with Ainsworth. Noting Mary’s forlorn expression, Elizabeth said, “If you will perform the first song, I will perform the next while you share in the dancing.”
As Ainsworth and Bingley moved furniture and rolled up the rug, Georgiana volunteered, “And I will play after Elizabeth.”
Darcy took his sister aside. “Do you wish to dance?”
“More than anything.”
Elizabeth joined them. “Is there some difficulty?”
“My sister is not yet out,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth saw the excitement in Georgiana’s face. “No, sir. She is not out. She is in—she is a guest in a home many miles from London society, sharing a pleasant evening with friends.” Her voice was so reasonable, Darcy could almost convince himself she was not challenging his authority.
He gave a single nod. “As we are among friends, good friends, there is no reason Georgiana should not enjoy a reel or a contradanse. But I cannot countenance her waltzing.”
Hearing mention of such a scandalous dance, Ainsworth said firmly, “No, indeed, sir! That is for married couples only.”
“Agreed,” Darcy said, knowing full well that if the opportunity arose, he would waltz with Elizabeth in a heartbeat.
“Georgiana, which would you prefer to play?” Mary asked, holding sheet music in each hand.
While the two young ladies conferred, Elizabeth gave Darcy a sidelong look. If I thank him, I will sound condescending, for this favor was not done for me. How do I let him know without insulting his pride that his action has pleased me?
Noting her expression, he said warily, “You look as if you have something to tell me.”
“Rather, sir, I have a request.”
“Yes?”
“Might I have the first dance with you?”
Darcy did not know which of his feelings was stronger: his surprise or his delight. “No lady has ever asked me to dance before. I am flattered!” Elizabeth stared at him with her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised, an unspoken, Well? Quickly, he said, “Yes. Yes, I would be honored.”
As they took their places, she whispered, “I knew you would say ‘yes.’ Had you declined me, custom would have required you to sit out the rest of the dances.” Grinning, he squeezed her hand.
≈≈≈
June 8, 1811
At breakfast, Lydia insisted she would not join her sisters for tea with Georgiana. “Those Darcys are the reason poor Wickham is gone,” she moaned as if this were fresh news.
Elizabeth exclaimed, “Lydia, stop, I beg you, before you drive us all mad! Your ‘poor Wickham’ has been proven a liar and a rogue. And consider this, even had he not deserted, he would be with the militia in Brighton and not with you in Meryton.”
“And I would be in Brighton, too, instead of Maria Lucas!”
“Would you, my dear?” Mr. Bennet asked, a steely undertone to his voice. “Have you some fortune or some other family who would bear the cost? I assure you this family would not.”
“Lydia, do you not feel you have sufficiently conveyed your disappointment?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “It is time you made yourself agreeable to the Darcys. A close friendship with Miss Darcy is certain to put you in the path of wealthy, eligible men.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth and Kitty exclaimed in unison.
Jane, in her usual measured tones, said, “We do not offer friendship in hopes of gain, Lydia. We do so because we enjoy each other’s company.”
“I do not enjoy their company,” Lydia snapped.
Jane said firmly, “You have behaved rudely from the moment Mr. Bingley and his party arrived. I am embarrassed by you and for you.”
Mary said, “As is written in Ephesians, ‘Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another.’”
Lydia,
having chosen her role as Wickham’s defender, would not be swayed. “Mama, I do not wish to go to Netherfield. Please do not make me. Please.”
“A childish request from a girl who demands the privileges of both a young lady and an indulged toddler,” Mr. Bennet said. “Who exactly are you, daughter? If you wish to be out in society, you must participate in the responsibilities of that position. If you wish to cry off from adult company, you may stay at home.”
“Then I—” Lydia began, her tone defiant.
Mr. Bennet interrupted, “In which case, you will no longer be out.” Lydia glowered but made no further protests.
≈≈≈
As arranged for the afternoon, Mr. Bennet joined Bingley, Darcy, and Fitzwilliam on a riding tour of Netherfield’s grounds. When Darcy and Fitzwilliam rode ahead, he gestured for Bingley to remain.
