“I am given to understand that Miss Elizabeth told him when they met in Kent.”
Mr. Bennet sat back and thought about this. He had not known that Lizzy had met up with Mr. Darcy in Kent. What else did he not know? He had hardly been in any of his daughters’ confidence. “So the same man who drove you away from Jane is now attempting to right his wrong, is that it?”
“I believe that to be the case, Mr. Bennet.”
“Andyouare attempting to right your own wrong.”
“Yes, precisely. Mr. Bennet, I beg you, I beg you most sincerely, to allow me to spend time with Miss Bennet; I very much hope I can regain her affections.”
“She is in mourning, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet said, severely.
“I know, and I respect that. Mr. Bennet, might I not call on her each afternoon, just for half an hour?”
“No; three times a week, and that is all. And that is assuming that she agrees. I certainly will not force her to see you if she does not wish to. I noticed that she was not in the drawing room while you were present.”
Mr. Bingley knew he was unlikely to win any further concessions at this time, but thought it right to address the subject of Mrs. Bennet’s passing. “Mr. Bennet, may I be allowed to extend my most heartfelt condolences on the death of your wife? I shall never forget her many kindnesses to me, and I mourn her sincerely. Also, you may as well know that I am aware of Miss Lydia’s situation, and I promise to say nothing to anyone.”
Mr. Bennet’s ire rose again. “How is it that you are privileged to have knowledge of my youngest daughter?”
Mr. Bingley explained the circumstances that had led to his possessing such knowledge.
“Mr. Bingley, the official word is that Lydia became ill, and that is why Colonel Forster came to see me. She is still ill, and that is why she did not return for her mother’s funeral. Do you understand me?”
“I understand completely, sir, and I will support that story in every particular.”
“And despite what Lydia’s absence might mean for Jane’s reputation, you still intend to court her?”
“I do, without question.”
Mr. Bennet nodded and then rose, signaling that the interview was at an end. After Mr. Bingley left, Mr. Bennet sighed in relief. Perhaps things would end well – for Jane, at any rate.
***
Mr. Bingley’s visit was discussed in some detail over dinner. Mr. Bennet had not been present when Mary had taken their visitor to task, and that conversation was recounted for Mr. Bennet’s amusement. He then turned to Mary and said, “Mary, I am extremely proud of you.”
“Some might have said that it was bad-mannered to speak so,” Mary said, red-faced.
“And they would be wrong; it was courageous. Moreover, it was right for you to defend your sister. I only wish I could have seen his face!”
Mary silently repeated her father’s compliments to herself, again and again; she could not recall the last time her father had said anything the least bit kind to her.
Chapter Eleven
As the sky brightened, Lydia peered out from her hiding place. She did not know where she was, and she was very, very hungry. She could not think what to do, but hiding here was surely doing her no good. Perhaps there was still hope; perhaps she might still find Gracechurch Street.
She got up, clutching the satchel, and began to walk again. She tried to ask for directions, but it seemed that the state of her clothing and her person made her invisible to passers-by. No one would so much as look at her, let alone condescend to give her any help.
By mid-afternoon, hunger, exhaustion and despair had combined to make her feel quite faint. She sank down onto her heels, put her hands over her face and wept. What a fool she had been! It seemed very likely that she would die, right here on this London street, and no one would ever know…“Move aside, girl,” she heard. Then a foot kicked her.
She moved away and leaned against the nearest building. As the human traffic flowed by, she began to wonder what could have possibly led her to such a pass. Lydia Bennet, lovely and lively, who could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes, was now crouched on the pavement, hoping to not be kicked again! How could this have happened?
She recalled Lizzy and Jane frowning at her when she flirted with the soldiers…it was wrong to flirt so, and she likelywasthe silliest girl in England, just as her Papa had always said. Shethought of Mary, prim Mary, who sat at her piano and quoted Bible passages. Mary was dull, there could be no doubt of that, but she would never have gotten herself into such a situation as this! Nor Jane, nor Lizzy…though Kitty might have if Lydia had led the way!
But it was Mama who Lydia had listened to, Mama who always praised her, not Jane or Lizzy or Papa! Why had Mama not chastised her for flirting? What Mama called Lydia’s liveliness, was that not just animal spirits? Perhaps other young ladies had that sort of energy as well, but directed it in a more appropriate manner.
Lydia knew she could never be like Jane, who sat about sewing all day long, nor like Mary who played at the pianoforte for hours on end. But she thought then of Lizzy, who spent a good deal of time walking and became quite irritable if she did not get her exercise. Perhaps Lizzy, too, had animal spirits, but had learnt to walk them away. But Lydia had not walked; instead, she had interrupted other people, flounced about, and paraded herself in front of others.
Why had Mama let Lydia behave so?
