Chapter X
Lydia was no more resigned to her situation the following morning than she had been the previous night, but Mr. Bennet was not in the mood to allow her silliness.
That morning at breakfast, she pushed food around her plate, more engaged in casting resentful glares at her family than in eating her breakfast. To say that her displeasure had little effect was not doing the word “understatement” any justice.
Elizabeth, who was the primary recipient of Lydia’s glares, was unconcerned, consoling herself with their success in preventing Lydia’s ruination of the family.
Jane was thoughtful, and Mary self-satisfied, and even Kitty, who had lived in Lydia’s shadow for years, did not concern herself with Lydia’s anger.
Mr. Bennet watched his daughter as if trying to determine how much effort it would cost to reform her, and even Mrs. Bennet, who now comprehended some of the danger posed by an unchecked Lydia, was not paying her youngest any heed.
“Do you mean to go to Meryton today?” asked Mrs. Bennet, the first words spoken.
“I must,” replied Mr. Bennet. “The question of Wickham’s debts is still not answered, though I have little doubt what we will find.”
Lydia huffed, but everyone ignored her. Mr. Bennet continued as if she had not just made her displeasure known in the manner of an unruly child.
“Jane and Lizzy have asked to accompany me, so I will leave Longbourn in your capable hands. Though I judge it unlikely, should Wickham appear here while we are absent, do not let him in and let John and the stablemen deal with him.”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet,” said his wife.
“Papa!” whined Lydia. “I want to go to Meryton too!”
Seeing the look her father fixed on her, Lydia tried to remain firm, but after a few moments, she looked down, a far cry from her usual boldness. Elizabeth was reminded that though her father rarely chose to exercise his authority, Lydia was not inclined to defy him openly.
“Tell me, Lydia,” said he, “why do you suppose I would allow you any closer to Meryton than Longbourn’s front door?”
“I want to see for myself what is happening,” insisted the girl. “You have all branded Mr. Wickham as the worst of men—if he has debts, then I want to know.”
“And know you shall—the moment we return, you will learn everything that we discover.
“No, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone unyielding, “I shall not take you to Meryton this morning. Your escapade last night has informed me that you cannot be trusted. You will remain here with your mother, Mary, and Kitty.”
“Papa!” cried Lydia again.
“That is enough, Lydia.”
Mr. Bennet set down his fork and fixed his full attention on his youngest daughter; her squirming told Elizabeth that Lydia did not like it, but other than a mulish glare, she did not respond.
“Let me inform you, Daughter, that I am not impressed with your behavior since the regiment arrived, and certainly not these past few days. The way you have comported yourself is not conducive to a young lady who is out.”
Lydia’s mouth snapped shut, the girl understanding the nature of her father’s threat.
Though Lydia attended society at the tender age of fifteen, due to Mrs. Bennet’s contention that she would be left out if all her sisters attended functions and left her alone, Elizabeth did not think that any mention of her being “out” had ever been made.
The family had made something of Kitty coming out, but though Lydia had been included in that, her exact status was still unclear.
Permission, in whatever form it existed, could be rescinded whenever their father chose—it seemed Lydia now remembered that fact.
“I see you understand the realities of the situation,” said Mr. Bennet, taking up his fork again. “Good. It would be better if you did not raise the subject again. Continuing to speak of it will not avail you and may make your situation worse.”
For perhaps the first time in Elizabeth’s memory, Lydia took the hint and remained silent.
For a time, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates and a few soft murmurs between the family.
Lydia excused herself long before the meal ended, and Mr. Bennet allowed her to go.
The girl cast a pall over the family with her behavior—Elizabeth was not the only one relieved to be free of her company.
“That girl will be the death of me,” muttered Mr. Bennet when she was gone.
“It may be best to hire a companion, Papa,” said Elizabeth.
“A companion?” demanded Mrs. Bennet.
“Lizzy may be correct,” said Mr. Bennet before his wife could further protest. “Though I have not the slightest notion of Lydia listening to anyone, she may actually heed a woman with experience better than she listens to her family.”