Maneuvering his horse beside that of the older man’s, Bingley asked, “Is there something here to which I should be attending, sir?”
“No, sir, just to me.”
“I am all ears, sir.”
“Why are you here with me when you could be visiting Jane?”
Bingley had expected this. “I behaved foolishly last year, as you well know.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You are not going to make this easy for me, I see. Nor should you. I stupidly left here—left Miss Bennet—when I should have been steadfast in every sense of that word.”
“Why did you pay so much attention to Jane and then leave?”
“I had intended to be gone for only a few days, but I stayed away because I listened to my fears rather than my heart. A more mature man who felt a deep regard for Miss Bennet as I did would have remained and worked to win her affections.”
“Are you so certain Jane cares for you as more than a friend? After all, she is gracious to everyone.”
Bingley raised his chin and squared his shoulders. “She does care for me, sir, else she would have sent me away, politely, of course. For my part, I must give Miss Bennet time to be sure of my sincerity. I am here with you to learn about being the master of an estate. Thus, I hope to convince your daughter that I am wiser—well, less foolish—and know what I want from life.”
“You have not asked her for a courtship, let alone offered marriage. This situation is giving Mrs. Bennet flutterings and making her very nervous.”
“I regret that, sir.”
In melodramatic tones, Mr. Bennet said, “You have no idea what I suffer! Well, should the day come when you propose to Jane—and if she accepts—I will give you my blessing.”
“That is very good news, sir!”
Fitzwilliam and Darcy stopped, having noticed the other men were not with them. “Is something the matter?” Darcy called.
“Not at all,” Bingley said. Grinning broadly, he gestured for Mr. Bennet to precede him, and they joined the others.
≈≈≈
That afternoon, Johnny drove the Longbourn carriage taking all five Bennet daughters to call on Georgiana. Jane was her usual serene self, while Mary and Kitty chattered excitedly about topics they hoped to discuss—a musical composition by Haydn and the new Gothic-influenced dress trims. Indeed, the brief journey was ordinary enough, yet Elizabeth felt a sense of foreboding. She studied Lydia’s unfocused gaze and noticed her lips were moving soundlessly as if …. “Are you rehearsing a speech, Lydia?”
“What a nonsensical question!” she replied but would not meet Elizabeth’s eyes.
At Netherfield, when Norris showed the Bennets into the drawing room, Georgiana smiled warmly and rose from the sofa. “Welcome, welcome!” She greeted each lady in turn, finishing with the youngest. “Miss Lydia, I am very pleased you came today.”
“Thank you,” Lydia said, giving a curtsy so brief it looked like a violent hiccough.
Lydia, Elizabeth, and Mary each settled in a chair, and Kitty and Jane sat side by side on the sofa with their hostess. Georgiana was all grace and confidence as she prepared cups of tea for her guests and encouraged them to select from an appealing array of tarts. A wary Elizabeth, however, divided her attention between the silence of her youngest sister and the conversations of the others. Initially, Lydia resisted every effort to engage her. Finally, she spoke. “Miss Darcy, I believe you are acquainted with a gentleman who lately called Meryton home—Mr. George Wickham.”
Georgiana knew enough of Lydia’s sympathies that the topic did not discompose her. “I am. He no doubt mentioned growing up at Pemberley.”
Elizabeth’s tone held an unmistakable warning when she said, “Lydia, there is no reason to discuss that fellow whose recent desertion is simply more evidence of a dubious character.”
She had scarcely finished when Jane said, “Miss Darcy, your cook has made excellent use of summer fruits in these tarts.”
At Jane’s gentle nudge, Kitty said, “Yes, they are delicious. Do you like strawberries? We have a patch them ripening behind our house. You must come gather some with us.”
Lydia would not be deterred. “Lizzy, why do call Wickham ‘that fellow’ rather than calling him a gentleman?”
“Because I do not consider him a gentleman. I would ask why you insist on speaking of him, but I prefer not to prolong this discussion.” Glancing at her other sisters in turn, Elizabeth asked, “Do any of you want to prolong it?”
