Chapter 2 Lydia Meets Wickham
This false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others. –William Collins, Pride and Prejudice
Elizabeth Bennet gazed out the carriage window, the fields of Hertfordshire rolling past as the Bennet family made their way to Watford for the May Day festivities. She pressed a gloved finger lightly to her ear in an attempt to dull the sound of Lydia’s incessant chatter.
Mr. Bennet, seated opposite his daughters, cast a weary glance over the top of his book.
“Lizzy, I see you have grown weary of the company.” His eyes flicked to his youngest daughter. “Lydia, you are as full of nonsense as ever. I must insist you moderate your spirits, especially at the festival. We will be among strangers.”
Lydia gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Papa, why cannot I have a little harmless fun? There might be officers or handsome strangers to meet. The Meryton boys of my age are so dull, they do not care to dance, and half of them stammer when they speak.”
“You are but fifteen, Lydia,” said Jane, placing a hand over hers. “There is time enough for such concerns. Marriage should not yet occupy your thoughts; you are far too young.”
“But it does,” Lydia insisted, her chin lifting in defiance. “How else am I to escape Meryton? Nothing exciting ever happens, and I am certain I shall wither away from sheer boredom before the Season ends!”
Mrs. Bennet, roused from her reverie, was quick to rally to her daughter’s side.
“Fiddlesticks, my love! With your charm and pretty face, you shall do very well indeed. I dare say you will marry a man of fortune who will keep you in silks and send you trinkets from town.”
Lydia giggled. “How diverting it would be if I were the first of us to marry, and I the youngest! Just imagine it, Kitty.”
Frowning, she turned to her eldest sister.
“And I am not so very young as all that. I shall be sixteen in a few months. And who is there in Meryton? Only old Mr. Watson, who is single, but quite ancient!”
Elizabeth finally turned from the window, her voice cool.
“Some girls do marry young, it is true, but what Jane says has merit; at fifteen, you are but a child. As for Mr. Watson, he may not yet qualify as a relic, though he is well past five and forty and, to the dismay of every unmarried lady in Meryton, remains obstinately disinclined to take a wife.”
Mr. Bennet shut his book with a sigh and leaned back.
“Lydia, we are here to take pleasure in the day’s festivities, not to hunt for husbands like quarry in the hedgerows. Now, do try to speak of something other than matrimony.”
“Liddie,” Elizabeth said resolutely, “do stay with me today, for propriety’s sake, if not for your own.”
Lydia tossed her head with defiance. “I shall not. I mean to have a bit of fun.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, resisting the impulse to voice thoughts better left unsaid.
Papa’s indolence is truly vexing. He has made no effort to secure matches and refuses to allow Jane a Season in London.
The specter of the future darkened her spirits.
Her dearest friend, Charlotte Lucas, had reached seven-and-twenty without a single prospect.
And what were Elizabeth’s own prospects but equally bleak?
She had youth, yes, and perhaps a measure of wit, but with no fortune or powerful relations, each passing day brought her closer to spinsterhood.
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, who offered a small, resigned smile. It was clear they would have to watch Lydia closely today. Neither parent could be relied upon to restrain her.
A tightness gripped Elizabeth’s chest. Lydia’s youthful rebellion had, of late, turned defiant.
“Lydia,” Elizabeth tried again more firmly, “you had better remain with Jane and me today. We know no one in Watford, and you are too young to go about unescorted in a public, crowded festival. It is improper.”
Lydia crossed her arms with a petulant huff. “You only want to spoil my fun, Lizzy. You may wish to bury yourself in those dull little bookshops, but I shall find husbands for us all.”
Frances tittered. “Now, Lizzy. Leave it to me to correct your sister.”
“Yes, Mamma,” Elizabeth murmured, and turned her gaze again to the window, watching as the village green came into view, lively with ribbons, music, and people from all walks of life.
The carriage slowed. Mr. Bennet, without a word, made his way to the nearest bookseller’s tent, while Mrs. Bennet bustled off to greet Lady Lucas, who had returned from town but two days earlier.
Charlotte Lucas stepped away from her mother’s side, her face alight with pleasure as she opened her arms.
“Lizzie, at last. I have been quite impatient to see you again.”
“Come, before we are missed,” Lydia whispered to Kitty, tugging at her sleeve. “Look, just there, in that window. Do you see that bonnet? It is simply lovely!”
