Chapter 8

Eight

September 1

"…and my dear Wickie has the best seat in the regiment! Colonel Forster said so himself at dinner one night…"

Elizabeth followed the arc of her rolling eyes to the window and pulled back the curtain under the pretence of watching the passing scenery. She simply had no patience left for Lydia's boasting and was certain it was showing on her face. Beside her in the carriage, Jane surreptitiously squeezed her hand.

It had been a trying morning of parading about the village of Meryton in Darcy's carriage, paying calls and witnessing the vulgar behaviour of not only Lydia, but Mrs Bennet, as well. If Elizabeth thought her mother's initial display of victory a fortnight ago upon learning of her second daughter's betrothal to Darcy—or the subsequent spectacle for Jane a week later when Mr Bingley returned for her hand—had been mortifying, it was nothing to what the joint efforts of Mrs Bennet and Mrs Wickham could produce. The more Mrs Bennet crowed over Elizabeth and Jane's excellent matches, the louder Lydia's demands for attention grew. Elizabeth was eager to be married and off to Derbyshire if only to avoid further humiliation!

Well , she thought to herself with a tender smile, it is not the only reason .

Truly, it was not even the most pressing reason. Since Darcy's return to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth had been floating along as if in a dream—a sufficiently wild one in which all of her most fervent desires were about to come true. Never had she thought, upon bidding her tearful farewell to Darcy in Derbyshire, that they would reach such a happy conclusion. Not only did he still love her, most ardently, but he was willing—nay, eager—to marry her even though her youngest sister was united to his mortal enemy. He could not be pleased about a closer connexion to Wickham, of course, but he had shown remarkable forbearance when forced to be in the blackguard's company. And when they were alone…well, Darcy never spared a thought for unpleasant relations then .

"You are not coming down with a cold, are you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth tore her unfocused eyes away from the window and retrained them upon her mother, who looked upon her fretfully from across the carriage. Praying that the content of her musings was not apparent to others, she replied, "No, Mama. I feel perfectly well."

"You look so flushed, my dear. Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain." My mind was merely agreeably engaged in recalling the very great pleasure which a handsome gentleman can bestow upon his betrothed when no one is there to witness it.

"Good." Mrs Bennet breathed a loud sigh of relief and relaxed into her seat. "We would not want you to fall ill so close to the wedding! By the way he looks at you, I would wager that Mr Darcy would not like any delay." This bold statement was accompanied by a wink which intensified the tingle in Elizabeth's cheeks.

Next to their mother, Lydia rolled her eyes and huffed with far less discretion than Elizabeth had afforded her. "Let us hear no more about Mr Darcy!" Raising her voice to an unflattering pitch, Lydia cried mockingly, "‘Mr Darcy's carriage is so fine, Mr Darcy owns half of Derbyshire'…I am sick of Mr Darcy!"

The warmth under Elizabeth's skin shifted from a pleasant tickle to a prickle of annoyance, but she bit down on her tongue to prevent it lashing out at her youngest sister. Not that Lydia deserved any sort of consideration with the way she had been so infamously flaunting her misadventure, but nothing good could come from a row in a confined environment. Darcy's carriage was spacious, but not large enough to contain one of Lydia's notorious tantrums.

Unfortunately, their mother had not her second eldest daughter's foresight. Or restraint.

"Lydia! How could you say such a thing?" Mrs Bennet exclaimed. Since he had promoted himself to the position of future son-in-law, Darcy seemed unable to do any wrong in her mother's eyes. Thankfully, Mrs Bennet was too much in awe of him to endlessly flatter him the way she did with Bingley, but it was clear nonetheless that her old grievances against him had been banished and replaced by unquestioned reverence.

"Very easily!" Lydia cried, stamping her foot. "You only like him because he has ten thousand a year and is willing to marry Lizzy, but he is dull and tedious and high in the instep and…and…"

The temptation to give Lydia a blistering set-down was increasing apace; Elizabeth clenched her jaw lest one slip out. Another few invectives against her dear Darcy, however, and she would not be held responsible for her stinging defence on his behalf.

Jane, ever the peacemaker, placed a calming hand upon Elizabeth's arm and addressed Lydia. "Dearest, that is unkind. Mr Darcy has been a great friend to our family, to say nothing of his obvious adoration for Lizzy. Truly, you would like him if you gave him a chance."

Lydia tossed her head. "I have no interest in giving him a chance! I have heard all I need to know about Mr Darcy from Wickham, and he is hardly the gentleman the rest of you believe him to be. Did you know he denied my husband a living left to him by old Mr Darcy?"

