Chapter 7

Seven

August 31

On the road to Longbourn

The newly married Lydia Wickham— Lydia Wickham! How well that sounds —was not as jolly as she had expected to be on her wedding day. Not only had the wedding itself been a simple affair with only Papa and Mr Darcy present, but no one save herself had appeared properly gay over the event. Her father was churlish, as she had come to expect from him of late, and Mr Darcy cracked not a single smile all morning, but instead glowered most unpleasantly at her dear Wickham throughout the ceremony. Even the Gardiners, of whom she had once been fond because they gave such excellent Christmas gifts, had been severe when they bid her farewell.

It is not as if I anticipate returning to Gracechurch Street for a visit , Lydia thought to herself with a snort. Mrs Gardiner, before sending her off to the church, had scolded her— again —that she ought to feel her great good fortune that her elopement had been hushed up, that she could still cling to the last shreds of her reputation, and so on and so on. This had been her aunt's common refrain in the two weeks since Lydia had reluctantly removed from Wickham's custody and into the Gardiners' and she was excessively tired of it. It was most vexing, and so Lydia had listened with the minimum amount of attention she could spare from attempting to freshen her bonnet into something that looked new.

And that was another complaint. A married woman needed, nay deserved , pretty new things! Lydia felt she had more a right to a trousseau than most brides for she, at only sixteen, had done what none of her sisters had yet accomplished. Mr Bennet had brought her the news that her two eldest sisters were each newly engaged, but their triumph, in Lydia's opinion, paled next to her own. Jane, at the advanced age of three and twenty, had been on the cusp of spinsterhood before Mr Bingley returned and offered his hand last week. Elizabeth was as yet just twenty, but more than five years after her come out, could only manage to attract a dull, unpleasant—albeit very rich—sort of man like Mr Darcy. No doubt she had accepted him because of the gowns, jewels, and pin money he could provide her, but she would lead a tedious life at the side of such a tiresome man.

By contrast, Lydia had met and married her dear Wickie— oh, dear, I promised him I would not call him that —within months. He had been so ecstatic to have her for his own that he had begged her to run away with him! What was money to all that unbridled passion, to say nothing of how handsome her husband looked in his regimentals? And yet she was treated like a misbehaving child and denied her rightful treat.

At least Mama shall properly rejoice in my success. Lydia cast a baleful glare across the carriage to her father, who seemed insensible to her ire with his head bowed and hands folded across his stomach. Mr Bennet had been absolutely ferocious with his youngest child upon finally discovering her and Wickham's hiding place and had not been much more friendly to her since. Whenever he could be bothered to speak to her, which was not often, it was only to snarl and lecture. Thankfully, Lydia was no longer beholden to her father's rule; she needed only please her husband now, and that was easy enough.

Lydia startled when she found her glower met by an icy stare from Mr Darcy, who sat next to Mr Bennet on the backwards-facing cushion. Lydia shuddered at the cold intensity of it and inched closer to Wickham, who snored loudly beside her.

Though she was not entirely certain how Mr Darcy had become involved in their little adventure, Lydia found his interference unwelcome. Well, perhaps not entirely unwelcome, for he had purchased Wickham his commission and given them a bit of money—as a wedding present, of course. It was the very least he owed Wickham after so cruelly refusing him that living. Glad as she was that Wickham was not some wearisome clergyman, Lydia knew how it felt to be denied one's rightful share in trinkets and amusements just because someone else came before you. Therefore, it was only right that Mr Darcy make some reparation, even if it was not all Wickham deserved. Especially as Mr Darcy was soon to become their brother when he married Elizabeth. I suppose he must have decided she was ‘tolerable' after all. I am astonished she could forgive him that slight— I surely would not, had he insulted me.