An hour later, the two emerged from the milliner’s shop empty-handed. Lydia sighed dramatically and folded her arms.
“I am bored. We have been through three shops already and haven’t a farthing between us. There is no point in looking if we do not have any pin money. I want to do something else.”
She glanced up and down the busy street, then giggled.
“Kitty!” She grabbed her sister’s hand. “The most handsome man I have ever seen has just winked at me! Look at his jacket, the cut and fabric are simply perfect! He must be terribly rich!”
Before Kitty could protest, Lydia dragged her across the lane toward the gentleman. He stood leaning against a stone pillar, his posture relaxed. Lydia stared up at him boldly, then tossed her head and offered a wide smile.
The man straightened and bowed low over her hand.
“I am Miss Lydia Bennet,” she said breathlessly. “And this is my sister, Miss Catherine Bennet. Sir, will you attend the Meryton assembly next month?”
The man’s grin widened. “Miss Lydia, I am delighted to say I joined the Derbyshire militia this week and shall be stationed in Meryton through the autumn and winter months. I shall most certainly attend the assembly, especially now that I know you will be there.”
Lydia giggled, batting her lashes, and then she winked. “Perhaps we could do more than simply dance, Mr. Wickham.”
He leaned closer, voice low. “Miss Lydia, do I behold a naughty girl longing to escape her bounds?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she did not look away. He took her hand and tucked it through his arm.
“Come, you adorable creature. Walk with me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you be a very naughty girl, for the sake of a poor soldier?”
Kitty stiffened and hissed, “You are not to go with this man, Lydia. Have you no sense at all?”
“Oh, let be, Kitty,” Lydia whispered, brushing her off. “Nothing exciting ever happens to me. I want Mr. Wickham to be the man who gives me my very first kiss. He is so terribly handsome.”
Kitty reached for her elbow. “Lydia, we will be missed. Everyone is gathering for the May Day dance.”
Snorting, Lydia shook off her grip. “Stay here, Kitty, and keep watch for me.”
“Liddie, you will be ruined.”
But Lydia only laughed and turned away, hurrying down the path at Wickham’s side, heedless of her sister’s warning.
Elizabeth slipped through the crowd, her skirts brushing against passing strangers, until she reached her father standing outside the bookseller’s tent. She laid a hand on his arm.
“Papa, I have lost sight of my sisters. Lydia’s been impossible lately. They were at the haberdashery, but now they have vanished. Would you look for them? I would ask Mamma, but you know how she is.” Lizzy gestured to the shops at the far side of the green.
Mr. Bennet arched a brow. “You are right to be uneasy. Lydia’s nonsense in the carriage is terribly concerning. Go enjoy your dance, I will find your sisters.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
She turned toward the green, its edges lined with flower stalls and bunting fluttering in the breeze. Fiddlers tuned their instruments beneath the maypole. Still, the knot in her chest would not ease.
Mr. Bennet scanned the street, then the shopfronts. Just beyond a ribbon stall, Kitty leaned against a wall, face buried in her hands. He set off in her direction without a word.
Bennet strode toward his daughter, his boots striking sharply against the cobbles.
“Where is your sister?” he asked, his voice clipped.
Kitty’s eyes darted to his face, glassy, with unshed tears, but she said nothing. He took her firmly by the elbow, trying to rouse her. Still, she would not speak.
“Kitty.” His tone sharpened. “Where is your sister?”
She flinched under his grip, tears now trailing silently down her cheeks. Her lips parted, but no words came. The dread in his chest grew colder, heavier. He gave her a slight shake, out of increasing desperation.
“Speak up, girl!”
She lifted her hand toward a narrow footpath winding between the shops and the edge of the green.
“Stay here,” he said tersely. “I will fetch your sister.”
His heart pounding, Thomas moved quickly down the narrow footpath; the damp grass silenced his footsteps. He turned the corner at the rear of the building and stopped cold.
Lydia was pinned against the rough wooden wall, her arms wrapped around a man’s neck as they kissed. Her bodice was open, and the man’s hand was sliding along her thigh. His pantaloons were lowered to his knees.
Thomas staggered back, bile rising in his throat. He turned away, stunned. Among crushed leaves and rubbish, a broken wooden handle lay at his feet.
He picked it up.
Without a word, he stepped forward and swung hard on the back of the man’s head.
The stranger dropped to the ground. Blood seeped from the wound and trickled along the curve of his neck.
