Chapter Seven
General Lewes was standing before the unlit fire, frowning pensively at the blackened grate. He turned as Lydia entered the room and nodded slightly as he saw her tear-reddened eyes, her simply done hair and plain frock. She had obviously spent a sleepless night thinking over her mistakes.
“Sir,” Lydia said in a choked voice, dipping into a low curtsy.
“Close the door and sit down, Miss Bennet. You and I need to have a serious conversation.”
Obeying him, Lydia sat with her hands in her lap, nervously twisting her fingers together. When the General took a seat opposite her but said nothing for a few minutes, she gathered up her courage and looked up at him.
“You must think me exceptionally silly and childish, sir. I was so foolish last night.”
“That you recognise your fault is the reason why I am willing to help you, Miss Bennet. That, and I am firmly of the belief that the world is far too quick to condemn young women for a single moment of silliness, when young men do far worse every day and everyone looks the other way.”
The fundamental unfairness of the world was one reason why Lydia had always been determined to do as she pleased, but she did know there was a vast gulf between being forward and forthright, and being fast.
She did not speak, but nodded agreement with General Lewes, who eyed her thoughtfully before continuing.
“It was your bad luck to run into Major Adams and his friends last night. Had Fitzwilliam managed to smuggle you back into the house before anyone saw you, there would be no harm done. As it is, unfortunately, you were seen and recognised and there are only a few remedies for the situation now.”
Lydia gulped and nodded. “Whatever you say, sir.”
“Marriage to Mr Wickham is not an option, I’m afraid. Fitzwilliam thinks it highly unlikely Wickham intended to marry you at all.”
Lydia’s eyes opened wide at that. “But he said we had to leave now, in order to reach Scotland and return to take up his new position in London!”
“Did he, indeed?” Lewes shook his grizzled head. “The hack-chaise was hired to take you only as far as Clapham.”
Lydia blinked.
“I do not have a prior acquaintance with Mr Wickham, but Colonel Fitzwilliam most certainly does. It is not my secret to share, but rest assured that Mr Wickham is most certainly not a reputable gentleman. Despite his pay of twelve pounds per month as a militia officer, he has debts exceeding a thousand pounds.”
“A thousand pounds!” Flabbergasted, Lydia stared at him. “How is that possible?” She knew how the tradesmen in Meryton were when their bills were unpaid, for less than one-hundredth that amount.
“Many of them are debts of honour, from gambling far beyond his means. Others are debts to tradesmen run up in any number of towns; I should add that neither Meryton nor Brighton are included in the tally to date.”
“Dear Lord in heaven,” Lydia’s headache was returning with a vengeance. “How was he ever to repay such a sum? Oh - his courtship of Mary King makes so much more sense, now!”
“A young lady with a hefty dowry, I assume?”
“Five thousand pounds. But she was a...” Lydia rethought the words nasty freckled little thing which she had been about to say. “Not as pretty as some of the other girls,” she said finally.
“With that, he could have satisfied his most pressing creditors, but I do not doubt he would have run through the remainder and been in debt again very quickly. He has already spent almost as much, from what Fitzwilliam has told me.” Lewes shook his head.
“A very profligate young man, Lydia. You have had a lucky escape.”
Lydia chewed on her lip before deciding to ask, since General Lewes seemed very forthcoming with information. “Sir... if he did not intend to marry me... what then?”
The general’s expression looked very much like pity. “I understand pretty, fresh-faced young girls like yourself fetch quite a good price in London’s houses of sin, at least until they are no longer fresh-faced.”
Horrified, Lydia gaped at him. “You mean - he would have sold me?”
“Indeed. The only question in my mind is whether he would have used you ill first, or bargained on getting more money for you as an innocent. I am sorry to speak so plainly, Miss Bennet, but you should know what kind of wickedness men are capable of.”
“I thought women who worked in those places were there by choice!”
“If it is a choice between starving on the streets or putting food in your belly, is that truly a choice?” General Lewes shook his head at her.
“Imagine if you had gone to London with Mr Wickham, Miss Bennet, and he had not married you, but abandoned you after a few weeks. What then should you have done, if your family cast you off - as they would almost certainly have to, for the sake of your sisters? How would you find work, with no references and no training in a trade? How would you live, and what would you eat?”
