Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (32 page)

“But what is to be done about Pemberley?” asked Mrs. Gardiner. “John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for us.”

“Yes, and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. That is all settled.”

Everything relating to their journey was speedily arranged and they were to be off as soon as possible. Elizabeth, after all the misery of the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn.

“I
HAVE BEEN THINKING IT OVER again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle, as they drove from the town, “and upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined to judge as your eldest sister does on the matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying with his colonel’s family. I am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk.”

“Do you really think so?” Elizabeth brightened for a moment.

“Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I begin to be of your uncle’s opinion. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly believe Wickham capable of it?”

“Not of neglecting his own interest, but of every other neglect I can believe him capable. Why should they not go on to Scotland if that had been the case?”

“There is no absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland,” replied Mr. Gardiner.

“Oh, but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such a presumption,” said Elizabeth. “And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the Barnet road.”

“Well, then, suppose them to be in London. They may be there, though for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. It is not likely that money should be very abundant on either side. It might strike them that they could be more economically, though less expeditiously, married in London than in Scotland.”

“But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their marriage be private? Oh, no, no — this is not likely. His most particular friend, you see by Jane’s account, was persuaded of his never intending to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia — what attraction has she beyond youth, health, and good humor that could make him, for her sake, forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a dishonorable elopement with her, I am not able to judge for I know nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has no brothers to step forward, and he might imagine, from my father’s indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in his family that he would do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do in such a matter.”

“But can you think Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him as to consent to live with him on any terms other than marriage?”

“It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed,” replied Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, “that a sister’s sense of decency and virtue in such a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young. She has never been taught to think on serious subjects, and for the last half-year, nay, for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way. Since the militia was first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She has been doing everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject to give greater susceptibility to her feelings, which are naturally lively enough. And we all know Wickham has every charm that can captivate a woman.”

“Jane does not think so very ill of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt,” said her aunt.

“Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be their former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt, till it was proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is. He has been profligate in every sense of the word. He has neither integrity nor honor and is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.”

“And do you really know all this?” asked Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.

“I do indeed,” replied Elizabeth, coloring. “I told you, the other day, of his infamous behavior to Mr. Darcy. You yourself, when last at Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other circumstances which I am not at liberty — which it is not worthwhile to relate — but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From what he said of Miss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found her.”

“But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what you and Jane seem so well to understand?”

“Oh, yes, that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the Militia was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight’s time. As that was the case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make our knowledge public. What use could it apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the neighborhood had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me.”

“When they all removed to Brighton you had no reason to believe them fond of each other?”

“Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either side. When first he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him, but so we all were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first two months, but he never distinguished her by any particular attention. Consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became her favorites.”

It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this subject, by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey.

Lydia did not care about anything outside the small confines of the room. She did not see the dust along the corners of the rough-hewn wood floorboards, nor the bare walls, nor did she detect the foul smoke that had permanently settled into the air. To her, all of these things did not matter for she felt like the most perfect of queens; for she was in love with Wickham, and even more so with the romantic idea of her having run away with him. How jealous her sisters would be when they found out! That was her only regret, not seeing their jealous expressions when it had been discovered what she had done — for surely they would be jealous, especially Elizabeth who had tried to get Wickham for herself and failed. Oh, how Lizzy liked to lecture her. Well, let that haughty sister see her now! And, Kitty, poor Kitty would be so shocked — almost as badly as the time she’d caught Lydia in flagrante delicto. Lydia had to threaten Kitty to keep her quiet, telling her she would inform their mother that she saw Kitty on her knees in front of the married Colonel.

Lydia looked down her naked body and giggled. “Well, perhaps not at this exact moment I should like my sisters to see me.”

Crossing the room, she took up Wickham’s discarded jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. She loved wearing his uniform, even if doing so made him a little cross with her. The thick material rubbed along her breasts, sending small ripples of pleasure throughout her body. She liked keeping herself aroused for her Wickham, for the rewards of such a scheme were great. No man could resist a woman once they discovered her sex was wet and ready. Their cockerels simply would not allow it.

