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While he had made no promises except his return to Netherfield, she knew the meaning of his words. Now, however, she knew as well the conversation Mr. Bingley and her father must be having, for a third set was not something a gentleman requested unless there was an understanding between himself and a lady. She had not imagined her father would notice; he was a man who could sit through an entire assembly with a book, looking up only to make a dry remark about the musicians.

When Mr. Bennet entered the carriage a little while later, his countenance was stern and he said nothing. No prompting from Mrs. Bennet or his daughters moved him to speak, much to their discontent.

As soon as the family had entered Longbourn and were free of their outer garments, Mrs. Hill was before them, her face pale. “Sir, might I have a private word?” she began, but a sudden crash from above made her forgo all decorum. “It is Miss Lydia, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “She tried twice to go to the ball, and since she was returned to her room, she has been in a terrible rage, throwing whatever comes to hand.”

Kitty let out a small gasp. “What of my things?”

Mrs. Hill ignored her question and continued. “Mrs. Ellington attempted to go to speak with her, but at the sight of her, Miss Lydia gave a cry of rage. She tore the woollen blanket from Miss Kitty’s bed and threw it at poor Mrs. Ellington so hard that she lost her footing and fell hard against the floor.”

Mrs. Bennet let out a sharp cry, clutching her hands to her chest. “Oh, poor Mrs. Ellington! Is she greatly injured?”

“Mr. Jones has been sent for, sir. We sent James to Netherfield, but you must already have departed before he arrived.”

“Very good, Mrs. Hill,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Lydia has no sympathy for my nerves!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “How could she do such a thing?”

“Indeed, it is your nerves we ought to worry for, Mrs. Bennet,” remarked her husband, as he made his way up the stairs. “Girls, you are for bed. Immediately,” he ordered. “Kitty, you are to sleep in Mary’s room.”

Wishing their father a troubled goodnight, the four ladies did as they were told, wishing to know what was happening but not daring to cause their parents any more disruption that evening.

∞∞∞

Jane could only stand in the doorway, taking in the ruins of the room Kitty and Lydia had shared. “I cannot comprehend it,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Violet!” Kitty exclaimed, running to where her doll was lying on the floor. “Her face is chipped!”

Jane looked down at the doll, a gift that Aunt Gardiner had given Kitty when she turned five. The doll’s cheek did have a chip that exposed the white porcelain beneath its painted surface. Kitty cradled the doll in her arms, as she had often done many years before. “Lydia knows that Violet is my favourite,” Kitty whispered.

“I am sure it can be repaired, dearest,” offered Jane, leading her distraught sister to sit upon the bed.

“That is not the point! She can destroy her own things if she likes! Violet is mine!”

Kitty’s cry hung in the air. For a moment, none of them moved, the sheer vindictiveness of the act settling upon them. Jane exchanged a grim look with Elizabeth, who was already assessing the rest of the damage. Replacing Kitty’s bonnets upon their hooks, she found one crushed beyond repair and quietly placed it behind another. There was no need for Kitty to know the full extent of the destruction just yet. Then Elizabeth went to the bellpull and called for tea.

“Kitty, do you wish for the servants to look over the rest of your things?” asked Jane kindly. “You need not set yourself to this task.”

“No! I already told you that I must. The servants do not know how my things were before. And I will not have any of my things sent with Lydia to school!”

“She will not take any of your things, Kitty,” said Elizabeth. “Papa already promised that we all will look through her trunks to ensure she does not mistakenly take anything of ours.”

Kitty snorted. “Mistakenly, indeed!”

Her sisters allowed this to pass unremarked, instead setting about picking up the many smooth stones and shells that had once adorned the shelf above Kitty’s bed, but were now scattered about the room. Thankfully, only a few had been damaged, and the distraction of arranging the objects to their best advantage soothed Kitty’s anger.

Tea arrived moments later, surprisingly carried by Mrs. Hill. The housekeeper looked much the worse for wear after the events of the previous twelve hours.

“Has Mr. Jones said anything more?” Elizabeth asked the housekeeper. The apothecary had come and gone several times throughout the morning, checking on his elderly patient between other calls.

“He has found the injury is to her ankle, and that the pain she feels in her leg is a consequence of the fall,” the housekeeper said. “It is a severe sprain, he says, but no bones are broken, for which we must be thankful.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Hill,” answered Elizabeth. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Hill again repeated her offer to the young ladies to have one of the maids clean up the mess Lydia had made, but Kitty refused. As most of the servants were busy helping care for Mrs. Ellington, tending to Mrs. Bennet’s nerves, or watching over Lydia, Elizabeth could not but think it well that Kitty did not wish for the help of a maid.

It took nearly an hour for the three sisters to set the room to rights. By the time they finished, Mary returned from the Lucases. Mrs. Bennet had insisted that Mary keep her appointment to do good works with her betrothed and his family, for she could not risk losing Mr. Lucas’s interest. Mary had doubted an absence of a single day would have any effect, but her mother was resolute.

“Is Papa truly to send Lydia away?” asked Mary of her sisters.