“Why, Miss Bennet, are you implying it is not still my day?”
His teasing jest had the desired result; Lydia giggled.
“That is better. Misery does not suit you at all, Miss Bennet. Now, we must decide what to do about this situation. I am sure you have already realised that sitting on our hands and pretending nothing has happened is not an option? There will be too many whispers.”
“Indeed, and even if I were to go home directly, I am afraid the whispers would follow. A number of Colonel Forster’s regiment were quite friendly with some of the locals from Meryton.”
“Concerning, indeed, and why we must take steps quickly.”
“But what, sir? I am truly grateful for your intervention last night, please do not think me ungrateful, but I have not the slightest idea what to do now!” Lydia tried to keep her voice steady, but it cracked and wavered as she spoke.
General Lewes nodded, and waited while she gulped and pressed a handkerchief to her face for a moment. Sharp blue eyes noted that it was not a lady’s handkerchief, but a man’s, a square of high-quality linen with the initials RJF and a crest embroidered in one corner.
“As I see it,” he said, “there are two choices available to you, and both of them involve marriage.”
Lydia only stared at him. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I would not marry Wickham now if I can possibly avoid it...”
“Not that reprobate! No, my dear.” Lewes smiled at her kindly. “No, I am speaking of two quite different men, though if you know of another, then we can of course consider that as an option.”
“I cannot imagineanymen who would want to marry me now!”
Lewes shook his head at her. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is the first, of course. His being seen with you last night makes it the simplestsolution, especially since I named you his fiancé to Major Adams and his cronies.”
Lydia frowned, and General Lewes tilted his head at her curiously. “Do you understand what that word means, Miss Bennet?”
Shame-faced, she shook her head. “It sounds French, and I fear I was a poor student.”
“It means betrothed. Your fiancé is the man you are engaged to be married to.”
Bemused, Lydia blinked at him. “You mean... you told Major Adams that Colonel Fitzwilliam and I are engaged?”
“Yes, I did. It was the one remotely plausible explanation for your being there; much more leeway is given to engaged couples, and given your youth, your sneaking out to greet your betrothed on his return could be overlooked.”
“But it isn’t true,” Lydia said in despair, “and when that comes out, I will be in just as much trouble as before!”
“What if it were true, though? Colonel Fitzwilliam came to see me last night after I escorted you here, and we discussed matters. He is willing to marry you.”
Lydia stared in disbelief. “Why?” she said at last, utterly incredulous. “His family want him to marry an heiress, and I don’t even have a dowry.”
“So I understand... at least, as to your lack of a dowry. Fitzwilliam, however, has not been entirely honest about his own situation, it transpires. He admitted to me last night that, in fact, he stands to inherit a very comfortable estate from his mother’s family, the income from which is currently invested in the Funds for his benefit, should he require it. While he isn’t quite as comfortably off as his cousin Darcy, he can certainly support a wife.”
“Why would he not say so?” Lydia asked.
“I believe he prefers to maintain a low profile. If he revealed his wealth, with that in addition to his status as a war hero and noble bloodline, he would undoubtedly be fending off determined mamas and fortune-hunting maidens left and right.”
The general hadn’t even mentioned Fitzwilliam’s good looks and affable nature, Lydia thought. Really, it was quite unfair for one man to be all of those things. Wealth, connections, good looks, heroism and charm... he deserved to marry a princess.
She should refuse, Lydia realised sickly. Fitzwilliam had clearly made the offer out of pity; she stood to lose everything whereas his reputation would suffer not a whit, after all. She should free him from any imagined obligation.
“You said there was a second possibility for marriage,” she said finally, wrestling with her conscience.
“Yes,” General Lewes leaned back in his chair, watching her thoughtfully. “I’d like you to hear me out before you make a decision, Miss Bennet. You see, I lost my wife almost thirty yearsago, and my military career has kept me far too busy to consider marrying again. My son died in Portugal a few years ago, and his wife has remarried; their daughter Sarah, of whom you remind me, has lately married and lives in Edinburgh with her husband. There is no-one who would be affected if I were to marry again.” He looked at her from his sharp blue eyes. “You are only sixteen, am I correct?”
Lydia nodded, stunned into silence by his words.
“Which means I am more than four times your age, and undoubtedly there would be talk. However, I would not require you to perform any... wifely duties, shall we say. I own a house in Richmond, where I maintain a small staff, but I am rarely there. You would be welcome to make it your home. I am inevitably with the High Command at any rate, here or in London or on the Continent, wherever I am required, and undoubtedly one day soon you would find yourself a widow with a nice little property of your own and a small income. Likely you will still be young enough to find another husband and have children, if you should want them.”
Lydia had not the slightest idea what to say. General Lewes’ offer was kindness itself, but she could no more accept it than she could fly. Marrying Lewes, accepting his largesse, would be depriving his rightful heir, his granddaughter, of her inheritance.
