The Pursuit of Mary Bennet (2 page)

Chapter 2

S
omething akin to laughter gurgled up from my diaphragm and burst out as a mixture of snort and giggle. I clapped my hand over my mouth to prevent it from happening again.

“Oh!” Mama said, collapsing upon the chaise.

“Lydia, what is the meaning of this?” My father’s stern look revealed exactly how he felt about Lydia’s unexpected arrival. Ever since she’d disgraced the family by running off with Mr. Wickham, while Papa and my uncle Gardiner searched the whole of London trying to find them, he had not been kindly disposed toward my sister or her husband.

“The drinking and gambling I can tolerate, although I don’t like him squandering our money. But I do not think I can bear to live with a man who prefers the company of other women!” She began to cry, her carefree guise crumbling along with her countenance.

I softened. “Do sit down, sister,” I said, leading Lydia to the nearest chair. “This turmoil cannot be good for you or your child.”

Papa asked Mrs. Hill to bring refreshments for Lydia, and when her crying let up, she explained the details of her situation. “There is a certain lady who, in recent months, began to appear at assemblies, and at private balls and parties as well. A Miss Susan Bradford. She is a particular friend of the general’s wife, and indeed, since I’ve been in this condition”—at this she gave a smart slap to her bulging belly—“she has replaced me in that lady’s affections. In Wickham’s affections, too, I fear. He spends all his time by her side at any party or dinner and dances with her at the balls. When I called his attention to it, he made a show of waiting only on me the next time we were in company. But he soon returned to his old ways. He said I shouldn’t begrudge him a little fun when I’m with child and cannot dance.”

“This is scandalous, Lydia!” Mama said. “Mr. Bennet, you must speak to Wickham immediately!”

“Does your husband know you are here?” Papa asked.

“I left him a note.”

“Shouldn’t you have spoken to him before rushing off?” I inquired. When Lydia eloped with Wickham, she had informed her chaperones by means of a note, and now, in leaving him, she had done the same. Rash decisions followed by hastily penned notes seemed to be her preferred way of managing difficult situations.

“Oh, hush, Mary. You’re only a spinster. What do you know of dealings between men and women? I am sure it will be a great relief to him to have me gone.”

Indeed, and who would fault him for that?

“Dear Wickham loves you, Lydia! I am sure you are wrong to have done this. Oh, what shall I do when news of this gets out? Mr. Bennet, you must leave for Newcastle immediately.”

“I shall do no such thing.” He strode out of the room, shaking his head and muttering to himself. I fully expected him to remain sequestered in his library for the rest of the day, and he did not disappoint.

M
y mother put it about to friends and neighbors that Lydia had come to Longbourn to await the birth of her child. Since Mr. Wickham was busy with military duties and didn’t know when he might be called away to defend the English coast against a French attack, this seemed a reasonable way to explain her presence. After all, there was a war with France going on. With a good deal of cajoling from both Mama and myself, Papa agreed to write to Wickham and demand an explanation. I, because my mother’s nerves caused her to take to her bed, wrote to both Jane and Elizabeth.

If Lydia was disturbed that her husband had not communicated with her, she hid it well. While penning my missives to my sisters, I pondered this. Was Lydia simply putting on a brave face? I sniggered and continued writing. Bravery wasn’t a characteristic one associated with my youngest sister.

Out of sorts because Kitty was at High Tor, Lydia spent the next several days lying on the chaise and bemoaning her fate, grumbling about everything. “Oh, la, this baby is kicking me all the time. I cannot sleep for it,” she said one afternoon.

My mother had gone to Lucas Lodge and Papa to his library, leaving the two of us alone. I was reading, or trying to. “That is what babies do, is it not?”

“What do you know about it? Nothing! Nor will you ever.”

I tossed my book aside, realizing I couldn’t give it sufficient attention while Lydia prattled on. I was eager to read it—Mr. Southey’s
Life of Nelson
. My father had recommended it. But it would have to wait while I dealt with my sister’s grievances.

Lydia continued with her complaints. “Kitty’s having all the fun while I wither away with boredom. And she has a man! Henry . . . Walker, is it?”

“Walsh,” I said, correcting her, ducking my head so Lydia would not notice the rapid coloring of my face.

