Chapter III

D isaster struck Longbourn only a week later. While disaster was, perhaps, an overly fanciful description of the event, Elizabeth could do nothing other than consider it a death knell for her family's respectability. Lydia's behavior, for certain, rendered that possibility nothing less than a surety in Elizabeth's mind.

It had started as a typical day in Hertfordshire. Mary played the pianoforte and sang in her weak voice, Kitty and Lydia giggled and fought with each other before departing with great noise and fanfare for Meryton, Mr. Bennet remained in his bookroom and Mrs. Bennet held court in the sitting-room, while Jane and Elizabeth pursued their concerns. There was no evidence that day would be any different from any other that had ever occurred at the sleepy estate.

At least it was quiet until Lydia and Kitty returned to Longbourn, entering the room in a rush. That Lydia led, excitement glowing from her, while Kitty followed, obviously near tears, informed Elizabeth that something was about to shake their comfortable existence.

"Mama! Mama!" called Lydia, far louder than she needed to speak. "You will never guess what has happened!"

"Of course, I shall not," was Mrs. Bennet's waspish reply. "I only know you charged into the room screeching and upsetting my poor nerves!"

Trust Mrs. Bennet to focus on her nerves when something unusual was in the offing. Lydia was heedless of the feelings of anyone else as usual.

"Then I shall tell you! When we visited Mrs. Forster this morning, she invited me— me! —to go to Brighton with her as her particular companion. I am going to Brighton! I can hardly contain my excitement!"

As Lydia capered around the room, crying her pleasure and extolling her good fortune, giving the lie to any notion of a restrained response, Elizabeth watched her, disquiet growing in her breast. The disadvantages to such a heedless girl in Brighton with camps full of officers with no one other than the equally silly Mrs. Forster checking her were many and not at all difficult to imagine. Little though she wished to contend with her reckless unkindness—Kitty was now openly weeping from Lydia's teasing—she essayed to bring the girl under control.

"Lydia, that is enough!"

The girl turned to make some hateful comment, but it died in her throat when she saw Elizabeth's expression. Elizabeth spoke again quickly to settle her further, intending to pull the story of the invitation from her.

"Now, Lydia," said Elizabeth, pointing at a nearby sofa and commanding her to sit, "how did this all come about?" Elizabeth glared at her sister. "I seem to recall you suggesting you might ask Mrs. Forster for an invitation to Brighton. You did not do such an improper thing, did you?"

"Lizzy!" exclaimed Lydia, as she dropped gracelessly onto the furniture. "How can you say such a thing? I know how to behave!"

"This display of yours brings the lie to such a claim," replied Elizabeth.

"Lizzy is correct," said Mrs. Bennet, looking at them both with some astonishment. "It is highly improper to request an invitation, Lydia. Did you importune Mrs. Forster?"

Surprised though she was that Mrs. Bennet saw the impropriety herself, Elizabeth ignored her mother in favor of Lydia. The girl gave the impression of squirming under their combined displeasure, but soon she huffed and looked away.

"Of course, I did not! I know what I may and may not do."

"Kitty?" asked Elizabeth of her second youngest sister, who regarded them all with astonishment, her tears having ceased.

"I... do not know, Lizzy," said Kitty haltingly, while Lydia huffed and glared at them all. "I was speaking with Sanderson when Mrs. Forster offered the invitation."

Elizabeth nodded at Kitty, then turned to Lydia, her eyebrow raised, demanding an answer. It did not please Lydia to be challenged in such a way.

"I did not ask for an invitation," said she more forcefully.

The girl was lying—Elizabeth was almost certain of it. There was no way to prove it, however, short of asking Mrs. Forster for an account of the visit. As she suspected the woman—little more than a girl herself—would support Lydia's version of events, there was no reason to pursue the matter any further. But Elizabeth would not allow Lydia's continued poor behavior.

"Very well. Do not crow over your sister, Lydia, and remember Papa has not given you leave to go."

"Papa will not stop me going," said Lydia, her tone all immature superiority. "Papa always speaks of his desire for peace, and if I leave, he shall have it."

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane and almost burst into laughter. That the girl was aware of her propensity to create a ruckus and seemed to consider it a badge of honor was highly entertaining. Or it would have been had it not been so very disquieting.

"That is fortunate, indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "How much fun you shall have with the officers. Mrs. Forster has favored you exceedingly!"

Despite some of the surprising ways in which Mrs. Bennet had seen impropriety these past days, she saw nothing amiss with the notion of Lydia going off to do who knew what with little attention to restraint. Elizabeth wondered if she should speak up again and try to induce her mother to understand, but she knew at once it was a hopeless business. The two were chattering so animatedly that any attempt to halt their plotting would bring condemnation.

