Lydia Bennet, A Diamond in the Rough
Lydia Bennet slouched against the window frame of Miss Peabody’s study with arms crossed and lower lip jutting out. It might have been charming on a child of four but was decidedly unattractive on a girl of nearly sixteen.
“I don’t see why I have to be here!”
Miss Peabody calculated this was the seventh time in as many minutes she had heard her complaint.
“Kitty’s made friends with half the school. Even Mary had found some dreary girls to discuss sermons with. It isn’t fair that I’m the only one who can’t…”
“Kitty has. Mary has. And you cannot.” Miss Peabody did not look up from the letter she was writing. “You will find, Miss Bennet, that fairness has very little to do with the matter.”
Lydia’s eyes sparked with indignation. “Can’t, cannot—what’s the difference? You knew what I meant.”
Miss Peabody set down her pen and regarded the young woman before her with the same calm attention she might give to an interesting botanical specimen.
“The difference is considerable. When you say ‘can’t,’ you sound like a servant girl from the villages.
When you say ‘cannot,’ you present yourself as the daughter of a gentleman.
Which would you prefer others to believe about you? ”
Lydia straightened, her vanity pricked despite her determination to remain sullen. “I’m obviously a gentleman’s daughter. Everyone knows that.”
“Do they?” Miss Peabody rose from her desk, moved to stand before the rebellious girl, and studied her. “When you slouch against my window frame and speak in contractions, what exactly do you suppose people see?”
“They see Miss Lydia Bennet of Longbourn.” Her voice held less certainty than it had a moment prior.
“No, child. They see a tall, pretty girl with poor posture and careless speech. It is apparent to your teachers and classmates that you believe beauty alone entitles you to be lazy and should earn you special consideration.” Miss Peabody spoke with steel in her tone.
“Others may tolerate you because of your father’s position, but tolerance is not admiration. ”
The forthright observation hit its mark. “What do you mean…tolerate?”
Miss Peabody smiled, recognizing the perfect opportunity to turn a student’s pride into motivation. “Sit properly, Miss Bennet, and I shall explain the difference.
Lydia straightened her spine and settled into the chair with grace, her attention completely focused on the headmistress for the first time since arriving at the academy.
“Tell me,” Miss Peabody said, resuming her own seat. “When you attended assemblies in Hertfordshire, did every gentleman request your hand for dancing?”
“Well…no, but the officers always―”
“Ah, yes―the officers. Young men far from home, eager for any feminine company that might relieve the tedium of their daily duty. Did any of these officers ever ask if they might call on you at Longbourn? Did they request permission to court you?”
Lydia shrugged. “Mr. Wickham was always so particular in his attentions. He danced with me twice at the assembly. He said I was the prettiest of the Bennet sisters.”
“And did he call upon your father to request permission to court you? Did he make any indication that his compliments were leading toward a serious attachment?” Miss Peabody shook her head.
“Men like Mr. Wickham are common in their actions if not their looks. His attention to you was never genuine. He wanted easy entertainment with a na?ve girl who was flattered by his notice. You were merely an amusing diversion, not a treasured prize.”
“But I thought…everyone always says I am the liveliest of the Bennet sisters. The most popular.”
“Popular among whom? Officers looking for someone to ease their ennui? Young men seeking easy flirtation? That sort of popularity is worth precisely nothing, Miss Bennet. It marks you as someone to be enjoyed briefly. Not a lady to be respected permanently.”
The silence stretched between them while the girl absorbed this unwelcome revelation. When she spoke, her voice was smaller than before. “What should I have done differently?”
The headmistress leaned forward. “Tell me, Miss Bennet, have you ever observed a true diamond of the social season?”
“A diamond?” Lydia looked up with renewed interest. Despite everything, Miss Peabody could tell that her vanity was far from crushed. “Do you mean the most beautiful girl of the season?”
“Beauty is a miniscule part of it. A true diamond is the young lady all the other ladies wish to befriend. She is the one all the gentlemen wish to court. She is admired not only for her appearance but also for her accomplishments, grace, and conversation. She sets the standard to which others aspire.”
“And you think I could become such a person?”
“You possess the raw material.” Time to lay down the challenge and see if she bites. “I am not as certain you are capable of doing the work to develop the necessary refinement.” Miss Peabody stood and moved to the bookshelf. “It will require you to abandon every habit you have cultivated thus far.”
