“Jane and I have attempted to educate Mama on the subject, but she has not listened. It is difficult to induce Mama to attend to her daughters.”
“Can Papa not do it?” asked Kitty.
Mary’s snort of disdain spoke to her feelings, and Elizabeth had direct knowledge of the futility of any such plan.
“Papa is content with matters as they are, Kitty,” said Elizabeth gently. “Should something serious arise, Papa will take action, but until then, he will not. He does not think we are in any danger from the officers or anyone else.”
Though she considered it for a moment, soon Kitty nodded. “I think I understand what you are saying, Lizzy, but I should ponder on it for a time.”
“That is well, Kitty,” said Elizabeth, filled with affection.
Kitty was not a bad girl, but she emulated Lydia’s behavior to gain her mother’s attention far too often. It was a sad reflection on the state of the Bennet family, but that did not make it any less true.
“For the moment,” said Elizabeth, “the best thing we can do is watch Lydia and prevent her from doing anything foolish. If she says anything to concern you, or even mutters in your hearing, inform us so we may take action. When Mr. Wickham returns, he will not be pleased—he may attempt something we cannot predict, so we should be ready for it.”
“I shall watch Lydia,” said Kitty, her spine stiffening.
The sisters agreed it was time to retire, and while Kitty left the room at once, Mary lingered behind. For a moment, she did not speak, then looked Elizabeth in the eye.
“Your attempt to spare Kitty’s feelings was admirable, Lizzy, but I am of the firm belief that directness is necessary. We will not reform them by whispering into their ears.”
Elizabeth sighed and nodded. “I cannot say you are incorrect, Mary. We have opened Kitty’s eyes a little, but I am not so foolish as to suppose we have reformed her. As for Lydia, I doubt anyone in the family other than Papa can improve her behavior, unless we can convince Mama of the danger.”
“Even Mama would do little, for she does not understand proper behavior herself.”
That was nothing less than the truth, and Elizabeth did not deny it. Mary excused herself, leaving Elizabeth to blow out the candle and slip into bed. While she wanted to have her wits about her the next day, Elizabeth lay awake longer than she wished, contemplating what they might do to protect and reclaim their youngest sibling. There were no straightforward answers.
GEORGIANA DARCY KNEWthat something was amiss. It was not like William to be so impatient, so... fidgety, for want of a better term. William was waiting for something, and though Georgiana could not understand what it was, he was growing tetchier the longer the waiting continued.
She had no complaints about the previous days in his company—William had eschewed all pretense at participating in the season, instead turning his attention to her. The enjoyment of being in his company, of experiencing activities in which they both took pleasure, was greater than it had been at any time since the previous summer. Georgiana did not wish to considerthatevent, so she pushed all such unwelcome thoughts away in favor of the dilemma her brother presented. In doing so, she could not have imagined how quickly the memory of that time would return or in what manner it would arise between them.
Nearly a week had passed since William had proposed spending more time together, and Georgiana wanted answers. William was a man who guarded his concerns, holding them close. If he did not wish to share his troubles with Georgiana, she would not press, but she hoped he would see her as a confidante, someone he could trust without fear of judgment. Georgiana meant to discover the truth if she could.
“William,” said she that morning as they sat in each other’s company, “is aught amiss?”
William, who had been staring at something only he could see, started and turned to her. It appeared he had forgotten she was present, though they had been speaking only a few minutes before. It did not surprise Georgiana when his expression grew guarded, and he attempted to put her off.
“Nothing is amiss, Georgiana. Shall we go out today?”
As a deflection, it was transparent. Georgiana was not about to stand for it.
“William,” said she, a chiding note in her voice, “please do not patronize me. Your behavior these past days has been no less than obvious. If you do not wish to share your troubles, I understand and will not press, but I hope you trust me enough to listen and offer comfort even if I cannot assist.”
The way William regarded her, he almost appeared to be seeing her for the first time. “It occurs to me that you are not a girl anymore—you are a young woman coming into your own.”
“I should hope so,” retorted Georgiana playfully. “Iamsixteen.”
The way William shook his head suggested a man trying to reconcile the child he remembered with the young lady before him. “That you are, Georgiana. Still, the matter consuming my thoughts is one I would not share with you, for it may bring you distress.”
At once, Georgiana’s thoughts flew again to the events of the previous summer, the devastation she had felt when William arrived and revealed the truth. What George Wickham might have to do with her brother’s recent distraction she could not say, but Georgiana was not about to allow the bounder to influence her life again.
“Then itisMr. Wickham.”
William turned, appearing to inspect her. Though the mention of Mr. Wickham was never agreeable, Georgiana returned his look with one she kept unemotional. At length, William sighed and agreed that it was.
“When I stayed at Bingley’s leased estate in the autumn, Wickham turned up most unexpectedly and he is there now.”
Uncertain what he was saying, Georgiana asked: “Did he follow you?”