As Jane was engaged in consoling Kitty in her gentle manner, that left Elizabeth free to consider her course. There was only one, in fact, within the family who could prevent this disaster from occurring. Unfortunately, Elizabeth knew her father as well as anyone alive; the lure of dispensing with his youngest, silliest, and loudest daughter would be an irresistible temptation for her father, such that Elizabeth suspected he would not even consider the matter much before giving his consent—in that, Lydia was entirely correct.

There was nothing to be done but approach him and attempt to induce him to see sense. It would be best to marshal her arguments at once, however, for any ability to sway him must be rational. The drawbacks were myriad, and Elizabeth did not think there was much point in going over them in her mind, for her father would understand them too. Perhaps she should mention something of Wickham and what Elizabeth suspected of his behavior?

That he had left the militia and would not be a potential downfall for her sister was a matter of much relief to Elizabeth. If one such man existed, however, it was not a stretch to assume there were many such men, especially in a camp containing multiple regiments. Any man of Mr. Wickham's ilk would take advantage of such an empty-headed girl without a second thought, and revel in their superiority. Whether her father would accept that argument Elizabeth could not say, but she knew there was no choice but to attempt to persuade him that Lydia should not go to Brighton. It would be best to approach him before he gave his consent.

With that in mind, Elizabeth rose and excused herself. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia did not even notice, and while she thought Jane looked at her with a hint of understanding, her sister said nothing. Soon, Elizabeth knocked on the door to her father's room, and when he called permission to enter, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward to do battle.

"Lizzy," greeted her father, looking up from his book. "Have you exhausted your reading material yet again?" He chuckled and returned to his book, waving an invitation at the bookshelves. "Sometimes I think you are more of a devotee of the written word than even I can boast. Help yourself."

"I did not come for a book, Papa," replied Elizabeth. "A matter of some urgency has arisen of which I believe we must speak."

Mr. Bennet caught the significance at once, though he was not yet aware of the specifics. "I suppose this business of which you speak concerns my youngest? I heard her enter the estate with enough noise to wake the dead."

"It does," replied Elizabeth. "Colonel Forster's wife has invited Lydia to join her for the summer in Brighton."

" Has she?" asked her father, his grin a confirmation of Elizabeth's conjecture. "That is a fortunate happenstance for Lydia, I suppose. And for the rest of us too, for we need not endure her all summer."

"Papa," said Elizabeth in that slightly chiding voice she sometimes used with him. "Do you not think it a horrid notion for that immature child to go to a place wherein she can get up to such much mischief?"

Elizabeth was the only daughter he would allow to use such a tone when speaking to him—he would not even tolerate it from his wife—but it did not prevent him from frowning at her. "Your opinion is different?"

"Lydia going to Brighton might prove our undoing, Papa. Mrs. Forster is no fit chaperone; there is no telling what Lydia might do to ruin us all."

"I rather think she will discover her own insignificance," replied Mr. Bennet. He put his book to the side and fixed his attention on Elizabeth. "She has not the means to become a target for fortune hunters; any man of sense would wish to stay scrupulously away from any hint of scandal, for who would wish to be tied to a silly little flirt forever?"

"Yet, I believe there are many men who believe they would suffer no consequences for dallying with her."

"The danger is minimal," disagreed her father. "Now that Mrs. Forster has issued the invitation, if I forbid Lydia from going, she will make our lives all miserable. Do you wish to endure her screeching from sunup until sundown for who knows how long?"

Elizabeth reviewed the arguments in her mind. Telling him of her suspicions of Lydia's improper means of provoking the invitation would only amuse him, and an appeal to the likelihood of her ruining them had already failed. Wickham was gone, so any appeal with the information of his bad conduct would not work. There was only one avenue she could think of that might bear fruit.

"I apologize for speaking so frankly, Papa, but it cannot be helped."

Mr. Bennet's eyes widened as Elizabeth took a deep breath, steeling herself to make her case.

"Do you not understand, Papa, what a great disadvantage such an unrestrained and improper sister must be to us all? Can you not see that she treads the very edge of ruining us, such that Mama's desperate need to see us all married may not come to pass?"

It was several moments before Mr. Bennet replied, for he regarded her as if trying to make her out. "Might I assume you speak of something particular? Has your sister frightened away one of your lovers?" He attempted a grin, though Elizabeth could see that he did not offer it with his usual mirth. "If she has, I advise you to forget him, for any man who cannot withstand a little of the ridiculous is not worthy of you."

"No, Papa," replied Elizabeth, not reacting at all to his jest. "I have had no suitors of late as you well know. Resentment is not mine , but another's."

Mr. Bennet was no dullard, for he caught her inference at once. "Might I assume you speak of Jane's recent adventure into the quagmire of romance?"

"I do, Papa," said Elizabeth. "As I spent the spring in Kent, Mr. Darcy visited his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh while I was there. Mr. Darcy inferred Mr. Bingley's failure to return for Jane was the unrestrained behavior of certain members of our family."

