Chapter 9
Christmas at Longbourn was not a time for introspection and reflection.
The house was fuller than usual, the servants busier, and Mrs Bennet in such spirits as to render any quiet conversation nearly impossible.
Lydia and Kitty had spent the greater part of the morning laughing over some new amusement connected with the officers, while Mrs Bennet alternated between indulgent laughter and mild protest that never lasted long enough to discourage them.
As she often did when Longbourn became too noisy, Elizabeth retreated toward the smaller sitting room that overlooked the winter garden. She had brought a book with her, which ought to have been a pleasant occupation for a winter day.
But she had not turned more than a few pages before her peaceful reverie was disturbed.
Through the half-closed door came the sound of Lydia’s voice, bright with excitement and perfectly unconcerned with the possibility of being overheard.
“I tell you it will be the finest sport imaginable,” Lydia declared.
“Only think how surprised they will be when they discover it.”
Kitty’s answering laugh followed immediately. “But Lydia, what if they should be angry?”
“Nonsense,” Lydia replied. “Officers never object to a little mischief. Colonel Forster himself said that soldiers must enjoy a joke wherever they find it.”
Elizabeth set her book down slowly. There was something in Lydia’s tone that made her pause, though she had long been accustomed to her sister’s carelessness and high spirits.
“What sort of joke?” Kitty asked.
“Oh, the cleverest thing,” Lydia said with a triumphant laugh. “We shall tell them that the colonel intends to call on them all early in the morning, and that every man who is not ready for inspection shall be fined a bottle of wine.”
Kitty laughed again. “But Lydia, that is dreadful.”
“It will be delightful,” Lydia insisted. “Mr Wickham himself said he wished there were more liveliness in Meryton. Only imagine how they will all run about when they hear it.”
Elizabeth rose quietly from her chair. At the mention of Wickham’s name, her patience, which had endured Lydia’s follies for many months, began to feel very thin indeed. She moved closer to the door without opening it further.
Kitty said, with some hesitation, “But if the colonel should discover it…”
“He will do no such thing,” Lydia replied confidently. “And if he does, we shall simply blame the officers themselves. Mr Wickham says they deserve it.”
At those words, Elizabeth felt the last of her composure vanish. It was not merely the prank itself, though that was foolish enough. It was Lydia’s tone of careless admiration, and Mr Wickham’s easy encouragement of it, that made the matter intolerable.
For several weeks, Elizabeth had struggled to believe that Mr Wickham might yet possess some portion of the upright character he had claimed for himself.
Mr Darcy’s account had disturbed her deeply, but when Mr Bennet had declined to take action, it had seemed impossible that Elizabeth could do anything on her own.
Yet Lydia’s eager infatuation made the danger impossible to ignore.
She opened the door at last. Lydia and Kitty turned at once, both startled by her appearance.
“My dear Lizzy,” Lydia cried, “you must hear our plan. It will be the most excellent jest.”
“I have already heard enough of it,” Elizabeth replied calmly.
Kitty looked slightly uncomfortable, but Lydia only laughed. “You cannot object to a little amusement. Mr Wickham himself declared it would be admirable.”
Elizabeth met her sister’s bright expression with steady composure. “That recommendation ought to persuade you that Mr Wickham’s judgement is not sound, not that such a prank is suitable.”
Lydia tossed her head. “You only dislike my plan because you are jealous. You should like it of all things if Mr Wickham would pay as much attention to you.”
“Lydia, I assure you that is not the case,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I did think very well of Mr Wickham, once. But I cannot like it that he encourages you in such behaviour.”
Lydia merely laughed again and returned to her conversation with Kitty, perfectly unconcerned by the reproof.
Elizabeth stood there a moment longer, observing them with a mixture of concern and impatience that she did not trouble herself to disguise. At last, she left the room.
If her father would not act, and her mother could not, someone must at least attempt to prevent Lydia from making a complete spectacle of herself.
Until now, Elizabeth had hoped that the danger might pass without intervention.
After what she had just heard, she could not pretend it any longer.
But if she were to attempt such a feat as protecting her foolish younger sisters and their unsuspecting neighbourhood from a danger they would hesitate to accept, she would need help.
She found Jane in the upstairs sitting room, arranging a bunch of winter pansies in a tiny vase.
