“Lady Lucas, please, there is no need,” Jane began.
“There is every need! If your dear Mama were here, what would she say, do you think, to Mr. Bingley’s sudden reappearance after these many months?”
“She would doubtless invite him to dinner,” Mary said, dryly.
“She would, you know!” Elizabeth said, beginning to laugh.
“I think she would not!” Lady Lucas insisted. “In any case, I am here to tell you that there is some vicious gossip circulating the village, and I thought you girls should know about it.”
“Gossip?” Jane asked, weakly.
“Yes; someone is saying that Lydia is not ill, but has engaged in some nefarious behaviour in Brighton!”
Mr. Bingley promptly said, “Doubtless such gossip is circulated to amuse those of lower breeding; that being the case, I am certain that you, Lady Lucas, will deny the gossip entirely, and refuse to spread it. We all know that Miss Lydia is not well; she would be horrified to think that people were saying such things about her.”
“Oh! Of course!” Lady Lucas said quickly. “I shall deny it entirely anytime I hear of it!”
But Maria Lucas looked very troubled throughout this conversation. She managed to pull Kitty outside under the pretext of finding flowers to press into her album and said, quickly, “You know that Lydia wrote to me about the elopement as well as to you!”
Kitty gasped. “Surely not!”
“She did, indeed, and she told me that you knew as well. So tell me, Kitty, is Lydia truly ill?”
It took all of Kitty’s strength to look her friend in the face and assure her that Lydia had planned to elope, yes, but had then thought better of it. And then she had fallen ill! Poor Lydia! “But, Maria, I beg you to say nothing to anyone about the elopement. My poor family, with Mama gone and Lydia not even able to come to her funeral – we truly do not need more trouble. Promise me, Maria.”
Maria promised most solemnly, but Kitty could not help feeling anxious.
***
It was doubtless this conversation with Maria that inspired Kitty’s brilliant idea of writing a letter that was ostensibly from Lydia to the family, complaining of her illness. She explained her notion at the breakfast table.
“Interesting,” her father mused. “Can you imitate her handwriting, think you?”
“I believe so,” Kitty replied. “And I do not think anyone other than the family knows her handwriting well enough to question it.”
After many false starts, Kitty produced the following:
Dear Kitty,
If my writing is a bit shaky, it is because I am still quite weak. This is the first time I have tried to write since getting sick. The army doctor has come to see me every day, and he says I have the putrid sore throat. I do not think any of us have ever had it; this is one time that I amnotglad to be the first of my sisters to do something!
I wrote you about Mr. Wickham, but that has all come to nothing. And then I became so very ill, and have not given it another thought!
I still cannot believe that Mama is gone. I am certain that I shall wake up tomorrow and discover that I dreamt Papa’s letter. But it must be true, for were it not, she would be here to take care of me.
I must go – the doctor is here to see me and give me more medicine. It makes me sleepy.
Your loving sister,
Lydia
The letter was passed from one family member to the next in silence. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Kitty, it is a masterpiece, truly. No one reading this could possibly doubt that it came from Lydia.”
“But now what?” Mary asked.
“We show it to anyone and everyone who comes to visit us,” Elizabeth said.
“Particularly Lady Lucas,” Kitty muttered.
