Chapter Thirty-Four
M aking use of Mr. Wickham had been laughably easy. It had taken very little on Lydia's part to bring him to the point of declaring his love for her. Men were simple — Mama was right about that at least, even if she was wrong about pairing tobine stripes with so high a neckline as Mrs. Bennet favoured. It had taken only a laughing remark from Lydia that Mr. Wickham would someday make a lady a very fine husband and that was that. She had to give Wickham credit — he came to the point so very charmingly, and certainly her pretty ears, as he called them, enjoyed having delightful things whispered into them. He had asked her to marry him, to which she had smiled her most flirtatious smile and replied, “Perhaps I might, Wickham, perhaps I might.”
He had argued against her idea of taking her away from Longbourn without Papa's knowledge. He could not ask it of her, he said — she was too young, too innocent of the ways of the world, to understand what it meant. Lydia had wondered for half a moment if Jane had been wrong about him when he protested so, but she watched him from beneath her lashes and waited. Surely enough, the threat of her being locked away from his company in Bath made him declare that his passion for her was sufficient to drive all thought of anything else from his mind, leaving it full of only Lydia .
His romancing of her might have turned her head, so sincerely did he speak, except that a brief and unusually friendly conversation with Tilly Bercham at the draper’s had only a few hours ago revealed a similar speech he had made to her. Lydia did not much, as a general rule, listen to jealous young women regarding her suitors, but the protrusion of Tilly's middle and the absence of a promised ring was sufficient proof to believe the rest of it.
He had looked a little confused when she had, with a bright smile and fluttering lashes, turned down the prospect of Gretna Green. “La, dear Wickham, I do not mean to marry you just yet, you know — I want to go to London first. We,” she supposed airily, “can make our way to Scotland later. London is the only place to go, for the warehouses have all the silks one could wish. My sisters bought the silk for their famous white gowns in London, and do you mean for me to be less well dressed than they? You cannot wish me to be married in such shabby things. ”
He kissed her hand gallantly then. “That would be a tragedy, for you must be dressed befitting your worth.”
Jane's words rang in her ears but Lydia replied carelessly, “I am worth a great deal, you know, but I am sure that means nothing to you.” She might, she thought, have made a very fine actress, were she not a proper lady. A very large part of her believed that Wickham was a fair way in love with her. She was a fine girl after all, and why would he not be? His previous indiscretions made it all the more satisfying to have him under her power. Bidding a grown man as she pleased was a heady thing, Lydia decided.
“Nothing whatever,” Wickham replied promptly. “In fact, I could wish that you were as poor as I am so that I might show you, truly show you, how burdensome it is to me that I bring less than you. If things had been different, I might be able to offer you a respectable home as a clergyman's wife, but as it is, I have been wronged — but I must not be bitter. I am your devoted slave. I will escort you to London, of course, but we had better be secretive about it. Your family might not understand the depth of my love for you, Lydia. It will be better to remain silent. ”
Lydia was not an intelligent creature, at least not in the same way as Jane with numbers nor Lizzy with wit, nor even Mary for book learning, but neither was she so empty-headed as her papa was inclined to make out. There were times when she did not learn so rapidly as others, but she grasped certain life lessons very well indeed once she had understood them from experience .
There was a nuance to George Wickham's tone that made his words sound practiced to her ears, in the same way he made to her the pretty speech he had first used on Tilly. It was a touch too smoothly said, perhaps. Had she not known he was repeating himself she might not have caught it. She wondered which rich young lady he had first made that declaration to. Poor silly creature, whoever she might be. Wickham cannot have found her as attractive as Lydia herself.
Lydia Bennet was determined that she would go to London. It was no good her father declaring gleefully how dreadful school would be and then expecting her to go quietly along with Mary and Kitty. It was different for them — they did not understand how essential it was to her to be in company with other young people who were lively and jolly like her. Mary would adore sitting in a dull classroom all day long and being taught useless things like languages or geography. Kitty might even like to have other girls to talk or draw with, but for Lydia, no. It would be unendurable to sit within stone walls knowing that somewhere else in Bath there were parties with music and hundreds of candles. People dressed in their finest clothes, which would be by no means better suited to them than Lydia's choices, dancing until the early hours of the morning. How dreadful, to be so near such excitement and yet so far. It had taken very little for the imaginings she had intended for Bath to be made larger and better by thinking of Town instead .
