Lydia Bennet's Story (6 page)

Lydia scrambled to her feet, aware not only of her unkempt hair poking under her bonnet but of her general appearance of dishevelment, now that her white muslin was covered in grime and dust. She bit her lower lip, tasting the salt encrusted there, and cast her eyes down to the floor in the vain hope that he would not recognise them.

“Dear ladies,” Captain Trayton-Camfield declared, leaping to the floor and bowing before them, “forgive me, I did not see you. I hope you are well. Please tell me that you are not injured at all, for I shall never forgive myself if you are harmed in any way.”

“Please, sir, do not be alarmed, and thank you for your concern,” said Harriet, “but we are just returned from a little sea bathing, and I am afraid that in our haste to return to our inn, we did not see you.”

“Would you allow me to insist that you rest awhile in my chariot or may I escort you to a safe haven? Are you staying near? Please let me take you to your home,” the Captain entreated.

“Sir,” replied Harriet, “we are entirely at fault. It is we who should be apologising to you, sir. Pray, do be easy; we are not harmed in any way, though a touch shaken, to be sure, but nothing that a little rest in our rooms over the way will not cure.” Harriet brushed at Lydia’s gown and thrust her forward.

Captain Trayton-Camfield looked across to the Ship Inn. “I should have known that two such genteel ladies would be accommodated in refined surroundings. Please, may I beg your permission to introduce myself. I insist that it is quite the thing in Brighton to dispense with the formality of waiting for Mr Wade to perform the introductions! Indeed, I feel I know you already as I never forget a pretty face; haven’t we already met on the Brighton Road?”

Lydia was inclined to giggle at his forthrightness. I must admit, I like his open manner, she thought. But Harriet had suddenly become more than a little reticent in her replies. She clearly thought the Captain was overstepping the bounds of propriety and was keen to make her escape. She dismissed him as politely as she could; he took his leave, jumped onto his seat, and with a wave of his hat, cantered off in the direction of the Marine Parade.

“That wasn’t very friendly, Harriet,” Lydia protested. “He was nice, very pleasant in fact; he was only trying to make amends.”
“Yes, I know,” said Harriet, “and if you are to keep him interested, then it is not a good idea to go throwing yourself completely in his path, although,” she added with a chuckle, “you could not have succeeded better in that! Do not worry, Lydia. I am sure we shall meet with Captain Trayton-Camfield and be introduced with all due decorum as a matter of course, and I do not think you will have to wait very long before we will be assured of seeing him again! I would lay a bet that he will see to it himself. Mark my words, Lydia: if we do not formally meet before the week is out, I shall forfeit my subscription to the Castle assemblies!”
“He is very handsome, almost as good looking as Mr Wickham,” Lydia said sighing, “whose eyes are the most beautiful of anyone I have ever known, deep brown like a cup of chocolate, all velvety on the bottom.”
“Lydia, I believe you are quite right,” Harriet replied. “Next to my darling Henry, George Wickham has the sort of eyes that could command one to do almost anything, but perhaps as a married woman, I should not say so,” she giggled. They laughed so loudly that the “duchess,” who was passing out of the inn as they were entering it, glared in their direction, pursed her lips as though she had detected a nasty stink, and announced in a loud voice that she was concerned that the Ship Inn was not continuing to attract the right sort of clientele, that in its heyday there had not been a single personage accommodated there under the rank of a duke, and that in future, she was considering a move to Worthing, which she deemed far more refined!

Tuesday, June 1st
How wonderful is the sight of the sea, its sound so delicious on the ear, and its vast waters swimming with gentleman bathers! We have rooms overlooking the water, which provide the most excellent looking post! It is heaven, indeed!

