Chapter 21
SOME GREAT MISMANAGEMENT
“Well, Lydia,” Mr Bennet commented with a dangerous edge when they were away from the town and quite alone on the shaded path to Longbourn, “Mr Darcy’s quick thinking may have saved your reputation.”
“How was I to know Mr Pratt was married?” Lydia whined. “He never said!”
Elizabeth had never seen her father so enraged as he now became.
“You stupid, stupid girl!” he shouted, red-faced.
Lydia backed away from him, but he stalked towards her, not allowing her to evade his wrath.
“Even had he been free to marry you, such a hasty wedding must have raised the suspicions of the entire county and lessened your sisters’ prospects.
I beg you believe me when I say that I should have washed my hands of you entirely, no matter how unhappy you later counted yourself! ”
Lydia’s lower lip quivered, and fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I only wanted to be the first of my sisters to marry.”
This piece of foolishness did nothing to dampen Elizabeth’s own ire.
“If what you have done becomes public knowledge, it may very well be that none of us ever marry. I assure you that if such were to occur, when Papa was gone and we were all living on two hundred pounds a year, we would remember who ensured that none of us would be better settled!”
Lydia shrank from Elizabeth, her tears falling faster, but her ordeal was not yet concluded.
“I am ashamed to know you,” pronounced Kitty coldly, and this utter rejection by one who had been her faithful follower for years seemed to rob Lydia of the power of speech.
For the remainder of their hurried walk back to Longbourn, Lydia sniffled and hiccupped with head bowed.
Elizabeth could only hope that the day’s events would remain secret, that Mary would not be sundered from her Mr Collins, nor Jane from Mr Bingley, and that the hopes she and Kitty cherished of finding happiness in marriage one day would not be spoiled.
For Lydia’s hopes, she could not yet bring herself to feel any concern.
They re-entered Longbourn the way they had left, slipping in through the garden door.
Upstairs, Mr Bennet took Lydia directly to her room, Kitty trailing behind to change out of her walking shoes, while Elizabeth entered the chamber she shared with Jane to do likewise.
Kitty came to her only moments later, slippers in hand, looking weary and anxious.
“Papa is giving her such a scolding, I thought I ought to leave them alone,” she explained, availing herself of the little bench before the dressing table to untie her boots.
“Do you suppose Mary might let me stay with her tonight? I am so very angry at Lydia that I do not wish even to be in the same room as her. It is true, is it not, that we might all end as spinsters because of what she has done? You were not exaggerating to frighten her?”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Perhaps a touch. It is not as though she fell with child. I do not believe we would be forever and always shunned if her actions become known, but Kitty, we already have very little to offer a gentleman. A small dowry and that only after Mama is gone, few accomplishments, and no connexions. We have our faces, our figures, our gentle birth, and our reputations. It has never been very likely that we should all marry, and anything which diminishes our meagre attractions is a serious thing.”
“And I have encouraged her in behaving badly,” Kitty said dolefully. “Had I chosen to emulate you and Jane...”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “She would still have had ample encouragement from Mama. You are but a year and a half her elder, Kitty—it was not for you to teach her how to go on. That duty belonged to her parents.” She set her own boots aside, standing and stepping into her slippers.
“Come, change your shoes, and then we must brush the dust off of each other’s skirts and go to the parlour.
Please, do not say anything to Mama of this.
If there is gossip, she will have to be informed, but if it remains secret, the only way to keep it so will be to ensure she knows nothing. ”
Solemnly, Kitty nodded. “I understand, Lizzy. I know I have been guilty of blabbing in the past, but I shall be as silent as the grave on this subject. If there is talk, it will not be my doing.”
Mrs Bennet looked up querulously from a sheaf of fashion plates when they entered the parlour a few minutes later. “And just where have the two of you been all this time? Jane said you had all agreed there was enough lavender.”
“We went to Papa’s book-room to look at a poem I thought Kitty would enjoy,” Elizabeth dissembled cheerfully. “And while we were there, we fell into conversation with him.”
“You are not to turn your sister into a bluestocking, Miss Lizzy,” her mother scolded.
