Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (34 page)

Elizabeth knew she had just witnessed the evidence that Netherfield Park was let at last—and to a young unmarried man. Becky had written to expect Mr Bingley to arrive in the neighbourhood shortly after Michaelmas. Lizzy could not imagine what had prompted her to wave. With any luck, by the time she met the new tenant of the neighbouring estate, she would be long gone from his memory—and her act should not jeopardize his opinion of her sister. Would he be the one for Jane, or would he break her heart? There were two men… Which one had leased Netherfield, and who was the other?

25 MORE GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Lydia Bennet smiled at her reflection. She pinched her cheeks as her stomach quivered with excitement. Tonight’s assembly would be her first time fully out in society. As usual, her father and Elizabeth would not be attending. She wished they would reconsider, as it would make this momentous milestone so much more auspicious to have her entire family with her.

Papa had stopped going to assemblies with Jane and Mrs Bennet when Elizabeth came home from Derbyshire. She had returned an heiress—determined never to wed. Why would a young woman not want to marry? Lydia changed the position of a red silk rose in her hair as she considered the wonders of becoming married —the most delicious part would surely be choosing the wedding clothes. On her day to shine, she would wear the most beautiful gown—no bonnet for her. It would be summer and she would wear a crown of real white roses. Her husband would wear his scarlet coat; and all her family and neighbours would admire her as the loveliest bride Meryton had ever seen. Lydia scraped her teeth across her full lips to heighten their natural crimson colour. As her finger tip soothed away the sting, she wondered what it would feel like to be kissed.

The youngest of the five Bennet daughters was very proud of being the tallest—not just the tallest at fifteen, but the tallest. Lydia was a striking combination of the darkest hair and the lightest eyes of her sisters. They all shared an abundance of curls, but Lydia’s was a unique glossy ebony hue, and the pale blue of her eyes was offset by dark brows and long silky lashes. Though barely fifteen, she looked older than Kitty, who had turned sixteen more than three months earlier. As she admired her upswept locks, she recalled that her sister Elizabeth had looked like a child at her age. Lydia’s mature looks and pleasing stout figure caused her to be noticed by the young officers of the militia during her frequent trips to Meryton. She revelled in their admiration.

As Lydia had anticipated her first assembly, she had queried Lizzy as to why she did not want to attend balls. It was an attempt to persuade her to make an appearance at her big night, but her sister had been quite adamant. “It is a waste to make myself available for dancing with men if I have no intention of ever marrying. Besides, this is your night to shine, sweet sister. The oddity of my being there would cause people to talk about me instead of you.” Lydia had readily agreed after hearing Elizabeth’s wise words. But still, she would not even dance at a neighbour’s house party. There were times it seemed her sister disliked men, but her observations told her that was not true. Elizabeth’s affection for John Reynolds was obvious; even if it was also evident she loved him as a brother.

There was definitely a mystery about Lizzy. She had returned from Derbyshire changed and one of the most striking alterations was that she was determined to play advisor to her sisters. Though at first sceptical of her reasons, both her parents had eventually embraced and sometimes even augmented their daughter’s mission. Her father had even been moved to begin taking an active role in moulding his daughters—to ensure they were equipped to handle the ‘vagaries of life’ as he put it. Her mother, once she was persuaded by Lizzy that she and her sisters would be secure upon Mr Bennet’s demise, had even become a bit less frantic in her quest to marry them off. Lydia laughed as she recalled the tense days and the particularly grand exhibition of her mother’s famous nerves before she had finally agreed to allow Lizzy to forgo assemblies and balls.

When only Jane was out, the four remaining Bennet sisters had a party at home on the nights of the assemblies. Lizzy or Mary would play, and they would practice dancing. Sometimes Mr Bennet would participate and dance with his daughters. When the eldest Miss Bennet returned home, they always met in her room for a description of the participants and their attire. The conundrum for Lydia was that for five years, Elizabeth appeared to be a mixture of a wistful desire to participate, offset by some unfathomable fear.

Mary had finally joined Jane and Mrs Bennet in attendance. Mr Bennet had been able to persuade his wife to allow Mary one additional year before coming out; but shortly after her sixteenth birthday, her mother insisted she begin to attend with Jane. Kitty had followed a year later. Unlike Mary, she enjoyed dancing with many of the young men of the neighbourhood, but her mother and older sisters noticed that she always danced with John Reynolds twice.

Now it was Lydia’s turn. She had been allowed to purchase a new gown for the occasion. Kitty had drawn a design to her specification, and she had arrived at the local modiste’s with a firm vision in place. The bodice was white and the skirt was red with a shiny gold sash defining the waist. Her goal was to look exquisite while dancing with an officer in a scarlet coat. Her sisters had to agree, the dress was perfect, and she looked lovely. Jane loaned her a pair of red slippers, and Lizzy retrieved a red cloak with a hood she had not worn for years.

Propriety and the need to protect one’s reputation—as well as how to tell if a man was serious about pursuing an attachment were often the subject of the sisters’ late night discussions. Mary had encouraged her younger sisters to enjoy themselves when their time came to be out, but to be very careful in getting to know strangers. Lizzy would often reiterate her sister’s advice and encourage them to use Mary’s human balance sheet. Most importantly, she warned them to never rely on first impressions. Jane expressed her opinion of the goodness of most acquaintances, but also encouraged her sisters to be wary of giving their hearts away too easily. At almost every discussion, Lizzy felt the need to state that once out, they should never allow themselves to be alone with strangers… including women. To Lydia, Elizabeth and Jane both seemed overly cautious—but of different aspects of the path to matrimony. As she checked her appearance one last time, Lydia decided what was most important was the closeness the sisters shared and their ability to rely on each other for advice, encouragement and borrowing clothes.