“What sort of habits?”
“Let us begin with your speech. A diamond never uses contractions in formal conversation. She speaks clearly, precisely, and never louder than necessary.” She withdrew a small leather-bound volume. “You will read aloud from this for one hour each morning, concentrating on proper enunciation.”
Lydia glanced at the book’s spine. “But I do not wish to change how I speak!”
Miss Peabody’s smile became distinctly cooler. “Do you wish to become a diamond that others cannot forget, or do you wish to remain a girl whom officers find amusing for an hour or so?”
The stark choice presented was no choice at all. “I want to be a diamond.”
“Then you must learn to speak like one.”
By early May, when most students had departed for their families’ country estates, Lydia continued to receive Miss Peabody’s undivided attention.
She found the individual instruction to be both a blessing and a curse.
She had nowhere to hide from the headmistress’s sharp eyes, no crowd of students to blend into when she was particularly resistant to correction.
“Miss Bennet.” It was morning, and they were working on Lydia’s deportment in the now spacious ballroom. “You hold your shoulders as though you expect to be struck by lightning. A lady carries herself with confidence, not defiance.”
Lydia tried to adjust her posture, but every attempt felt artificial and uncomfortable. “This is impossible! I cannot remember to think about my shoulders and my voice and my hands all at the same time.”
“Cannot.” Her instructor noted approvingly. “And you are correct. It is impossible to think about everything all at once. That is why we practice until proper behavior becomes natural.”
“But why must I change everything about myself? Why cannot I simply be…myself?”
Miss Peabody studied Lydia. “My dear child, what you call ‘yourself’ is simply a collection of habits you acquired without thought or intention. A diamond chooses her behavior deliberately, crafting herself into someone worthy of admiration.”
The observation stung because Lydia recognized the uncomfortable grain of truth it contained. She had never considered attitude as learned, changeable rather than fixed.
“It is too difficult! I shall never remember it all.”
“Then perhaps,” Miss Peabody said with a slight smile, “you should focus on one element at a time. This week, we shall concentrate solely on your speech. No contractions, no volume above what is necessary for your immediate companion to hear you clearly.”
Lydia groaned but was still grateful for the simplified goal. “Very well. But I make no promises about my deportment.”
“One step at a time, Miss Bennet. Even diamonds require careful polishing.”
By mid-June, Lydia was beginning to recognize the value of seemingly trivial changes.
When she guarded her speech, she noticed that adults listened to her more attentively.
When she modulated her volume, people leaned closer instead of stepping back.
When she sat properly and did not lounge, she was more confident in her own opinions.
Her resistance often rose to the fore. “Surely formality is not required in every situation?”
“You are quite right,” Miss Peabody agreed, surprising Lydia. “Among intimate friends, one may certainly relax certain formalities. But tell me, Miss Bennet, how does one acquire such friends?”
Lydia frowned, sensing a trap in the question. “By…by being agreeable company?”
“Precisely. And how does one demonstrate that one is agreeable company to potential friends who do not yet know you well?”
The logic was inescapable, though Lydia did not like it. “By presenting oneself properly until they come to know one’s true character.”
“Exactly so. Your ‘true character,’ as you put it, may be delightful. But if you never allow others to discover it because they are put off by your initial presentation…”
Lydia sighed, recognizing defeat. “Then I shall never have the opportunity to charm them properly.”
“Now you begin to understand. A diamond’s polish does not hide her true nature; It presents it in the most favorable way possible.”
As the summer progressed with her father and sister’s return imminent, Lydia was caught between her old habits and her emerging understanding of what she might become.
The lessons had begun to take hold, but her natural inclination toward the dramatic still warred with Miss Peabody’s emphasis on self-control and finesse.
She remained convinced that the academy was a form of prison and that the headmistress was forcing her into “unnatural molds of propriety.” Yet, in her desperate letter to her family pleading for rescue, she unconsciously avoided using contractions.
The transformation Miss Peabody envisioned took far longer than a single term to complete. But the foundation had been laid. Despite her protests, Lydia began to glimpse the diamond she might become. That alone was a victory.
Someday, she would be the brightest star in Society. But first, she had to survive Miss Peabody.