“I believe it is rather fashionable for a lady to admit to an interest in poetry, Mama,” Jane said mildly. “When Aunt Gardiner was here, she said that all the talk among the ladies in town was of Sir Walter Scott’s latest publication.”
Mrs Bennet harrumphed softly. “Well, if it is acceptable in London, I suppose I must allow it, but you are not to emulate your sister in having your nose forever in a book, Kitty.”
“I assure you, Mama, that will not happen. I am not such a great reader.”
They sat down to their needlework and their mother’s musings on how best to impress the neighbours with Mary’s wedding, often bemoaning the bride’s insistence on simplicity and thrift.
Many ideas were reluctantly discarded with a declaration that ‘we shall do it when you marry Mr Bingley, Jane’, to which they all wisely refrained from comment.
After some time, Mary suggested that her mother had quite worn herself out with all this planning, and ought to lie down for a while before dinner, for the sake of her nerves. Mrs Bennet was pleased with her middle daughter’s consideration and agreed.
Once their mother’s steps on the stairs passed from their hearing, Mary turned to Elizabeth and Kitty and stated baldly, “Something has occurred, and I should like to know what it was.”
Kitty frowned, but Elizabeth knew that Mary must be told, for her betrothal might hang in the balance.
Jane was patently anxious to hear the outcome of the search, as well, and so Elizabeth explained the events of the day.
When she related the situation in which they found Lydia, Jane gasped, and when Mr Pratt’s married state was revealed, so did Mary.
Mr Darcy’s intervention was received with gratitude, though Mary worried aloud that he might speak of what he had seen.
“He promised that he would not, and he is a man of his word,” Elizabeth replied firmly, and Jane was quick to agree.
“It is likely, I think, that Mr Pratt would have kept quiet in any case,” Jane added. “No one hearing such a tale could think well of him, either. But it is no terrible thing that he should have some fear of retaliation also.”
“That is the most unforgiving thing I have ever heard you utter!” Elizabeth exclaimed approvingly.
“But you were not there, Jane. You did not hear the contempt in his voice when he spoke of Lydia. I think it rather more likely than not that he might have bragged of the liberties he took with her to his particular friends. Now, we have reason to hope he will keep his tongue still.”
“Idiot child,” gritted Mary through clenched teeth. “If this comes out...”
They all understood what she could not bring herself to say. Mr Collins might have little choice but to cry off, for all that he seemed really attached to Mary. His opinionated patroness might demand it when he canvassed the matter with her, which he would.
“We do not believe anyone else witnessed her misbehaviour, though it is likely that she was seen in Meryton. If anyone did, it will be all over the county by tomorrow, and we shall know. Aunt Philips will hurry to tell us what is being said,” Elizabeth said sardonically.
“The more time passes, the less likelihood of discovery, so long as Lydia can be kept quiet and Mama, ignorant. If Mr Pratt should choose to break his silence at some later date, we might more credibly dismiss it as a young man’s empty boasting.
There would be talk, but there would also be doubt. ”
“We must wait, and hope for the best,” Jane added, something of her usual optimism returning.
“I hate waiting,” muttered Kitty.
Darcy loitered a few moments in the shadows of the passageway, until he found an opportunity to slip back onto the high street unnoticed.
He touched his hat to Lady Lucas and Mrs Goulding, and stopped to exchange a few words with young Mr Harrington, who wished his advice on where a man whose purse would not stretch to Tattersall’s might be most likely to find a good mount in London.
At last, he arrived at his original destination, the circulating library, and spent an hour browsing the selection there.
It was not bad; he might go so far as to call it quite good for such a small town.
He did purchase a subscription for the quarter, and left with several volumes with which to entertain himself in the coming days.
Only when he was back on his horse and clear of the town did he allow himself to dwell upon the scene in which he had so uncharacteristically and impulsively involved himself.
The girl’s behaviour really was unconscionable.
To be going about kissing grown men at fifteen, when she ought rather to be in the schoolroom!
There certainly had been some great mismanagement in the education of Miss Lydia Bennet.
