by Leenie Brown
She lay her stitching to the side. Continuing an attempt at stitching with her mind in such an addled state would only lead to a waste of thread as the stitches would have to be pulled later. She decided a turn about the front garden would be more beneficial.
The sunshine felt good, warming and comforting. The morning air was crisp and fresh. Lydia hoped that a good drawing in of this fresh air would help to clear her thoughts. She stopped to look at the bulbs in the garden that were just beginning to send their green shoots through the ground. She had some seedlings that needed to be planted, but despite the warmth of the sun that nudged her to remove her pelisse, the soil felt cold, too cold for transplanting. Lydia brushed the dirt from her fingertips, maybe next week.
“Mama! Mama!” Five-year-old Thomas Wickham pulled his hand free from his aunt and raced toward his mother. “Mama, you came home.” He threw his arms about her waist.
Lydia ruffled his hair. “Of course, I came home. Do you think I could stay away from my darlings?”
Eight-year-old Louisa folded her arms across her chest and glared at her mother.
“Good morning, Louisa,” said Lydia.
“Humph,” snorted Louisa before stomping into the house.
Lydia shot a concerned look toward Kitty. “Thomas, I think Cook has some fresh biscuits waiting for you.” Thomas clapped his hands and dashed toward the house.
“Louisa is not well-pleased with you.”
“That is obvious. Might I ask why?” Lydia laced her arm through Kitty’s, and the two sisters entered the house.
“You do know she is strongly attached to her father,” said Kitty as they entered the parlour.
“Yes, I know that, but what does that have to do with her being angry with me?”
Harriet quietly slipped into the room with the tea tray. Lydia thanked her and began pouring.
“Oh, Lydia. Do you have any idea what your abrupt departure with my husband’s officer did to your poor husband?”
Lydia shook her head and handed a cup to her sister. She had a feeling after seeing and hearing Wickham’s anger yesterday, she knew what her sister was going to say.
“At first he was angry, frighteningly angry, Lydia. But then he quickly slid into despondence and grief. He thought he had lost you forever, my dear. Denny had to escort him home from the tavern twice.” Kitty sipped her tea.
Lydia gasped. She had expected to hear he was angry, but she had not expected him to think her gone forever! “But, I told him I would return. In my note, I told him, I would return.”
“You left with another man, Lydia.”
“Because I needed an escort for protection.”
“And you did not take Harriet.”
“I could not take Harriet. She would be needed to help with the children.”
“Your reasoning may have been sound to you, but look how it appeared to your husband. Why would any woman undertake a journey alone with another man? It is rather clandestine in appearance, is it not?”
“But, I did not…we did not…do that.” Lydia’s face flushed a bright red. In truth, she had not thought how it would appear to others. She had only been thinking about her need to cover her spending without her husband knowing of it. A trip to visit her sister had seemed a good choice. It was not as if she had not traveled to visit her sister before — though as she thought about it now, she had always been accompanied by her maid.
“And how do you intend to prove that, Lydia? You know how the gossips work. Remember Aunt Phillips? Listening to her for all those years, you should know that you do not have to do anything to have your reputation ruined. You only have to be stupid enough to be thought of as being in a compromising situation. And, my dear sister, you were stupid.”
Stupid was not a word with which she was unfamiliar. She had been referred to as such many times. She had no desire to hear about her ignorance at present. “I am fully aware of my stupidity in this instance, Kitty,” she said. “It has been made perfectly clear to me. Now, tell me why my daughter is so angry with me?”
“You hurt her father.”
“But, I did not mean to hurt anyone,” Lydia cried. “I only meant to get the money to cover my spending.” Anger with herself welled up inside her. “I do not know why Wickham insists on sending our money to Lizzy’s husband. He is quite rich enough without it.”
Kitty sighed in exasperation. “Lydia, you may not have meant to hurt anyone, but you did, just like you did not mean to hurt anyone when you eloped, but you did. When will you learn to check your actions?”
Lydia shrank back in her chair. Kitty had never used such a tone with her. “I hurt people with my elopement? I am sure Jane and Elizabeth were jealous that I was married first, but surely they have gotten over that by now.”
“That is not what I mean. Jane and Elizabeth were not jealous of your having married first. They were worried about their reputations being ruined and your happiness with the man they knew your husband to be. Father, Uncle, Aunt, Mary, me…we all felt the effects of your elopement. Do you know how many strictures were placed on me as a result of your actions? And then you come flaunting your husband to one and all, not even realizing that everyone thought of you as a wanton woman for having run off with a man.” Kitty’s voice was unsympathetic, the pain and anger that she had suppressed for years bubbling forth. Lydia’s eyes grew wide with understanding. “Finally, I see that you are comprehending just what you have done. Lizzy tried to tell you when you and Wickham came to Longbourn. I am sure that Aunt and Uncle tried to tell you when you were in London, but you have never listened to anyone, Lydia. Never.”
“I…I am sorry.” The words seemed as empty now as they had yesterday when she had spoken them to her husband. She meant them, of course. She did feel sorry for the pain she had caused, but the words were powerless to erase that pain, to undo what had been done.
