Chapter VI
Mr. Wickham’s absence in those days was a boon.
Not in the way one might expect, for Elizabeth made few comments about the officers’ past—she had already said what needed to be said, and she did not want to say too much for fear of appearing as one who had vengeance in mind.
Word of Mr. Wickham’s faults was making its way around the community by that time, so there was little need to create waves with her hand when the tide was already turning.
The chief benefit of Mr. Wickham’s absence was the steady spread of the truth—unchecked, unchallenged, and beyond any effort he might have made to stay its progress.
Elizabeth could not have arranged matters better had she drawn up her forces for battle and routed the enemy with all the precision of the Iron Duke.
The only fly in the ointment of the apothecary was Lydia.
The girl had taken it into her head to speak in Mr. Wickham’s defense, the comments she once made about the officers—their gentlemanly comportment and her pleasure in their company—she now directed in Mr. Wickham’s defense.
What made the girl even more insufferable were the sly glances she directed at Elizabeth, as if she were restoring Mr. Wickham’s reputation with her pithy comments.
“Oh, Mr. Wickham is so handsome and good!” exclaimed she on more than one occasion. “Why, I have never seen one so excellent as he, and so gentlemanly too. Is there a man in all of England who more exemplifies what a gentleman should be?”
Elizabeth listened to this and offered the obvious response. “That is curious, Lydia, for Mr. Wickham is not a gentleman.”
Though Lydia glared at her, Elizabeth cared nothing for her sister’s silliness. “Mr. Wickham is the son of a steward—he did not hide it himself. The difference between a gentleman and a steward’s son is as wide as a chasm, do you not agree?”
“You disapprove of him because of his origins?” spat Lydia.
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth, unconcerned with her sister’s pique. “A man should be judged by his actions, not his upbringing, the face he shows to the world, or his firm jaw, wavy hair, or any other feature he cannot control. The way he behaves is the true measure of a man.”
Similar exchanges happened several times in those days, leaving Lydia seething and Elizabeth unconcerned.
By the looks she received from those listening, she knew she had scored a significant point.
Not everyone was as shallow as Lydia, for their neighbors could look beyond simple physical attributes.
Though she could not be certain, Elizabeth suspected that Lydia’s comments were doing nothing more than displaying to the company how little they knew about Mr. Wickham, how false the mask he donned, as easily as he settled his red coat across his shoulders.
Still, the situation made Elizabeth worry, for she knew that should Mr. Wickham turn his attention to Lydia, the silly girl would throw away everything for a bit of fun, bringing ruin upon them all.
Thus, Elizabeth contrived an occasion to speak to her co-conspirators one evening after Lydia went to bed.
“No, Lizzy,” said Kitty, appearing uncomfortable, “Lydia has made no comments about Mr. Wickham other than those to support him in company.”
“Mr. Wickham is not in Meryton, so there is no occasion for her to do anything inappropriate with him,” added Mary.
Elizabeth considered this, but she remained unconvinced. “You are correct, but he will return before long, unless he has already deserted.”
“Do you suppose he has?” asked Kitty, eyes wide.
“It is impossible to say,” replied Elizabeth. “It is his practice to flee when those he has used see through his engaging manners, but matters in Meryton should have given him no cause for concern. If he means to depart, now, when he is away on business would be the perfect time.”
“When is he due to return?” asked Mary.
“I do not know the timing,” replied Elizabeth. “But I cannot imagine it will be more than a day or two.”
“Then we must maintain our vigilance.”
Kitty nodded her agreement. “Do you suppose Lydia will go directly to Mr. Wickham about what has happened?”
“I would not put it past her,” replied Elizabeth. “Word of Mr. Wickham’s activities is spreading throughout Meryton, so it will do her little good. Mayhap our father will decide it is best to control her.”
“If only we could be so fortunate,” muttered Mary.
Eyes wide, Kitty stared at them. “What do you mean?”
For a moment, Elizabeth thought it might be best to put Kitty off with some platitude, but her question was a perfect opportunity to acquaint her with the reality of the situation. A glance at Mary suggested that if Elizabeth did not, Mary would step into the breach.
“Kitty,” said Elizabeth, aiming for tact, “Lydia’s behavior is not the best.”
“She is little more than wild,” was Mary’s more blunt assessment. “She treads the edge of ruining herself, which will affect us all.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kitty, appearing more than a little faint.