Elizabeth had privately cautioned her not to be too forward. She had held Lydia’s hands as she said, “I know you will not act improperly, but I fear others might judge you harshly. So much of propriety is perception.”

“Lizzy, I promise to try to moderate my exuberance, but I am so excited. I want to dance every dance with as many men in scarlet coats as possible. My goal is not to marry for money or connections the way all the newspapers write about the
ton
in London. Such people, like the fellow who broke Jane’s heart, are
‘takers.’
My dream is to be like Charlotte and marry an officer. They are
‘givers.’
They make tremendous sacrifices for the rest of us—and they are as close to a knight in shining armour as I will ever meet.”

The night was beautiful… pleasantly mild with just a hint of crispness. Because of John’s size, there was not room for all seven to ride in the Bennet carriage comfortably, so Lydia, Kitty and John Reynolds decided to walk. Lydia and Kitty wore their boots with the intention of changing to their dancing slippers in the cloak room. The trio arrived only minutes behind Jane, Mr Collins, Mary and Mrs Bennet and just before a very imposing looking barouche pulled up before Meryton’s assembly hall. Lydia and Kitty giggled that they were sure it must be the Netherfield party and considered standing on the steps and gawking; but in the end they decided to hurry inside and change their shoes. Lydia, in particular, wanted to begin dancing as soon as possible.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was in a carriage on his way to a country assembly—cursing his luck that his friend Charles Bingley felt the need to mix with his new neighbours—and insisting he do the same. His agreement to come to Hertfordshire had been given with the understanding that he would aid Charles in learning the workings of the estate he had leased. The commitment was to last at least a month and possibly even longer. Luckily, he had the excuse of preparing for Bethany’s fifth birthday to ensure he was back in Derbyshire by the end of November. The thought of his daughter caused him to remember, how crucial his conference with her had been in accepting Charles’ invitation. She had sent him to Hertfordshire to rid himself of his anger and to look for a wife who made him laugh. Why had he listened to a child? She knew nothing of the difficulties in finding an appropriate partner. She believed it was all about signs from above—like Lewis and Sian. Besides, tonight he was in a foul mood thanks in large part to Bingley’s sister Caroline. Despite being in agreement with her that this rural assembly’s company was bound to be intolerable, it was obvious she planned to monopolize his time this evening.

Darcy enjoyed his friend’s company. His sisters were another matter. They thrived on gossip of the
ton,
discussion of the latest fashions and felt themselves superior to almost everyone. The Bingleys’ wealth had come from trade, but others would never discern it when listening to the ‘superior sisters’, as Darcy had dubbed them soon after making their acquaintance. They gave off airs suggesting their ancestors had been intimates of the Tudors and had estates and titles aplenty.

Bingley’s older sister, Louisa, was married to a rather indolent man of more fashion than means. They spent most of their time in town, living at their townhouse on Grosvenor Street. Charles’ younger sister, Caroline, had been left a sizable dowry and an annuity by her father. To Darcy it seemed Miss Bengley’s dream was to buy a husband who would either increase her consequence or her wealth. The best variation was that he would do both.

Darcy’s foul mood had not dissipated since he arrived in Hertfordshire, because it had been obvious for some time that he was high on Miss Bingley’s list of prospective bridegrooms. Her overly intimate manner toward him was wearing on his nerves. Even Bethany and Lewis had seen her motives. The thought of his daughter’s “interview” of Miss Bingley brought a smile. Still, as long as they were in company, he must walk a tight rope between civility for Charles’ sake and whatever he could think to do to discourage her for his sake.

Under most circumstances, Darcy might have enjoyed being in the country in October for some sport; but this year, he had too many worries and responsibilities pulling him. Bethany’s plan for helping his sister seemed ridiculous in retrospect. Georgiana had almost been persuaded to elope with George Wickham… of all people. His childhood playmate had a decidedly bad character, and nothing to recommend him except being the son of his father’s late steward. Darcy smarted with the recollection that he had been a favourite of George Darcy. His father had died never knowing he had been fooled by that scoundrel. Now Georgiana had been charmed by him when he purposely renewed his acquaintance with her at Ramsgate.

To make matters worse, the companion he had engaged for his sister, Mrs Younge, had been instrumental in Wickham’s plot to take advantage of Miss Darcy. The young widow had known George, and she had agreed to scheme with him to bring Georgiana into his company—perhaps even before he had hired her. Try as he would, he could not quell either his fury or his guilt. Colonel Fitzwilliam, on leave after being wounded in Spain and who shared guardianship of Georgiana with him, had chastised him for imprudently accepting Mrs Younge’s references without speaking personally with the writers of the letters. His inability to defend himself against Richard’s criticisms only made his guilt more acute. How could he tell Richard that he had hired the widow five years earlier as a travel companion for—how should he identify her—as Bethany’s mother? That was the last thing he wanted to discuss with his war-fatigued cousin. Mrs Watson had left to marry and he needed to find a replacement. It had been his belief that the widow’s conduct had been discreet and above reproach during that journey from Pemberley to London. With that in mind, he had hired her quickly when she applied.