Chapter 3
“Alittle to the left, Lizzy! Have you no pity for my poor ankle?”
Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth shifted her mother’s ruffled pillow a small measure to the left, all under the watchful gaze of an impatient Lydia.
“There. I trust you are finally comfortable.”
Petulantly, Lydia replied, “As comfortable as I can be, I suppose. But now I think I would rather like another cup of tea. You will fetch one for me, will you not? You know how I like it.”
“I daresay we all know your preferences. Did I not bring you a fresh cup but five minutes ago?”
“Well yes, but it is too cold for me now. Ring the bell for Hill, Lizzy. The pot is obviously not warm enough! A good hostess would know the difference, surely.”
Bristling at the slight, Elizabeth checked the still warm teapot before turning back to face her irritating sister.
“And where is your husband, Liddy? Should he not be directing the servants and seeing to your comfort?”
Glaring at Elizabeth, Lydia opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by their mother.
“Oh, stop fussing, Lizzy, and ring for Hill! I am sure Mr Wickham is occupied with more important matters, silly girl!”
“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth replied with a sigh. If she did not escape the house soon, her reserve of patience would be well and truly spent.
“I can sort the tea. Why do you not go for a walk?” Jane gently suggested.
“It does not matter which of my sisters prepares my drink, for since they are all still single, they can have nothing better to do,” Lydia commented, smiling as she preened once again about her married state.
“God bless you, Jane!” Elizabeth murmured as she seized the opportunity to flee the parlour and venture out onto one of her favourite paths.
A short while later, as a rush of cool morning wind swept over the peak of Oakham Mount and down the gentle slopes into the valley below, Elizabeth could see that autumn had indeed come in earnest. Vibrant red and orange leaves rustled in the breeze like glittering jewels, reminding her once again why she favoured this particular season. It was one of change and of new opportunities. If only nature’s brilliant display would herald a similar alteration in her own circumstances, for Elizabeth was not entirely sure she could endure another evening at Longbourn like those of the last few days.
Why cannot Lydia simply hold her tongue? If I am forced to wait upon her one more time—or worse—to hear one more glowing speech about her scapegrace husband, I may well go mad!
Unfortunately, Lydia’s many effusions were also filled with tales of her exploits in Brighton, prompting disgust in not only Elizabeth, but Jane, and Mary as well, though Jane was too polite to allow her disapproval to show. For once, Elizabeth did not resent Mary’s tendency to spout moral homilies and scriptures in admonishment of Lydia’s antics. Even though it was readily apparent that Lydia was beyond correction, or even beyond feeling guilt for her shameful behaviour, Elizabeth found it strangely satisfying that not every member of the Bennet family pretended approval for Lydia’s reckless, though unfortunately necessary union.
Her mother’s behaviour, though not quite understandable, was entirely expected. All of the moaning and hysterical lamentations that had poured forth out of the mistress’s chambers during the weeks of Lydia’s disappearance had shifted promptly to outbursts of joy at the marriage of her youngest daughter. Mr Wickham had also achieved a rapid recovery in the eyes of Mrs Bennet, and far from being the worst scoundrel ever to enter Meryton, he was lauded as the handsome and dashing son-in-law she had always desired.
In Elizabeth’s opinion, her father’s response was not altogether better. Though he knew the man to be completely worthless and dissolute, Mr Bennet encouraged Wickham’s simpering smiles and vacuous compliments. He delighted in witnessing the man’s buffoonery, knowing how little substance existed behind his pretence of charm. Recently however, her father’s tendency to make sport of any situation only prompted Elizabeth’s vexation, reminding her once again of the justness of Mr Darcy’s opinions regarding her family.
Her father’s lack of concern over Mr Wickham’s presence at Longbourn also meant that Elizabeth’s own recent struggles to evade the attentions of said gentleman had gone entirely unnoticed. As the head of the household, and indeed as a guiding hand to her younger sisters, Mr Bennet’s open disapproval of his son-in-law’s character could provide some protection, or at least have the happy effect of discouraging a similar alliance in her sister, Kitty. As it was, his lack of forthright criticism, no doubt engendered by his desire to avoid conflict with his wife and most vocal daughter, was slowly starting to strip away the gravity of Lydia’s transgression in Kitty’s eyes.
Though she was two years older, Kitty had always admired and followed Lydia’s every move. So easy in company, so boisterous and relentlessly jolly, Lydia almost inspired awe in her somewhat insipid elder sister. Without Lydia, Kitty had been floundering under the combined disapproval of both of her parents and her inability to occupy her time in Lydia’s absence. Elizabeth was almost pained for her sister as she began to realise just how completely Kitty had given way to their youngest sister in everything—her interests, her pastimes, even her conversation had been so thoroughly subsumed to the desires of another.
Kitty was truly the only Bennet sister who looked upon her brother-in-law with the same reverence that Lydia had desired from them all. To Kitty, her sister had been most fortunate to capture such a handsome redcoat for a husband. Elizabeth could only pray that she would not be given the same opportunity as Lydia to fall for a rake.
