Chapter 12 #2
Mr. Bennet had turned back to his study after Miss Mary had passed, beckoning George to accompany him. The gentleman had recalled another matter of business that needed to be seen to. George had shrugged off his bewilderment and followed, eager to be of assistance in any way he could.
When George and Mr. Bennet had joined the others in the parlor for tea, his confusion grew exponentially. There, in place of the much-improved Miss Lydia Bennet, was the hoydenish, wild thing Wickham thought had been banished.
The girl’s dress was pulled down in the front, and it was obvious she had pinched her cheeks and bitten her lips to redden them.
She stood with her shoulders thrown back more than they ought to be, no doubt to highlight certain other assets.
Miss Lydia latched onto him almost as soon as he had entered the room, and Wickham did not know how to detach her from his person.
Throughout tea, she rambled on, batting her eyelashes at him, and touching his arm frequently.
She brushed up against him as often as she could and giggled at very nearly everything he said.
Finally, after a respectable amount of time had passed, George rose and excused himself, relieved to escape the unwanted attention.
It was a ponderous walk back into Meryton.
What had prompted such a dramatic shift in behavior?
Miss Lydia had been improving since their conversation some months ago.
Miss Mary as well. Why, then, in the last two weeks, had they both thrown away their improvements in favor of their past selves? It was quite perplexing.
Elizabeth was mortified. Lydia’s shift in behavior had prompted Kitty to regress as well, and by the time their guests left to return to Netherfield, Lizzy was certain that Mr. Darcy was regretting introducing his sister to their company.
Almost as soon as their guests departed, she grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her up the stairs to the small sitting room on the second floor. Lydia protested the entire way. Once in the room, Lizzy thrust her sister into a chair and stood over her, anger and embarrassment coming off her in waves.
“What in the world, Lydia Bennet?” she cried. “Have you no shame? Throwing yourself at a man in such a way!”
“I do not know what you mean!” Lydia shot back. “I did nothing wrong. I simply wished to leave Mr. Wickham in no doubt of my affections. Men must be helped along a little.”
“Your behavior was deplorable!” Lizzy shouted. “You are an embarrassment. What happened to the proper behavior you have been exhibiting?”
Lydia bit her lip in chagrin. “I was made aware,” she said haltingly, “that men are obtuse, and one must be overt in their feelings for a man to be made aware of them.”
“Overt?” Lizzy asked. “One can make a man well aware of their sentiments without being as overt as you were this afternoon.”
“It has worked in the past,” insisted Lydia. “All the officers loved me.”
“The officers thought they might have a chance at lifting your skirts,” Elizabeth contradicted angrily.
“Take that back!” Lydia cried. “You are only jealous because you could not even get the most eligible man ever to grace our presence to notice you.”
“If you need further evidence of your completely ridiculous supposition, perhaps you ought to examine our dear sister and her betrothed,” Elizabeth seethed. “Jane is everything proper, and Mr. Bingley could understand her sentiments readily enough.”
Whatever retort Lydia had been preparing never passed her lips. Elizabeth could almost see her sister’s mind turning Lizzy’s words over and over in her head. Lydia had never been terribly bright, and Elizabeth was relieved when she saw comprehension dawn on her sister’s face.
“Oh, what have I done?” she moaned softly. She put her face in her hands and cried quietly. “Oh Lizzy,” she whispered. “I really do like Mr. Wickham. He is everything a gentleman ought to be, and I want him to notice me. And now, he must think me utterly unsuitable.”
Elizabeth crouched down next to her sister and stroked her hair. “Now, Lydia,” she said soothingly, “you are young yet. It is not the end of the world. There is time to repair the damage. But you must tell me, what on Earth prompted such behavior?”
“It is as I said,” Lydia sighed. “I was told that men needed a little push to see that a woman fancies them. I thought that meant I was not being obvious enough in my admiration for Mr. Wickham to understand. Now what shall I do?”
“Perhaps some time reflecting might not go amiss?” Elizabeth suggested. “It may help if you write everything down and get all the confusion out. And maybe avoid Mr. Wickham for a time. Give him some room to forget.”