“Compare Jane’s behavior with Lydia’s, Kitty,” said Elizabeth, deciding an example would be more instructive.
“But Lydia is livelier; Jane is quite reticent.”
“Yes, you are correct,” replied Elizabeth. “But restraint is a quality that is prized by anyone who strives for good behavior. Lydia is unrestrained, loud, too free with her praise, and openly flirtatious. What do you suppose others think when they see Lydia’s manners?”
Kitty chewed her lip, wringing her hands in her fretful agitation.
“They see her as a lightskirt,” said Mary. “A bit of muslin to be used and cast aside when they are done.”
“Lydia would never go so far as this!” exclaimed Kitty.
“Keep your voice down, Kitty,” instructed Elizabeth. “Do not wake the rest of the house.”
Appearing chastised, Kitty bowed her head. “Do you suppose Denny or Wickham sees her as a girl they can . . .”
“Take advantage of?” asked Elizabeth. She sighed and gave Kitty a wan smile. “Denny is a good sort, one who would not behave in such a manner. Wickham is another matter altogether, and there may be more men in the regiment who are like him.
“Furthermore, you should remember that any loss of virtue in a woman reflects upon her family, especially any other sisters.”
“Tainted by association,” said Mary. “If Lydia should lose her reputation, we will all suffer. There will be little chance of any of us making advantageous marriages.”
“We should tell Mama!” blurted Kitty.
Elizabeth and Mary exchanged a glance, the latter shrugging while the former turned back to Kitty.
“Jane and I have attempted to educate Mama on the subject, but she has not listened. It is difficult to induce Mama to attend to her daughters.”
“Can Papa not do it?” asked Kitty.
Mary’s snort of disdain spoke to her feelings, and Elizabeth had direct knowledge of the futility of any such plan.
“Papa is content with matters as they are, Kitty,” said Elizabeth gently. “Should something serious arise, Papa will take action, but until then, he will not. He does not think we are in any danger from the officers or anyone else.”
Though she considered it for a moment, soon Kitty nodded. “I think I understand what you are saying, Lizzy, but I should ponder on it for a time.”
“That is well, Kitty,” said Elizabeth, filled with affection.
Kitty was not a bad girl, but she emulated Lydia’s behavior to gain her mother’s attention far too often. It was a sad reflection on the state of the Bennet family, but that did not make it any less true.
“For the moment,” said Elizabeth, “the best thing we can do is watch Lydia and prevent her from doing anything foolish. If she says anything to concern you, or even mutters in your hearing, inform us so we may take action. When Mr. Wickham returns, he will not be pleased—he may attempt something we cannot predict, so we should be ready for it.”
“I shall watch Lydia,” said Kitty, her spine stiffening.
The sisters agreed it was time to retire, and while Kitty left the room at once, Mary lingered behind. For a moment, she did not speak, then looked Elizabeth in the eye.
“Your attempt to spare Kitty’s feelings was admirable, Lizzy, but I am of the firm belief that directness is necessary. We will not reform them by whispering into their ears.”
Elizabeth sighed and nodded. “I cannot say you are incorrect, Mary. We have opened Kitty’s eyes a little, but I am not so foolish as to suppose we have reformed her. As for Lydia, I doubt anyone in the family other than Papa can improve her behavior, unless we can convince Mama of the danger.”
“Even Mama would do little, for she does not understand proper behavior herself.”
That was nothing less than the truth, and Elizabeth did not deny it.
Mary excused herself, leaving Elizabeth to blow out the candle and slip into bed.
While she wanted to have her wits about her the next day, Elizabeth lay awake longer than she wished, contemplating what they might do to protect and reclaim their youngest sibling. There were no straightforward answers.
GEORGIANA DARCY KNEW that something was amiss. It was not like William to be so impatient, so . . . fidgety, for want of a better term. William was waiting for something, and though Georgiana could not understand what it was, he was growing tetchier the longer the waiting continued.
She had no complaints about the previous days in his company—William had eschewed all pretense at participating in the season, instead turning his attention to her.
The enjoyment of being in his company, of experiencing activities in which they both took pleasure, was greater than it had been at any time since the previous summer.
Georgiana did not wish to consider that event, so she pushed all such unwelcome thoughts away in favor of the dilemma her brother presented.
In doing so, she could not have imagined how quickly the memory of that time would return or in what manner it would arise between them.