Loving Lydia

by Leenie Brown

  “Of course,” Richard muttered. He placed a hand on Darcy’s arm and leaned down to scratch Dash’s ear.

  Darcy chuckled. “If he wags that tail any harder, it shall fly off.”

  Richard joined Darcy in chuckling and began his slow walk to the house.

  “The drive should be much closer to the door,” Richard grumbled as he mounted the steps while leaning on one of the footmen.

  “I will speak to Bingley about that,” Darcy teased, earning a huff from his cousin.

  “It is good to see you,” Bingley greeted as Richard entered the house, “even if it does look like someone got the best of you. Your room is ready and waiting.” He took the place of the footman at Richard’s side.

  “The drawing room is rather full this afternoon,” Bingley continued as they climbed the stairs. “However, no one is going to exit that room until you are settled.”

  “That is thoughtful of you,” Richard said. “I confess to not wishing to see anyone at present.”

  “It was not my doing,” Bingley replied.

  “It was not?” Richard asked in surprise.

  “Was it Caroline?” Darcy asked.

  “No, it was not. Nor was it Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth or Georgiana or even Sir Matthew,” Bingley answered.

  “My brother?”

  Bingley chuckled. “No, he was eager to lend you assistance, but Miss Lydia would not allow it.”

  “Miss Lydia?”

  “Yes,” Bingley said as they reached the landing and began to make their way to Richard’s room. “Your brother rose to leave the room, but she stopped him.”

  “How did she do that?” Darcy asked. Westonbury was not the sort of gentleman to be easily put off when he wanted something.

  Bingley chuckled. “She told him that she would not wish to be gawked at when ill, and she was certain the same was true for anyone.”

  “And my brother accepted that?”

  “Not at first, but after a few moments of attempting to stare her down and dissuade her from her point of view, he conceded that it might be true that one would not necessarily even want a brother or sister gawking at them when he was ill – at least, not until the ill person was properly comfortable in bed.”

  Richard chuckled. “Did she bat her eyelashes at him?”

  “More than once,” Bingley replied.

  “And did she assure him that there would be some sort of reward for doing as she suggested?” Richard asked.

  Bingley’s brow furrowed. “I am uncertain, although she did claim that you would likely be more welcoming if he waited. And then he asked her if he could leave the room for a shilling, which I am not sure why he would do such a thing, and she replied not even for a half-crown.”

  Richard stopped just inside the door to his room and turned toward Bingley. “You may tell him that for a half-crown he can see me before I am properly ensconced in bed.”

  Again, Bingley’s brow furrowed.

  “He will understand it,” Richard assured Bingley.

  “Were Elizabeth and her sisters visiting Caroline?” Darcy asked as Richard took a seat on the bed and allowed his man to begin the work of getting him ready to rest.

  Bingley nodded. “It seems your aunt’s comment about Miss Lydia’s not being good enough struck a cord, and Mr. Bennet has arranged for Caroline and Georgiana to assist her in learning what she feels she must learn to be acceptable to you,” he looked at Richard, “and your family.”

  “She thinks she is not good enough for me?” Richard grimaced as he raised his left arm to allow his shirt to be removed.

  “Good heavens!” Bingley cried when he saw the gash on the side of Richard’s abdomen. “You are being held together with a great number of stitches, are you not?”

  “There is another on his leg,” Darcy said. “We are fortunate to still have him.”

  “I cannot disagree,” Bingley said.

  “Miss Lydia thinks she is not good enough for me?” Richard repeated as his nightshirt slid over his head and covered his torso.

  “Yes,” Bingley answered. “Miss Elizabeth has told Jane, who told me, that Miss Lydia greatly desires your approval.”

  Richard said nothing in reply, though to Darcy it appeared as if his cousin was pondering that thought.

  “Do you still wish to see your brother? Bingley asked as Richard was settling himself in bed.

