“But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what you and Jane seem so well to understand?”
“Oh, yes, that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the Militia was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight’s time. As that was the case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make our knowledge public. What use could it apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the neighborhood had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me.”
“When they all removed to Brighton you had no reason to believe them fond of each other?”
“Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either side. When first he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him, but so we all were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first two months, but he never distinguished her by any particular attention. Consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became her favorites.”
It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this subject, by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey.
Lydia did not care about anything outside the small confines of the room. She did not see the dust along the corners of the rough-hewn wood floorboards, nor the bare walls, nor did she detect the foul smoke that had permanently settled into the air. To her, all of these things did not matter for she felt like the most perfect of queens; for she was in love with Wickham, and even more so with the romantic idea of her having run away with him. How jealous her sisters would be when they found out! That was her only regret, not seeing their jealous expressions when it had been discovered what she had done — for surely they would be jealous, especially Elizabeth who had tried to get Wickham for herself and failed. Oh, how Lizzy liked to lecture her. Well, let that haughty sister see her now! And, Kitty, poor Kitty would be so shocked — almost as badly as the time she’d caught Lydia in flagrante delicto. Lydia had to threaten Kitty to keep her quiet, telling her she would inform their mother that she saw Kitty on her knees in front of the married Colonel.
Lydia looked down her naked body and giggled. “Well, perhaps not at this exact moment I should like my sisters to see me.”
Crossing the room, she took up Wickham’s discarded jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. She loved wearing his uniform, even if doing so made him a little cross with her. The thick material rubbed along her breasts, sending small ripples of pleasure throughout her body. She liked keeping herself aroused for her Wickham, for the rewards of such a scheme were great. No man could resist a woman once they discovered her sex was wet and ready. Their cockerels simply would not allow it.
Out of all her lovers, Wickham was by far the best — though he did not know of the others and she had no intention of ever telling him. Men seemed to enjoy thinking themselves the first to conquer her virginity — though on the rare occasion, she took a lover like Sykes, who she did not have to pretend with. Perhaps it was the soldier in them, but they all wore the same expression of pride and vanity on their face as they lay claim to her maidenhead. Sometimes, when she had nothing better to do, she would think over their words and deeds, comparing how they made love. The first time was often tutorial, as they taught her how to be with a man. The next times were better, each time a little more eager and rough, and all the more daring. For by that time, after a half dozen promiscuous undertakings, she could subtly look at them in a way that made them know what she was thinking. She did it purposefully when they were unable to get to her — across crowded ballrooms, while dining, while marching. She liked knowing her lovers thought of her all day, and when finally they came together, the man was already mad with the itch, and would take her in the most peculiar places. Her favorite was when Wickham took her behind the curtain at a ball in Brighton. That is the moment she knew she loved him, when she had teased him to the point of being overbold.
“Where are you?” she muttered, imagining herself quite miserable without him. He had been gone for nearly half-an-hour to retrieve food. Pacing the floor, she let the uniform jacket tease her flesh, caressing nipples, brushing along her ass. It smelled of Wickham and the sensations combined forced a small shutter of excitement to course through her.
At that moment, the door opened and the object of her lust appeared carrying a tray with bread and cheese. He frowned slightly to see her in his jacket, but said nothing as he locked them in and sat down the tray. He, himself, wore only his shirt, breeches and boots, for the walk to the inn’s kitchen was not far.
“Mm, Wickham, what took you so long? I am famished!” She pouted her lower lip, not bothering to pull the jacket closed to hide her body from view. “I almost went after you to scold you for keeping me waiting.”
“Perhaps you should eat then, Miss Bennet,” he answered.
Lydia gave him a wicked smile as she marched towards him in exaggerated steps. When she came face to chest with him, she looked up at him through her lashes. “I suppose then I have no choice but to obey your orders, sir.”
Before he could speak, she reached for his pants and pretended to fumble as she undid them. Her hand slid onto his hard arousal and squeezed. She licked her lips, slowly stroking them with her tongue. His pants fell to his feet. Guiding him by his hips, she turned him toward the bed and made him walk backwards to it. His legs hit the mattress and she pushed, aggressively forcing him onto his back.
She crawled next to him. Wickham breathed heavily. His body was ready, his arousal towering from his hips. He reached for her, pulling her by the back of her head so that her mouth met the tip of his desire. When she endeavored to speak, he pushed her down, and said, “There is a good soldier.”
Lydia obliged him for a moment, letting her mouth pull against his shaft. But, she was greedy and did not want to give all the passion away. As soon as his fingers loosened their hold, she pulled her lips off him and instantly moved to straddle his waist. She tugged at his shirt, wrinkling it in her fists. Warm hands ran along the backs of her thighs and she threw back her head to laugh, reveling in her wicked behavior. Her heart pounded and she was rather more interested in the arching and thrust of her own body than his. She pouted her lips, loving the power she felt over men; it was almost better than the pleasure they gave her. As she took him into her body, she knew the ultimate woman’s control. When they had sex she could get him to agree to anything. That is how she persuaded him to buy her pretty things, like ribbons and gloves. That is how she got him to say he loved her. That is how she got him to agree to run away with her — a most thrilling idea if she did think so herself.
