Chapter Thirteen
Hertfordshire
The beginning of March ushered in spring weather, as well as the marriage of Mr. Charles Bingley to Miss Jane Bennet of Longbourn. The happy couple departed their wedding breakfast as expeditiously as possible, leaving the guests to continue their celebrations.
Mr. Bingley’s family had deigned to attend and were spending the night at Netherfield before leaving for London the day following the wedding. Mr. and Miss Darcy were also guests of that estate and would be departing for town just two days after.
The Bennets had seen much of the Darcys during the weeks leading up to the wedding, and Elizabeth found that she would miss a certain gentleman’s company exceedingly as the time neared for his departure.
She took great comfort from the fact that Mr. Darcy was great friends with her new brother; perhaps it would not be long before she was with him again.
Mary and Lydia were much subdued and had been so for nearly a month complete.
Neither of them confided in Elizabeth during this time, and Elizabeth gave them the space they required to sort through the many thoughts they were surely having.
Additionally, as Elizabeth was to depart for Kent to visit Charlotte the day after her sister’s wedding, Mary and Lydia would have plenty of time to think without interference from their older sister.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had agreed to convey Elizabeth to London in their carriage.
There, Sir William Lucas would transport her the rest of the way to Kent, along with Charlotte’s younger sister Maria.
Sir William would stay for a few days to assure himself of his daughter’s well-being before he returned to Meryton.
Elizabeth’s return was less certain. Someone would be dispatched to retrieve her from her cousin’s house, but it was uncertain who. Elizabeth was to make that journey without the young Miss Lucas; Maria would stay with Charlotte through the summer.
It was with regret that Lizzy bid farewell to Mr. Darcy and his sister after the wedding breakfast. Miss Darcy was distant as she usually was with anyone save the youngest Bennet sisters, but Elizabeth could read the same regret she felt in Mr. Darcy’s eyes as he approached her.
“I am for London in a few days, as you know,” he told her. “Bingley has asked that I remain until the last of his guests depart.”
“Yes, Jane told me,” Lizzy replied.
“We shall not return to Pemberley until the end of the season,” he continued. “My sister will be studying with the masters. Will you remain at Longbourn until your sister returns?”
“No,” she answered. “I have been invited to visit my dear friend in Kent. Her husband has the living at Hunsford if you remember.”
“I had quite forgotten!” Mr. Darcy said. “My aunt, Lady Catherine, praises her new rector quite abundantly. Perhaps our visits will align; I attend my aunt at least once yearly to go over her estate books.”
“Perhaps,” Lizzy nodded. “It would be a pleasure to see you again. And Miss Darcy, of course, if she accompanies you.”
Mr. Darcy took her hand and bowed low over it, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles. Elizabeth felt her cheeks redden and she sucked in a breath at the thrill rushing through her.
Mr. Darcy straightened and met her gaze. “A pleasure indeed,” he said huskily. “I look forward to our next meeting with anticipation.”
Another guest claimed his attention, and he offered his arm to his sister, escorting her away.
Miss Darcy dipped her head coolly at Elizabeth before looping her arm through her brother’s and allowing him to lead her from the room and Elizabeth was left once again wondering whether the young heiress truly liked her.
Elizabeth departed the next morning in the company of her London relations, quite eager for her holiday in Kent.
Mr. Wickham strolled along a secluded path, whistling as he went.
The first signs of spring were appearing, and the air was filled with birdsong.
He rounded a bend and began climbing a small rise, intent on viewing the prospect from the top.
The celebrations at Longbourn had gone well beyond a simple wedding breakfast, lasting into the afternoon and evening.
At the crest of the hill, he turned his gaze toward the horizon.
The sun was sinking and would soon be completely set.
The day had been very nearly perfect for Miss Bennet’s wedding.
George had opted to walk back to Meryton rather than ride with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips so that he might contemplate the events of the day.
He wondered, too, how different things might have been had he not intervened.
A twig snapped behind him and he turned. Miss Lydia Bennet stood on the path, facing him. Her breathing was heavy, and her hair slightly disheveled, as if she had followed him at a brisk pace. She did not even have proper walking boots on.
“Miss Lydia,” George said politely. “How might I be of service?”
