Lydia Bennet's Story (24 page)

Miss Rowlandson was keen to restore the equilibrium. She surmised that Isabella was not happy with her friend for laughing at her brother, and despite the fact that Mrs Wickham had suggested that farming folk were lowly, she also did not want to jeopardise her invitation to the ball, where, apart from witnessing the wonderful sights and sounds, she would be sure of parading her beauty before an audience that would previously have been denied her. “Men never can suffer to be teased. They are hopeless creatures, are they not? Isabella, I think it so good for them, I really think you should adopt some of Mrs Wickham’s jests with my own dear brother; he certainly would benefit from such quizzing!”
“Oh yes, Miss Fitzalan, it would be my pleasure to have you teasing me at any time.” He laughed and winked at her, which produced a hint of rose upon her creamy complexion. “And if I might be so bold, may I engage you for the first two dances at the Netherfield ball?”
Isabella’s spirits were entirely recovered. “It would be my great pleasure, Mr Rowlandson.”
“Well now, we had best be going,” he declared, rising reluctantly from his seat. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Wickham, and thank you; we are indebted to you for your kind invitation.”
“We are indeed,” enthused his sister. She shook Lydia’s hand warmly before turning to Isabella. “I expect we shall not see each other until the ball now. Oh, there is so much to be done before the big day and so much to accomplish, I hope I might manage. Mother will be so pleased!”
Lydia was a little concerned that her friend might scold her for her behaviour after the Rowlandsons had departed, but Isabella had already forgiven her. “That was so kind, my dear friend, to invite the man I love to the ball. You knew how much that would mean to me, and to invite Eleanor too, for dear Alexander, thank you.”
“It was selfishly done, I confess, as much for my own pleasure as for yours,” Lydia admitted.
“That I do believe,” laughed Isabella, “and I will certainly allow you to dance with Freddie if you promise not to steal him.”
“Oh now, Isabella,” Lydia said, giggling. “You know my wicked reputation. I cannot promise all that!”

Friday, May 13th
The house party is not yet complete. Mama and papa, Mary, and Kitty are to arrive this afternoon and will be staying till tomorrow. Mr Bingley’s sister, Caroline, who has recently become engaged, has been staying for a month at the home of her fiancé’s parents and will also arrive, with her lover in tow, at a similar time. After my sister’s wedding, Miss Bingley did not enjoy playing second fiddle to Mrs Bingley, who took precedence over her, and so, Jane soon hinted that Charles look around for a suitable match for his sister. It was soon found in a Mr Heathcote, with whom Bingley was at school. This fellow, though not of noble birth as Miss Bingley would have preferred, has made his fortune through trade, is almost as rich as Mr Darcy, and owns property in the west country. Miss Bingley will soon be able to live in the style that she feels her inherent right, amongst neighbours she considers inferior, and at a suitable distance from her brother, his wife, and family, so that calling frequently and being on intimate terms with Jane will be made impossible. If I were Jane, I should be very happy.

I must confess that I am not very comfortable with the idea of seeing Miss Bingley again. She is the rudest woman I know and has the most unfortunate manner. Thank goodness her sister, Mrs Hurst, is indisposed with a baby at present; I could not bear the two of them looking at me with disdain. At least Wickham is not here, and I am thankful he is not due for another fortnight at least.

THE ENTIRE COMPANY WAS sitting in the drawing room after breakfast when all members gathered were suddenly alerted to the sound of horses and wheels. The prospect through floor-length windows afforded an excellent view across the gravelled drive and Jane expressed her surprise at the sight of a carriage approaching.