“Oh, you’ve met him then? Do tell me all about him, Mary! Does he return Kitty’s affection?”

I remembered Lydia’s barb, that I knew nothing about dealings between men and women. “As I am such a poor judge of these things, perhaps you would be better off asking Kitty.”

Lydia’s mind had already fluttered back to her own state, so my words had no effect. “Can we not walk to Meryton?”

“In your condition, you shouldn’t be walking anywhere. And I’m quite certain you would not want to be seen in public right now.”

“Since when have you become such a know-it-all?”

I chose not to answer. “Would you like to sew some clothing for the babe?” I asked instead. “I could walk to town and purchase fabric. Or wool, if you would rather knit. You need only tell me what is required.” This was something of no interest whatsoever to me, but if I walked to Meryton, I would be spared Lydia’s company.

“Lord, no! The regiment wives who breed one child after the other forced me to sew every day. I have enough clothes for a dozen babies. Not that I expect to have another one. Depend upon it, I don’t intend to let Wickham anywhere near my bed.”

Hearing of Lydia and Mr. Wickham’s intimate life made me wince with embarrassment. “Lydia, please don’t speak of such things.”

Just then, Mrs. Hill shadowed the threshold and I looked up. “Mr. Bennet wishes to see you in the library, miss.”
What now?

“Come back when you’re done with Papa!” Lydia said. “I crave company, and must make do with you.”

Visions of biting her head off and throwing it to the pig danced through my mind as I left the room.

“Close the door, Mary, please,” Papa said as I entered his library. “I received this by special messenger.” With a pale countenance, he held out a letter and asked me to read it. I couldn’t account for his serious demeanor and felt a twinge of fear in my stomach. Had something happened to Jane or Lizzy? But when I glanced at him, he said, “It’s from Wickham.”

2 March

My dear Mr. Bennet,

Allow me to express my great regret at what has transpired. That my wife chose to leave my home proves to me what I have long suspected. I am sorry to tell you what I know will cause you and all of the family pain, but I have no choice but to come out with it. I do not believe I am the father of the child Lydia carries. As it grieves me to mention this disturbing turn of events, perhaps Lydia can be prevailed upon to give you the particulars.

For now, I think it best that Lydia remain at Longbourn. I wish only the best for my wife and the child.

Yours, etc.

George Wickham

To say I was stunned could not be overstating my feelings. Indeed, I didn’t know what to say to Papa.
“I am sorry to hear Lydia has added adultery to her other sins”? “Unforgivable of Lydia to give you a grandchild of questionable paternity”?
After what seemed like a very long time, I said softly, “Can this be true, Papa?”

“When it comes to Lydia’s behavior, there is little I cannot believe. But we know Wickham’s character, and I am not fool enough to accept his version of the matter without questioning Lydia.”

“Have you told Mama?”

“No. I will see Lydia first. Now, before your mother returns from her calls. Perhaps she need not be told, at least for the present. But I harbor no illusions, Mary. This will not be a pretty business no matter who is at fault.”

“What do you wish me to do, sir?”

“Because this is a matter of such . . .
sensitivity,
I would like you to be present at my interview with Lydia.”

“She won’t like it.”

“I am not inclined to worry about offending her. She has shown such a want of good judgment and manners, she can have no say in the matter.”

“Shall I summon her now?”

He nodded, and I left the room in some agitation. To think that Lydia had returned to Longbourn and laid all the blame at her husband’s feet! Did she not know she would soon be found out? As always, she thought of nobody but herself. Apparently she had not considered how this would hurt my parents, or me and my sisters. They, who had hoped that marriage, even to Wickham, would force her to behave with more decorum. What a mistaken notion that had been.

She was still reclined on the chaise, dozing. “Lydia,” I said. “Papa wishes to speak with us in the library.”

“La! What for? I’m resting.”

“He received a letter from Wickham this morning. Perhaps—”

The blood drained from Lydia’s face. “Never mind, I shall go. But there’s no need for you to be present, Mary.” She pulled herself up with great effort. When I tried to assist her, she waved me away.

I followed her down the stairs, and when we reached the bottom, she repeated her admonition. “I’m sorry, Lydia, but Papa requested my presence.”

“Why does
she
have to be here?” Lydia asked as we entered the library.

