Lydia Bennet's Story (13 page)

Wednesday, July 28th
George has gone! I am so distressed and do not know what to imagine. Though I have walked as far as the encampment, I cannot discover his whereabouts, and indeed, no one has seen Mr Wickham for some days, though there has been a suggestion by some uncouth louts that, if he is not to be found in Ragget’s, I might try the moneylenders. If only I could go to his club, but no woman is allowed admittance in that establishment. I am hoping desperately that he will make an appearance this evening.

Is it my fault that he has taken himself off? I am convinced that I alone must be responsible for his disappearance, that somehow I must have displeased him, and I do not think I can carry on. What shall I do if he does not return?

Harriet has no comprehension of the truth of my situation and imagines I am pining for another, reassuring me that my spirits will be restored as soon as the Captain returns, which she is certain must be imminent. “And then I think we might all guess what happy event might take place next, Lydia,” she said this morning, with a glint in her eye and a merry laugh. “He must have gone to town in search of a betrothal ring. Yes, I am sure that must be what has taken him away. Patience, my dear friend, and you will see he has been working on your behalf. Good things come to those who wait!”

Fortunately, Harriet quite missed the expression on my countenance after she made this very suggestion. If she had witnessed it, she would have been far more troubled.

LYDIA, HARRIET, AND THE Colonel entered the Rooms the following evening and found the usual crowd, but there was no sign of Mr Wickham. Trying to appear unconcerned, Lydia was sure her face was betraying every emotion. She could not remember ever feeling so low. Perhaps George had met with an accident. What if he was lying in a ditch, thrown from a curricle, and she was not there to nurse him?

Mr Denny asked her outright why she appeared to be so downhearted. “Miss Bennet, are you quite well? You are very quiet this evening, and if I may say so, you are looking a trifle ill.”

“I am quite well. I am just a little tired that is all. I am sure I will improve with an offer of a dance.”
Mr Denny took the hint and whirled her away. She tried her best to be the light-hearted partner he knew, but there was still no sign of George and she thought her heart might break. They came off the floor and Denny offered to fetch them some drinks. She sat on a chair in the corner, hoping that no one would see her and make further enquiries or ask her to dance. Everybody seemed to be in high spirits, in great contrast to her own. What if Wickham had gone away, never to return? She could not bear to think of it and realised that her life would be unbearable without him. It had been coming on so slowly she could not think when she had first truly fallen for him, but she supposed in her heart it must have been from the moment she set eyes on him in Meryton High Street.
Then she saw him, George Wickham, the love of her life, moving with great rapidity towards her across the floor. Fortunately, Harriet and the Colonel were dancing and quite missed catching the expression of relief on Lydia’s countenance or the agitated entreaties whispered into her ear. Anyone watching would have immediately guessed their intimacy, their bodies naturally curving in towards the other, and Lydia’s expression of sheer adoration as her love begged her to step outside.
Once in the moonlit alley, she threw herself into his arms, covering him with kisses. But although he returned her caresses, she felt something wanting. He was not the passionate suitor she had known; there was a reserve about him and she felt unnerved.
Lydia broke away; she was all concern, knowing something was not right. “What is it, my love? You do not look yourself. Indeed, you are suffering truly, are you not?”
George Wickham was pacing the alleyway, his head in his hands. “Lydia, can I trust you?”
“Of course, with your life!”
“I am in trouble. I cannot go into the particulars, but believe me when I say that I have no choice but to leave Brighton, to go away for a while until I have sorted out some money matters which are most pressing.”
“Leave Brighton? Leave me? But, George, you cannot leave. Say it isn’t true.”
“I must go; it cannot be avoided. Indeed, if I am not gone by tomorrow, I will surely be in fear of losing my life.”
“George, you are alarming me now,” she cried, grabbing his arm and searching his face. “How can you say such a thing? Surely you do not mean it.”
“I have no choice.”
“But there must be a way of solving your problems. You have many friends who will help you. Let us talk to Denny; he will think of a way I’m sure.”
“I cannot ask him. He has already done what he can and it is not enough.” He took her in his arms, looked beseechingly into her eyes and then down the length of the alleyway, as though he might find the answer in the darkness. Lydia felt she had never seen him so handsome and her heart lurched. She wanted to help him so much.
“If only Mr Darcy had seen fit to give me the living I had been promised by his most generous and kind-hearted father, I should not be in such dire circumstances. No, indeed, I would not be suffering such distress,” he said, shaking his head in a sorrowful way.
Lydia felt so sorry for him. It was common knowledge that Mr Wickham, who had grown up with Mr Darcy on his Pemberley estate, had been denied the clergyman’s living which had been promised to him on the old squire’s death. He had been forced to make his own way and become a soldier. If only she were rich enough, she would have given him every penny to see him smile again.
He turned, grabbing her arms as though suddenly excited by an idea, which had not struck him before. “What about your winnings from the horses and your allowance? You must still have a lot of money left. I am right in thinking you had quite a sum, my dear?”
“I did have, but it is all but spent, you must know that. Lord! There have been so many wonderful reasons to be a spendthrift, and I own I have never been a girl who saves very much.”
He let her go and leered at her in the darkness. “How much? How much have you got?”
For one moment, it put her in mind of being interviewed by her father. “I do not know exact amounts, but yes, I have my allowance and there is a little left from the racing.”
“Will you lend me what you have, Lydia? I promise I will repay you as soon as I can. My money is all tied up at present.”
Lydia hesitated. “And will you stay if I do?” She searched Wickham’s face. He had drawn back into the shadows, and though she could not make out his expression, she knew she was about to lose him. She knew very well that he would not stay with her if she gave him her money, but she also realised that without it he was lost. “Please don’t leave me,” she begged. “I will give you all my money, but there is one small condition. I insist that you take me with you.” She threw her arms around him once more. “We are only just becoming truly acquainted. We have so much to give one another. Indeed, George, I wish to give you everything I have.”
“You do, don’t you?” He looked down at her as though he was trying to make up his mind.
She peppered his face with kisses. “It would be an adventure, George. You know we can never be completely on our own in Brighton. I am quite sure I have enough money for two. And it is all yours, I promise, as I am myself.”
“Very well,” he said at last, sighing. “There is nothing else to be done. I will take you with me. We will leave tomorrow evening as everyone is dancing at the Ship Assembly.”
Lydia was ecstatic. All her fears about having upset him vanished in a moment. “George, are you asking me to elope with you? How romantic! We could go to Gretna Green! I shall be married before any of my sisters! Oh, they will be so very jealous, especially Lizzy who can have no idea how attached we have become.”
“All that matters is that we leave without anyone’s knowledge and with the money. Do you hear? You must not forget to bring the money!”
“There is no need to shout,” Lydia scolded. “But surely you have some money?”
“I have explained to you that it is tied up. Listen, can you borrow some from Harriet?”
“I could not ask such a thing. Besides, she would wish to know why I need it. I cannot abuse her friendship. Oh, George, this is horrid. You are spoiling everything for want of wretched money.”
“And you must not breathe a word of this to anyone, especially Harriet. Swear to me that you will keep quiet.”
“Of course I will, George, but why are you being so unkind? I will do anything you say, you know I will.”
Lydia was bursting to confide in Harriet. She was certain that her friend would not really be so very cross with her; being married was the important thing. All that mattered to her was that she was to be with George. She suspected the Prince’s dragoons had tricked Wickham out of his money and that was why he was a little short at present, though why he could not use the Brighton Bank to withdraw more funds she could not think. He said she must not worry her pretty head about it. Indeed, she gave it not a thought. All she could think of was the romantic image that presented itself in her head—being wed over the anvil and how she would be the envy of all her friends. How she loved George Wickham!