"I had heard the same," said Elizabeth through gritted teeth, unwilling to let a baseless accusation stand, "but I assure you there is far more to the story than your husband bothers to relate. In point of fact, Wickham resigned all claim?—"

"So says the perfect Mr Darcy! Really, Lizzy, he would say anything to get you on his side."

"And Wickham would not?" Elizabeth countered, riled beyond further endurance. She could not allow Wickham to be vaunted as the better man. "Consider the source! Whatever Mr Darcy's faults, he has never proved himself dishonourable or immoral, which are both traits your husband can boast. Just look at how he took advantage of you! He lured you into an elopement without any true intent of marrying you."

"Nonsense, Wickham loves me! He told me so. And we did get married in the end."

"Only because Mr Darcy paid him to do it. Were it not for my betrothed, you would not be Mrs Wickham."

Mrs Bennet and Jane gasped as one and Elizabeth instantly regretted divulging the truth of Darcy's role in the Wickhams' elopement in such a brusque fashion. It ought to have been handled with more gentleness, but she supposed there was no helping it now. She would be sure to apologise to her mother and elder sister later and beg Mrs Bennet, in particular, to keep her own counsel on the subject.

Not perturbed in the slightest, Lydia waved her hand dismissively. "Please. I am sure we would have been married at some time or other, even without Mr Darcy's interference. We might have been married sooner if he had done as he ought and supported his friend! The money Mr Darcy put out was owed to my Wickham, though I daresay he should have given more—'tis not as if he cannot afford it."

"You believe that, if it gives you comfort." Elizabeth sharply turned her head from her sister lest she be provoked to say worse. She clenched her jaw and breathed deeply to calm her temper.

However, Lydia was far from done. In a shrill shriek, she cried, "You are just jealous because I made it to the altar before you! And your Mr Darcy, for all his money, is not half so handsome as my Wickham. Do not deny it, he was a favourite of yours once."

"Even were that the case, which I do not in any way concede," replied Elizabeth, her voice deadly calm, "I would never have risked my own reputation and that of my entire family for the sake of something so trivial. When a woman marries ought to matter less than whom she marries. You might have had a small triumph, in your own mind, in marrying before the rest of your sisters, but you have sentenced yourself to a lifetime with a man so bereft of morals, decency, and consideration that I cannot see how you might ever truly be happy with him. Indeed, Lydia, I pity you for your foolish choice because it is likely to cause you much misery."

Elizabeth turned her head again and refused to acknowledge Lydia's furious bawling further.

When the ladies reached Longbourn, Elizabeth descended from the carriage first, her nose pointed high in the air as if she were the Queen of Sheba. No doubt she was already feeling her consequence as the future Mrs Darcy, which only nettled Lydia all the more. She disappeared round the side of the house, headed in the direction of the garden. Lydia was not sorry to see her supercilious sister go, even if she was not entirely done defending Wickham against Elizabeth's defamation.

After she saw Jane following Elizabeth—hardly surprising; Jane and Elizabeth always took up for one another—Lydia stomped after her mother into the house. There she would have a sympathetic ear! "I cannot believe Lizzy said that!" she cried as she angrily stripped off her gloves and threw them in Hill's direction. "As if her Mr Darcy is so perfect, so wonderful, so?—"

" Enough , Lydia!"

Lydia's diatribe halted at the harsh tone of Mrs Bennet's voice, albeit more from surprise than chagrin. To her utter shock, her beloved mother, the one who had petted and cosseted her all her life, was scowling at her.

"It is well and good to stick up for your husband, but enough is enough! The plain facts of the matter are that Mr Darcy is ten—no, fifty—times Wickham's consequence and is deserving of our deference. Not only is he wealthy, but he apparently helped bring about your own marriage. We owe him a great debt."

"But—"

"No! I will hear no more against Mr Darcy. Another word and I shall go to your father about it."

Lydia would have loved to say that her father no longer had any authority over her actions, but Mrs Bennet turned on her heel and marched up the staircase before she had the chance, leaving her youngest daughter fuming in the vestibule. So much for being Mama's favourite! She has been beguiled by Mr Darcy and his riches.

A muffled titter called Lydia's attention to the nearest doorway, which happened to be the music room. Mary and Kitty ducked back inside quickly, though not quickly enough to mask their laughter at their youngest sister's expense.

Impotent to do anything else, Lydia stomped her foot and screeched, long and loud. When she finished, panting as if she had run all the way from Meryton, there was no response, only empty silence.