Eyes wide at her revelation, Mr. Bennet stared at her. It was, Elizabeth supposed, a leap, for Mr. Darcy had not been explicit. The implication of his words, however, was unmistakable, such that Elizabeth thought herself entirely justified in her extrapolation.

"I cannot imagine how such a subject arose between you," said her father at length. "As far as I was aware, you and the gentleman could not exchange more than the barest of civilities without arguing."

"That is irrelevant, Papa," said Elizabeth. Nothing could induce her to speak of the scene in the parsonage's parlor. Distasteful though it was, she would invent something if her father pressed her.

"I suppose it is," conceded he. "Mr. Bingley did not appreciate the antics of my youngest?"

"I think Mr. Bingley might have overlooked it," replied Elizabeth. "But Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sisters are more judgmental than Mr. Bingley."

Mr. Bennet nodded thoughtfully. Then he shook his head and sighed.

"What I told you of Lydia's behavior should I deny her is nothing less than the truth, Lizzy. It will become impossible to live with her. I may need to send her to a nunnery just to get a little peace."

"Is it not better to endure her childish tantrums than risk our family's reputation?"

A grimace was Mr. Bennet's response. "If the danger is as profound as you believe."

When Elizabeth tried to speak, Mr. Bennet waved her to silence. "I am not witless, you know. I do understand the risks, though I am not as convinced as to their extent as you are."

Elizabeth nodded but did not speak. She had done what she could. It was now in her father's hands.

"Allow me to think on the subject for a time, Lizzy," replied Mr. Bennet. "When I decide, I shall inform you.

"Thank you, Papa," said Elizabeth.

Though Bingley was an excellent friend, the man who could lay claim to the title of "best" friend was his cousin, Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam of His Majesty's Dragoons. Fitzwilliam was of age with Darcy, possessed the same open cheeriness that characterized Bingley's manners, and knew Darcy better than any other. As his post had been in London for some time—much to his mother's relief—Fitzwilliam was often in Darcy's company. One day, not long after Bingley announced his departure for the north, Fitzwilliam visited his cousins, spending an evening dining with them.

One other facet of his character was his tendency to tease Darcy whenever he felt he could provoke him, a habit that had provided Darcy with much embarrassment. While Fitzwilliam was in his usual form that evening, his provocations were more thought-provoking than mortifying.

"I am surprised to see you still in London, Cousin," said Fitzwilliam when they retired to the sitting-room after dinner. "You usually depart for Pemberley at the first available opportunity."

Darcy shrugged. "Travel to Pemberley also consumes three uncomfortable days in the carriage. It is a simple matter to stay home and avoid society and the city is still comfortable."

"I should like to return to Pemberley, Brother," said Georgiana. "It is much more pleasant there and I long to walk the grounds again."

"Then I suppose we must consider it," said Darcy. "Perhaps next week?"

With a grateful smile, Georgiana nodded. For Darcy's part, he supposed part of the reason he had not felt the need to go to the north was the proximity to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though that was nothing more than a bit of silliness. He would not endure the city in the summer, so there was little choice but to go to Pemberley.

"I might have thought you would hasten to Hertfordshire," observed Fitzwilliam.

"Hertfordshire?" asked Georgiana, not understanding their cousin's reference. "Why would William go there?"

"He has not informed you?" asked Fitzwilliam, his amused gaze never leaving Darcy. "In Kent, your brother met an acquaintance from Hertfordshire, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a woman I am convinced he found most agreeable."

"A woman?" echoed Georgiana.

"How you came to that conclusion I cannot say."

As a method of distracting his cousin, Darcy's comment was a complete failure. "You cannot?" asked Fitzwilliam, one eyebrow rising in disbelief. "I would never call you demonstrative, Darcy, but I could see your interest. Do not forget that I know you as well as any man alive."

"Brother," said Georgiana, "it has occurred to me that Miss Bingley made some mention of a woman in Hertfordshire."

"What do you mean?" asked Darcy, not understanding why she would bring up the subject of Miss Elizabeth to Georgiana of all people.

"I do not recall, for it was some months ago," replied his sister, her comment the slow cadence of one in thought. "Yet it was odd, for while I do not remember the gist of it, I had the impression that she wished to know if you had ever mentioned her."

"Interesting," said Fitzwilliam. "Not surprising, however—that woman would see any other as a threat and extend her claws to drive the rival away."

Darcy's response was a disdainful snort. "Can you imagine Miss Elizabeth Bennet , of all people, allowing the likes of Miss Bingley to chase her away?"

"No, I suppose not," replied Fitzwilliam.

"Oh!" exclaimed Georgiana. "I just recalled that you mentioned something of a Miss Bennet in your letters in the autumn."

"She stayed at Bingley's estate for a time tending to her sister who was convalescing there," said Darcy. "Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth engaged in some rather amusing arguments—I believe I mentioned them to you."