And then there was Jane, dear Jane, who despite her knowledge to the contrary, was somehow convinced that Mr Wickham’s character was not completely lost to any and all reform. Elizabeth could scarcely credit Jane’s belief in the happiness of Lydia’s marriage, particularly when cracks had already begun to appear in their cheerful posturing only a few weeks into the couple’s dubious state of wedded bliss.
The Bennet temper was well known in Longbourn. Elizabeth herself owned a fair share of this rather unfortunate quality that pervaded her father’s side of the family tree, to which poor Mr Darcy could well attest. While this rather passionate temperament had completely escaped some of her sisters, Jane being the most distant from this regrettable attribute, it was widely acknowledged that Lydia had inherited the lion’s share, and sadly for Elizabeth, her youngest sister’s temper had lately turned in her own direction.
It had apparently not escaped Lydia’s notice that her husband repeatedly sought Elizabeth’s company, and while Elizabeth used every method imaginable to discourage his attention, the only interpretation Lydia would entertain was that her sister must be jealous.
Jealous. The mere idea of envying Lydia’s situation was enough to make Elizabeth’s skin crawl. She had tried numerous times and with increasingly desperate measures to evade Mr Wickham’s many attempts at conversation, yet the man’s efforts continued unabated. What could he possibly hope to accomplish by so singling her out? Why on earth did he believe that she would be receptive to his overtures of friendship? Did he truly think her such a simpleton as to be unaware of the devastation he had nearly wrought on her entire family? The gall of her despicable new brother never failed to rile Elizabeth’s own temper.
Does he not realise that should he succeed in commandeering my notice, he could very well be subject to my less than charitable thoughts? Evidently, his confidence in my ability to restrain my tongue is greater than mine own.
The cheerful song of birds pulled Elizabeth from her troublesome thoughts, and as she looked out upon the beautiful, peaceful surroundings of Hertfordshire’s glorious countryside, she was temporarily distracted in wondering whether or not Derbyshire had welcomed autumn in the same manner as her home. Did Mr Darcy look out upon a similar blanket of warm, colourful trees and fields, or did the peaks still retain the stunning greenery she had witnessed on her summer travels? Did he, too, sit upon a local promontory and take comfort in nature’s soothing presence?
Does he long for me as I long for him?
Though wishing to chastise herself for the laughable direction of her musings, Elizabeth could not help but wish Mr Darcy would arrive and somehow rescue her from her current situation. With a weary heart, Elizabeth gathered her shawl and bonnet and began her long walk back to Longbourn.
As she meandered along the paths, she tried to reconcile her hopes with the disappointing reality she faced: Mr Darcy would not be returning to Hertfordshire, he would not continue to pursue a woman who had rejected him so vociferously, and he most certainly would never make a brother of Mr Wickham. As her anger began to rise once more towards the reprobate who was currently ensconced in her family home, Elizabeth’s energetic strides turned into stomps as she attempted to release her ire before reaching her destination. All of her efforts, however, were in vain as the one person she least wished to see was waiting for her on the edge of Longbourn’s park.
“Ah Sister! I was hoping to meet you upon your return. Enjoying the lovely weather, I take it?”
Dear Lord, why must I be forced to endure this man? At least the house is in sight!
Walking past Mr Wickham after the barest of nods in his direction, Elizabeth replied, “I am sure you are well aware, sir, that I usually partake of a long walk in the morning. I find it settles my spirits as nothing else quite can, particularly when I anticipate any number of challenges in my day.”
“Challenges? Are you finding the company at Longbourn to be particularly trying of late? I must confess, I had quite feared that you no longer cared for me, though I know you could not truly wish for my absence.”
“That is amusing, sir, for I believed that my disinclination for your presence was obvious.” Well, I suppose that was a tad uncivil.
Mr Wickham’s smug smile that had prompted Elizabeth’s moment of uncharacteristic frankness was temporarily replaced by a tight expression of anger. He released a feigned and awkward chuckle as he regained his well-practiced charm and extended his arm to Elizabeth, though she continued to walk at a determined pace towards the house.
“Now, now, I insist that we have a most brotherly chat, for I fear there has been some misunderstanding between us that must be resolved ere your sister and I depart.”
Relieved to see the door to the manor house in sight, Elizabeth responded in a cheerful tone. “Oh, I do not believe that to be necessary, Mr Wickham. After all, why should there be any misunderstandings between us? I thank you for your consideration, but I really must be going about my day.”
A quick glance to the side revealed her new brother’s continued anger at her easy dismissal. Her satisfaction at his discomfort, however, quickly turned to fear as he began to reach for her arm.
“Now truly, I must insist?—”
Relief, overwhelming and entirely propitious relief, came from a most unexpected source. The sound of approaching riders halted Mr Wickham’s quest for her arm, and a grateful Elizabeth turned a beaming smile towards her unwitting rescuers. Yet, gratitude rapidly shifted to surprise, when much to her astonishment, her gaze locked with the concerned eyes of none other than Mr Darcy.