Yet the two eldest sisters were admirable, and there was nothing truly wrong with the third, and none of them deserved to suffer for the actions of their foolish sister.
Even the fourth, come to that; silly she might be, but he had no reason to think her character poor.
And that, he told himself, must be why he had intervened.
Bingley would be utterly crushed if aught occurred to put Miss Bennet out of his reach, also.
He had acted to preserve the reputations of three, perhaps four, deserving ladies, and his good friend’s peace.
He had absolutely not done it entirely because the look of horror and dismay on Miss Elizabeth’s face had been like a fist to the midriff.
Entering Netherfield, he heard Miss Bingley’s voice from the blue parlour and stepped softly on his way to the stairs, not wishing to be waylaid.
He could not vouch, just at that moment, for the evenness of his temper.
He gained his chambers without incident and, once he had been relieved of his riding boots and brushed free of road dust, he sent his man to locate Colonel Fitzwilliam, if he were in the house, and ask to meet with him as soon as it might be convenient.
His cousin appeared a quarter hour later, curiosity writ large upon his face. “Has something occurred, Darcy? Has Miss Bingley overreached again?”
“It is not Miss Bingley this time,” he said. “Please, sit. You do not seem to be walking very easily today; ought we call for Mr Jones?”
Fitzwilliam shook his head, making a dismissive gesture as he lowered himself into the other armchair near the fire. “Some days are better than others, Cousin. Today is not a good day, but neither is it unusually bad. You may distract me with whatever has caused you to summon me.”
Darcy explained what had occurred in Meryton that day, and how he had brought the colonel’s name into the business. Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows rose, but he was far beyond being truly shocked or disturbed by such bloodless misadventures.
“Foolish girl,” he commented. “I have no quarrel with your wielding my name in such a manner, and if Mr Pratt is foolish enough to boast of his conquest, I will take great pleasure in ensuring he regrets it. It may not be a terrible idea to make a point of asking after his wife when next we are in company together,” he added thoughtfully.
“It would demonstrate that I am fully informed, and if overheard by any of the local quidnuncs, word of his status will soon spread to any other young ladies with whom he might like to trifle.”
“No, not a terrible idea at all,” Darcy agreed. “He will no doubt be up to the same tricks wherever they are next sent, but it would at least safeguard our acquaintance here.”
The colonel chuckled. “We seem to be making something of a habit of protecting the populace of Hertfordshire from blackguards in the militia.”
“Let us hope Mr Pratt is the last of those.”
“Indeed.” His cousin regarded him curiously. “Has this adventure affected your willingness to allow Georgiana to know the Bennets?”
Darcy had considered that while he waited for Fitzwilliam to arrive.
“Not at present. I think it likely that Mr Bennet will confine Miss Lydia even more strictly now, so it is not very likely she and my sister will meet, except perhaps at church. If I am wrong, and Miss Lydia is out in company again soon, I may reconsider.”
“A fair assessment,” the colonel agreed. “She likes the other ladies very well, and I am glad to see her making friends; I would not pull her from their society prematurely. Now we must wait and hope that the matter of Miss Lydia is successfully hushed up.”
Darcy recalled with a jolt that ensuring scandal did not touch the Bennets must be of particular concern to his cousin, also, given his interest in Miss Elizabeth.
He wished for a fleeting instant that he had not intervened, and immediately hated himself for it.
He wanted only happiness for both of them, and if they were to find it together, he must reconcile himself to it.
The alternative—distancing himself from his cousin—was unthinkable.
“In as small a society as this, I believe it will not take long for the news to get out if anyone else saw anything, unbeknownst to us,” he said, assiduously concealing his inner conflict. “There will be some danger until Mr Pratt leaves the area, of course, but he was very attentive to my threat.”
“And I shall ensure that he understands your words were not empty. It is all we can do.”
“Would that there were some way such men might be entirely restrained. I feel that even if we succeed, all we have truly done is make two scoundrels the problem of the people in another place.”
“Do not be downcast, Cousin. It is just possible that we have also taught them that they cannot behave so with complete impunity.”