Chapter Two
“Sothispartyisonly for senior officers?” Lydia checked as Harriet primped before the mirror.
“And their wives, of course. My darling Forster had to seek special permission to bring you, even! There will not be a single officer there below the rank of Major.” Harriet looked quite delighted by the fact. “Perhaps we will find a suitor or two for you, Lydia! Would it not be a fine thing to write to your parents, that you have a senior officer courting you?”
“Hm,” Lydia said noncommittally, thinking privately that she was certainly not going to marry someone as old and staid asColonel Forster, no matter how eligible he might happen to be. The man was as old as her father! No, she wanted a young, vigorous man, one who would not become exhausted after a single dance, who would take her to balls and parties, who would laugh and sing and not chide her for being too exuberant.
The party wasn’t even an evening affair where there might be dancing, but an afternoon tea at the house of one of the most senior generals and his wife. Frankly, Lydia wouldn’t have minded at all if Colonel Forster hadn’t been able to obtain an invitation for her. She could have gone for a walk at the seafront with Polly the maid, showing off her prettiest new dress and smiling at lots of handsomeyoungofficers.
When Lydia had suggested she might prefer not to attend, though, Harriet had acted quite shocked and actually called her ungrateful. Startled, Lydia retreated. For a moment there, her normally carefree friend had sounded just like Lizzy! Maybe she really was being ungrateful. Harriet had to attend the boring tea party, after all; it wasn’t too much of a favour to ask Lydia to keep her company.
With a small sigh, Lydia steeled herself to endure an exceedingly dull afternoon.
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all,Lydia thought an hour later. It seemed that not all senior officers were as old as Colonel Forster; there were quite a few who still appeared youthful and at least one she thought quite handsome. Tall and fair-haired, he cut a very fine figure in his red coat. She openly admired his broad shoulders and long, muscled legs from across the room as he stood with head bent, listening to Lady Briar, their hostess, chattering away.
“Harriet,” Lydia plucked at her friend’s sleeve. “Do you see him?”
“The blond man by the window?” Harriet shot her a sly smile. “I do indeed; I knew he would excite your interest!” She giggled, sounding more like the merry friend Lydia had made in Meryton. “I sent my dear husband to effect an introduction and introduce him to us.”
“Bless you!” With an answering giggle, Lydia squeezed Harriet’s hand.
She had to be nice to several colonels and one general who patted her cheek and told her she reminded him of his granddaughter. Which at least meant the old goat wasn’t examining her bosom, Lydia thought, deciding to talk to the grandfatherly General Lewes until such time as Colonel Forster was able to introduce her to the handsome blond gentleman. At least the general was senior enough to keep most of the others at bay.He was rather sweet, actually, she thought as he escorted her to the refreshments table and told her she must try the scones.
“Ah, and here is a nice young man you must meet. More interesting than an old bore like me, I’m sure.” Lewes’ blue eyes glinted at her from below his bushy grey eyebrows.
“You are the life and soul of this party, sir; how could anyone possibly be more interesting than you?” Lydia said, proud of her flattery when the general chuckled and patted her cheek again.
“Sweet child.” Looking over her shoulder, he said “Be careful with this one, Fitzwilliam. She’s a charmer.”
Lydia smiled fondly before turning around and preparing to greet yet another older man. To someone of General Lewes’ age, fifty would probably be ‘young’.
Instead, she found herself looking up at the handsome blond officer she had admired just a little while ago. Colonel Forster stood beside him, bowing ingratiatingly to the general.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the general said, ignoring Forster, “allow me to present this charming young lady, Miss Lydia Bennet.”
He had blue eyes, Lydia noticed, as his brows raised and he bowed to her, eyes which stayed locked on her face, examining her minutely.
“A pleasure to meet you, Colonel,” Lydia dropped him a saucy curtsy.
“The honour is mine.” His returning bow was very correct. “I wonder... I lately made the acquaintance of another Miss Bennet, in Kent, and you resemble her somewhat. Are you perchance related to a MissElizabethBennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire?”
The smile dropped from Lydia’s face. The first attractive new officer she’d met on her whole trip, and he had somehow already met Elizabeth first!
“Elizabeth is my eldest sister but one,” Lydia admitted sullenly.
“A charming young lady,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I believe my cousin Darcy was quite taken with her.”
“You’re related to Mr Darcy?” Actually, she could see the resemblance now; not so much in the fairness of his colouring, but in his oh-so-correct stance and his faintly disapproving expression.What a dull stick.And what a disappointment. She didn’t even listen to his explanation of his relationship to Darcy, that fearsome bore.
Fitzwilliam studied Miss Lydia Bennet from a covert distance as he listened to two very senior generals expound on the topic of their preferred artillery deployments. She was like her sister, and yet not; taller and a little plumper, her hair was a glossy brown a few shades lighter than Elizabeth’s dark locks, but just as curly, framing a face very similar in shape and colouring. She even had the same eyes, those bright, intelligent eyes that had so ensnared Darcy.
The biggest difference between the sisters, though, was that Fitzwilliam had never seen a petulant expression cross Elizabeth’s face, not even when she was annoyed with Darcy or Lady Catherine was being particularly condescending. Nothing like the bored pout Lydia was sporting now.
He tried to recall what Elizabeth had said of her sisters; she spoke often of the eldest, Jane, in glowing terms, praising both her beauty and her sweetness, but didn’t spare many words for the others. He thought the middle sister was Mary or Margaret, and Elizabeth had called her pious but said little more. Ofthe two youngest, she had only described them as ‘silly, but hopefully they will grow out of it’.
Elizabeth had declared her age as ‘not one and twenty’ but she had also said that all her sisters were out. Which meant, he supposed, that if this Lydia was the second-youngest, she could be eighteen, or almost so. Certainly, despite the pouting, she looked and acted rather more mature than Georgiana, who had just turned sixteen a few weeks ago.
As though sensing his scrutiny, Miss Lydia turned her head and caught him staring at her. She cocked her head at him curiously before seeming to dismiss him with a toss of her brown curls, turning away again.
