I bristled. I didn’t require anyone’s approval. Yes, Lizzy married well, even if the man was insufferable, but that did not mean that she was better than me. Of course, society thought that Lizzy was miles above me and admired her for looking after her wayward sister. But the truth was that Lizzy wasn’t superior to anyone. She’d just chosen more judiciously.
My feelings for my sister were complicated. I loved her—everyone did—but I resented being in the position of needing her assistance. We’d grown closer over the years because Lizzy came by more often than my other sisters. I did see Jane, but she was busy with Bingley and their children. I visited with Kitty and Mary the least. Kitty, the wife of a clergyman, was occupied with church activities. And dour Mary, who married last of all of the sisters, had finally found a husband among one of our Uncle Phillips’s clerks.
I was received at Longbourn, my late father’s estate, which was now in the possession of Mr. William Collins, our distant cousin. Although I was fond of his wife, Charlotte, Mr. Collins was an absurd character, and I avoided Longbourn due to his insufferable sense of self-importance.
“You look very pretty,” Lizzy remarked.
“I promised to make an effort, did I not?” I wore one of my better gowns, which was plain compared to the selections in Lizzy’s extensive wardrobe. But I adored my long-sleeved gown of the palest gold with pretty bows adorning each wrist.
“I am certain Mr. Wilson will appreciate how fine you look,” she said.
I changed the subject. “Do you remember someone named Michael Haddad from Meryton?”
Lizzy looked thoughtful. “I remember the Haddad family. It was a large family, six children, if I remember correctly. Why do you ask?”
“Because one of those children is the new vicar in Castleberry.”
Lizzy’s eyes rounded. “You’ve met the vicar? Does that mean you’re attending church again after all of these years? That is encouraging.”
“No. I had occasion to meet Mr. Haddad when I dropped off produce from my garden for the parish.”
“Oh, well. What is he like?”
“He is young.” I thought of dark liquid eyes and perfectly molded lips framing a slightly arrogant nose. My insides went warm and fluttery. “And quite agreeable.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Delight lit Lizzy’s face. “Your future husband awaits!”
“Stop teasing me. This meeting is uncomfortable enough as it is.” The last time I’d interacted with a man as a potential mate was with Wickham when I was barely more than a child. I might be twenty years older now, but I absolutely was not any more experienced when it came to the opposite sex. I still had no sense when it came to men. My body’s lamentable reaction to the young vicar was proof of that.
“Mr. Wilson.” Lizzy greeted the new visitor warmly as she opened the cottage door. “Welcome. Do come in.”
“Mrs. Darcy.” The man’s voice was deep and not unpleasant. I got my first look at him when he stepped inside and his gaze immediately found me. “Good day. Thank you for allowing me to visit.”
I was tongue-tied and profoundly embarrassed. I really had no idea how to behave around men, especially those with noble intentions.
Lizzy broke the silence. “Lydia, this is Mr. Wilson, a delightful acquaintance of ours from Lambton. This is my sister, Lydia Wickham.”
“Mr. Wilson”—I finally found my voice—“welcome to Castleberry.”
He gave me a nervous smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Wickham. It is a lovely village.”
We settled in the parlor. I could see what Lizzy meant about the man’s lingering appeal. Mr. Wilson had obviously cut a fine figure of a man back in his prime. Even now, in his fifties and well past middle age, despite his jaw no longer retaining the sharpness of youth, Mr. Wilson’s good looks were still in evidence. He retained a full head of hair, now liberally streaked with gray.
“I could not help but notice your garden,” Mr. Wilson said. “It is impressive.”
“Thank you. Do you garden?”
“I do. I am very fond of spending time with my plants.”
Lizzy beamed. “You both enjoy gardening. How fortuitous!”
Having found a subject in common, Mr. Wilson and I managed to carry on a slightly less stilted conversation about properly preparing the ground before planting cucumbers and strawberries. I’d just served the tea and biscuits when a knock sounded at the door.
Lizzy looked at me. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” I rarely had visitors, except for Lizzy or another of my sisters. Both of my parents had passed in recent years. And obviously my neighbors never called on me.
I was shocked to find Mr. Haddad on my doorstep. “Vicar. This is a surprise.”