“Who can this be?” she asked, looking across at her husband. “We do not expect anyone till this afternoon, do we, my love?”
Lydia jumped up to take a closer look, observing from behind a curtain draped back over ornate gilt finials that it was a carriage she recognised.
“It is mama and papa, Kitty, and Mary,” she announced. “I daresay mama could not wait a moment longer. Yes indeed, my mother is stepping down from the carriage as I speak and scolding Kitty for sneezing.”
“Goodness, what can bring them at this hour?” asked Jane. “I must find Mrs Garnett. I do not know that their rooms will be quite ready.”
Lydia observed with some amusement that Mr Darcy had raised his eyes to the heavens, that his wife was doing her best to placate the onset of his imminent irritability, that Charles Bingley was out of his seat and running round after his wife, and that Jane was trying to keep everyone calm, though unsure what to do next, standing up one moment and sitting down the next.
Mrs Garnett appeared at the door. “Mr and Mrs Bennet and the Miss Bennets, ma’am.”
Mrs Bennet was through the door in a flash. “Jane, we are come a little earlier than I said, but I thought you might like it, as you will be rushed off your feet, and visitors do not always make themselves as useful as they ought. I should have thought about it when I wrote to say we should come in the afternoon, and then before I knew it, I had sealed the wafer and it was gone. Never mind, we are come and are here to help you.”
Lydia braced herself for her mother’s ministrations and rose to greet her. She certainly seemed to be the same Mrs Bennet, but Lydia thought how her mother had aged lately; there was more grey flecked in the hair at her temples and new wrinkles about her eyes, but all in all, she was still a handsome woman, despite her agitation. Having confided in her mother about the state of her marriage after the first incident in Newcastle, Lydia had regretted doing so ever since, for Mrs Bennet had the habit of reminding Lydia about her husband’s conduct whenever they met. Lydia’s heart sank at the thought.
Kitty was at her sister’s side in a moment. “Lydia, it is so good to see you. Isn’t it all exciting? And you will meet my new beau, Mr Coates. He is a cousin of Maria Lucas and so handsome.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” shouted Mrs Bennet hailing her across the room, “how you are grown, my dear. I shouldn’t wonder if it is not twins. Look, Mr Bennet, is she not very fat? Sit down, sit down my dear, take the weight off your feet.”
“I am quite well, mother, thank you,” Lizzy grimaced, suffusing pink with embarrassment at her mother’s insensitivity.
Mrs Bennet turned with a smile to address Mr Darcy. “It is a big, bonny boy, I shouldn’t wonder, looking at the size of her and with a virile man like you for his father. An heir for Pemberley, isn’t she a clever girl?” Jane stepped forward to remove her mother from his vicinity and helped her to a chair. “And Jane, elegant as ever, even as she is increasing,” gabbled Mrs Bennet, running on without a pause. “Why, you would hardly know. Are you wearing a corset? I do not recommend it, though in my day it was done. Well, we would never have laced our gowns you see. You are fortunate that high waists are fashionable. I said so to Mr Bennet, didn’t I, my dear?”
Mr Bennet was talking to Lizzy. He had never recovered from the shock of her marriage and the fact that she had left Longbourn for good. Although he was pleased with her chosen partner, he had never found anything or anyone to fill the aching gap left by the absence of this favourite daughter.
Jane opened her mouth to speak, but as she did so Mrs Bennet’s eye fell on her youngest daughter. She crossed the room at a pace, threw her arms around Lydia and hugged her till she thought she might have no breath left. “My poor, poor Lydia,” she cried, “what has that man done to you now, my dear? Goodness, how ill you look, how you have aged!” She held Lydia’s face up to the light and shook her head and clucked in dismay. “Tell me what has happened this time. Why have you left all your friends and your home? Mr Wickham did not beat you did he, dear? I have not had a letter from you these five months to know the truth of anything for certain.”
“Mother!” Lydia shouted in frustration. “Keep your voice down! You might let me speak. You have not paused for breath since you walked through the door.”
“Well, that is a nice way to greet your mama, I’m sure, with not a word of how do you do or please sit down. Shouting may well be considered as good manners in the North but it will not do here.” Mrs Bennet sniffed loudly in contempt before seating herself opposite her daughter.
Jane fussed around the others and sent Mrs Garnett back for some tea. The gentlemen quickly excused themselves as soon as they saw an opportunity, taking Mr Bennet with them.
“I always knew he was a bad lot,” Mrs Bennet continued, “first dallying with my dearest girl to get his hands on Mr Darcy’s money and now getting his hands on all the drink and as many women as he can to satisfy his nasty appetites. And to think how I always preferred him to Mr Darcy, who is the kindest, most gentlemanly and courteous man that ever walked the land. Now I am not saying that Wickham isn’t entirely to blame, but Lydia, have you never asked yourself why he strays? Is everything at home all it should be? A man must have his needs met. Well, I daresay it is not your fault, but I do think if you were expecting a happy event, he might be a little more settled. Still, I suppose if you are content to ignore his dallying for the sake of your marriage, what am I to do about it? And he is to come here and I suppose I must be civil, though I should like to give him a piece of my mind.” She did not pause for breath for ten minutes and by the end Lydia felt she had endured enough.
An early dinner was served for the Bingleys and their guests at three o’clock, in order for everyone to have thoroughly digested its contents and make preparations for the evening’s celebrations. Miss Bingley and Mr Heathcote did not arrive until four, much to Lydia’s relief; she did not think she could withstand both her mother’s and Miss Bingley’s enquiries in the same afternoon. They took to their rooms immediately and a light meal was sent up.
Kitty came to Lydia’s room, bringing her clothes for her sister to inspect.
“Tell me all about Mr Coates,” Lydia demanded. “Is he rich and good looking? Is he ‘the one’?”
“I think I can safely say he is the man for me. I am in love, I declare, and expect an offer any day!”
“Do not be in such a hurry to get wed, Kitty. Take time to make your choice. Being married is not the be all and end all, you know.”
“You talk as if you didn’t enjoy being married, Lydia.”
“I like it well enough.”
“But?”
“There are always vexations; it happens in the best marriages, you know. Oh, Kitty, enjoy your youth; have fun whilst you can without any cares or ties. But let us not talk of that now. Show me what you are wearing and how you are to dress your hair.”
“What fun, Lydia! It will be just like the old days, do you recall?”
She did remember and with more affection than she cared to disclose.

THE SUN HAD SHONE brightly from first light and continued to radiate all day so that, by the close of it, the warm temperatures remained, exuding not only heat rendering the rooms quite airless but the scent of exotic perfume, which emanated from the floral arrangements in every room, the flower-filled urns on the terraces, and the clusters of scented petals in the ladies’ hair. Lydia thought it would be like dancing in the garden; French doors were opened to the outside and strings of candlelit crystal shades illuminated the water cascades as well as the ballroom. As the carriages rolled up, and the horses steamed in the heat under the torches and flares, which lit up the grand edifice, the strains of music floated high up to the woods and tree tops beyond.

Lydia could not help but feel excited; she had never witnessed such a sight, and even the last Netherfield ball she had attended had been nothing to this. She had refused to listen to her sister, who had requested her presence in the reception party, and was instead standing under the portico entrance leaning over the balustrade, eager to watch the arrivals mounting the staircases, busy making a note of all the fine fashionable clothes. It was quite a display of nobility and gentry all attired in their finest, the women like the gardenias in the grove, all white, dressed in the sheerest muslins and silks, shimmering under the glow of moonlight.