“Yes, I am sure you are, but that does not change what happened. Do you really not know why your husband is sending money to Mr. Darcy?”
“Wickham says it is for some debt, but I do not know what he can owe to Mr. Darcy. I would think it would be Mr. Darcy who owes my husband.” It was Mr. Darcy, after all, who had denied her husband the living at Kympton.
Kitty shook her head in amazement. Could her sister really be so dim? Surely she knew of Mr. Darcy’s involvement in forcing Wickham to marry her. She stated in a firm voice, “Mr. Darcy owes Wickham nothing, but it is not my place to tell you. Ask him.”
Lydia sat in silence, absorbing the information that had been hurled at her. Bewilderment was etched across her face. She blinked and sipped her tea as she tried in vain to make sense of it all. “But Mr. Darcy refused him the living at Kympton. He ignored his father’s will.”
Kitty saw the struggle that her sister was having and felt pity for her. “Lydia, it is not my place to tell you,” she repeated. “But, think about it, my dear. Your husband was not known to have the best character when you married, now was he? How many times in your first year of marriage did you write to me complaining about the amount of time he spent at the card tables? How many times did you suspect him of unfaithfulness, only to be won over by a pretty tale? How much of what he told you before you were married was the truth and how much was the work of a master storyteller?”
“You would call my husband a liar?” Lydia was indignant. Surely, Wickham had not lied to her about such things, had he?
“Yes. At the time, he was. But, he is that man no longer. He is heartily ashamed of his former behaviour. I have heard him say it to Denny—not that I was supposed to hear it. He is trying to atone for the sins of his past. I will say no more, as I have already said too much. Lydia, please ask him.”
Lydia rubbed her temples. This was all too much. Her head was beginning to throb. “And what of Louisa? What do I do?”
“She is very much like you, Lydia. What calms you when you are agitated?”
Lydia shook her head. “You think I know how to calm her?”
> “I do. If you think about it, you do.”
“But, I am no good at thinking about anything. My mouth speaks before I can process the words, and my feet lead me to do things without contemplating all the outcomes. I am hopeless, Kitty, doomed to continually disappoint everyone. I have been so all my life.”
“If that is what you believe, then it will never change. I, for one, know that you are capable of far more than anyone, including yourself, has ever expected of you. Father was unkind and unjust to label us silly fools and then leave us to become what he declared us to be. It is not true. You are exuberant and impulsive, but your liveliness is not a curse, and you can find ways to curb your impulsivity. You have never been instructed on how to do so. It is not your fault that you lack instruction. The blame for that lies squarely on the shoulders of our parents. Your blame, and mine, comes from being too proud to listen to our older sisters. Jane and Lizzy tried to instruct us where Mama and Papa would not. Do you not remember their lectures and scoldings?”
Lydia sniggered. “They did rather seem to spend a lot of time being so serious when speaking to me. I found it so tiring to be so fastidious. I rather thought them jealous of me.” She smiled sheepishly at Kitty.
“And so, you never listened to what they said?”
“I cannot say that I did. Did you? Do you remember what they said? Could you help me?” Lydia asked hopefully. She leaned forward in eager anticipation. Perhaps it was not too late for her to learn to control her impulses.
Kitty smiled. “Yes, I do remember. I was privileged enough to hear their instruction for much longer than you, since I did not marry so young. Papa was always sending me off to stay with them in hopes that they could improve me where he had failed. I will help you.”
Lydia scurried across the sitting room to the writing desk that sat in front of the window. She drew out a sheet of paper, a pen, and ink. “Give me one thing to do,” she asked eagerly.
Kitty laughed. “If our sisters could see you now, poised to take instruction, I am sure they would faint away at the shock.”
Lydia glowered at her sister. “Please?”
“Very well. Let me see. Shall we start with never take a journey unless you have received the approval of your husband.”
“I do not need to write that one down, Kitty. I shall not forget that, I am sure.”
“Nevertheless, I suggest you write it down as a vivid reminder.” Kitty’s tone was that of a staunch governess. Lydia obeyed and wrote it down.
“Since I already know that one, give me another. What else should I do?”
“It is hard to put so many things into order.” Kitty tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair and bit her lip as she thought. “I do not think one thing is more important than another. Lizzy use to always make me count to ten before replying. It seems she has to employ that strategy quite often. Her tongue can be quite cutting, you know.”
Lydia nodded. She knew far too well how cutting Lizzy’s tongue could be. She may not have listened to every lecture, but she had heard enough to know Lizzy thought her foolish.
“And, Jane,” continued Kitty. “Jane always told me that she pictured the face of one that she loved when she was making decisions. How would they appear? Would they be happy or sad? And, Papa, after your marriage, insisted that we all spend one hour each day helping others. There, you have asked for one and now you have four.” Kitty placed her empty tea cup back on the tea tray before rising and placing a kiss on her sister’s cheek. “I will call after breakfast tomorrow. Should you need anything from me before then, just send word, and I will be here.”
