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Another loud laugh rang out from where Lydia sat with Captain Carter, drawing the eyes of many guests. Sir William, sharing Mrs. Ellington’s concerns, approached Captain Carter and spoke a few words in his ear; the officer, thankfully, did not again offer to fill the young lady’s wine glass. By the time supper was over, Lydia was quite cross. Due to Sir William’s interference, she had been limited to water and lemonade. She had not had such a restriction since she was last in the nursery.

As soon as supper concluded, the dancing began once again, the music now livelier than it had been earlier in the evening. Lydia, her natural vivacity now tinged with defiance of her cousin, took to the dance with enthusiasm. With unrestrained mirth, she laughed freely, gladly accepting the Negus and wine offered by her dance partners, and flirted with every officer with whom she conversed. When one set concluded, and she was sitting with Captain Denny and sipping the negus that he had brought to her, she felt a touch on her shoulder and heard a soft, “Come take the air with me, Miss Lydia. It shall do you good.”

Startled, she looked up to see Mrs. Ellington beside her. “Leave your beverage. I am sure that you can get something else when we return,” her cousin said firmly, taking her elbow and forcing her to rise.

Reluctantly, she allowed her cousin to lead her outdoors, finding it more difficult to keep up with the old woman’s pace than she would have supposed. Once they were far enough away from the house that no one would overhear, Mrs. Ellington turned and said, “Young lady, may I ask what you were hoping to accomplish this evening?”

“I was enjoying myself,” Lydia answered, her head spinning slightly from the cool air.

“That much is quite clear. Yet you need not drink to excess, throw yourself at gentlemen, and embarrass yourself to have an enjoyable evening.”

“I have done nothing to be embarrassed of!”

“You ought to be embarrassed, the way you were acting! I saw you partake in five glasses of wine, not to mention how much you took when I was otherwise occupied. You cannot even stand, dear girl!”

Lydia then noticed for the first time that she was leaning heavily against a statue. “Neither can you,” she retorted, the words slurred.

“I have a cane because I am elderly, not because I cannot control myself.”

Footsteps nearby stopped Lydia from replying. A moment later, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan appeared, looking very happy as they walked together. “Oh, dear!” cried Mrs. Morgan when she caught sight of the two ladies. “Are you unwell, Miss Lydia?”

“Indeed. It is quite warm in the ballroom,” said Mrs. Ellington. “She needed some air.”

“Shall I fetch your mother, Miss Lydia? Perhaps some wine as well?” asked Mr. Morgan.

“Her mother, perhaps, or Miss Bennet, or Miss Elizabeth. Water or lemonade, I think, would serve better than wine, for she is quite warm,” answered Mrs. Ellington.

The true nature of the situation became clear to the Morgans at nearly the same time, and they quickly set off to find Mrs. Bennet. Their errand must not have been a difficult one to complete, for it was but minutes later that both Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth entered the garden carrying refreshments.

“Are you quite well, Lydia?” asked Elizabeth upon seeing the state of her sister. Without delay, she dipped a clean handkerchief into the water, the chill seeping into her fingers as she applied it to Lydia’s flushed face.

“I am well,” said Lydia defiantly, although she did not stop her sister’s ministrations.

“Was this really necessary, Mrs. Ellington?” asked Mrs. Bennet crossly, “You have made a spectacle of us.”

“Your daughter has made a spectacle of herself. I had nothing to do with it,” was Mrs. Ellington’s calm answer as she took the cloth from Elizabeth and dipped it once more into the cool water.

“You are the one who paraded her out here like a misbehaving child! Who knows how many people saw or look on even now!” Mrs. Bennet was indignant. She took the cloth from Mrs. Ellington and shoved it into Elizabeth’s hands.

“I do not want to be in a passion, but she is a misbehaving child, Madam.” Mrs. Ellington’s voice was calm and determined.

“I am not a child!” Lydia said with all the defiance she could muster.

“And you, Madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, her face a mask of anger, “are not her mother. It was not your place to intervene.”

“And yet, you will recall it was Mr. Bennet himself who invited me here.” Mrs. Ellington met her gaze without flinching. “He is a man of foresight. I believe he anticipated that five daughters at a ball might prove... a challenge. As a member of this family, I must act where I see a need. Would you have me neglect the duty your own husband entrusted to me?”

Mrs. Bennet’s face flushed darker than her youngest daughter’s. The words struck her with the force of a physical blow. That her husband, her own Mr. Bennet, should believe her an inadequate mother was a mortifying thought. The humiliation was so sharp it stole her breath, only to be replaced by a hot surge of fury. He was one to speak, shirking his duties this very evening!

“Mamma,” said Elizabeth, stepping calmly between them and placing a hand on her mother’s arm. “Mrs. Ellington has acted only out of concern. Let us not quarrel here.”

“You!” Mrs. Bennet turned to Elizabeth. “You take her side against your own mother!”

“I said nothing of the sort, Mamma, nor do I believe it to be true. You love us all very much,” Elizabeth soothed.

Mrs. Ellington was about to say something more, but was stopped by a shake of Elizabeth’s head.

“Mamma, we shall tell everyone that Lydia was simply overcome by heat. It shall make her seem very feminine and refined. Let us return home.”