Thomas stared at him. “You scheming devil,” he croaked. “God forgive me, but I hope I have killed you.”
Behind him, Lydia gasped, then doubled over and vomited into the grass.
He did not look at her. His voice came rough, low. “Make yourself decent.”
She choked out a whisper. “Is he dead?”
He grabbed her elbow and yanked her away from the wall.
“Come.”
Lydia fumbled at her gown and stumbled after him, one hand clutching her bodice, the other clinging to his sleeve.
When they stepped out of the shadows, Bennet hissed, “Come, Kitty.”
Kitty gasped at the sight of her sister, hair loose, face pale, eyes red. Wordlessly, she pulled her behind a stack of crates. With trembling fingers, she buttoned Lydia’s bodice, worked at her gown, and pinned up the tangled hair.
Once Lydia was made presentable, the three of them walked to the stables in silence. Bennet sent his man to fetch a hackney and instructed that the rest of the family be brought home after the festivities ended. He would not wait.
They rode in silence until Watford lay behind them. Then Bennet spoke.
“When we arrive, you will go directly to your rooms and pack nightclothes, undergarments, shoes, and any personal necessities. Bring only the walking dresses you are wearing and one other gown. Nothing else. Hill and Alice will help you. You are to remain silent.”
He refused to look at them.
“You are no longer part of the family circle.”
They stared wide-eyed, but he did not soften.
"We leave for London this afternoon, before your mother and sisters return, for I will not allow you to speak to them and defile their minds with these happenings."
The carriage rattled on, the weight of what had passed pressing against him. He had been idle too long. He had allowed his daughters to drift, and now ruin stalked his household.
No more.
Bennet turned on Lydia, his voice sharp. “If word of this gets out, you and all your sisters will be ruined. No gentleman will marry into a family disgraced by such behavior. It is a cruel injustice that your recklessness should taint Jane and Elizabeth.”
Bennet glared at them both, his face red, brow drawn, and his mouth twisted with fury.
He drew in a shaky breath. “I will send you as far north as can be arranged. Your mother’s influence has been ruinous.”
He stared hard at Lydia. “What do you know of this man? What is his name?”
She only wept harder, clinging to her sister. Kitty answered.
“Wickham. George Wickham. He joined the Derbyshire militia this week. They’re to be stationed in Meryton this winter. That’s all I know. We met him this morning.”
Bennet’s jaw tightened.
“You disgust me, Lydia. You gave yourself over to a stranger without a moment’s thought. What could possess a gently-bred girl to behave so shamelessly?”
He turned to Kitty. “And you. Older, and still, you said nothing. You did not stop her. You did not come to me to intervene.”
His voice dropped to a growl. “Do you understand what you have done? One misstep, and the whole family will fall with you.”
At Longbourn, Alice was sent to assist the girls. Bennet retreated to his study and rang for Hill.
“Lydia has allowed a stranger to compromise her. I caught them in a most intimate position. If she is with child, it will become known soon enough.”
The housekeeper’s face went pale, and she sank heavily into a chair while she recovered herself.
“You know your mistress. If she learns of this, life will become unbearable. Worse, she will tell every soul from here to the boundaries of Hertfordshire.”
He looked up. “Do you know when Lydia’s courses are due?”
The housekeeper hesitated as she mentally calculated. “Next week, sir, and no more than a fortnight, I would say.”
He nodded slowly. “Then we shall soon know whether the family is truly ruined.”
He rose and began to pace.
“I am sending them both away. If Lydia is not increasing, she will remain at school for the next four years. I have been too idle. I owe it to Lizzy and Jane to make some corrections before it is too late.”
“You look pale, sir,” Hill said gently. “If you do not take care, you will provoke a heart seizure or worse.”
Bennet shrugged away the concern. “Frannie will be inconsolable. She’ll wail over the loss of her favorite and think herself abused. I do not know how I will live with her.”
Hill gave a soft cluck, as she had when he was a boy. “Say It is from Mr. Gardiner. It was his wish for his nieces to improve themselves and marry well. She’ll turn it into triumph soon enough.”
Bennet tapped the desk. “Of course. Frances will boast of it before the week is out. And Gardiner, he is a sensible man. He’ll support the deceit.”
He looked out the window, the afternoon sun fading behind the trees.
“But still,” he murmured, “I cannot shake this sense that worse is coming.”