Elizabeth tightened her grip around Lydia’s arm and knocked on the door once, then twice.
Lydia began to look smug. “Serves you right for dragging me here. He’s not even in.”
Tapping the door again, this time Elizabeth pushed it in. “Papa?”
He looked up from the papers spread over his desk. Papa had many interests: botany, bees, language, and literature. Nothing practical or advantageous to the estate or his wife and daughters. Despite that, Elizabeth loved her father dearly. He was a clever conversationalist, witty, and insightful in many things except that which was most useful. His staunch refusal to address reality when he preferred to live in a sheltered bubble of knowledge had contributed to Lydia’s poor behavior, and if she was not checked, she would ruin them all. When Mr. Collins inherited Longbourn—an unjust but eventual reality—Mama’s worst fear would come to fruition. They would be dependent on the charity of their relatives—Aunt Philips, who did not want them, or Uncle Gardiner, who did not have room enough for them.
Elizabeth pulled Lydia forward with her, closing the door firmly behind them. “I had to pry Lydia off Mr. Wickham on the high street.”
Papa’s eyebrows shot up, a suitable reaction at first. Until he chuckled and said, “Is that all?”
Elizabeth leaned forward against his desk. “Is that all? How far will you allow her behavior to decline before you take notice? Mr. Bingley’s sisters were there, and you can rely on them to give a full report to their household.”
He waved her concern away. “People will talk no matter what we do.”
“But must we give them so much fodder? They may very well conclude that an attachment with such a shockingly improper family would reflect poorly on them.”
Lydia plopped her bottom down on the nearest chair with a huff. “Lizzy is overreacting. I was merely reaching for a sweetmeat Mr. Wickham offered me.”
Elizabeth clenched her hands to keep from shaking her sister. “You were reaching over his person in what can only be described as a garish display of bodily contact.” She appealed to her father. “If you do not check her, she will ruin us!”
Papa clucked his tongue and shuffled the papers on his desk. She was losing his attention. If she did not press her case now, they might as well wave goodbye to Mr. Bingley. “It is my firm belief that until Lydia and Kitty can show that they have matured enough to behave properly, they ought not to be allowed out in society.”
The door opened, and Kitty appeared. “But I didn’t do anything!”
Papa sighed. “Shut the door, Kitty.”
Closing the door and taking her place behind Lydia’s chair, Kitty repeated, “I didn’t do anything.”
Elizabeth would not back down now. “You should have stopped Lydia, but you did not. You always follow her lead.”
“I do not!”
Lydia twisted to look up at Kitty. “Yes, you do! You’re too much of a ninny to think for yourself.”
Kitty crossed her arms and pouted.
“And you”—Lydia turned to look at Elizabeth—”you are jealous that I steal all of the attention away from you and shall marry before all of my sisters.”
“Only a fool would take a silly girl for a wife.” Papa held up a paper, perusing over its contents. “Surely, gentlemen of quality recognize Lydia’s youthful exuberance. It is harmless.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. He would do nothing. She offered him proof and a simple solution. Still, he would do nothing. Still, she tried.
Clenching her hands, Elizabeth said firmly, “But it is not harmless. Not if it costs Jane Mr. Bingley and the rest of us our reputations.”
He set down the paper and rubbed his fingers over his whiskers.
Encouraged, Elizabeth pressed, “Their behavior will not improve until they experience the consequences of their actions.”
“And what is it you suggest?”
Glory be, there was hope yet! She looked at her sisters. Kitty stared at the floor, her chin quivering. She only lacked the confidence to come out from under Lydia’s shadow. But unless she strengthened her own character, she would always be susceptible to others’ influence, especially Lydia’s, who watched their father with a smugness that fed Elizabeth’s courage. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth answered, “They should not be allowed to attend the ball this evening.”
Lydia rose to her feet with a shriek. In a performance worthy of Covent Garden, she fell at Papa’s feet, her voice choking with tears until she secured his handkerchief. “You could not be so cruel, Papa! I shall behave! I shall behave better than Lizzy. Only let me prove how well I can behave when I put my mind to it.”
Papa patted her on the head. “There, there. Do not cry.”
Elizabeth’s hope cracked and her stomach churned as she saw where this was so clearly going.