Wickham had not been best pleased to hear that bit of news. Lydia had, at first, been somewhat jealous, believing her new husband to retain a tendre for her elder sister, but he assured her that his anger was based on Mr Darcy's continued injustice towards him. He explained that they, as a family connexion, were entitled to more than they had received. Naturally, Mr Darcy should have been more generous with his future sister and brother. She would make sure that they were not forgotten by their wealthier relations.

Lydia pulled back the curtain on the carriage window and peeked out into the bright sunshine. Wickham snorted and swore at her for waking him, but she ignored his complaining; he was prone to it and she had learnt to overlook it. They were close to Meryton now and would be home within the hour.

Coming round the bend up ahead, a curricle appeared with one of her closest neighbours at the reins.

"Oh, look! There is William Goulding," she cried as she rapped insistently upon the carriage roof. The vehicle stopped as Lydia let down the side glass, quickly shed the glove from her left hand, and rested it upon the frame. This was met by a trio of groans, but she was determined to receive someone's congratulations before she reached Longbourn.

"Oh, my dear, dear Lydia!"

Whatever had been lacking from her father's manner since Lydia became engaged was more than made up for by her mother's ebullient greeting. Her sisters remained as still as garden statues as the party from London arrived, but Mrs Bennet rushed forward and gathered her youngest daughter up in her arms, as was good and proper for a glorious return.

"Here, let me look at you," said Mrs Bennet, setting Lydia away from her. "You are absolutely blooming, my dear child. Marriage clearly agrees with you, as I am certain my new son will attest!"

Wickham, who had been grumpy upon waking from his nap, appeared to be back to his usual amiable self. He flashed a smile at Mrs Bennet and agreed, "It does indeed, madam." Before he could say more, however, he fell victim to his mother-in-law's exuberance and was drawn into a forceful embrace. Lydia giggled at the curl of his lip, which he quickly straightened into a more pleasant expression.

Just beyond him, Lydia's eye caught a slight movement. It was Mr Darcy, who, upon exiting the carriage, made directly for Elizabeth and took up her hand in his. To her shock, Elizabeth not only allowed this—as Lydia supposed she must—but also blushed and smiled prettily when he kissed the backs of her fingers. Lydia had heard that they were to be married, of course, but it was unbelievable that her sister had put her prejudices aside so far as to appear bashful in Mr Darcy's presence. If she had to guess, she would say that Elizabeth actually liked her haughty betrothed for more than just his money.

Lydia shook her head to dispel that notion. What nonsense! No doubt she is putting on an act for him. Men do enjoy a bit of flattery.

"Come along, Mrs Bennet. It has been an eventful morning and I, for one, should be glad of a spot of tea."

Mr Bennet's pronouncement recalled his wife to her duties as hostess and everyone was bustled inside.

The front parlour was largely the same as Lydia had left it; aside from a few newly acquired baubles and a side table which had been moved, it seemed almost as if time had stood still without her presence to make it pass. Even her family, save the additions to their party, took their familiar places while Hill bustled about with refreshments. Mrs Bennet reigned from her favoured chair, directing the housekeeper with flutters of her handkerchief, and her husband settled into the matching one across the tea table. Jane took her place at the fireside while Kitty sank into the window seat where she liked to daydream. The only oddity—aside from Elizabeth, who was no doubt forced by convention to take a seat beside Mr Darcy—was Mary, who disdained her usual position a little apart from the rest of the Bennets to squeeze in next to Kitty. La, poor Kitty!

Lydia was distracted from her perusal of the room by Hill thrusting a cup of tea at her and flouncing away with a huff. Despite the housekeeper's churlish attitude, she was glad for the beverage, as she had much to tell her mother and sisters about her wedding and her adventures in Brighton. However, she was not afforded a chance to do so before her mother again commanded the conversation. This time, the subject was far less to Lydia's liking.

"Three daughters married! Or soon to be married, at any rate," Mrs Bennet exclaimed once everyone had settled themselves with refreshments. "And two of them to such wealthy, respectable gentlemen, too."

