Chapter 3
THREE
Some of the rage in Elizabeth’s eyes dimmed at Lydia’s vulnerable query, and she sighed. “I do not know, but we can ask Aunt Gardiner what the signs are. Hopefully, you are not, but if you are…we shall decide what needs to be done if and when we cross that bridge.
“In the meantime,” Elizabeth continued, adopting her stern demeanour once again, arms crossed, “the Gardiners and Mr Darcy are in discussion on the matter of what should happen next. You obviously cannot go back to Longbourn?—”
“What!” Lydia cried. “Whyever not? Why should I not be allowed to go home?”
Elizabeth’s expression was taut. “Because our father will not permit it. When we arrived in town, there was a letter from Papa addressed to Uncle Gardiner declaring as much. H-he…” Her sister stuttered, swallowed, and blinked rapidly before continuing, with obvious difficulty, “He said he would never know you again. In the—as he put it—improbable chance of your recovery, he has bequeathed all responsibility to our uncle to deal with you as he sees fit. Papa was quite clear that you were never to cross Longbourn’s threshold again after what you have done. ”
Something vital collapsed in Lydia’s chest, and a sob burst out of her mouth.
She brought both hands up to cover her trembling lips.
She had never even considered that she would be tossed away like trash by one of her parents; Mrs Bennet had always been indulgent, while Mr Bennet never seemed to stir himself for anything.
Yet now, she was cast out of her home, never to see her mother, father, or sisters—besides, apparently, Elizabeth—again.
Lydia felt the cushion beside her depress under her sister’s weight and a soothing hand upon her back. She leant into Elizabeth and began to weep at the unjustness of her punishment.
Soon, the crushing sadness gave way to a boiling anger, and she sat up, roughly swiping the tears from her cheeks.
“How could he do this to me?” she yowled, her voice loud and nasal.
“It is beastly unfair in every measure! It is not as if I have murdered someone, or—or stolen something. I am not a criminal! Why should I not be allowed to go home?”
“I know it is a blow, but our father likely feels as if he has no choice. Our reputations are tarnished enough as it is, and he cannot be seen to allow you back, disgraced and unmarried. You must see that.”
“I do not see that, why should I see that?” Lydia objected with an anguished cry. “What business is it of anyone else that I have had a romantic adventure?”
“I cannot disagree with you that it ought to be no one’s business but your own and your family’s,” Elizabeth replied in a terse tone, apparently struggling for patience, “but society is of an entirely different mind. They will scorn you, and us alongside you, for what you have done, fair or not.”
“Why do they even have to know? If we say nothing?—”
“They already know, Lydia. You do not think your escapade went unnoticed, do you?” Elizabeth huffed.
“Aside from Mr Darcy and a handful of his servants—whom I believe we can trust to be discreet—there are also Colonel and Mrs Forster, to say nothing of an entire regiment of soldiers who have surely noticed by now that you and Wickham disappeared at the same time. Thanks to Mama, half of Meryton likely knows, as well; she has never been particularly circumspect with her nerves and your ‘romantic adventure’, as you call it, will have spread through the household and thus throughout the neighbourhood. Jane reports that the news has disseminated as far as the Collinses in Kent. Frankly, I believe the list of who has not heard of your elopement would be much shorter than those who have.”
“So that is it, then?” Lydia sniffed, chin jutted out in defiance. “I am to be sacrificed so that you and the rest of my family can carry on in peace?”
Elizabeth’s hand stilled on Lydia’s back.
“You are assuming that the rest of us will be able to recover from this, but I assure you that it is not so simple. Regardless of whether we acknowledge you again or not, we—your father, mother, and especially your sisters—shall all be judged against your measure from here on out. We will be universally known as the family of a fallen woman and, through no fault of our own, be punished in your place by society. I am sorry that Papa has forbidden your return, and I genuinely hope he changes his mind one day, but do not think for a moment that casting you out will do more for us than grudging acceptance from the likes of the Mr Collinses of the world. You are ruined, and your family along with you.”