  “Yes,” Richard said before sighing with relief as he lay back against his pillows. “Tell him to bring his half-crown,” Richard called after Bingley. “The scoundrel,” he muttered. “He best not be trying to buy any more kisses from Lydia.”

  “Does that mean you are not giving her up?” Darcy pulled a chair near the bed.

  “No. It means she does not need to be put upon by him.”

  “Then you are giving her up?”

  “No. I am neither giving her up or expecting her to remain attached to me. I have decided to give her the choice.” He closed his eyes.

  “Is the room spinning?” Darcy asked.

  “As is the rest of my life,” Richard replied.

  “Everything will right itself eventually.” Or so Darcy hoped.

  “If you, and not Lydia, were to choose, what would be your choice?” Darcy prodded. He needed to know the state of his cousin’s heart if he were to give Richard proper assistance. He would not push his cousin to pursue a lady who did not hold his heart any more than he would allow his cousin to hide from his heart. Darcy was nearly certain that Richard had lost his heart to Miss Lydia, and from experience, he knew that trying to deny one’s heart was a torturous thing.

  “I would choose to reverse time and still be in London,” Richard said.

  “Then, you still love her?”

  Richard nodded but remained silent which was just as well since his brother had arrived at his door.

  Lord Westonbury approached the bed. “You look dreadful.”

  “It is a pleasure to see you as well, although you will need to be on the side of the bed where Darcy is if you wish for me to actually see you.”

  “What do you mean?” Westonbury moved to the far side of the bed.

  “The blow to his head has damaged his eyesight. We do not know if it is a lasting thing or just temporary like the spinning room and unsteadiness when he walks.”

  “You cannot see out of your left eye?”

  “No, I can see out of it as long as everything is in front of me. I just cannot see anything that is to that side of me.”

  “That is very odd,” Westonbury propped himself on the edge of the bed, and Richard held out his hand.

  “Your half-crown.” Richard’s tone was flat as he held his brother’s gaze.

  “I am not giving you my half-crown.”

  “You are also not going to offer it to Miss Lydia for any reason,” Richard replied.

  Westonbury chuckled. “You heard about Sally’s did you?”

  “We found Miss Lydia and Miss Elizabeth there if that is what you mean,” Darcy said.

  “What do you mean found?”

  “Come now, Wes,” Richard said, “you do not truly believe that either Miss Bennet was at Sally’s for an appointment, now do you?”

  Westonbury shrugged. “I suppose I had not considered why they were there. I only just found out that the pretty young thing that swindled me out of a shilling and gave me a sore nose was the lady with whom I heard you are enamoured.” He shifted on the bed. “Why were they there?”

  “How did you learn about Miss Lydia?” Richard asked.

  Westonbury shook his head. “No, I asked you a question first — but we could wrestle for to see who answers first. However, I do believe I would win this time.”

  There was only a year separating Richard and his brother, so wrestling to settle a disagreement was not an unusual thing for the two of them. They had broken more than one vase while attempting to settle a dispute in such a fashion. Richard was an inch shorter than his brother, though he was just as broad. However, short
er did not mean easily overcome, for most often, Richard had been victorious.

  “You could wrestle Darcy,” Richard offered.

  “No, he cannot,” Darcy replied. “He cheats.”

  Westonbury grinned. “So does Richard.”

  “Which is why you both usually beat me,” Darcy replied. “So, let’s consider me beaten in Richard’s stead, which means Richard will answer your question before you tell us that Aunt Catherine told you about Miss Lydia.”

  “Aunt Catherine knows about Miss Lydia?”

  Darcy nodded. “She was here in an attempt to talk me out of marrying Elizabeth and into marrying Anne instead.”

  “I knew she had gone to hunt you down,” Westonbury said with a smirk, “but I heard nothing of Miss Lydia.”

  “Well, then, I recant. You were soundly beaten by me in our imagined wrestling match, and so you must explain how you know about Miss Lydia.” Darcy had been confident that if Westonbury knew about Lydia that Lady Catherine had returned to town and told one and all at Matlock House about her.