“I see,” Lydia whispered finally, nodding. “Thank you for explaining to me, General Lewes. I have been so very foolish, how you must despise me...”
“Oh, my dear child. No. No, not at all.” General Lewes sat forward and reached for her hands, taking them in his large, weathered ones and chafing her cold fingers gently.
“We all make foolish mistakes, at times. I would tell you some of the stories of my misadventures in my youth, if I were not afraid I might singe your tender ears in the doing.” He twinkled at her, and she managed a small smile.
“I have no doubt you broke any number of hearts in your day, sir.”
“Why, Miss Bennet, are you implying it is not still my day?”
His teasing jest had the desired result; Lydia giggled.
“That is better. Misery does not suit you at all, Miss Bennet. Now, we must decide what to do about this situation. I am sure you have already realised that sitting on our hands and pretending nothing has happened is not an option? There will be too many whispers.”
“Indeed, and even if I were to go home directly, I am afraid the whispers would follow. A number of Colonel Forster’s regiment were quite friendly with some of the locals from Meryton.”
“Concerning, indeed, and why we must take steps quickly.”
“But what, sir? I am truly grateful for your intervention last night, please do not think me ungrateful, but I have not the slightest idea what to do now!” Lydia tried to keep her voice steady, but it cracked and wavered as she spoke.
General Lewes nodded, and waited while she gulped and pressed a handkerchief to her face for a moment. Sharp blue eyes noted that it was not a lady’s handkerchief, but a man’s, a square of high-quality linen with the initials RJF and a crest embroidered in one corner.
“As I see it,” he said, “there are two choices available to you, and both of them involve marriage.”
Lydia only stared at him. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I would not marry Wickham now if I can possibly avoid it...”
“Not that reprobate! No, my dear.” Lewes smiled at her kindly. “No, I am speaking of two quite different men, though if you know of another, then we can of course consider that as an option.”
“I cannot imagine any men who would want to marry me now!”
Lewes shook his head at her. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is the first, of course. His being seen with you last night makes it the simplest solution, especially since I named you his fiancé to Major Adams and his cronies.”
Lydia frowned, and General Lewes tilted his head at her curiously. “Do you understand what that word means, Miss Bennet?”
Shame-faced, she shook her head. “It sounds French, and I fear I was a poor student.”
“It means betrothed. Your fiancé is the man you are engaged to be married to.”
Bemused, Lydia blinked at him. “You mean... you told Major Adams that Colonel Fitzwilliam and I are engaged?”
“Yes, I did. It was the one remotely plausible explanation for your being there; much more leeway is given to engaged couples, and given your youth, your sneaking out to greet your betrothed on his return could be overlooked.”
“But it isn’t true,” Lydia said in despair, “and when that comes out, I will be in just as much trouble as before!”
“What if it were true, though? Colonel Fitzwilliam came to see me last night after I escorted you here, and we discussed matters. He is willing to marry you.”
Lydia stared in disbelief. “Why?” she said at last, utterly incredulous. “His family want him to marry an heiress, and I don’t even have a dowry.”
“So I understand... at least, as to your lack of a dowry. Fitzwilliam, however, has not been entirely honest about his own situation, it transpires. He admitted to me last night that, in fact, he stands to inherit a very comfortable estate from his mother’s family, the income from which is currently invested in the Funds for his benefit, should he require it.
While he isn’t quite as comfortably off as his cousin Darcy, he can certainly support a wife. ”
“Why would he not say so?” Lydia asked.
“I believe he prefers to maintain a low profile. If he revealed his wealth, with that in addition to his status as a war hero and noble bloodline, he would undoubtedly be fending off determined mamas and fortune-hunting maidens left and right.”
The general hadn’t even mentioned Fitzwilliam’s good looks and affable nature, Lydia thought. Really, it was quite unfair for one man to be all of those things. Wealth, connections, good looks, heroism and charm... he deserved to marry a princess.
She should refuse, Lydia realised sickly. Fitzwilliam had clearly made the offer out of pity; she stood to lose everything whereas his reputation would suffer not a whit, after all. She should free him from any imagined obligation.
“You said there was a second possibility for marriage,” she said finally, wrestling with her conscience.