Chapter 17 #2
Moments later, Lydia followed the housekeeper up the stairs.
When they were headed down the corridor of apartments, Lydia commenced the next part of her scheme.
“As I told Mr. Bingley, the thought of being away from Longbourn for even one night is discomforting to me. If it is not too much trouble, would you tell me who is the occupant of each of these rooms in the event I awaken during the night and lose my bearings should I happen outside my apartment in search of my dear sister? I should hate very much to find myself out of place. Mr. Bingley did tell you that I wanted to be close to my sister, did he not?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe you will find the room very much to your liking.”
“Which of these rooms belongs to Mr. Bingley?”
“That would be the room just up the corridor to our right.”
Looking ahead, Lydia counted at least four doors on the right. “I see more than one door. To which do you refer?”
“It is the third door, ma’am.”
Lydia had not noticed that the housekeeper was standing still. The elderly woman cleared her throat, garnering Lydia’s attention. “This is your room. Mrs. Darcy’s apartment is two doors down on the left, ma’am.”
Soon after the housekeeper had quit the room with assurances that a maid would arrive shortly to attend Lydia’s toilette, Lydia raced to the bed and landed upon it with a gleeful thump.
That was so much easier than I ever supposed.
My Wickham shall be so pleased. She rolled on her stomach and cupped her hands about her chin.
Now, if carrying out the second and most important part of my scheme should prove half as easy as this, I shall be mistress of Netherfield Park in no time at all, for I shall insist upon a quick wedding.
Lydia pursed her lips. I wonder if we might be married by special license.
Darcy and the colonel stood opposite each other in the billiards room after the Longbourn guests had departed and most of the household had retired.
“You and Anne seem to have grown closer since Kent.”
Richard said nothing as he contemplated his next shot. Once he was positioned to sink the ball in the corner pocket, he said, “Methinks the gentleman sees that which he wishes to see.” A knowing expression then accompanied a successful shot.
Slightly impressed with his cousin’s proficiency, Darcy studied the table in preparation for his turn. “On the contrary. I saw the two of you speaking rather intimately earlier this evening.”
“Actually, our dear cousin was admonishing me for what she perceived as interest on my part in the stunningly beautiful Mrs. Collins.”
“Pray you have done nothing to act upon your interest.”
“As of yet—no.”
“Hear me when I say this, cousin. You are not the friend I always supposed you were if you would seriously consider behaving in a manner that forces me to align myself with Geoffrey Collins.”
Richard huffed. “You feel that strongly about it then?”
“Is it not what I have been saying all along?” Darcy readied himself to take his next shot. “For heaven’s sake, Jane is my sister. I will not stand by idly and watch anyone cause her harm, and that includes you.”
“Fear not, my friend. If I did not realise it before, I certainly know now that Mrs. Collins is indeed satisfied with her husband. She is safe from me.”
“That is all I want to hear.”
“Somehow, I rather doubt that.”
“Well, there is one other thing. I would rather suppose your newly established stance increases the possibility of your consideration of Anne.”
“I promise you this, old fellow. If my feelings for our cousin develop into the kind of ardent affection she deserves from a husband, you shall be the second to know.”
“You mean second to Anne, of course. I would expect no more.”
“On the contrary—I meant second to my father.”
Lydia did not get a minute of sleep, having paced the floor for what seemed an eternity, waiting for everyone in the household to settle into their beds and their ensuing deep slumber.
At around two o’clock, she donned the robe the maid had provided, stole up the corridor, and slipped into Bingley’s room.
She tiptoed across the carpet to allow for a close inspection just to make certain he was sound asleep.
His steady breathing and soft snores told her he was beyond being easily awakened.
She had never been inside a single gentleman’s apartment before.
How different it was from anything she had imagined.
She began to wonder about his sleeping attire, among other equally pertinent matters.
If she were to marry this man, she might as well know what she was in for.
Wickham said that sort of thing was important, did he not?
My dearest Wickham has never once allowed me a tiny glimpse, and there is no reason in the world he should have not, for there have been many splendid opportunities. How I should love to know what all the fuss is about.
Curiosity spurred her on. Mindful of what a disaster it would be if she woke him, Lydia slowly drew back the bedcover. Her mouth formed a perfect circle. Her time with Wickham had not prepared her for what she espied.
Thank heavens Bingley was properly attired; however, the part of his nightshirt that held her fixated was better described as a tent—a rather large tent.
She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from gushing aloud.
She dropped the cover and tiptoed to the other side of the bed.
Her Wickham had instructed her to climb into Bingley’s bed and snuggle next to him, but she could not bring herself to do so.
After carrying out Wickham’s other instructions, she eased over to a comfortable chair.
With her arms hugging her knees against her breast, she waited and waited, for hours, until finally she heard stirring in the hallway.
When she was certain the voice outside the door belonged to her brother Darcy, Lydia ruffled her hair, rushed across the floor, and threw open the door. Pleased beyond pleased, her eyes met Mr. Darcy’s. What was more, he was not alone.