The young lady bit her lip and glanced off to the side. Her hands clasped the sides of her cloak. “I wished to speak to you,” she said softly.
“Shall we walk back toward Longbourn as we do so?” George asked, just as he had with Miss Elizabeth. He felt the impropriety of the situation greatly and did not wish for the consequences should it be known they had been alone together. Lydia was very young, after all.
“No!” the young lady cried. “I do not wish to be overheard.”
George shifted nervously. “It is not… wise for us to be alone together.”
“Why not?” Lydia said, coming closer to him. “Am I not pleasing enough for you?”
She was very near him now, and she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. George pulled back abruptly, putting space between them.
“Miss Lydia,” he said patiently, “there is no understanding between us. It is highly improper for us to be unchaperoned.”
“There is no understanding because you remain oblivious to my admiration and affection for you!” Miss Lydia said hotly.
“I assure you, I am not oblivious, as you put it,” George said. “I simply have no wish to raise your expectations.”
“But why?” Miss Lydia asked in confusion.
“I have done everything you said to make myself into a proper lady, one that you might wish to entertain your guests and be on your arm. But then Miss Darcy said that men needed to be helped along a bit, and so I tried, but then Lizzy said I went too far, and—”
“Miss Lydia!” George interrupted sharply.
“I wished you to improve your behavior for your own benefit, not to mold you into the wife I desire. These changes you have undergone are a good thing that will aid you in the years to come. Additionally, you assume that I reciprocate your feelings of admiration.”
Lydia sucked in a sharp breath at this statement, but George paid her no heed.
“Your manifold attractions aside, I am in no position to entertain my personal feelings, nor to care for a wife at this time. I am not established in my own practice, and I still have much to learn from Mr. Phillips before I can make such an attempt. Furthermore, you are very young- you are not yet sixteen!”
“I am old enough to be out!” Miss Lydia insisted. “And I am tall and my figure womanly.”
“And yet you are still only fifteen years of age,” Wickham countered, his patience waning.
“Why not use these years of your life to continue growing and learning as you have these last months? I am not of a mind to marry and may not be for some years. Perhaps you will meet some other young man in that time, one who is in a position to wed.”
“But—” she began to argue.
“Miss Lydia,” he interrupted firmly, “even if I were in a position to marry, that does not necessarily mean I would choose you for my wife. I wish to marry someone who could be a true partner in life, someone whom I could respect. The very fact that we are having this conversation about your behavior yet again is more than enough evidence that you would not meet those requirements. At least not at this time.”
Miss Lydia looked rather pathetic as her shoulders drooped. Tears filler her eyes and she dropped her gaze to her feet. George felt rather sorry for her; she really was a comely lass, and if she continued to better herself, he had no doubt she would be a fine bride to some man someday.
“Come now,” he said, offering her his arm. “Let us return to Longbourn. There is still a chill in the air that lingers from winter.”
Miss Lydia took his arm tentatively, and they walked on in silence. George did not make an effort to speak and neither did the lady on his arm.
As they rounded the bend toward Longbourn, Miss Lydia stopped abruptly.
“I will be patient,” she said earnestly. She turned her face up to look into his eyes. “I will wait.”
“I cannot promise that when I seek a wife, I shall choose you,” George said softly. “I will marry for mutual affection and love, or not at all.”
“Then I shall work to become a lady you can love,” Miss Lydia said firmly. Her shoulders dropped again, and she stared at the ground.
“I did not really wish to behave as Miss Darcy suggested I should, you know,” she said. “It was… distasteful.” She let go of his arm abruptly and strode away, not even giving him a chance to answer.
George ran a hand over his face and chuckled, the sound fading into a groan. Miss Lydia was incorrigible, and he could not help but admire her for it.
As he briskly walked toward the village, Wickham’s tired mind latched onto the memory of Miss Lydia’s passionate declaration. One bit stood out.
“’Miss Darcy said…’” George murmured. “What did Georgiana say? Men need to be helped along. That does not sound at all like something Darcy would have taught her. Where did she hear such nonsense? And whatever did Miss Lydia mean about how Georgiana said she should behave?”
George felt unsettled as he entered his room and sat at a desk by the window. Resolving to contemplate his discussion with Miss Lydia later, his mind turned to other things, and the puzzling encounter was soon forgot.