My father, brows pulled together, looked very grave. Ignoring her question, he motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk, and my sister and I sat. After handing her the letter, he said, “I received this from your husband this morning. I would like you to read it.”

She read, and tossed the missive onto the desk when she was finished.

“Well, Lydia, what have you to say?” Papa asked.

She started. She stammered and sputtered. Papa waited, and after a long while, she began to speak.

“You will take his part. I knew it would be that way.”

“I’ve taken nobody’s part. I am trying to get at the truth. Does Wickham have reason to believe you are carrying another man’s child?” I lowered my head, not wishing to see the shame on my father’s face. How it must have embarrassed him to be forced to confront his daughter about such a flagrant breech of conduct!

“No!” Her mouth snapped shut, but after prolonged glowering by my father, it opened again. “That is to say, maybe.”

“Lydia!” I said. I realized then I had hoped it wasn’t true. That my sister would deny it. That even she could not have committed such an egregious sin.

“Explain yourself, daughter,” Papa demanded.

Lydia’s expression looked unsettled and, with some effort, she half rose from her chair, then sat again, her demeanor rapidly changing as she prepared to defend herself. “Why shouldn’t I have a little fun, when my own husband was bedding another woman? If Wickham could ignore me and be seen about town with
her
on his arm, why should I not please myself?”

I interrupted. “You said—implied—that his association with Miss Bradford occurred
after
you knew you were with child.”

Lydia gave me a disgusted look. “Well, I may have done, but that was not precisely the case.”

Papa shot up from his chair. “What, then,
was
precisely the case? Answer me now, Lydia. Is your husband the father of your child or not?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said defiantly. “That is the truth.”

I took in a sharp breath. Papa leaned into his desk, propping himself up with his hands. “You foolish, foolish girl,” he said. “Get out of my sight.”

Lydia hauled herself up the rest of the way and left the room, just as the rumble of carriage wheels sounded out front.

Chapter 3

I
heard Jane’s voice in the entryway. “Don’t bother announcing us,” she said. Then someone else called, “Lydia!”

Kitty. She must have come with Jane from High Tor, and Lydia had brushed past them in her flight.

Papa hadn’t moved; it was as though his hands were stuck to the desk. But at the sound of Jane’s voice, he rose. “I never thought Lydia could cause the family any more harm or disgrace herself more than she already has. I see I was wrong. Apparently there is no end to her folly.”

“Papa?” Jane entered the room while Kitty, presumably, ran after Lydia. “What has happened? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Believe me, my dear, a ghost would be preferable. It would likely mean I was having a nightmare from which I could awake. Leave me, please, girls.”

“Some brandy would help, perhaps?”

“No, Jane. I desire nothing but to be left alone.”

“At least sit down, sir.”

He glared, and Jane and I hurried out of the library and into the downstairs sitting room. My sister removed her bonnet and gloves, and when she was seated, said, “What could Wickham have been thinking? How could he hurt Lydia in this way?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”
Nor the worst of it,
I thought.

“You had better tell me, then.”

And so I did, revealing to her the contents of Wickham’s letter and Lydia’s shocking response to Papa’s question. Tears glistened in Jane’s eyes. She bowed her head and when she looked up asked, “Does my mother know?”

I shook my head. “But she’s due home directly. There is no way to keep it from her, although before Papa had the truth from Lydia, I think he thought of doing so.” I gave my sister a questioning look. “Why have you come, Jane?” I asked.

She half-smiled. “I thought to be of some help. And I intended to swap Kitty for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kitty was to stay here with Lydia, and you were to return to High Tor with me. Those two have always been thick as a pair of conniving thieves, and I daresay if anyone were to hear the whole tale from Lydia, it would be Kitty. But now I think you both must leave.”

“Oh,” I said softly. But I did not wish to go to High Tor, where I would be separated from my books and my solitude. Although, truth to tell, my solitude had been shattered by Lydia’s presence. Always demanding I sit with her, and then abusing me when I did.

“What news from Elizabeth?” Jane asked.

“None so far.”

“I can only imagine what Mr. Darcy will say about this. After all he did for Wickham and Lydia, this is how he is repaid.”