“That is an expense, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet. It was the first time Elizabeth had ever heard her mother speak of their finances in a cautionary tone.
“We may have to economize a little to afford it,” agreed Mr. Bennet. “In this instance, the benefits may outweigh the disadvantages. Lydia must learn proper behavior—if she does not, the cost may be higher than we can afford.”
“It is not an uncommon practice, Mama,” said Elizabeth, drawing her mother’s attention to her. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, has a companion, and she is older than I am.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded, though it was clear that she remained unconvinced. Then Kitty surprised them all by speaking up.
“If Lydia has a companion, can she teach me too?”
Mr. Bennet turned a smile on his second youngest—Kitty blushed in response.
“I have not forgotten your recent growth, Kitty. Should we bring in a woman to teach your sister, you could also receive instruction from her.”
“That is . . . good, Papa,” said Kitty. “I should like to learn more than I know now.”
“Then we shall arrange it,” said Mr. Bennet. “Until we make the final decision, perhaps your elder sisters will consent to assist.”
“Of course, Papa,” said Jane.
“Very well,” said Mr. Bennet, rising from the table. “We should go soon. I wish to discover Wickham’s disposition and the state of his creditors as soon as may be.”
Agreeing, Jane and Elizabeth rose and returned to their rooms to prepare.
Within fifteen minutes, they were inside the carriage on their way to Meryton.
Just before the house slipped from sight, Elizabeth saw a silhouette in an upstairs window.
Knowing it was Lydia, she could imagine the fury in the girl’s face.
It should come as no surprise that Elizabeth did not care a jot for Lydia’s displeasure.
“THERE APPEARS TO BE an unusual degree of activity this morning,” Elizabeth observed as the carriage passed through the streets of the town.
Mr. Bennet nodded, though he did not speak.
The truth lay before them, as knots of townsfolk stood together speaking, while a few officers walked briskly on errands that contradicted their usual practice of gathering with the locals, exchanging pleasantries, and flirting with the ladies.
A faint air of unease hung over the town, an atmosphere of significant events that Elizabeth could almost taste.
“Where shall we go first, Papa?” asked Jane.
After considering this for a moment, Mr. Bennet said: “It appears something is already afoot. Lizzy, did you not say that your uncle promised to investigate Mr. Wickham this morning?”
“Yes, Papa,” replied Elizabeth.
“Then we should go to the colonel first. If he has intelligence of Mr. Wickham’s activities, Philips might have gone to him, or the colonel might have heard the reports from his officers and investigated it himself.”
When the carriage stopped about halfway down Meryton’s thoroughfare, Mr. Bennet stepped out, then turned to assist his daughters.
A glance informed Elizabeth that their arrival had received little attention.
Her father turned and walked toward the edge of town where the militia had made their headquarters.
Within moments, they entered, spoke to the officer on duty, and gained entrance.
“Mr. Bennet,” said Colonel Forster, rising and extending his hand. “I expected to see you this morning. It appears there is a spot of bother that connects us, though I will note that I had no notion of it only yesterday.”
“Colonel,” replied Mr. Bennet, accepting his hand. “It seems you know something about our errand this morning.”
The colonel offered a chuckle, though it held no mirth. “It was impossible to remain ignorant, even if I wished it.”
Gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk, the colonel turned and took another from beside the wall. When they were all seated, he did not hesitate to speak.
“When my men returned from Mr. Philips’s house yesterday, they brought troubling news regarding one of my officers.
” The colonel shrugged. “Wickham is not the most diligent man in my command, and he has often used excuses of business to leave the regiment—his ill-fated expedition to Liverpool after Miss King was an example of this.
But I had never considered him immoral or dishonest. Ambition is not a crime, though I suspected from the first that his pursuit of Miss King was motivated by her inheritance.
“I had determined to understand to what extent the rumors were true, then Mr. Philips visited me this morning. The men had not been especially open about everything that happened there—to own the truth, I don’t think most witnessed the confrontation and only had Miss Elizabeth’s comments on which to base their opinions.
When I had your brother’s account, the investigation became imperative. ”
“And what did you find?” asked Mr. Bennet.