Friday, July 30th
I am so beside myself with excitement that I cannot think, speak, or behave in a rational manner! My darling Georgie, whom I love most in the whole world, has asked me to marry him!!!!!!!!!! I cannot believe what a fortunate girl I am. He declared his undying love for me and said he was so wild with passion for me that he could not wait a minute longer, saying that we should elope. I can think of nothing more romantic! Despite what George says about keeping our secret, I have just penned a letter to my sister Kitty, telling her all my plans. I pray it will not be intercepted and that Kitty will not give away my surprise as a result of her excitement. I cannot wait for the day to tell my family that I am married and see the astounded expressions on their countenances. To have my beloved’s name as my own is a dream come true. Mrs George Wickham! How good that looks and sounds!

I am so afraid that my face will give away all my thoughts and am so aware that I cannot remove the smile that plays about my lips that I have taken to practising expressions of melancholia.

Oh, to be married in Scotland, at Gretna Green, like so many lovers before us. I would love to see my dear Wickham kitted out in tartan on our wedding day, and I could quite fancy myself in a green Tam with heather adornments!

LYDIA DRESSED HERSELF WITH great care for the ball, her very last in Brighton. She stood before the looking glass and could not help giggling at the thought that she was to run away in her white satin and organza with orange blossoms in her hair. All she lacked was a piece of French lace to complete the picture. She gazed at her face; her large dark eyes were brimming with secrets, and she could not stop the smile that played about her lips from betraying her thoughts.

“I will never again look quite as I do this evening,” she mused and could not help laughing out loud. “For though I may not yet wear George’s ring, in my heart, I will surely be as good as wed tonight. Sweet Georgie Wickham, you will be mine at last.”

She turned to stuff another dress into the bundle she had prepared to take on her adventure and added an assortment of combs, her hairbrush, her precious cameos, and anything else that would fit. The rest she would have to leave behind for the present, but no matter; she was sure George would buy her new things when they reached Scotland. Mindful of the time, she hastened to call on her friends at last. Lydia could hardly contain herself and hoped her feelings, which kept bubbling to the surface to erupt in a surfeit of giggles, would not give her away.

“Lydia, you have such sparkling looks tonight and there is a bloom on your cheeks so becoming to your complexion,” remarked Harriet as the Colonel escorted them downstairs to the Assembly Rooms. “I think a girl in love often has a look of something indefinable, and you certainly have it tonight, my dear.”

Lydia looked horrified for a second until she realised Harriet was referring to her being in love with the Captain. She thanked her friend for her compliments, ignoring her comments on being in love, before she scanned the place in search of George. She found him in the card room and, as soon as she could, gained his attention. She was more than a little pleased by his appraising stare. He looked her up and down in so brazen a manner it was all she could do to stay on her feet. In the next second, however, he was ignoring her once more as he attended to his game, and Lydia was left to find her friends in the ballroom before she aroused any hint of suspicion.