There is an odd assortment of people staying here: Mr and Mrs Rand are a very jolly pair, though she must spend a small fortune on rouge, which I fear is daubed on in vast quantities in an effort to match her husband’s ruddy cheeks. Mrs Falkener, “the duchess,” enjoys snubbing us whenever she can, which only has the effect of making me want to behave outrageously whenever we see her. Harriet has discovered that she is a close friend of a royal duke, but I think if I describe that relationship as “intimate” that will be nearer to it! She is not a titled lady of any description but likes to give the impression that she is of great rank. Dr Blair is a man with a permanent cold who hides whenever he sees “the duchess” approaching— she has a habit of engaging him in conversation on her ailments, of which there are many; the poor man can be seen glazing over as soon as she starts. Then there is Signor Ricardo, the Italian opera singer with a cockney accent who performs once a week at the Promenade Grove. Captain and Mrs Montague are gentility itself—I am tempted to change my allegiance to the navy he looks so well in his uniform. And finally, there is the beautiful Miss Westlake. She appears to be a pleasant enough young woman and is a fount of gossip about the notables in Donaldson’s and Tuppen’s. Mr Wickham has wasted no time in introducing himself to that lady!

Wednesday, June 2nd
We have been to Donaldson’s library to sign the arrivals book and take out our subscriptions for all the entertainments. Everybody who is newly arrived is quizzed to an extent that is enough to unnerve all but the most confident creature. We have taken out subscriptions for the Castle and Ship assemblies, will attend card parties, the Promenade Grove, and public teas for our delight.

I amused myself by looking at the scandal sheets, which are laid out on a central table for everyone’s perusal. Poor Prince George and Mrs Fitzherbert, their caricatures are most cruelly drawn. It is rumoured everywhere that they are secretly married, and Harriet says that they even have a love child! I do hope the royal couple will be in Brighton shortly; I long to see them.

A souvenir fan caught my eye, which I bought before I could be talked out of its purchase. It is very fine, made of ivory and parchment, painted with scenes showing the layout of the different camps around Brighton. There are many treasures in Donaldson’s, which persuade one to part with money: jewellery, exquisite Chinese parasols, perfumery, and scented gloves. I have been sorely tempted by some sprigged muslin in a shop on the Steyne, which arrived this morning, reportedly smuggled in the cushions of a chaise brought all the way from Dieppe. So persuasive was the proprietor that Harriet marched me outside before I had a chance to reach for my pocket. We played the rattle traps next, staking a little money against the fall of dice—a very pretty nutmeg grater with a painting of the Marine Pavilion on its box was my prize after four throws! Fortune smiles on me in Brighton, though Harriet is inclined to think that I might not have been so fortunate if the boy in charge had not taken such a shine to me. C’est la vie!

Thursday, June 3rd
Harriet and I went bathing this morning. What a sight met our eyes! Some daring young men were exercising the horses that pull the machines into the water. We watched them as they sat straddled upon the great beasts, prancing in and out of the waves. Not only were they sitting bareback, but the “gentlemen” in question were wearing nothing but their breeches, and even they were rather too low slung for the close scrutiny of some ladies present who affected to be shocked and kept turning away. It must be noted, however, that despite calling for salts, none of the ladies were too distressed to return to their lodgings. Harriet and I are agreed that, despite the rough manner of the young men, they could not but help make a handsome exhibition. It was exceedingly difficult not to giggle, as they crashed through the water and their breeches became soaked through—there was nothing left to the imagination, especially when one of the riders jumped up onto the back of his animal. What a fine education for young women!

We stood thus, watching for half an hour until they tired of their sport, whence they departed, swimming in deft strokes to the other side of the groynes to dip any gentlemen bathers who might be up early enough to partake of the pleasure. It has to be said that the only gentlemen we saw on our walk to the beach this morning were on the cliff top, telescopes in hand, effectively perusing ships at sea but with their instruments trained in our direction!

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON FOUND Harriet and Lydia taking a turn along the seafront. They were standing watching some ladies riding on donkeys when Lydia was startled by a voice in her ear which seemed to come from nowhere. “Mr Wickham,” she cried as she turned to face him, “whatever do you mean by pouncing on young women in such a manner?! You quite frightened the life out of me.”

“Forgive me, Mrs Forster, Miss Bennet, but you were so engrossed, I could not resist making you jump. I declare, Miss Bennet, that I never saw you in such studied contemplation since I saw you outside the milliner’s in Meryton!”