  “No, I beat you. Now, brother dear, kindly explain to me why you were looking for your lady at Sally’s.”

  Richard drew and released a breath. “Wickham,” he snarled.

  “And how did you find out about Miss Lydia?” Darcy asked.

  “But there is a story behind Richard’s answer,” Westonbury protested.

  “After you give us the name of your source, we can share stories.”

  “You could wrestle him, and, if you win, you get your story first, but, if he wins, you tell us the name of the gossip who told you about Miss Lydia,” Richard offered.

  “I am still not wrestling,” Darcy said. “How is it that you are both older than me and still act like you are far younger?”

  Westonbury shrugged. “Because we are not you.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes.

  “Very well,” Westonbury said. “I heard about her from Mrs. Salter.”

  Chapter 15

  “Mrs. Salter?” Darcy repeated.

  He had not thought to hear that name again, especially not from one of his relations. He had not even considered that Mrs. Salter might be a name any of his relatives would know. But then, if anyone were to know her, it would be Westonbury as he made it his business to know of as many as possible of the ladies who would be parading their charges through the season. Much could be deciphered about a daughter by knowing the mother — or so his cousin claimed.

  Westonbury nodded. “Do you know her?”

  “I know of her.”

  “You do?” Richard asked in surprise. “I cannot say I have heard the name before.”

  Richard, unlike his brother, only felt he needed to know those mothers who had daughters that piqued his interest. Of course, he was also more likely to sequester himself away in a library or card room to talk to the fathers and brothers than his elder brother was.

  “Do you remember how I told you that Miss Bingley did not seem so bad after hearing Mr. Bennet’s tale about Mrs. Bennet?” Darcy asked.

  Richard shook his head slowly.

  “It was the night after the ladies had come back from shopping and you were asked to choose the best red ribbon.”

  Westonbury laughed. “You were picking ribbons?”

  “Miss Lydia needed an opinion,” Darcy said.

  That information did little to keep Richard’s brother from chuckling further.

  “She values his opinion on many things.” Darcy held Richard’s gaze.

  “Yes, I remember that conversation.” Richard’s reply was quick and lacking in any emotion. However, his gaze dropped away from Darcy’s.

  “It was just before Miss Lydia and her sister went missing,” Darcy explained to Westonbury with the hope of bringing to Richard’s mind the fear they had both felt that night when they had thought their ladies were in danger.

  “Yes, I know,” Richard snapped. “Continue. How does that apply to this Mrs. Salter?”

  “She was the lady in Mr. Bennet’s story who treated Mrs. Bennet very ill.”

  Richard’s eyes grew wide. “And you say, Wes, that she told you about Miss Lydia?”

  “She did not tell me directly,” Westonbury replied, rising to cross to the window. “I overheard her talking to a friend at Almack’s. It seems her daughter was on the point of being happily betrothed until the fellow found someone else – with deeper pockets and a more willing charm – that is how she said it. Just like that, with a suggestive lilt to her tone. She then added that Miss –” He waved his hand in a circle in front of him as if attempting to draw a scent towards himself.

  The action was familiar to Darcy. His cousin had always made that same motion when attempting to recall something.

  “Oh, I cannot remember! But it matters not who she is to me. However, according to Mrs. Salter, the girl had no choice but to accept this fellow’s proposal. Her willing charms had found her in a desperate state you see.” He lifted a brow.

  “With child?” Richard asked.

  His brother nodded from where he leaned against the wall near the window. “It seems that Mrs. Salter had experienced somewhat of the same treatment when she was young. Some willing wench – I swear she used those words – stole her prize from her. And she had seen this woman in town with Miss Darcy – of all people!” He said the last part in a womanly falsetto.

  “Well, that caught my attention, so I stayed where I was, twirling my quizzing glass and pretending to watch the dancing.”

  “She was speaking poorly of my sister?” Darcy asked. How dare the woman do such a thing!

  “Not directly, but it was implied.”

