Unsurprising, given her character, Mrs. Bennet was an enthusiastic supporter of Lydia’s scheme to follow the regiment to Brighton, as she proved within moments of her daughters’ return.
“Go to Brighton?” demanded she, as if Lydia’s idea was unfathomable. “What an excellent notion, Lydia! A change of scene and society would be just the thing to calm my poor nerves!”
“It wasmyidea,” muttered Kitty. Neither her mother nor her sister paid her any heed.
“And we could sea bathe, attend balls and parties, and shop to our heart’s content!” Lydia’s countenance shone, her gaze distant as she imagined the delights of a place she had never visited. “What a wonderful thing.”
Lydia’s dreamy smile of anticipation and contentment did not make it more likely that Mr. Bennet would assent to such a scheme, little though her mother and sisters imagined his obstinacy. As Mr. Bennet had announced his need to go to Meryton to consult with their uncle on a matter of business soon after Jane and Elizabeth’s return, he was not present for the initial proposal of the Brighton scheme. His ignorance of the proposal did not persist after he returned, though the girls could not make their case quickly enough.
“Whatever you wish to say,” said Mr. Bennet when Lydia accosted him when he entered the house, “it may wait until after I have refreshed myself. It will be time for dinner soon, Lydia. You may tell me then.”
It should be no surprise that Lydia did not appreciate her father’s unwillingness to give her his full attention the moment he arrived. Lydia waited, her unconcealed impatience evident in her fidgeting, the way she looked to the sitting-room door every time the old house creaked, or a servant moved through the halls. When Mr. Bennet arrived, he led the company to the dinner table, and only then did he allow his youngest daughter to speak.
“Go to Brighton for the summer?” asked he when Lydia eagerly spoke of her idea. “Whyever would we go there?”
“Papa!” exclaimed Lydia as if he had scandalized her. “Do you not know I wish to keep the officers’ company?”
“And why should that matter a jot to me?”
Again, surprising though it was, Lydia showed a hint of cunning and said: “Do you not suppose a house in Brighton would be as comfortable as your study? If we go to Brighton for the summer, we would all be much engaged with the officers, leaving you far greater peace in whatever chamber you choose to occupy and the books you love so much.”
The way her father smiled at her, Elizabeth knew Lydia’s attempt to purchase his support for the scheme had amused him. Lydia’s self-satisfaction suggested she expected her father to agree with her. She had not considered his propensity to tease his family.
“That is an intriguing notion, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, his sage nod hiding what Elizabeth was certain was his intention to discount whatever his daughter said. “I shall need to ponder it.”
“I am certain it will be no bother at all,” said Lydia, blithely misunderstanding her father. “Why, the cost will be so insignificant as to render it a trifle. You will enjoy yourself without the concerns of the estate bothering you, and we shall enjoy ourselves with the officers.”
“The leasing of a house for the summer is a trifle, is it?”
Had Lydia paid any attention at all, she might have recognized right then that her father had no intention of indulging her. As the imagined delights of Brighton had already seized control of her, she missed the look of utter amusement in his eyes. His wife appeared less obtuse, which was itself a surprise, given her usual inability to understand him. Seeing as much, she spoke up, extolling the scheme and adding her support.
It was a hopeless business as Elizabeth had known it would be from the start, but Mr. Bennet enjoyed the chase, dodging and weaving, allowing them to believe he might ultimately agree, but never committing or denying them in so many words. As with so much of her father’s behavior, Elizabeth watched the spectacle, diversion mixed with annoyance. Sometimes his teasing bordered on cruel, and in this instance, Elizabeth judged it would be best to inform them he would not relent. After a time of this, he finally tired of the game and informed them he had no intention of letting a house for the summer.
Only a few days later, Lydia received her invitation, rendering the matter a moot point in her mind. Lydia’s behavior after receiving her invitation was as objectionable as she might have expected, but Elizabeth did her best to ignore the girl. Then, several days before the regiment was to depart, Elizabeth attended an event that was to be the last in the officers’ company before they broke the hearts of every young girl in the community.
It was, reflected Elizabeth as she looked on the company of men in scarlet, no trouble for her to bid farewell to them, the important point being that they would depart. Elizabeth had never had much affinity for them, her previous regard for Mr. Wickham notwithstanding. They were a creditable enough lot, she supposed, though she considered them to be quite dull but for a few exceptions. The one member of their party for whom Elizabeth had always possessed compelling feelings—first in admiration and now in revulsion—watched the room with a sort of complacent indulgence. His looks now revealed him as a man who looked at his fellow men as marks to be exploited for his own profit. Elizabeth wondered she had not seen it before.
It was unfortunate for Elizabeth’s equanimity that Mr. Wickham soon decided he must pay his civilities to her, necessitating a show of amiability that she did not feel for him. His conversation, so pleasing before, now caused nothing but vexation, provoking her to wish to leave him in no doubt just what she thought of him. Propriety dictated a more amiable response, and Elizabeth obliged most grudgingly. For a time, they spoke of the regiment’s departure for Brighton and Mr. Wickham’s exaggerated wish that the most charming lady in the room was at liberty to attend them there. Elizabeth had no notion of replying to his false gallantry, contenting herself with brevity of response, implying she would have much to occupy herself in Hertfordshire and during her coming journey to the lakes, which her aunt had confirmed while she had been in London. Then the conversation changed for the worst.
“How did you enjoy your time in Kent?”
“It was a pleasant visit,” replied Elizabeth. “To be again in my friend’s company and to observe her in her new circumstances was a privilege I cherished.”
It seemed to Elizabeth that Mr. Wickham was disappointed she had spoken only of Charlotte. “I hope she is happy in her new life.”
“To a large extent, I believe she is,” replied Elizabeth. “I cannot say I would have acted the same as she, but Charlotte has an excellent disposition. Few could take such a position with equanimity, but I believe Charlotte is foremost among their number.”
“Then I am happy for her.”
Mr. Wickham regarded her, expectation written on his brow. Elizabeth said nothing, contenting herself with sipping her tea, forcing him to introduce the subject of Mr. Darcy or the man’s aunt if that was what he chose.
“Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth, but staying at your cousin’s home, I cannot imagine you escaped his patroness’s notice.”
“That, Mr. Wickham, would be impossible for anyone,” replied Elizabeth with a genuine laugh. “The lady herself would not allow it.”
Seeming to believe he had finally obtained what he had wanted, Mr. Wickham agreed with a laughing: “To be certain! Might I assume the lady was as eager to part with her wisdom as ever?”
“While I cannot say, given my previous lack of an acquaintance with her ladyship, she did not hesitate to dispense with her advice.”