Mary said, “The wrong-hearted man is hated by the Lord.”
Kitty said, “I would rather hear about Pemberley.”
“As would I,” Jane said. “None of us has been to Derbyshire, but I have heard the countryside is very different from—”
Lydia glared. “Well, I say Wickham is a gentleman, and I believe he has been wronged by your brother, Miss Darcy.” The responses from the other Bennet sisters were swift and severe.
“Lydia, you go too far!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Mr. Wickham is none of your concern,” Mary said.
“Georgiana is our hostess,” Jane reminded.
“Wickham has proven himself a scoundrel!” Kitty declared.
After calming herself with a deep breath, Georgiana said, “I assure you Mr. Wickham is no gentleman. The spirited lad of my childhood grew into a greedy, resentful, insincere man.”
“Why should he not resent having the living as a vicar—which your father promised!—cruelly snatched away by your brother?”
Elizabeth rose so quickly that her chair fell backward onto the thick rug with a muffled thud. “Your behavior is insufferable, Lydia. You must leave now.”
Georgiana met Lydia’s gaze evenly. “Mr. Wickham is as heartless and as mercenary a fellow as ever you will meet. At the market in Meryton, you heard him admit to receiving three thousand pounds from my brother in lieu of the living at Kympton, a living which my father suggested but did not promise. Wickham drank and gambled away those funds in just a few years.”
Hands on hips, Elizabeth loomed over her youngest sister. “No doubt that is why a man of his age was in the militia. No doubt he could not afford the price of a commission in the regular army. Stand up, please, Lydia. It is time for you to make your farewell.”
Lydia stood but made no motion to leave. “I assure you, Miss Darcy, all of Meryton knows about Wickham and you!”
At this, Georgiana paled. “What did he say?”
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged worried looks, but the topic could not be dropped when their hostess was inquiring further.
Lydia had been waiting for this question. “Dear Wickham said your brother was malicious and vengeful, despising his fellow creatures in general—something we all experienced when Mr. Darcy honored us with his presence last year. As for you, he wished he could call you amiable but said you were too much like your brother: very, very proud!”
When Georgiana started to weep, the Bennet sisters did not realize these were tears of relief. Wickham’s words, unkind though they were, did not reveal the shame of her near-elopement. Thus, having feared Lydia would repeat much worse gossip, Georgiana’s distress was
significantly lessened, and she slumped into sofa.
While Jane consoled Georgiana, Elizabeth grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her from the room. Over her shoulder, she commanded Mary and Kitty, “You two come, as well.” Although Lydia was taller and stouter, she did not resist, feeling smug about her outburst. When the ladies appeared on the portico, Johnny scrambled out of the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door.
Elizabeth gave Lydia a hard shove, causing her to tumble into the vehicle. To Mary and Kitty, she said, “You must take her home and tell our parents what has occurred.”
“I would rather stay,” Kitty said.
“As would I,” Mary said. “Georgiana’s company is infinitely preferable to Lydia’s.” She threw a scornful glance at her youngest sister, who wore a triumphant smirk.
“I do not trust Lydia to be truthful,” Elizabeth said loudly. “You know she will slander Miss Darcy. Perhaps a written apology on behalf of all of us might lessen our shame.”
“Oh, Lizzy! Can no one take a joke?” Lydia said.
“Don’t. You. Dare!” Elizabeth said fiercely, stepping up to the open door with such energy that Lydia quickly moved to the far side of the carriage.
“You can depend on us,” Mary said.
“We will send Johnny back for you and Jane,” Kitty said.
23
“If only I could remember what I wrote.”
Hearing the carriage in the drive, Mrs. Bennet arrived in the foyer just in time to have Lydia brush past her, followed by Kitty and Mary. “Why have you returned so soon?”
“Miss Darcy was very rude,” Lydia said, entering the parlor. “I barely had a bite to eat. I would be ever so glad to have some tea and one of those current scones from breakfast. Yes, that’s what I need.” She sat in the middle of the sofa and pulled off her gloves.
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Bennet said.
Mary took an accusatory stance in front of her sister. “Lydia was horrible.”