Chapter I
No matter how much changes, some thingsalwaysstay the same. Never had the truth of that axiom struck Elizabeth Bennet so much as it did after she returned to her home after visiting Charlotte Collins in Kent.
Distance, Elizabeth mused as she witnessed the scene in Longbourn’s sitting-room, had a way of dulling the senses, of teaching one to look at situations and events with a softer eye. When away from Longbourn, it was common for her to “forget” how riotous her home could be, that it had never been the restful haven she thought it should be. For a time, she even thought back on her visits to Rosings Park with something akin to fondness—at least Rosings had not been soloudas Longbourn.
The mere notion that she would find solace in Rosings Park, the home of the meddling and dictatorial Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was so ridiculous as to bring a smile to Elizabeth’s face. Had her mothers and sisters been at all calm, they might have noticed and asked her to account for her sudden mirth.
“I am pleased with your return, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet had said when she entered the house. Then, sensibly, in Elizabeth’s opinion, he had retreated to his study as was his wont, leaving Elizabeth to exchange news with her mother and sisters. They, of course, flitted from one subject to the next so rapidly that it was difficult to learn much of recent events.
“Do you not think it is a travesty that the officers shall depart, and we shall lose their company?”
That was the one exception, for it was a subject upon which Lydia focused her attention to the exclusion of all others. The girl had made her opinion known within moments of greeting Elizabeth at the coaching inn at Watford.
“That is the way militia companies operate, Lydia,” replied Elizabeth. “It is no surprise to hear the regiment is to leave.”
Lydia gave her a sour glare, but Elizabeth ignored the immature girl.
“That is true,” said Mrs. Bennet with perhaps a little more understanding than Elizabeth might have expected. “They are for their summer quarters, and then they shall billet in a new location in the autumn.”
“But why can they not simply stayhere?” whined Lydia.
“Contrary to your belief,” replied Elizabeth, “having such a militia company in Meryton is a drain upon us all. That is why such companies move about so much.”
Lydia huffed and pouted. “I asked Papa to take us to Brighton, but he insists he will not.”
“He has told you why, Lydia,” said Mrs. Bennet, again surprising Elizabeth with her reasonable attitude. “The expense of renting a house there would be too much of a burden on our finances. I am afraid I must agree with your father—it is best that we donotgo to Brighton.”
While Lydia scowled at her mother, Elizabeth looked on with interest. Her father, rather than teasing and provoking his wife as he usually did, appeared to have taken the trouble to explain why it was not wise for the family to summer in Brighton. Even so, it was a surprise that her mother accepted his explanation rather than push for the scheme, regardless. Unless Elizabeth misjudged the matter entirely, her father must have tied the explanation to her mother’s allowance, for Mrs. Bennet was almost always unreasonable unless it affected her ability to purchase what she liked.
“Well, I shall die of a broken heart,” proclaimed Lydia. “Then you shall all be sorry.”
“If you intend to do so,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “I ask you to cause as little disruption as possible. My nerves cannotwithstand it.”
Again, Lydia grumbled her displeasure, though she did not deign to respond. The dry response was unlike her mother’s usual sense of humor, leading Elizabeth to wonder if something of her father had finally rubbed off on her mother after more than two decades of marriage.
“We shall simply need to take every opportunity to be in the officers’ company until they depart,” said Kitty, evidently trying to raise her sister’s spirits.
“I shudder to think of what Denny or Sanderson will suffer at the loss of our society,” declared Lydia. “Our separation will dash their hearts to even more pieces than ours!”
In truth, Elizabeth was certain the officers would get on tolerably without Lydia’s company. What Lydia did not consider was the presence of silly young girls in every community from Land’s End to John o’Groats. In a city like Brighton, there must be so many that every officer could dance from sunup until sundown and never lack partners!
“And Chamberlayne and Carter too!” exclaimed Kitty.
“At least Mr. Wickham is gone,” said Mrs. Bennet. “With his behavior of late, I cannot but considerthata benefit.”
“Mr. Wickham is gone?” asked Elizabeth, finally hearing something of interest. “Has he resigned from the militia?”
“He has,” said Lydia, clearly offended. “The business with Miss King soured him on military life.”
“Business with Miss King?” asked Elizabeth. “Has something interfered with their betrothal?”
As Lydia was caught up in her offense, Kitty took up the standard of response. “There is no betrothal, Lizzy, and there never was. Mr. Wickham was eager, but Miss King’s guardians intervened. Her uncle took her to Liverpool, and though Mr. Wickham followed her there, he returned empty-handed.”
“Poor Wickham!” exclaimed Lydia. “To be refused by such anasty, freckly little thing must have stung his vanity!”
“How does this relate to Mr. Wickham leaving the regiment?” asked Elizabeth.
“That is harder to understand,” said Mrs. Bennet. “When he returned, it was clear he was not in good spirits; he snapped at more than one lady, quite unlike his usual gentlemanly conduct.”
