1. Chapter One #2
The cooler air beyond the morning room brought little relief. She crossed toward the back gardens instead, passing open windows through which the remnants of conversation continued to drift.
Brighton by the sea. Officers and redcoats everywhere. New bonnets and fashionable dinners. The entirety of the matter appeared to have bewitched the household.
She descended the terrace steps and walked through the garden toward the orchard, where the grass remained damp from the previous evening’s rain.
Bees moved lazily among the late summer flowers.
Somewhere beyond the hedgerow came the distant sound of laughter—Kitty and Lydia already reconciled perhaps, or at least loudly quarreling.
Elizabeth slowed near the old stone wall bordering the orchard and rested one hand against its sun-warmed surface.
Perhaps she had spoken too strongly.
Lydia possessed no malice. That was part of the difficulty.
She acted first, joked about it afterward, and never paused long enough to imagine how quickly foolishness could become genuine harm.
Until now, her indiscretions had remained merely embarrassing.
Meryton tolerated flirtation. Officers encouraged it. Brighton would make that worse.
She closed her eyes. A memory rose unbidden—Mr. Darcy standing rigid in the parsonage at Hunsford, every line of his face strained by emotion and pride and mortification all at once.
You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
Elizabeth opened her eyes. Of all moments for such recollections to intrude. She began walking again with rather more determination than direction.
The path curved toward the side lawn, where Mr. Bennet sat beneath one of the elms with a book open against his knee. He appeared perfectly at peace, which Elizabeth suspected meant he had not yet heard the full extent of Lydia’s dramatic suffering.
He acknowledged her as she approached. “Well,” he remarked, “someone has either died or been prevented from dancing. I cannot yet determine which.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling faintly. “At present, it is just Lydia’s happiness that lies injured.”
“Ah. Then the household may survive after all.”
“You joke because you have not witnessed the morning room.”
“I heard shouting through the library wall. That was sufficient warning.”
He flipped a page lazily.
Elizabeth hesitated beside him. “Papa…”
Mr. Bennet peered up at her again, one eyebrow lifting.
She rarely pressed serious matters with him. Their understanding had long rested upon shared amusement rather than confrontation, and perhaps because of that, uncertainty crept in now.
Still, she had begun this argument already. “I truly do not think Lydia ought to go.”
“Mm.”
The sound conveyed neither agreement nor disagreement.
Elizabeth clasped her hands together more securely. “She has no restraint.”
“That has certainly been established.”
“She encourages attention everywhere she goes.” How can he not see it?
Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched. “Youth often does.”
“She would be surrounded by officers with little occupation beyond amusing themselves.”
“Also true.” Her father appeared disinterested.
Elizabeth pressed harder. “And Mrs. Forster is hardly capable of governing her.”
“That may be the truest observation yet.”
Elizabeth stared.
Her father closed the book at last and regarded her more directly. “You speak with remarkable earnestness today, Lizzy.”
“Because I am serious.”
“I see that.” He leaned back against the tree trunk. “You think something genuinely unfortunate may occur.” The lightness had gone from his tone.
Elizabeth pivoted away and peered across the lawn. “I think Lydia has never once been denied encouragement for her worst habits. Everyone laughs because she is lively. She believes admiration excuses every impropriety.”
“And Brighton would worsen it.”
“Yes. If something is not done, if she is not corrected or restrained, she will ruin all our reputations.”
Mr. Bennet tapped one finger thoughtfully against the book’s spine. For several moments they remained silent. The breeze stirred overhead branches into a soft rustling motion. Somewhere near the stable yard a dog barked twice in quick succession.
Finally, Mr. Bennet sighed. “Well. That is inconvenient.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Inconvenient?”
“You ask me to become responsible in my old age. A dreadful burden for any man.”
Despite herself, she chuckled.
His expression softened at the sound. Then he said, “You have discomposed me, child.”
Elizabeth looked at him quickly.
Mr. Bennet grimaced almost like admitting it physically pained him. “Do not appear so astonished. I possess occasional sense. Rarely, perhaps. Still.”
“You truly mean it?”
“I mean Lydia grows more absurd every month, and I have likely encouraged it by preferring amusement to correction.” He reopened the book, then shut it again almost immediately. “There. You see what discomfort you have caused me? I cannot even read properly.”
Elizabeth lowered herself onto the bench beside him. Then Mr. Bennet muttered, “Your mother will never forgive me if I retract permission now.”
“She may survive.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “She will claim otherwise.”
“And Lydia?”
