Bad Miss Bennet (22 page)

Obviously the Count had recognised something in me. Perhaps I gave off an air of worldliness that marked me out from the simpering virgins being exhibited by their mamas. He saw me as someone helping to operate a clandestine gaming house in Portman Square. In addition I was forced to explain why I had posed as my sister in order to gain admission.

The Count was immediately full of apologies claiming that he was so overcome by my charms that he had forgotten himself. As he said these words he gave me a brilliant smile and spun me around the room again until I saw stars everywhere. When he slowed the pace somewhat he nodded at the glittering throng and remarked, ‘There are many highborn ladies here who are the mistresses of the most powerful men in the land.' And quite a few of the other kind I told myself silently.

The Count looked into my eyes, ‘Are you sure,
Cherie
, that you would not like to be my guest in Paris? It could be arranged with the utmost discretion.'

I fought another brief battle for my virtue and lost. How else could I achieve my ambition? Even Jerry had urged me to snare an aristocrat. I wondered if such a man might be a safer proposition than a banker. It was evident that the Count was not proposing marriage but his reluctance in that department might be overcome, I told myself. Stratagems. Stratagems were required.

The Count must have sensed that I was weighing the possibilities. He watched the expressions of doubt and longing which I knew were passing over my face. As if in a trance I heard myself accepting his proposal. As he led me back to Lord Finchbrook who was to escort me in to supper, the Count whispered, ‘Let us dine together soon and discuss the matter thoroughly. I leave London in three weeks.'

Of course I told the entire story to his lordship and asked for his advice immediately but my escort was not in quick thinking mode.

‘Pon my soul, madam, you are a fast worker and no mistake,' was his only reaction as he trifled with a trifle.

‘Yes, but should I go?' I pressed him as I tried to steer him away from the desserts.

‘I am not qualified to advise you, dear lady. Perhaps some enquiries should be made about this gentleman. I might be able to discover something from the Countess Lieven but it will take a little time – and courage. She is a formidable woman.' And with that I had to be content.

As we drove home his lordship declared that there had been a monstrous deal of stupid quizzing and commonplace conversation at the ball, as usual, but the trifle had been excellent.

In the cold light of the morning after, I realised that I had also forgotten about my brother-in-law. How could I present this new opportunity in a blameless light? Before breakfast I sat down to write to my sister Kitty telling her about the Count and the probability that I would join him in Paris. I would have to hesitate a little more for decency's sake but I knew I could not resist such an adventure.

Kitty had always been my confidante in the family and I knew she would be enthralled by my adventures. Not so my friends who left me in no doubt as to their opinions.

‘Lydia, are you telling me that you agreed to leave for Paris with a man you scarcely know? You have met him only three or four times, if my memory serves.' Selena's expression was one of mingled awe and outrage when we sat at breakfast next morning.

‘And a foreigner to boot,' Miles complained.

‘He is a diplomat,' I explained, ‘titled and charming – and he dances like a dream. I have promised to discuss the matter. I have not given a definite answer.' This was not strictly true but it was at least half true. There would be more discussion but in my heart I knew I had made a decision. I was not likely to receive a better offer in the near future.

‘It is obvious that this man does not intend to make you a respectable offer,' Selena sniffed, reading my mind once again. ‘You will achieve nothing with him except the ruin of your reputation.' Of course my friend was probably right but in the sober light of day I was beginning to realise that my expectations among the aristocracy would not include marriage. I would have to accept what was on offer.

For the rest of the day my friends warned and reproached me for my actions, emphasising that they could not escort me to Paris or rescue me if the situation deteriorated. ‘Unless we are lucky at the tables,' Miles added.

I scarcely paid any attention to their remarks. I was already plotting in my mind how I might present the situation to Darcy without exciting his suspicions. I could not afford to outrage him in any way. My parents might disapprove of my behaviour but they were not my main source of support. No matter how my fortunes turned in the future I needed to know that my finances would always be in place.