Lydia could not help herself; she struck him on the arm for his insolence. “As it happens, we are whiling away a pleasant afternoon by watching the fashionables on horseback. It is vastly entertaining. Look over there; that poor creature can hardly stand for the two comely dames he has on his back.”

“Ah, yes, that is most amusing, though for myself, there is nothing so delightful as a horseback ride for two in my opinion, especially if you can share a saddle. Now wouldn’t that be a prospect, Miss Bennet? I am sure you would enjoy a ride with me above all else!” Mr Wickham twirled his cane with a flick of his wrist. “However,” he went on, “press me not, I am unable to oblige today. I have important matters to attend, and in any case, I have promised Miss Westlake a turn in a donkey cart first.”

Lydia regarded Mr Wickham’s countenance, so smug and selfsatisfied. He presumed too much if he thought that she would instantly say yes to his suggestion. She was most vexed to be considered only as an afterthought to Miss Westlake. He was full of his own importance, she decided, and determined right there and then that, if he ever should suggest they go out on horseback or in a donkey cart for two, she would refuse immediately. She was on the point of answering with a cutting retort when he started again, leaving her to gape with her mouth wide open.

“No, I must go,” he announced, clicking his heels. “I can spend no longer standing here in idle chatter; our Colonel awaits me! I look forward to tomorrow evening, and Miss Bennet, if you stop scowling and smile pleasantly at me, I shall engage you for the first two dances. Good day, Mrs Forster.” With a short bow he set off at a march along the promenade before Lydia had a chance to answer him. She left her friend in no doubt of what she thought of his behaviour.

“Well, of all the conceited, arrogant . . . good Lord! That man is the end! He thinks he has only to say the word and I shall jump. Well, I will not! I shall endeavour to dance all night with Denny and Chamberlayne or indeed anyone who might wish to partner me but Mr Wickham!”

Fortunately, by the evening, Lydia’s spirits were restored at the prospect of some dancing, so for the moment, Mr Wickham was forgotten. By the time she was dressed in her new gown—a gift from her mama, the most heavenly, snow-white, spotted muslin that she had ever beheld—she was feeling thrilled with her appearance, especially when she considered that the Captain might be in attendance to see her look so well. To finish off, she had kid gloves and her new fan, her hair was all tumbled in curls around her head, interlaced with white beads and silver leaves, sent very kindly by her Aunt Gardiner from the shops in London. A pair of shoe roses, another treat from her mama, were stitched to her satin shoes—festoons of pink and white striped silk, edged in silver thread to match. Harriet, who looked a picture in Pomona satin, arrived at her door with Henry to set out for the promenade upon the Steyne at the fashionable hour. Their party was soon united with the officers, all looking most dashing in their evening clothes. Lydia was begged for half a dozen dances before they had even entered the Assembly Rooms, which were so magnificent in their splendour, she was forced to stop talking for two whole minutes as she stood enthralled before the majestic scene. Beautiful chandeliers sparkled above their heads, illuminating the spangles and silver trim on the ladies’ gowns, adding a flicker of fairyland magic to their glittering flower-dressed tresses.

Lydia was pleased that Mr Denny first begged her to dance before anyone else had a chance to whisk her away, but then as they came off the floor, Mr Wickham appeared at her side to take her hand. “Miss Bennet, dear sweet creature, may I beg the second dance as Mr Denny appears to have got in before me. As you are Brighton’s most popular partner, there may not be another chance, so please do not break my heart.”

She had the awful feeling that he was laughing at her. As she opened her mouth to answer, she was halted by his arresting glance. He had stopped smirking to pause for a moment, before he steadily perused Lydia’s form, from the top of her headdress to her satin slippers. His frank expression was of such marked desire that she was taken completely by surprise. She felt almost naked under his scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unable for once, to say a word. “I do hope you will forgive me this indulgence, Miss Lydia,” he began again, “but I cannot let this moment pass without telling you what pleasure it gives a fellow to see such beauty and animation in one so young. Your complexion is so becomingly flushed, and those black eyes, which promise so much—why it does my heart good. I should say Brighton’s air is suiting you already. It has put quite a bloom to your cheeks!”