The plan was carefully devised. She was not a complete fool. Jane's gentle warning had made her cautious about Wickham, but did little to change her plans save to use his attraction to her so far as was needed to get her to London and hopefully teach him a lesson. He would learn from her that not all young ladies were so slavishly believing of his speeches as he wished them to be. Tilly had been surprised when a Miss Bennet of Longbourn had wanted to talk to her — she was a simple girl and what she had related to Lydia had stirred a shred of compassion within a rather selfish breast. Poor, stupid Tilly had not a hope of resisting the charms of George Wickham but she, Lydia Bennet, was meant for greater things and she certainly could .
George Wickham needed to be taught a lesson and she was the one to do it. La! She was even cleverer than Lizzy, who had believed him so good a creature. How amazed they would all be when she wrote a letter from Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's house in London saying that she had been so wise all along and that now it was her turn to have a little fun. Wickham would be exposed to all of Meryton by her hand and her family would be astounded at her independence in getting to London without needing to have the arrangements made for her as her older sisters had done. She did not feel particularly guilty to be using a young man so enraptured by her. He might well be her admirer but clearly he liked her pin money just as well .
It would surely not be so difficult to persuade Uncle Gardiner to keep her, at least until Jane's wedding. Lydia would make sure she was so cheerful and good with the children that Aunt Gardiner would practically beg her to return with them after the wedding. Then she would go to balls and parties every night like Jane and Lizzy. Papa would see that she ought to have her fortune a little sooner than the her sisters and that was all that would be needed to make her one of the most eligible young ladies in Town .
Wickham had arranged the post-chaise and, in a whispered exchange at Aunt Phillips's house the evening before, had begged her to be ready at one o' clock in the morning with as little luggage as possible .
She had kept him waiting for almost an hour in the cold, of course, and at nearly two o'clock had handed him three bandboxes and a sack containing her shoes. He would appreciate, she was sure, that she had taken pains over her hair and, if she was any judge, looked rather well.
Lydia had almost laughed to see him quickly cover his annoyance. It was entertaining, really, to see through a man so thoroughly once having pierced his charade. She did not quite know how she would contain herself on the way to London, but how she would laugh when she told of Wickham's struggle to master his impulses. He would escort her as far as town and then be left high and dry with no one to blame but himself.
“Do you think this is little luggage, my adored one?” Wickham asked, climbing into the chaise with her and being obliged to move one of her bandboxes out of the way in order to sit .
“Wickham, you must not squash that one — it is my most treasured hat. The one you saw me in and said I looked like a queen in it. ”
He bit his lip momentarily and then laughed at her. “I am yours to command, my queen. There now, we could put your baggage on the seat opposite and then I might sit beside you to warm you, you know.”
Lydia, who had sat beside a cosy fire for half an hour before eventually making her way outside that night, disclaimed any feeling of chill. “Besides which,” she added, “I had much better keep my boxes from falling to the floor — I have two of my favourite shawls in this one but I am afraid the paisley might get sadly creased if it were to drop to the floor. Paisley shawls cost an enormous amount of money and I do think this one suits my muslin well. It is a pity we did not have a grander carriage to fly to London — I would have preferred to bring a portmanteau with me as well. ”
He had been looking anxiously toward the house but no candles or lamps had been suddenly lit that would suggest she had been missed. “Alas, my love, my poor means could not stretch to bringing you the gilded chariot which you deserve. It is the lot of a poor soldier, I fear. How fortunate I am that such a shining vision as you will stoop to be with such a one as I am — how I wish, fervently desire, that things had been different, that old Mr. Darcy's will…”
“Yes, never mind that. It is so dark tonight that you cannot see how prettily I have done my coiffure. I saw the style in a ladies’ journal and have emulated it splendidly. Is this not exciting, to be going so quickly with only the lamps on the carriage to guide us? I shall tell Kitty all about it when I see her again. How envious she will be that I have had such an adventure while she sleeps. How long will it take us to get to London?”
Wickham paused briefly before answering. “Perhaps five or six hours.”
She did not conceal her disappointment. “I had thought it would be much less — nearer three hours. I am sure it did not take so long when Papa took us. He was always so down in the doldrums when we travelled to town. You ought to have found better horses.”
“I am sure the time will go so swiftly for me that I will scarcely notice the difference. I am sure when we are married we will enjoy many such nighttime journeys together. Perhaps…perhaps even with children in a day to come.”
If he expected her to be thrown into blushing confusion he was to be disappointed, “Oh no, no, Wickham,” she laughed, greatly entertained. “I do not mean to have children very soon, but tell me why it will take us so long to reach town? I had meant to be there as the sun rises and surprise everyone before breakfast.”