“She certainly will.” His face filled with momentary dread. A corner of his mouth curved upward. “Perhaps we should send Kitty instead. She would spend the entire journey coughing apologetically.”
Elizabeth chuckled again, though unease still lingered beneath it. Neither of her two youngest sisters ought to go.
Mr. Bennet studied her for another moment. “You are truly anxious.”
“Yes.”
He shifted. “Well,” he said at last, “perhaps there are alternatives besides Brighton or despair.”
“What alternatives?”
“I shall think on it. Though I warn you now, any solution will certainly produce domestic uproar.” He rubbed a hand along the cover of his book.
“That seems unavoidable.”
“Indeed.” He rose with a groan thoroughly theatrical. “Come along. I have made my decision. Let us return and inform them so your mother might pronounce Lydia dead from heartbreak.” The prediction proved slightly exaggerated. By dinner the entire household existed in active disorder.
Lydia had confined herself to her room for nearly two hours, emerging at last with reddened eyes and a level of tragic dignity more suited to the stage than Longbourn. Kitty attended her faithfully, carrying handkerchiefs, offering sympathy, and glaring reproachfully at Elizabeth whenever possible.
Mrs. Bennet alternated between comforting Lydia and lamenting loudly over maternal suffering. “She has been robbed of all happiness,” she informed Jane as they gathered in the dining room. “Absolutely robbed.”
Jane cast Elizabeth a questioning look. Elizabeth merely shook her head slightly.
Mr. Bennet entered moments later with suspiciously calm expression.
Lydia fixed him with mournful accusation. “I suppose Lizzy has convinced everyone I am ruined already.”
“Not ruined,” Mr. Bennet replied while taking his seat. “Exhausting, certainly. Ruin remains uncertain.”
Kitty gave a gasp of sympathy.
Mary observed, “An unchecked inclination toward vanity often precedes moral decline.”
“No one asked you, Mary,” Lydia muttered.
Dinner commenced under strained conditions.
Mrs. Bennet complained of nerves. Kitty sighed repeatedly.
Lydia barely touched her food, though Elizabeth noticed this martyrdom did not prevent her accepting a tart afterward.
Jane attempted several times to redirect the conversation toward safer topics.
Gardening failed. Weather failed. Even discussion of Aunt Philips’s new curtains failed.
Everything always came full circle to Brighton.
“I cannot imagine why I should be singled out so cruelly,” Lydia declared while attacking her tart with unnecessary force. “Many girls go to Brighton.”
“Many girls also possess more discretion,” Elizabeth replied before she could stop herself.
The table fell silent. Jane appeared pained. Mr. Bennet rubbed one hand over his face.
Lydia pushed back her chair abruptly. “You despise me.”
“Oh, Lydia.” Elizabeth sighed heavily.
“You do! You think me vulgar and foolish and incapable of behaving correctly.”
Mrs. Bennet cried, “There now! You see what your sister has done.”
Elizabeth set down her fork. “I do not despise you.”
“Then why should you begrudge me every enjoyment?”
“Because enjoyment is not always harmless.” Certainly not in Lydia’s case. Elizabeth had little doubt that her sister would cause havoc within a fortnight.
Lydia stared at her with genuine confusion. That expression agitated Elizabeth more than anger had. “Do you compare Brighton with Babylon itself?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Only a place where foolishness may be encouraged instead of corrected.”
Lydia opened her mouth again, but Mr. Bennet interrupted at last.
“That is enough.”
The room quieted instantly.
He swept his gaze around the table with remarkable weariness. “I have reached a decision.”
Mrs. Bennet sat upright. “You mean Lydia may go after all?”
“Not to Brighton.”
Lydia went white with outrage.
Mr. Bennet continued before interruption became possible. “Your aunt and uncle Gardiner depart north within the fortnight. Derbyshire, among other places. Lydia may accompany them instead.”
No one spoke. Even Mary appeared startled enough to forget moral commentary.
Then Lydia cried, “North?”
“As I said.”
She spluttered. “There are no officers in the north!”
“I suspect the north contains at least several officers. England would become difficult to defend otherwise.” Mr. Bennet stabbed a carrot.
“This is punishment.” Lydia was ready to mutiny.
“It is compromise,” their father insisted.
“It is exile!”
Kitty was near tears herself now. “Oh, Lydia.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed one hand dramatically against her chest. “Mr. Bennet, you cannot mean it seriously.”
“I assure you I can.”
“But Brighton was settled!” Mrs. Bennet grabbed her handkerchief and dabbed at invisible tears.
“Apparently it was not.”