When the Count took me to dinner on the following evening everything was resolved. We dined in gilded privacy in one of the rooms at the embassy. I wore deep rose-coloured lace and he complimented me on my looks and my vivacity saying that I would be an ornament to Parisian society. He assured me in his delightful accent that French women in general were affected and boring in their conversation.

Ferenc promised me that I would receive a formal invitation to Paris from his mother. This would satisfy my family. He would arrange suitable lodgings for me.

‘Will your mother not wonder where I am if I do not arrive at her house?' I asked. The Count smiled. ‘My mother is elderly and forgets very quickly.'

The evening was agreeably romantic. As I prepared to leave, the Count drew me close. I felt his soft kisses on my eyelids and the tips of my ears, his fingers smoothing my hair and caressing my neck. He made no other attempt to seduce me before he handed me into a carriage. I told Selena that his behaviour toward me continued to be honourable.

‘To a degree only,' my friend gave a move of disapproval. ‘Why did he invite you to dine alone with him if he has honourable intentions? The news will be all over Portman Square tomorrow.' I refused to be cast down in any way. My future had not looked as promising for a long time.

All that remained was for me to visit Pemberley, beg or borrow more gowns from Lizzie, bid farewell to my parents en route and perhaps persuade my brother-in-law to give me some extra money for the trip. I had quite forgotten Lord Finchbrook in all this and when he called on us I was able to thank him once again for his kindness.

‘I owe it all to you,' I cried. ‘I knew that if I could appear at Almack's my life would change forever.'

He patted my hand and smiled saying, ‘I have heard nothing untoward about your Count. The Countess Lieven speaks highly of him. He is quite a high ranking diplomat, I believe.'

‘Do you not think it madness?' Selena demanded of the room. ‘You should not have encouraged her in this, my lord.' Finchbrook looked stricken at the thought of displeasing his goddess, but rallied when she added, ‘I do not blame you entirely. Lydia is so headstrong and she seems determined to be someone's mistress rather than a wife.'

I was infuriated at this cruel jibe, dear reader, considering that my friend had urged me into the bed of the Prince Regent and practically forced me into a Fleet marriage with a felon. Sometimes one's friends are not all one would wish for. As for me I could scarcely believe that my dream was about to come true. It was unfortunate that Lord Byron had moved on to Italy but our paths might yet cross. I had a great deal to confide to my journal that evening.

A few days later a page arrived from the embassy with an ornate invitation card embossed with the Count's coat of arms. Adelaide pronounced it a very fair piece of work. I think she was referring to the card rather than the Count, although he is a very handsome man. I have offered to take Adelaide with me to Paris. I shall certainly need a maid. She is thinking the matter over. I know she has become involved with a footman but she cannot resist a challenge, although she speaks unflatteringly of Frenchies.

I endured the long, tiresome journey to Derbyshire sustained by the thought of my forthcoming stay in the city of elegance. At last I had the opportunity to enter more rarefied social circles and who could say where that might lead? At least my daydreams of marrying into the aristocracy whiled away the tedium and discomfort of the long journey.

Chapter Eighteen

Pemberley, Summer 1816

Lizzie greeted me affectionately and I duly remarked on little Charles Fitzwilliam's progress. The child bears an unfortunate resemblance to his father. Many people find my brother-in-law handsome but I cannot see it myself. Mr Darcy appeared a little more mellow than usual probably because there are rumours of a forthcoming engagement between one of the neighbouring squires and Miss Georgiana Darcy. No doubt he will be pleased to have her off his hands. I feel a strange bond with the woman, part pity, part loathing – after all, we were both Wickham's cast offs, in a manner of speaking.

My invitation was acknowledged with a mixture of bewilderment and pleasure by my relatives. Miss Georgiana actually had the temerity to suggest that I might be invited to fulfil the role of companion to the dowager countess. She made this remark when we were gathered in the music room one evening, where she had carefully arranged herself alongside a marble statue of St Cecilia, the patron saint of music, in order to display herself to the best advantage in an elaborate new gown of silver tissue and lace. The effect was to make her resemble an outsize Christmas package. Only a wreath of holly berries and mistletoe was lacking, but she was vastly pleased with the ensemble.