Out of all her lovers, Wickham was by far the best — though he did not know of the others and she had no intention of ever telling him. Men seemed to enjoy thinking themselves the first to conquer her virginity — though on the rare occasion, she took a lover like Sykes, who she did not have to pretend with. Perhaps it was the soldier in them, but they all wore the same expression of pride and vanity on their face as they lay claim to her maidenhead. Sometimes, when she had nothing better to do, she would think over their words and deeds, comparing how they made love. The first time was often tutorial, as they taught her how to be with a man. The next times were better, each time a little more eager and rough, and all the more daring. For by that time, after a half dozen promiscuous undertakings, she could subtly look at them in a way that made them know what she was thinking. She did it purposefully when they were unable to get to her — across crowded ballrooms, while dining, while marching. She liked knowing her lovers thought of her all day, and when finally they came together, the man was already mad with the itch, and would take her in the most peculiar places. Her favorite was when Wickham took her behind the curtain at a ball in Brighton. That is the moment she knew she loved him, when she had teased him to the point of being overbold.

“Where are you?” she muttered, imagining herself quite miserable without him. He had been gone for nearly half-an-hour to retrieve food. Pacing the floor, she let the uniform jacket tease her flesh, caressing nipples, brushing along her ass. It smelled of Wickham and the sensations combined forced a small shutter of excitement to course through her.

At that moment, the door opened and the object of her lust appeared carrying a tray with bread and cheese. He frowned slightly to see her in his jacket, but said nothing as he locked them in and sat down the tray. He, himself, wore only his shirt, breeches and boots, for the walk to the inn’s kitchen was not far.

“Mm, Wickham, what took you so long? I am famished!” She pouted her lower lip, not bothering to pull the jacket closed to hide her body from view. “I almost went after you to scold you for keeping me waiting.”

“Perhaps you should eat then, Miss Bennet,” he answered.

Lydia gave him a wicked smile as she marched towards him in exaggerated steps. When she came face to chest with him, she looked up at him through her lashes. “I suppose then I have no choice but to obey your orders, sir.”

Before he could speak, she reached for his pants and pretended to fumble as she undid them. Her hand slid onto his hard arousal and squeezed. She licked her lips, slowly stroking them with her tongue. His pants fell to his feet. Guiding him by his hips, she turned him toward the bed and made him walk backwards to it. His legs hit the mattress and she pushed, aggressively forcing him onto his back.

She crawled next to him. Wickham breathed heavily. His body was ready, his arousal towering from his hips. He reached for her, pulling her by the back of her head so that her mouth met the tip of his desire. When she endeavored to speak, he pushed her down, and said, “There is a good soldier.”

Lydia obliged him for a moment, letting her mouth pull against his shaft. But, she was greedy and did not want to give all the passion away. As soon as his fingers loosened their hold, she pulled her lips off him and instantly moved to straddle his waist. She tugged at his shirt, wrinkling it in her fists. Warm hands ran along the backs of her thighs and she threw back her head to laugh, reveling in her wicked behavior. Her heart pounded and she was rather more interested in the arching and thrust of her own body than his. She pouted her lips, loving the power she felt over men; it was almost better than the pleasure they gave her. As she took him into her body, she knew the ultimate woman’s control. When they had sex she could get him to agree to anything. That is how she persuaded him to buy her pretty things, like ribbons and gloves. That is how she got him to say he loved her. That is how she got him to agree to run away with her — a most thrilling idea if she did think so herself.

“Oh, my Wickham,” she purred, laughing at what she perceived to be her own cleverness and authority. The pressure inside her built, forcing her to close her eyes as all thoughts flittered out of her head. She rocked her hips, rolling them in small circles. When finally she came, pleasure and tension washing over her in perfect unison, Lydia collapsed against his chest. She did not care that he still moved beneath her, that he had not finished his own release. She had gotten what she wanted from him. Now, perhaps, she would demand they marry. Or, perhaps, she would demand a new hat or dress. They could always get married on the morrow, and she imagined having a secret lover was much more exciting than having a husband, for every pretty woman eventually had one of those and Lydia fancied herself more special than other pretty ladies.