“Thank you, Kitty, for all you have done.” Lydia laughed at the shocked expression on her sister’s face. “You see, I have learned something on my own. I shall have to add it to my list. It seems that the words “thank you” hold a sort of magic power to make people smile, and I find I cannot say them without smiling myself.” She walked her sister to the door. “I shall walk with you half way and tell you how I learned this.”
“I would be happy for the company. I have missed you.” Kitty squeezed her sister’s arm. She was happy to have her sister returned and to see her eagerness to learn, but she could not fool herself into believing the changes would be easy or that society would accept her sister back without causing a stir. However, for now, she would set those worries aside and enjoy this time.
Chapter 5
A tear slid down Lydia’s cheek. She blew out a frustrated breath and dashed it away. Ledgers were not something over which to cry.
She lined up the small pebbles on her desk once again. “I had ten. The bill is eleven.” She moved the pebbles from their line on the left to a new line on the right. “I need one more.”
She stared blankly at the account book in front of her. The numbers and lines blurred as she peered at them through her tears, which seemed insistent on falling. “I cannot do this. I do not know how to record it when I do not have enough.” She sighed and allowed the tears to fall.
Wickham had patiently instructed her on how to keep the household records three times already. She had listened. She had understood for that moment, but now… She tried to remember what he had said, but it was no use. She could not ask him again. She could hear the teasing of her father about how she must have feathers for brains when she had struggled to do the ciphers he had given her. She could not bear it if George were to laugh at her in such a way. She blew out another frustrated breath.
A hand rested gently on her shoulder. “Ma’am, I can show you.” Matthew took the pen from her hand and waited for her to shift so he could write. “Like this, ma’am.” He wrote the number as it needed to be recorded and then stood the pen in its holder. “Some people struggle with numbers. I do not.”
Lydia dried her tears and gave him a small smile. “Thank you. I did not want to fail, but I could not ask him to show me again…,” Her voice trailed off.
“He would never think you stupid, ma’am.”
Lydia’s eyes grew wide.
“I am sorry, ma’am. It was not my place.” He turned to leave.
“No, Matthew, I am most grateful for your assistance. I am only surprised you knew what I feared.”
“It was not hard to figure. I have seen my sister wear the same expression you wore more times than I care to recall.”
“You have a sister?” She had never given a moment’s thought to the fact that servants had families.
“I did.”
“Did?”
“She died, ma’am. Three years ago.”
Lydia’s hand flew to her heart, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “Forgive me. I should have known.” She smiled sheepishly at the older gentleman. “I have spent entirely too much of my life considering only myself.”
“We all fall into that trap from time to time, especially when we are young.”
Lydia shook her head. “Please do not excuse me. I do not deserve it.”
Matthew’s brows drew together as he looked at his mistress. “Mrs. Wickham, I fear I do not always mind my place, and this is one of those times.” He motioned to a chair and waited for her to give him permission to sit. “My sister was told so many times in her youth of her failures and faults, she eventually believed it. It kept her from enjoying a life far better than the one she had, for she never felt she deserved better.” He paused for a moment. “You are much like her. Full of possibilities and talents but unable to see them because someone made you believe you were less than you are.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “Like I said, I do not always mind my place when someone needs to hear the truth.”
After he had left, she sat silently for a while, rolling her pebbles in her hand. Full of possibilities and talents? She shook her head. It could not be possible that she had talents or possessed any worthwhile skill, could it? She laughed at the thought and lined up five of her pebbles.
“I had five,” she said. “I spent three.” She moved three from the line. “Two.” She bit her lip an
d looked at the ledger before her. She scanned back to see what she was supposed to do. Finding an example to follow, she recorded the number. Her head ached. “This is not my talent,” she said softly to the page before her.
Some time later, Lydia closed the book and secreted her pebbles away in her desk. She rubbed her temples, being careful to use her knuckles as they were not stained by ink. She knew that, in just three weeks time, she would have to lay these accounts before Wickham for his inspection. The thought added to the pounding in her head and caused her stomach to turn in a most uncomfortable fashion. She wanted to believe what Matthew said about her husband never thinking her stupid, but she could not. Perhaps he would never say the word, but how could he not think it?
She sighed and prepared to go clean her hands and, if possible, lie down to ease her headache.
“Wickham,” she said in surprise as she exited the room. “Have you come for tea?” She tucked her stained fingers behind her back.
“I did. Thomas asked me to take tea with him today, but I cannot be long. The shop is busy.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Yes, it seems extraordinarily busy lately, but that is a good thing, is it not?” She tried to make her voice sound carefree. “Will you only be taking tea with Thomas?”
Wickham laughed. “I am sure Louisa will join us. She is not one to pass up an opportunity to entertain.”
“I am sure they will be happy to see you. Thomas has mentioned how he has missed your stories at night.” Lydia hoped he heard the hint in her words. It was not only Thomas or Louisa who missed seeing him.
“I have been busy.” Wickham shifted uneasily.
“So you said.” Lydia moved toward the stairs. Disappointment wrapped itself around her heart.
“Lydia,” he called after her.