“What of my behavior?” Lydia asked.
“Continue learning as you have,” Lizzy replied. “Allow Mr. Wickham, or any worthy gentleman, to see your capabilities and your character.”
Lydia sighed again and nodded.
Elizabeth stood up and straightened her skirts. She kissed the top of her sister’s head and left her. As she closed the door quietly, she heard Lydia sniffling as she began crying again. Oh, how Lizzy hoped everything would be well.
Mary’s behavior was hardly better than Lydia’s that evening.
She came to dinner in her most somber gown with her hair pulled back into a tight, severe bun on the top of her head.
Lizzy was dismayed when her sister ate only bread and drank only water that evening, declaring in a loud voice that she was a sinner, and this was her penance.
After everyone else had retired, an already emotionally drained Elizabeth knocked on Mary’s door.
Why was it that no one else had noticed Lydia and Mary’s distress?
Jane, of course, was absorbed with her own happiness…
and Mrs. Bennet was consumed with wedding plans.
But what of Lizzy’s father? Surely, he had noticed.
No, it was not in Mr. Bennet’s nature to notice any of the daughters he deemed to be silly.
When Mary did not answer, Lizzy knocked harder, determined to speak to her next younger sister before retiring.
Mary finally opened the door. She scowled, but moved aside to let Elizabeth in.
Lizzy perched on the edge of Mary’s bed and patted the spot next to her. Mary did not move, instead crossing her arms and fixing her severe look on her sister. The look did not have its usual force. The long braid hanging down Mary’s back softened it considerably.
“What do you want, Lizzy?” Mary snapped. “It is late, and I am tired.”
“You did not discuss your book with me tonight,” Elizabeth began.
“That is because I have not finished it,” Mary replied. “Nor will I be.”
“Whyever not?” Elizabeth said in surprise. “I thought you were enjoying it.”
“Because novels are an abomination!” Mary said heatedly. “They are frivolous wastes of time, and they fill ladies’ heads with sentimental nonsense. Many notable men have outlined the danger of reading such books. I will not pollute my soul any longer.”
“Why, Mary,” Elizabeth said, “what has brought on such sentiments? I thought you were enjoying expanding your understanding and broadening your horizons.”
Mary sagged. “I was,” she admitted. “But that was before I was made aware that my behavior was unbecoming.”
“Who said such a thing?” Elizabeth cried angrily. “There is nothing wanting in your comportment.”
“It does not matter who said it,” Mary said. “It only matters that they presented things in such a way that I was forced to admit I have sinned.”
“And what was said to prompt such a belief?” Elizabeth pressed.
“I know little of the world,” Mary replied. “And I was told that many people say novels are to blame for ladies straying from the right path. Lydia and Kitty read novels. What more evidence do I need?”
“But Jane and I also read novels,” Lizzy said gently.
“You and Jane know how to behave properly,” Mary retorted.
“You prove my point for me,” Lizzy said. “Jane and I know how to behave properly. Whether or not we read novels has no bearing on that. Kitty and Lydia have not been taught as we three older sisters have. And Lydia is making a valiant effort to improve herself.”
“Her behavior this afternoon was deplorable,” Mary snapped. “It confirms everything I was told.”
“Lydia, like yourself, was operating under a misapprehension,” Lizzy argued.
“I would pose a counter argument. Ladies straying has little to do with novels and everything to do with learning and understanding proper behavior. Society expects us to behave a certain way; perhaps ladies that stray have either not been taught these things or choose to disregard their lessons.”
Mary seemed to be considering Elizabeth’s words. “I shall have to think on it,” she finally said.
“Just promise you will,” Lizzy pressed. “I have greatly enjoyed our time together, and once Jane is wed, we shall be even more in each other’s company.”
Mary nodded sharply and Elizabeth stood from her place on the bed.
“Sleep well, Mary dearest,” she whispered, kissing her sister’s forehead. Mary was a statue as Lizzy crossed the room and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
In her own chambers, Elizabeth leaned heavily against her own bedpost and let out a sigh of frustration. What could possibly happen next? she wondered. She climbed under the covers and pulled them to her chin, drifting off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.