‘You will be greatly favoured, Mrs Wickham.' She gave me a patronising smile, while her brother nodded in agreement. If only they knew.

When I was able to speak privately to my brother-in-law I was assured that my allowance would reach me in France. Lizzie gave me many warnings about the dangers of being a woman alone in a foreign city, although I do not know how she can presume any knowledge. She has never left these shores. Her honeymoon was spent touring Scotland.

During the following week mysterious packages arrived at the house addressed to me. They contained small gifts and knick-knacks guaranteed to please a lady. Fine gloves, an ivory fan, a beaded and jewelled reticule and an antique, miniature pack of playing cards were among the trinkets. These last were perhaps a joke at my expense. The Count sent messages with them assuring me of his devotion to my needs and of his admiration and respect for me. I carefully disguised them from the prying eyes of the family saying that they were necessities for the journey.

With the assistance of Lizzie's French maid I was able to refurbish my wardrobe somewhat. I prevailed upon the woman to teach Adelaide a few words of her language – she has decided to accompany me after all. The time passed less ill than I had anticipated. I doubted that I should be at Pemberley again for some time.

Perhaps I should have anticipated the disaster that was about to befall me but I am of a sunny and optimistic disposition. I always believe in a good outcome – a tendency often disappointed by reality. I was sitting alone in the library with a book open on my knees day-dreaming of my Parisian future when Mr Darcy stormed into the room waving a letter. His face turned purple and pale in turn and he appeared to be speechless with fury. He threw the letter into my lap and to my horror I saw that it was the one I had sent to Kitty. How could she have betrayed me? Is nothing – not even the bonds of sisterly devotion – sacred?

My brother-in-law found his voice as I clutched the arms of the chair in panic.

‘What is the meaning of this, madam?' he thundered. ‘What mindless folly and treachery are you planning? Thank goodness your sister has acquired a modicum of sense and decorum even if you have not!'

He went on in this vein for some time, reminding me of the circumstances of my marriage to Wickham and the disgrace narrowly avoided on that occasion. I was threatened with virtual imprisonment at Pemberley until I saw the error of my ways. There would be no communication with my friends in London unless I wished to forgo his protection and financial support. He stormed out of the room ordering me to attend a family conference later that day where my wickedness would be discussed by everyone.

I anticipated a biblical stoning at the very least. The servants would probably be allowed to throw rotten vegetables at me as I stood chained to a post wearing sackcloth. My imagination has always tended to the Gothic.

In the privacy of my room I wept bitter tears over Kitty's betrayal, the loss of my golden Parisian future, of the Count, of Jerry – even of Mr Getheridge. Would nothing ever be right in my life, and what should I do now? I had no doubt that Darcy had something unpleasant planned for me. I hoped that Lizzie would stand by me but I was learning a harsh lesson in family values.

I was summoned to the drawing room an hour before dinner. To my disgust, Georgiana Darcy was also present and sending speaking looks in my direction. Lizzie appeared to have been crying. Everyone stared at me as if I had been turned to stone.

After a few silent moments which seemed to contain aeons of recrimination, Mr Darcy remarked with startling originality, ‘What do you have to say for yourself, madam?'

‘I have nothing to say, sir,' I replied, more defiantly than I felt. ‘I am sure you will have enough to say for both of us.'

‘Oh, Lydia!' wailed Lizzie, ‘How could you, after all my husband has done for you?'

‘Indeed,' chimed in Georgiana in an unnaturally deep voice, ‘and at such a time, when my engagement is about to be announced.' She added a pathetic vocal wobble at the end of this sentence for maximum effect. So it was true – the little sister was finally to be sold off, pardon me, betrothed to a suitable spouse. No doubt Darcy paid a handsome dowry whereas I – I am distracted. My brother-in-law is speaking again.

‘If you cannot be trusted to live a normal respectable life as befits a gentlewoman there are only two options open to your relatives.'