“Militia companies do not stay long in one place,” replied Elizabeth, her thoughts on what she had learned of Mr. Wickham from Mr. Darcy’s letter. This news of the regiment’s departure would result in the man being sundered from the neighborhood, a desirable outcome, whatever her sisters thought on the matter. “It is such a strain for small towns such as Meryton that it must be shared among the communities of the county. Besides, you would not wish to deny other towns the pleasure of their company, would you?”
“Why you suppose I would care three straws for them, I cannot say,” huffed a put-upon Lydia. “They have become quite a valued part of our neighborhood. I say that they should just stay, for none of us wish for them to depart.”
“Then you are more to be pitied, Lydia, for you have no authority over such matters. There is little you can do to alter it, so I suggest you farewell them with whatever grace you can muster and learn to live with their absence.”
Lydia pouted, but at least she did not continue to complain. They dismissed the young man who was attending their luncheon and settled in to partake of their meal, Lydia grumbling about the unfairness of the world. The conversation continued without her input for some time until another morsel of gossip provoked her to share her opinion.
“Oh, yes!” cried she when Kitty made some mention of the recent doings of the regiment. Elizabeth could not say what it was, for the regiment less interested her than it had when she had departed for Kent. “There is news of which we have not yet informed you regarding a certain officer we all admire.”
Though Elizabeth was certain she knew of whom Lydia spoke, she feigned ignorance. “Is that so?”
Nodding her head vigorously, Lydia said: “If you recall, Mr. Wickham was paying assiduous attention to Miss Mary King when you departed.”
“They were near to announcing their engagement, as I recall,” said Elizabeth.
“Well, you may congratulate Mr. Wickham on a fortunate escape,” said Lydia, her twisted sneer betraying her opinion of Mary King. “Mr. Wickham isnotto marry her. Mary King is gone to Liverpool and shall not return. Mr. Wickham followed her there, but it seems he returned empty-handed.”
“Perhaps we should say thatMary Kinghas made a fortunate escape,” muttered Elizabeth.
Kitty and Lydia were caught up in their tale and did not hear Elizabeth, and Maria was too far distant. She thought Jane had caught something of what she said, but if she had, she seemed to sense that now was not the time to discuss it.
“Did she decide she did not appreciate his attention?” asked Maria, her inflection suggesting she little comprehended such a notion.
“I neither know nor care,” said Lydia.
“The rumor,” ventured Kitty, “is that her uncles did not approve of Mr. Wickham.”
“It is of little matter. What is at issue is that Wickham is unattached.” Lydia then turned a gimlet eye on Elizabeth. “Are you not pleased, Lizzy? As I recall, you were rather sweet on Mr. Wickham after he came.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “While we expressed friendship for each other, there was never any deeper meeting of the minds between us.”
Lydia huffed her annoyance. “Yet you were infatuated with him, particularly after the ball at Netherfield. I distinctly remember you pining for him when he did not attend.”
“Do not be silly, Lydia,” snapped Elizabeth. “I will own that I had hoped to dance with him, but I had barely known him for a week.”
It was odd, but Elizabeth had the distinct impression that her opinion of Mr. Wickham was a matter of great importance to Lydia. Why that would be so, Elizabeth could not say, for while she had espoused warmer feelings for the gentleman in those days than she should have—and still felt the shame of it more than a week after reading Mr. Darcy’s letter—she could not imagine what it was to her sister. Perhaps Lydia espoused some girlish romantic notions about Mr. Wickham and did not wish for any competition. If she did, the impending departure of the regiment was of greater relief to Elizabeth, for the notion of what Lydia might do to gain the man’s attention provoked a shudder.
“Perhaps if we ask Papa,” said Kitty, “he will take us all to Brighton this summer.”
“I suspect that is highly unlikely,” said Elizabeth when Lydia appeared about to exclaim her approbation for such a scheme. “You know how Papa hates to travel.”
“But it is less than two days to Brighton,” whined Lydia.
“Two days too long for our father,” said Elizabeth. “Papa will rarely even bestir himself enough to come to London, let alone journey through London and across Kent and East Sussex for a holiday he will not even enjoy.”
“He should consider our happiness,” said Lydia, “for we shall all be dreadfully distressed if we do not go to Brighton.”
“We shall speak to Mama,” said Kitty. “Mayhap she can persuade him.”
“In my mind,” replied Lydia, “it is Lizzy who has the greatest chance of swaying him.”
That was a bit of shrewdness Elizabeth had not imagined her sister possessed. Elizabeth acted to quash the idea before Lydia could become more enamored with the notion.
“No, Lydia, I shall have no part of your schemes. I have no interest in going to Brighton this summer, and do not think I could prevail on our father, regardless.”
“But Lizzy!” whined Lydia.
Elizabeth shook her head but did not respond. With that, they concentrated on their meal, though Elizabeth noted Kitty and Lydia had their heads together for the remaining time until they departed for Longbourn. The subject of their conversation was not at all difficult to perceive; Elizabeth had offered her opinion and did not mean to involve herself further. All her sisters’ efforts would be for naught, and Elizabeth could not but cheer her father’s expected intractability on the subject.
