Chapter 27
The door to the study banged against the wall with force, Lydia behind it. She stood there, tears streaming down her face. Elizabeth dropped the book she had been reading. Jumping up from her spot on the window seat. Her father likewise startled to his feet at his desk. She ran to her little sister.
“What is it Lydi,” she asked using the pet name she had not used for many years.
“Lieu, ..Lieutenant,.. Wickham,” she stuttered between sobs. Elizabeth more felt than saw her father relax. She was sure he thought this some romantic trifle. But ever since Mrs Featherworth’s arrival Lydia had had little time for officers.
“Take a deep breath Lydi,” Elizabeth advised.
“Mar.. Margo Meadows,” said she, wiping at her tears and taking the deep breath as Elizabeth has suggested. “She has been ruined,” she said. The words clear but escaping only as a whisper. “I met her on my way back from Aunt Philips. She was hiding in the yard behind the inn. Lieutenant Wickham told her he would marry her. He told her that they would leave together for Scotland on the day the Militia leave for Brighton,” these words escaped in a rush. She wiped her tears again and took another breath. “She thought it so romantic. The Militia are to leave the day after we are. So she asked him when they would leave,” she paused and looked at her Papa. “He laughedin her face. He said that he would never marry so low. And he had already had what he wanted from her.”
Her father shook his head. “It is a terrible thing for a man to trifle with a young girl. What age is the girl?” he asked.
“She is not yet fifteen Papa.”
“Are you sure Lydi? I mean, are you sure she is ruined? What did she tell you?”
Lydia shook her head. “You know she has no Mama?” she asked Elizabeth. Yes Elizabeth knew. Margo Meadow’s mother had died birthing her. She had heard that everyone had told her father to give her up to the orphanage. That a man could not raise a girl alone. But he had refused to give up his daughter.
“Well her Aunt comes and visits every year on her birthday. To talk about woman’s things,” Lydia said. “And she told me that this last year she told her what it meant to be a married woman. And things that if you did them and were not married you would be ruined.”
Elizabeth could not help her curiosity, but her father coughed and she blushed.
“You leave it with me my dears,” her father said. And Lydia looked at him her eyes hopeful. “Do not worry my dear. You did the right thing coming to me. Now you listen and listen well,” he said.
Lydia nodded.
“All hope for this girls’ future lies in no word of this spreading beyond us three. Agreed?” He asked, looking at Lydia who nodded and sparing Elizabth a glance wherein she too nodded.
“I have been thinking Mrs Bennet,” he said at breakfast the next morning. “I was talking to Tommy Meadow’s the Inn Keeper,” he said, pausing to await his wife’s nod of understanding. “He is concerned about his daughter who is notyet fifteen being around the inn. Not all men behave as they should,” he said. “And I wondered if perhaps we could take her into our household?”
Lydia caught Elizabeth eye. Elizabeth could tell that she had stopped breathing.
“Into our household?” her mother asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yes, I thought that mayhap she could accompany us to London. And perhaps she could go to your brother Gardiner to train to be a ladies maid for Lydia and Kitty.
“Oh yes Mama,” Lydia burst out. Mrs Featherworth frowned shaking her head a Lydia’s behaviour. It had been many weeks since Lydia had spoken out of turn.
“Well, I suppose,” their mother said, her voice a little uncertain. Their father had never before shown any interest in the household staff. “Yes, yes,” their mother said her voice growing in confidence. “She was always very fond of your Lydia and you too Kitty. And with our great good fortune it is nice to do a little something of one of our neighbours. What a fine idea.”
Mr Bennet nodded.
“Thank you Mama,” Lydia said, jumping up from the breakfast table, in what looked like joy. But Elizabeth knew to be relief. She ran over and hugged their mother. Then she turned and kissed her father’s cheek and in his whisper, that Elizabeth barely heard she said. “Thank you Papa.”
Her father patted her hand, “go on away with you,” he said. “You are a good girl.”
“I will speak with her father and make arrangement for her to accompany us to London,” he said. “I will then make arrangement with your brother Gardiner for her to join their household for a time,” he said. “That way she can train in a household which will not be too taxing. And once the Gardinersare happy that her training is completed she will come to us.” Elizabeth thought this a most excellent way to keep any rumour of her possible condition a secret. Her father really had thought of everything.