Lydia crossed her arms and removed herself from Elizabeth’s reach. “What stuff! You exaggerate, I am sure. Why should any of us be punished for some silly misadventure? No, you are merely trying to make me feel guilty, I know it.”
Elizabeth straightened her spine and readopted the grim expression Lydia had experienced upon first entering the parlour. “I am attempting to convey the facts, Lydia. You cannot honestly believe that nothing will come of this? Have you never listened in church?”
“You sound like Mary.”
“Mary is often correct in her platitudes, no matter how rarely we like to hear them. It is the truth that marriage is likely a distant prospect for us now.” Lydia distinctly heard Elizabeth mutter under her breath, “Not that our chances were ever very great to begin with.”
Struck by sudden inspiration, Lydia grasped at Elizabeth’s nearest hand, bouncing with excitement. “I have it! If I cannot return to Longbourn, perhaps we could go back to Brighton instead!”
“Lydia, no?—”
“Just listen! There are soldiers aplenty at Brighton, and I doubt many of them are particularly choosy about a lady’s reputation. What if we all—you, me, Kitty, Jane, and Mary—oh, well, perhaps not Mary—went there to find husbands? There are more than enough to go round!”
“I must say I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands,” was Elizabeth’s sour reply. “Not that your elopement actually ended in marriage, mind you.”
Lydia scowled. “Just because Wickham was a bad bet does not mean that there are no prospects in Brighton. Besides, it is most cruel of you to remind me of Wickham so soon after his defection. How can you be so heartless?”
“Do forgive me,” said Elizabeth with the same sardonic air as their father. “I had quite forgot that you are the victim here.”
“Oh, leave off, Lizzy. You do not know what it is like to be jilted by your lover.”
The strike was so swift that Lydia did not feel the sting of it until after her entire head had whipped round to face the opposite wall.
When the pain did settle in, it alternately burnt and throbbed.
Lydia lifted shaking fingers to her cheek, and the warmth of the injury belatedly convinced her it was real.
She slowly pivoted her neck to peer at Elizabeth with wide, terrified eyes.
Her sister stood next to the sofa, the guilty hand twitching by her side, and stared back with an expression Lydia could not quite name.
It seemed at once angry and baffled, as if Elizabeth could not comprehend her own actions.
A pounding silence reigned for several minutes, as the two sisters wondered at one another.
At length, it was Elizabeth who broke it, her words pouring from her in a shaky rasp.
“You…you have no idea what you have taken from me. What was nearly within my grasp when you ran away and ruined it all. I tried to forgive you, to make excuses for your conduct, to comfort you even, but you remain obstinately senseless to the depth of your selfishness. You, Lydia, are the one between us with no heart.”
The room descended once more into muteness as Lydia stewed in what Elizabeth had said. She had not yet wrapped her mind around it when the soft squeal of the door to the hall drew her languid attention.
Mrs Gardiner led the way inside, Mr Gardiner on her heels. Not far behind him was Mr Darcy, who entered last and scanned the parlour as if searching for something specific. When his gaze landed on Elizabeth, it halted and did not move again.
Lydia transferred her gaze likewise and found Elizabeth standing there, frozen and trembling, scarce able to draw breath. Her eyes, which had remained steely throughout her lecture, were now coated in a sheen of barely repressed tears.
“We think we have come to a conclusion on—why, what is the matter?” Mrs Gardiner stopped short and observed Elizabeth with a furrowed brow.
Movement in her periphery drew Lydia’s attention back to Mr Darcy, who was just then lowering his arm back to his side. The consternation on his face, the anxious way he shifted from foot to foot, told Lydia that he had meant to go to Elizabeth, but why?
“E-Excuse me,” Elizabeth gasped. “I am suddenly unwell.”
With that, she rushed from the room, brushing against Mr Darcy’s arm as she passed him. He turned with her motion, reaching for her, but Elizabeth was gone.