“Of course, Mr. Wickham,” said Lydia at once. “Kitty and I should be happy to accept your kind offer.”
This was a bridge too far, and Kitty spoke up at once. “No, Lydia, we shall not.”
Lydia spun about to glare at Kitty, angry at the unexpected betrayal, but Kitty would not relent.
“It is not proper for us to ride in Mr. Wickham’s carriage, Lydia. I shall not allow it.”
“Surely you think better of me than that, Miss Kitty,” said Mr. Wickham.
The way he regarded her sent shivers up Kitty’s spine, for she did not like it at all. All the malevolence in the world appeared to have gathered in the breast of George Wickham and was now peering out at her through his eyes. The sight firmed Kitty’s resolve that neither she nor Lydia would set one foot in Mr. Wickham’s carriage, no matter how Lydia insisted.
“It is not a matter of what I think of you, Mr. Wickham,” said Kitty. “The only consideration of any consequence is the proprieties of the situation.”
“You and your sister may be each other’s chaperones,” said he reasonably. “I can see nothing of impropriety in the situation.”
“Regardless, I am the elder sister and I have decided,” said Kitty, taking no notice of Lydia’s huff or her dark glare that promised retribution.
Lydia could not make Kitty’s life any more miserable than it was now, with her crowing over her good fortune to go to Brighton. That Kitty was now beginning to wonder if Brighton would be such an adventure as Lydia supposed was not part of the equation. Either way, Kitty had no intention of yielding, so nothing Mr. Wickham or her sister said would induce her torecant. Kitty was certain Lizzy and her father would agree with her decision when they learned of it.
“You wish to walk to Longbourn?” asked Mr. Wickham, as if the distance were further than a walk to London.
“It is a path we know very well, for we walk it several times each week,” replied Kitty simply. “I cannot imagine it will defeat us today.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Wickham, his mask slipping, revealing more of the man behind it. “I have no need of you.”
With that, Mr. Wickham turned on his heel, leaving Kitty in the street with an irate Lydia.
“Kitty!” screeched she. “What do you mean by preventing me from returning to Longbourn with Mr. Wickham?”
“Did you not hear my reasons?” asked Kitty, for once unmoved by her younger sister’s displeasure. “It was not proper for us to travel in a carriage alone with Mr. Wickham. Youknowthis.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” retorted Lydia. “As he said himself, we could have provided chaperonage for each other.”
“Lydia, do you not suspect something wrong with Mr. Wickham?” demanded Kitty. “Did his behavior not seem off to you? Why is he here with a woman known to Lizzy? Lizzy left town with this woman in tow. Does that not tell you something about whatshefeels on the subject?
“I dislike the way Mr. Wickham looked at us, Lydia,” concluded Kitty. “There was something altogether unsavory about his behavior today. I do not mean to put myself in his power, nor do I mean to allow you to do the same.”
“What are you saying?”
Intent as they were on their argument, neither Kitty nor Lydia saw their elder sister’s approach. Mary regarded them, her expression stern as it usually was, only this time it was also faintly demanding. As Mary had sometimes intimidated Kitty,she looked away, unwilling to bring the condemnation of the most judgmental of the Bennet sisters upon her head.
It appeared to be more of the silliness her younger sisters betrayed constantly. Yet it also appeared to be something more, for it was not like Kitty to stand up to Lydia in such a way.
Mary had been engaged in Mr. Lodge’s bookstore the entire time of the sisters’ sojourn in Meryton, though she remembered Lizzy telling her she was leaving. While Mary rarely spent so much time there, that day she found not only a piece of music that she had wished to procure for some time, but a book Mr. Lodge had promised to locate for her. In the end, she had spent much more time there than she had expected or planned.
When she had exited the shop, she noted the position of her sisters and their argument at once, for they had stopped in the middle of the street nearby. Muttering to herself at the silliness of the girls, Mary approached them, but then the importance of their argument had pierced her interest. Kitty looked away, studiously avoiding Mary’s gaze, and Lydia, uncharacteristically, was not behaving much differently from Kitty, which was also a matter of interest. Knowing they did not respond to her unless she was firm with them, Mary asked her question again.
“Kitty, Lydia, I am waiting.” Mary could not help but tap her foot on the gravel of the road beneath her feet. “What is this I hear of Mr. Wickham? I thought he had departed from Meryton.”
“We saw him today, Mary,” replied Kitty, still seeming somewhat abashed.
“Yes, and?” prompted Mary.
With a sigh, Kitty related what they had seen and done that afternoon, including Mr. Wickham’s search for a young woman, and Elizabeth and Jane escorting her from the town toward Longbourn. The name of the young woman prompted some echoof remembrance, but Mary could not quite determine what it was until the mention of Kent reminded her.
“Anne, you say?” demanded Mary. “Mr. Wickham mentioned Lizzy knew her in Kent?”
“That was what he said,” replied Kitty; Lydia still refused to speak.