  “She’s either stupid or has no clue who Darcy is,” Richard grumbled.

  “My money is on stupid.” Westonbury pushed off the wall. “To get to the point. After a discussion of who Darcy was and his connections – meaning our father – Mrs. Salter then said that the woman’s daughters seemed to be cut from the same cloth. There was something about a compromise at a ball involving one of them, and a discussion of two others grasping far above their station. Apparently, she had heard that the youngest was vying for the affections of the Earl of Matlock’s youngest son. Someone had seen them walking together or some such thing. No names were given. I had to discover the name of the youngest Bennet on my own, which was not easily or cheaply done. The servants at Almack’s expect remuneration for being nosy.”

  “You did not just ask her?” Richard scoffed.

  “She had not seen me and after speaking of Miss Lydia – whose name I did not know at that time – she then suggested to her friend that she thought her daughter might be able to do one better and snare me. Trust me, if you have ever met Miss Salter, you will understand why I was in a desperate state to be gone and not discovered by Mrs. Salter.”

  “Is she not handsome?” Darcy asked.

  “Her features are very pleasant – her spirit is not. If I am to be tied to a wife, it shall not be a lady of her ilk.” He shuddered. “And since I have no intention of being trapped by anyone, when Mrs. Salter’s friend teased that Miss Salter could affect a compromise and Mrs. Salter congratulated her on a delightful plan, I found the door quickly – after enlisting a servant to discover the information I sought and having him deliver it to me in my carriage.”

  “That will not make it any easier for Miss Lydia to establish herself in town,” Darcy muttered.

  “Which is another good reason for her to give me up,” Richard replied.

  “Wait! If you have not formed an attachment to her, why can I not give her a half-crown for a kiss or two?” Westonbury asked. “She is a pretty thing.”

  Darcy folded his arm and looked at Richard, waiting to see how his cousin would explain himself.

  “She is a gentleman’s daughter, not some trollop,” Richard argued. “You do not go around paying gentlemen’s daughters for favours.”

  “You and Darcy might not,” Westonbury teased. “Clarice was a gentleman’s daughter, but sh
e found herself in need of employment.”

  “Clarice? I assume you are speaking of one of the women at Sally’s,” Richard said.

  If Richard could have gotten out of bed or even moved enough to reach his brother, who had returned to sit on the end of the bed, it looked to Darcy from the expression Richard wore and the tone he used, that Westonbury would not win such an altercation.

  “I am.”

  “Miss Lydia is not one of Sally’s women,” Richard growled.

  “Nor is she your lady,” Westonbury argued.

  “She is…” Richard snapped his mouth closed on his bellow, seeming to shrink further into his pillow as he did so.

  “She is if she wishes to be,” Darcy finished Richard’s thought.

  “What do you mean?” Westonbury asked the question of Darcy, but his eyes slid to his brother, who had his eyes closed.

  “Look at me,” Richard said. “Why should anyone be tied to this?”

  “I still do not follow. You have never been particularly handsome.”

  Darcy gaped at his cousin. Did the man not think before he spoke?

  “Your appeal has always been in your charm and caring nature,” Westonbury said.

  He did think before he spoke. Darcy’s lips tipped up in pleased surprise.

  “But I will likely lose my commission,” Richard argued.

  “And mother will be happy for it.”

  Richard’s eyes opened. “I will need an income.”

  “Father will see to that.”

  “Not if they do not approve of my choice of bride.”

  Westonbury clapped his hands. “So you do like her, do you?”

  “Of course, I do,” Richard snapped.

  “Well, she seems enamoured with you as well. There is a good deal of gumption in her. She did swindle me out of my money and gave me a sore nose in the process.”

  “Not to mention,” said Darcy, “that she prevented Wes from seeing you before you sent for him. How many people keep him from what he wants?”

  “Exactly!” Westonbury agreed. “And I am not entirely sure how she managed it. I was determined to outwit her.”

  “She batted her eyes,” Richard said.