Georgiana nodded. "Something about accomplishments, as I recall."

"Among other exchanges," confirmed Darcy.

"This is all fascinating, Darcy," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am still curious. This business of you mentioning her in letters to your sister confirms my suspicions. But why did you not seek her out again?"

There was nothing that would make Darcy speak of his aborted proposal to Miss Elizabeth to any living soul, let alone his overly jovial and teasing cousin. As he was casting about for a response, noting that both his companions were eager to hear what he would say, Darcy decided a little misdirection would not go amiss.

"My plans for the summer changed recently. I had thought to invite Bingley to Pemberley for the summer, but I decided against it."

"Miss Bingley was up to her usual tricks again," said Georgiana with a huff.

"That is the least surprising thing you said today," replied Fitzwilliam.

"To go to Hertfordshire," replied Darcy, "I would need Bingley to be there, so I had somewhere to stay. When I did not invite him, Bingley and his family made plans to go to the north. There will be no opportunity to go to Hertfordshire until September at the earliest."

"But you do intend to go."

Darcy shrugged with a nonchalance he did not feel. "We shall see, for I do not yet know what Bingley means to do."

"Is Miss Elizabeth kind?" asked Georgiana, her typical shyness coming over her. "Do you suppose she would like me?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Fitzwilliam, "is at home in any company. Do you know that she even endured our irascible aunt and deflected all her ill-bred attacks? If she can endure Lady Catherine and that idiot parson of hers, I dare say she could overcome any challenge she faced."

"Miss Elizabeth is a capable woman," said Darcy. "I cannot imagine she would be anything other than friendly to you, Georgiana."

"Then I should like to make her acquaintance, Brother."

"As I recall," said Fitzwilliam, "she has sisters, does she not?"

"Four sisters," replied Darcy. There was little choice but to suppress a shudder when he considered the ill-mannered hoydens that were her younger sisters. "Her sisters are not her equal. The youngest are far too lively for their own good, though the eldest is quiet and beautiful."

"Then you must ask Mr. Bingley if we might go to his estate," replied Georgiana.

"I cannot request an invitation, Georgiana," said Darcy, his tone reproving. "That would not be proper."

"Yet it would seem likely Bingley would go back there for the winter," observed Fitzwilliam. "If he does, there is little doubt he would be happy to have you."

Darcy offered a tepid agreement, hoping they would allow the subject to rest. It appeared Fitzwilliam had not yet said all he wished to say.

"Darcy, I know you do not wish for my advice, but I shall offer it all the same. As I conversed extensively with Miss Bennet, I have some knowledge of her situation. Few men possess the means to marry where they like without at least some attention to more pecuniary matters. You are one of them. If you allow Miss Elizabeth to slip through your fingers you are a fool, any drawbacks to her situation notwithstanding."

"Given your speech," said Darcy, eyeing his cousin with some suspicion, "you have no little admiration for her yourself."

"She is a woman easy to admire," said Fitzwilliam. "Had I the means to do as I wish, I might pursue her myself."

"As you so often declare, you must take care to wed a woman of great fortune."

"I declare that Miss Bennet would not care a jot for great riches if I could convince her of my regard and provide a comfortable life for her, at the very least."

As it happened, Darcy had firsthand knowledge of Miss Bennet's quality in this respect. Darcy did not think there were five women in all the kingdom outside the nobility who would not accept with alacrity should he offer his hand, and yet she had not considered it against her concerns for his character.

"No, I cannot imagine she would give much consideration to such things," murmured Darcy, his mind firmly on the lovely and vivacious Miss Elizabeth Bennet yet again.

"Then you mean to do something about it?" asked Fitzwilliam.

"Yes, Brother," exclaimed an excited Georgiana. "Let us go to Hertfordshire, for I should like to meet this young lady who has provoked your approval."

"Bingley mentioned something about possibly returning to Hertfordshire in the autumn," said Darcy, leaving out any mention of how he had prompted his friend. "We shall revisit it then."

Georgiana nodded, almost bouncing with excitement. His sister, Darcy knew, had few friends near her age, which must be why she was so eager to make Miss Bennet's acquaintance. Seeing her this animated set Darcy's heart at ease, for his concerns for her had never abated after Wickham's actions in Ramsgate the previous summer. Perhaps it would be beneficial to introduce his sister to the Bennets, for even the younger girls' boisterous nature would assist his sister in overcoming her shyness.

For the rest of the evening, Fitzwilliam said something of Miss Bennet to an interested Georgiana. When they asked, Darcy told some anecdotes of his own of their interactions in Hertfordshire. His relations laughed in all the appropriate places, Georgiana appreciating how often Miss Bennet had confounded Miss Bingley. That alone was worth the teasing his cousin still directed at him. Perhaps they would go to Hertfordshire after all.