Lydia followed her mother's gaze to the sofa where Elizabeth sat next to Mr Darcy. He was leaning over and quietly whispering in her ear while she bit her lip and coyly glanced his way. Never had she seen her prim elder sister behave in such a fashion, had not even believed her capable of it! And Mr Darcy, with all his austere condescension, only appeared more peculiar in his besottedness. It was a disconcerting scene to witness.

"I can hardly believe it! But then, I have always said that my girls were the prettiest, the cleverest in Hertfordshire, have I not? Attracting gentlemen such as Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley has vindicated me."

"Where is Bingley?" asked Mr Darcy when he could be bothered to look away from Elizabeth. It was only for a moment and his cow eyes soon found his betrothed again.

By comparison, Wickham was eating a finger sandwich and seemed to have forgot his wife was in the room. He had barely glanced her way since they had spoken their vows and Lydia could not help but feel the contrast between him and the doting Mr Darcy.

"Without a hostess in residence, Mr Bingley's presence is required at Netherfield this morning to straighten out some to- do with the servants. Rehiring them, or some such." Mrs Bennet waved her fingers dismissively. "He has promised to come for dinner, however, so we shall see him then. You are invited to stay also, sir."

Mr Darcy nodded and mumbled something about being honoured before returning his gaze to Elizabeth, who indulged him with a blush and a smile. The next moment, they were absorbed in exchanging teasing whispers once again. It was sickening.

I had no idea Lizzy was such an actress! Unless, of course, her sister's affinity for Mr Darcy was somehow genuine. If that were actually the case, then Elizabeth had achieved a greater reward than money or excitement. Could it be possible?

As Mrs Bennet blathered on about Mr Bingley and how devoted he was to setting up the household for Jane, Lydia continued to observe Elizabeth and Mr Darcy through narrowed eyes, watching for any evidence of her sister's previous disdain. She was certain there would be some sign or another, some hint that proved Elizabeth was only behaving in this manner for the benefit of others, but she saw none. To the contrary, every slight movement, every tilt of her lips, proclaimed that her improved opinion of Mr Darcy was sincere. She sat so close to him on the sofa that their knees touched, she could not seem to keep her eyes detached from his face and, at the height of their mother's joyful tirade, Lydia even witnessed Elizabeth discreetly seek out Mr Darcy's hand between them! She might have expected a few coy titters or a fluttering of lashes here and there, but every gesture of affection between them was intimate and private. They seemed in no mind to please anyone besides each other.

Feeling a surge of envy, Lydia grabbed hold of Wickham's nearest arm and clutched at it possessively. He hissed when his unsettled cup splashed tea into his lap and began urgently dabbing at the spill with his napkin.

Lydia ignored this and said, loudly above Wickham's complaints, "Do the people hereabouts know I am married today?"

There was a general acknowledgment which rumbled through the room, but, to Lydia's annoyance, neither Elizabeth nor Mr Darcy acted as if they had heard her question. To the contrary, they remained utterly absorbed in their own whispered conversation. "I was afraid they might not. We overtook William Goulding?—"

"I am sure that they do, my love," interrupted Mrs Bennet. "I believe I mentioned it when Lizzy and I called on our neighbours to publicise her betrothal a fortnight ago. Or was it when I announced Jane's engagement the following week? We have had so much good fortune lately, I can hardly recall! I am quite the envy of Hertfordshire with two—that is, three daughters so brilliantly settled! Lady Lucas turned positively green when I informed her that Lizzy was set to marry Mr Darcy. Her Charlotte only managed to catch that awful Mr Collins and, heir to Longbourn or no, he is nought but a clergyman and absolutely nothing to such a distinguished gentleman of Mr Darcy's ilk."

Beside her, Wickham grumbled a few words which caused even Lydia to blush. She was glad, at least, that he had not said them at a volume which might be heard by the room at large.