When Lydia ran off with Wickham, there was some question as to whether or not marriage was intended. Our family had been thrown into hopelessness and near panic. Mr. Darcy, the closest thing to a relative Wickham could claim, located the couple and arranged for their wedding. He settled an additional thousand pounds on Lydia, apart from what she was to receive from Papa, and also made good on Wickham’s debts. To secure their future—or perhaps that of our sister—he purchased a commission for Wickham. In doing so, he received all the respect and gratitude due him from our family. And if Elizabeth still harbored doubts about loving him, Mr. Darcy’s discreet handling of the matter had banished them.

Jane leaned back and rested her head on the chair. “What is to be done?”

Clearly she did not expect an answer, but I made one anyway. “Lydia will remain here until her child is born. We can keep up the lie Mama has already put about, that Mr. Wickham’s military duties prevent him from being at her side. In the meantime, Mr. Darcy can pay a visit to Newcastle and try to talk some sense into him, and perhaps ascertain more accurately the circumstances.”

Jane stared at me. “Why, Mary, I believe you are right. If Mr. Darcy will agree, that would be just the thing. Although we have no right to expect it of him, he will most likely feel it his duty. I do not envy Lizzy having to be the one to tell him all of this.”

“Nor I. Jane, I—” As I was about to raise objections to staying at High Tor, we heard a commotion from the entryway—Mama arriving home from her visit to Lady Lucas.

“Jane is here?” she asked the butler. “And Kitty, too, you say?” She swept into the room and embraced my sister. “Oh, dear Jane, I should have known you would come. My poor Lydia! What Wickham has done is unspeakable.” She shed her wrap and rang the bell for tea. “But where are the other girls?”

Neither Jane nor I answered, and she looked about her, as though they were hiding and would soon pop out and surprise her. I glanced pointedly at Jane, who said, “There is more bad news, Mama. You’d better be seated.”

“More bad news? Is someone sick or injured? Is your David all right? Lizzy’s twins? Oh, do not keep me in suspense!” She flopped down on the chaise, her face having turned quite pale.

“No, be assured the children are all well.” She hesitated a moment.

“What then?”

“It concerns Lydia and Wickham, Mama. Mr. Wickham wrote to Papa and . . . and accused Lydia of being unfaithful to him. He does not believe himself to be the father of her child.”

“Good heaven!” Mama slumped the length of the chaise, and I hurried over to make sure she hadn’t truly swooned. “That blackguard! Such a falsehood! He has never told the truth in his life!” She hoisted herself up and said, “What’s the matter with you, Mary? Why are you staring at me?”

I jumped back. “I was only making sure you were well.”

Mrs. Hill entered the room with the tea and Jane poured. I handed Mama a cup and said, “When Papa asked Lydia directly, she confessed that she didn’t know who the father of her child was.” There. It was said. Mama would simply have to accept it.

A long, pitiful wail escaped her lips. It sounded quite similar to the baying of a hound scenting his prey. “How could this be happening to me? Don’t my own children care about the condition of my nerves? And my dear Lydia, how could she have behaved so shamefully?”

The familiar sounds of giggling and chattering from my two younger sisters emanated from the stairway, and very shortly afterward they entered the room.

“Jane! You
would
come,” Lydia said. “I’m only surprised Lizzy is not with you. And Mama, see who Jane has brought home! Now I shall not be so bored.”

“What is wrong, Mama?” Kitty asked. “Are you ill?”

“How can you ask such a thing, you stupid girl?”

From the dumbfounded look on Kitty’s face and the question she put to my mother, I deduced that Lydia hadn’t informed Kitty of her latest indiscretion.

“Lydia, I would never have thought this of you,” Mama said. “How could you?”

“What is she talking about?” Kitty asked, looking from one of us to the other.

“To think that I believed you happily married and settled! How could you have deceived me in this way?”

“Good God, would someone please tell me what has happened?” Kitty shouted.

“Lydia does not know who the father of her child is,” I said bluntly. That quieted everybody.

“Mary, you need not state it in that way,” Mama said.

“What other way is there? Lydia herself owned to it; I was merely repeating it for Kitty’s benefit.”

Kitty jerked around to face Lydia. “Who else if not Wickham? He is your husband.”

Will Lydia now catalog all her lovers? Could there be more than one?

“Lord above! As if I didn’t know that,” Lydia said. “He’s the one who seems to have forgotten.”