“It is the darkness. Even with the moon so bright we must go slowly. The sky will begin to lighten at the first stop, dearest — I have written ahead to an inn. It is far less, of course, than you deserve.”
“I had better rest now then, or I will look a fright when the sun rises,” said Lydia practically, settling back comfortably against the cushioned seat and seeing, in the dim light, that he had withdrawn his handkerchief from his pocket. “Dear Wickham, how jolly this is! ”
Some time later she stirred, strangely wearier than she had been before she slept. The regular sound of the carriage wheels changed their rhythm and they slowed to enter the courtyard of an inn. The sky was lighter than she had expected it to be and the lamps that would usually have lit the courtyard had been extinguished.
“Swift Nick's Inn.” Lydia turned to Wickham, her tongue heavy and her speech slow. “What an odd name it is. Are we to go inside? I must refresh myself, you know.”
Wickham glanced about the place through the window and then nodded. “I should have preferred you never to have to consort with the likes of the people in this place, my dearest, but we must make do as best we can. I will escort you inside and guard you well. It,” he said after a pause, “might be better to say you are my sister for the present, should we meet anyone here who asks.”
She shook her head to clear it. “It looks quiet enough, and servants. I will want my things brought in.”
He frowned. “Whatever for?”
How her head ached! She dimly hoped that refreshing herself and washing her face in cool water might set her to rights. “I must change my outer gown, Wickham! You do not expect me to travel in the daytime in clothes I had selected specifically for stealthily leaving the house.”
It was evident he did not understand the working of her mind. “You might at least leave that heavier sack behind, can you not?”
“Certainly not.” Lydia was adamant. “That sack contains my shoes and a pair of half boots. I do not yet know what dress I will choose to make myself beautiful for you in, so I cannot possibly know how I must be shod either. Really, Wickham, do you not wish me to look pretty for you?”
He had given in, but there was something in the set of his mouth as she watched him from beneath her lashes that sent a frisson of unease through her .
She demanded, with as much noise as possible, that a serving girl be made available to her when they entered the quiet, dank-smelling inn. Their host, after rubbing his hands on his apron, had beckoned over a girl with a broom and showed the young lady into a small room for her to change and make use of a chamber pot behind a screen .
Lydia emerged from behind the screen some time later, feeling a little more like herself, to find the girl, her broom still in hand, looking curiously at her .
“Where are we?” She did not, in general, pay a good deal of attention to travelling routes but she had no recollection of ever having passed this place on the road to London before .
The girl bobbed a curtsey. “About two miles from Grantham, miss. ”
Lydia opened the sack of shoes. “I do not know where Grantham is — what is the nearest large town?”
The girl shrugged. “We are not far off the Great North Road, miss. There's post houses there.”
Lydia, frowning with the difficulty of concentration, had found the dress in her bandbox that she had intended to wear and turned her back to the girl.
“Will you undo my buttons? I do not wish to tear my gown to reach the lower ones.”
A little nervously, the servant put aside the broom and came forward to perform the task.
“Never been asked to help a lady before, miss — not seen a frock so fine as this, neither.”
Lydia was beginning to understand that Wickham had not brought her to a respectable establishment .
“Will it take long for…my brother and me to reach Town from here?”
“Grantham, miss?”
“London, of course. Here now, hold this gown up so that it does not touch the floor and help me put it over my head without spoiling my hair.”
“Hours and hours, I should think. Four at least, unless you have a fast horse like Swift Nick the highwayman, miss.”
Lydia turned slowly. “How silly, we have already been travelling for hours — we must surely be nearer London than you say — what is the o' clock? It is getting light, is it not? Are you a fool that you do not know how near this inn is to the capital?”
A little indignant, the girl let out a huff. “I know where I am better than you do, miss. The church bell tolled nine before you come in and I tell you, it’s many a mile to London from here. My uncle went once and it took him much of the day on the stage. ”
Lydia made her way to the window of the room, trying to see the sun and shaking her head, “No, I tell you that you are quite wrong — we cannot still be so far from London. We have been travelling for — oh I do not know, it must be five or six hours at least — I slept soundly for nearly all of it.” As she said it she marvelled that she should have slept like Kitty for so long without stirring once — it was not her usual way in a moving carriage .
The maid remained silent but shook her head with resolution. Lydia's mind worked furiously and the faintest feeling of worry began to nag at her. It was just possible, she realised, the beating of her heart loud in her ears, that George Wickham had drugged and abducted her.