Jane looked up with her usual gentle smile. “Lizzy, you look worried. Has something happened?”
Elizabeth closed the door behind her. “Yes,” she said. “Something has happened, and I am afraid we must do something about it.”
Jane set down the flowers at once. “What is the matter?”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment. “It concerns Lydia.”
Jane’s eyebrows knitted together with immediate concern. “Has she done anything particularly imprudent?”
“Not yet,” Elizabeth replied. “But unless we interfere, I am very much afraid she soon will.”
Jane listened quietly as Elizabeth repeated what Lydia had said to Kitty. By the time she finished, Jane’s expression had grown serious, though her kindness prevented her from speaking too harshly of their sister.
“Lydia is certainly too thoughtless,” Jane said at last. “But perhaps the officers will not encourage her.”
Elizabeth looked at her steadily. “Jane, that is the worst of what I have to tell you. I have come into some information about Mr Wickham. I cannot tell you all, for some of it was told to me in confidence. But I have come to have the gravest concerns about Mr Wickham’s character.
He is not the upright, honourable man he has presented himself to be. ”
“I am sure that cannot be so,” Jane protested. “Cannot there be some mistake? I have the greatest respect for your judgement, Lizzy, but could there not be some misunderstanding?”
“There could be,” Elizabeth said. “I cannot deny it. And I shall tell you frankly that I told our father as much, to no result. But for my part, I am convinced Lydia’s danger is great enough that we should not ignore it.”
Jane said nothing for a moment. “I should like to believe,” she said carefully, “that Mr Wickham would not willingly lead Lydia into anything improper.”
Elizabeth sighed softly. “I should like to believe it, too.” For a long moment, she weighed what she ought to do.
Knowing that Jane’s honour and good sense were above reproach, she would share the source of her information if she must. But Mr Darcy had trusted her with the most important secret of his sister’s life.
Not even her faith in Jane could justify sharing that secret before it was absolutely necessary.
But if Jane continued to insist that Mr Wickham could not be really dangerous —
Before Jane could reply, another voice spoke from the doorway. “I should like to believe it, but I do not. Not for a moment.”
Both sisters turned in surprise.
Mary stood just inside the room, holding a small volume of sermons in one hand and looking at them with an expression of great seriousness. “You need not trouble yourselves to pretend ignorance on my account,” she added calmly. “I heard every word.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Mary, how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” Mary replied, “to conclude that you are considering something of great importance for our family, and perhaps even for all our neighbours as well.”
Jane turned to their sister at once, reaching out a conciliatory hand. “Mary, we were not intending to exclude you.”
Mary closed the door behind her and came forward. “I am very glad to hear it,” she said. “For I have concerns of my own about Mr Wickham.”
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a glance. Mary’s tone contained an unusual degree of determination.
“I should like,” Mary continued with quiet dignity, “to assist you.”
Elizabeth was the first to recover from her surprise. “Assist us?” she repeated, studying Mary with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “I was not aware that we had yet formed a plan.”
“Perhaps not aloud,” Mary replied, taking a chair near the small writing desk. “But your expression suggested that one was very near.”
Jane smiled faintly. “Mary may be correct in that. Lizzy rarely enters a room looking so resolved unless she intends to reform the world.”
Elizabeth sat down opposite them. “I do not aspire to reform the world,” she said. “Only to prevent Lydia from doing something that might disgrace us all.”
Mary inclined her head gravely. “A most reasonable ambition.”
Jane folded her hands in her lap. “Lydia is certainly too careless,” she said gently. “But we must be cautious not to judge too severely. Young people are often foolish without meaning any real harm.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Jane, it is possible to commit great harm through foolishness as well as through ill intent. And Lydia is determined to be foolish in the most public manner imaginable.”
Mary nodded thoughtfully. “More worrying still, Mr Wickham appears eager to encourage her.”
Elizabeth looked at her with renewed interest. “You have observed it as well?”
“I have observed several things,” Mary replied.
Jane looked surprised. “Indeed?”
Mary sat very straight in her chair. “I do not wish to speak uncharitably of anyone,” she said. “But I have long thought that Mr Wickham’s manners, though pleasing, are perhaps too easily admired.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “That is a delicate way of putting it.”