"Although Mr Bingley is an estimable prize, too." Mrs Bennet winked at Jane, who demurely lowered her gaze and took a sip of tea. "So friendly, so generous! And living only three miles from Longbourn. I shall have my dear Jane near me always! It is a shame that Derbyshire is so far away, but I am certain we shall all enjoy the occasional visit."

Finding an opening to draw the conversation back to herself and Wickham, Lydia interjected, "Newcastle is?—"

Mrs Bennet continued on as if she had not heard and Lydia slumped petulantly into her seat. "To say nothing of trips to London! Your house is in Mayfair, is it not, Mr Darcy?"

Mr Darcy, startled from his preoccupation with Elizabeth, blinked uncomprehendingly at Mrs Bennet. The question was repeated and he nodded in affirmation, his expression tight. It softened appreciably when Elizabeth placed her hand on his forearm, his vexation apparently forgot.

Lydia clenched her teacup so hard it was a wonder it did not shatter in her hand. What had Mr Darcy to be displeased about? That he was rich? That he was in love with his future wife, and she with him? That he was the singular object of admiration in a room full of people? I suppose he considers it all his due. Hateful, conceited man!

"And I am sure Mr Bingley will be wanting a house there, too, once he is a married man. Are there any available houses on your street, Mr Darcy?"

"I cannot say, though I shall be certain to mention any that I come across to Bingley."

Mrs Bennet carried on praising London and its many attractions for some time, pausing intermittently to fawn over Mr Darcy and the absent Mr Bingley, and Lydia was left to stew in her own thoughts. For the first time, she thought that, perhaps, being the first to wed had done her no favours. Apparently, the quality of one's husband also mattered.

As Kitty observed Lydia from across the room, she grew more and more irritated with her younger sister's behaviour. It was apparent, from her manner, that she felt she had done no wrong and somehow deserved their admiration for her reckless actions. Just look at how she attempts to solicit Mama's attention! How she all but begs for compliments! Kitty had rarely been so disgusted in her life.

Upon exchanging looks with Mary, it seemed that she was not alone in this opinion. The pair of them had rolled their eyes and shaken their heads in silent communication more than once. Jane likely saw none of this, or if she did, had made some excuse for Lydia. Elizabeth seemed unconscious, or perhaps uncaring, over Lydia's attention-seeking, as wrapped up in Mr Darcy as she was. He was at least as distracted by Elizabeth as she was with him if the besotted gaze he frequently rested upon her could speak for him. Kitty had not believed it possible that a reticent man like Mr Darcy would behave in such a way, but it was endearing and made her happy for her sister.

Wickham, on the other hand, seemed content to ignore Lydia unless she was spilling tea in his lap. Then, he had discarded his charming fa?ade and bestowed a scathing glower upon his wife. Lydia did not seem to notice, but there was no discernible affection in it and a great amount of animus. Wickham might be handsome and outwardly engaging, but Kitty had no doubt that he was much different in private. It was obvious in the way he treated Lydia and the bitterness which flashed onto his features whenever he beheld Elizabeth and Mr Darcy. Given his recent infamous behaviour and his obvious jealousy, Kitty suspected there was more to Wickham's story of woe than he had heretofore shared with the neighbourhood.

Preferring not to dwell on the Wickhams and their collective malfeasance, Kitty returned her attention to Elizabeth and Mr Darcy. Elizabeth had taken Lydia's folly the hardest of any of them; now she wondered whether Mr Darcy might have been at the root of her misery. Looking at them, so discreetly affectionate and wholly attentive to one another without regard for anyone else in the room, it became perfectly clear that they were in love long before Mr Bennet brokered an engagement between them. It made sense, in hindsight, that perhaps Elizabeth was suffering a romantic disappointment when she returned to Longbourn after the news of Lydia's disgrace. With that understanding, it was not a stretch to assume she must have seen something of Mr Darcy in Derbyshire, explaining the when and where they fell in love—if not the how.

Kitty found that she quite preferred her elder sisters' way of getting husbands over Lydia's.