Jane rose. “Everyone, hush! This is not a fit subject for discussion in front of Mary and Kitty. The last thing we need to hear about is . . . well, never mind.” She folded her hands in front of her and paced the room for a moment, during which time no one broke the silence, not even Mama.

“Kitty, you must return to High Tor with me, and Mary, you as well. It’s not proper for either of you to stay here at present, while Lydia’s . . .
situation
is under discussion.”

Kitty looked horrified. “But I don’t want to! Mr. Walsh has gone away.”

“You cannot leave me here by myself,” Lydia protested. “It would be unbearable. Kitty must stay.”

“Yes, please,” Kitty said, Lydia’s little echo.

“
I
will not permit both Mary and Kitty to leave, and therefore, neither will Mr. Bennet. Not one of you selfish girls has considered my feelings in the matter,” Mama said.

“Dear Mama, both Lydia and my father will be here, and you have the servants to look after you,” replied Jane.

“This is not to be borne! Mr. Bennet is useless in these situations! And what if the babe should come? I’m no midwife.”

No, more a fishwife,
I thought unkindly.

“We must engage a midwife for the birth. You have about a month left until your lying-in, do you not, Lydia? When the babe’s birth is imminent, either Elizabeth or I will come and attend you as well,” Jane said.

“I shall come to High Tor, too,” Lydia announced. “I would like it above all things.”

“You most certainly shall not,” Jane said through clenched teeth. “Now, Mary and I will go and have a talk with Papa and inform him of our decision. I’m sure he will agree we are doing what’s best for all concerned.”

Jane’s authority was something to behold. Indeed, I believed she was the only daughter from whom my mother would countenance such talk. Marriage and motherhood had bestowed a new dignity upon her. “Come, Mary,” she said, and I followed, although I didn’t relish speaking to Papa when such a dark mood was on him. And if he adopted his usual indifferent manner in such affairs, I was not at all certain he would exert himself enough to go against Mama’s wishes.

As we took our leave, I heard my mother say, when she believed we were out of hearing, “Lydia, you sly thing, tell us about the other man.”

Jane stopped in her tracks, her face blanching. She pressed her lips together tightly, and for a moment I thought she would turn back. But then she grasped my hand and together we sought out my father.

She knocked lightly before opening the door. In a few minutes, she had explained everything. To my surprise, Papa agreed with the plan in its entirety.

“You’ve heard nothing from Elizabeth today?” Jane asked him.

“I have not. I suppose I should write and inform her of the latest . . . developments,” he said wryly. “Darcy will be furious.”

“He has every right to be,” Jane replied.

“Just so.”

“Sir, can you speak with my mother?”

“Concerning what?”

Jane slid her eyes toward me, as if to confirm that I, too, heard Mama’s remark. I gave her a slight nod. “We informed her of Lydia’s indiscretion, and as Mary and I left the sitting room, she was overheard asking Lydia to tell her about ‘the other man’! Really, this is too much, even for her.”

“I am sensible of the unsuitability of such talk,” he said, “but I exercise no control over your mother.”

“You could if only you would take the trouble, Papa,” I put in. “She would never go against your directive.”

Papa and Jane looked at me, both with shocked expressions.

“What?” I asked, looking from one to the other.

Jane bit her bottom lip, looking as if she were suppressing a laugh. “You are very forthright, Mary.”

I took it as a criticism and cringed inside. It was the kind of remark I used to offer so freely, but at present I was attempting to break the habit. Everybody said it was unbecoming.

“Thank you, Mary,” Papa said, “for your sage advice. But it has been many years since my wife has listened to me. You will be gone to High Tor, removed from disgrace, and thus will be protected. Let us leave it at that.”

I thought, for just a moment, I glimpsed tears in his eyes, so I said nothing further. As never before, I noticed the heavy pockets of flesh under his eyes and the deep furrows between his brows. He was growing old. Old and defeated by the antics of his youngest daughter.

“Very well, sir,” Jane said. “But Mama should not allude to this with Lydia. It gives the appearance of sanctioning her behavior.”

“Thank you both for your concern. Jane, I think you must remove to High Tor with Kitty and Mary as soon as possible.”

Jane’s eyes caught mine and she heaved a weighty sigh. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I believe we have no other choice.”