“Oh, my Wickham,” she purred, laughing at what she perceived to be her own cleverness and authority. The pressure inside her built, forcing her to close her eyes as all thoughts flittered out of her head. She rocked her hips, rolling them in small circles. When finally she came, pleasure and tension washing over her in perfect unison, Lydia collapsed against his chest. She did not care that he still moved beneath her, that he had not finished his own release. She had gotten what she wanted from him. Now, perhaps, she would demand they marry. Or, perhaps, she would demand a new hat or dress. They could always get married on the morrow, and she imagined having a secret lover was much more exciting than having a husband, for every pretty woman eventually had one of those and Lydia fancied herself more special than other pretty ladies.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ELIZABETH, HER AUNT, and her uncle travelled as expeditiously as possible, even sleeping one night on the road so they could reach Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a comfort to Eliz
abeth to consider that Jane would not have to be worried by long expectations.
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock. When the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of capers and frisks, showed the pleasing earnestness of their welcomes. Elizabeth jumped out and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, hurried into the vestibule where Jane had come running down from her mother’s apartment.
Elizabeth had tears in her eyes as she affectionately embraced her. “Have you heard anything of the fugitives?”
“Not yet,” replied Jane. “But now that my dear uncle has come, I hope everything will be well.”
“Is father in town?”
“Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word.”
“And have you heard from him often?”
“We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write again till he had something of importance to mention.”
“And mother — how is she? How are you all?”
“Mother is tolerably well, though her spirits are greatly shaken. She is upstairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you. She does not yet leave her dressing room. Mary and Kitty are, thank Heaven, are quite well.”
“But you — how are you?” insisted Elizabeth. “You look pale. How much you must have gone through!”
Her sister assured her of her being perfectly well. Their conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.
Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes’ conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected, with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage. She blamed everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence principally contributed to the errors of her daughter.
“If I had been able,” said she, “to carry my point in going to Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened. Poor Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her, but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor child! And now Mr. Bennet has gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do.”
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas. Mr. Gardiner, after general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for recovering Lydia.
“Do not give way to useless alarm,” added he, “though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more we may gain some news of them. Till we know they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town I shall go to my brother, and make him come home with me to Gracechurch Street. Then we may consult together as to what is to be done.”
In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be by themselves for half-an-hour. When Elizabeth asked for the particulars of the event, Jane was happy to oblige. “Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, especially on Lydia’s side, but nothing to give him any alarm. Kitty, however, finally owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia’s last letter she had prepared her for such a step. It seems she had known of their being in love with each other for many weeks.”
“But not before they went to Brighton?” Elizabeth frowned. She could throttle Kitty for not revealing the scheme the second she heard of it.
“No, I believe not.”
“Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia’s note to his wife?”
“He brought it with him for us to see.” Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth read, “My dear Harriet, you will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them and sign my name ‘Lydia Wickham.’ What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him with great pleasure at the next ball we meet. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn. I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before it is packed up, for I would not like my mother to see it and form the wrong opinion of how it got there. Goodbye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey. Your affectionate friend, Lydia Bennet.”
“Oh, thoughtless Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment? But at least it shows that she was serious on the subject of their journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a scheme of infamy.”
“I never saw anyone so shocked as father. He could not speak a word for full ten minutes. Mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in such confusion.” Jane thought a moment, then added, “Lady Lucas has been very kind. She walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us.”
Elizabeth hated the idea of everyone knowing their family shame. There was nothing to be done for it, as Lydia handled herself very badly. Inquiries needed to be made by their father and Colonel Forster, servants would know of Lydia’s disappearance, soldiers would know of Wickham’s intent. This was the kind of gossip people loved to spread.
For the briefest moment, she thought of Mr. Darcy, and felt how lost he was to her. She may never see him again, and could not blame him for not taking back up their acquaintance. She hated Lydia in that moment. How could a sister throw away her entire family’s reputation so carelessly and selfishly? How could she forever ruin the hopes and futures of all her sisters?
“It would have been better, had Lady Lucas stayed at home,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps she meant well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too little of one’s neighbors. Assistance is impossible and condolence insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.”
The whole party hoped for a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to send.
Mr. Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off. When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant information of what was going on, and at parting their uncle promised to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn. Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few days longer. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of
cheering and heartening them up — though, as she never came without reporting some fresh instance of Wickham’s extravagance or irregularity, she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found them.
All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months before, had been an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honored with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman’s family. Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world, and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of her sister’s ruin more certain.
Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday, and on Tuesday his wife received a letter from him. On his arrival, he had immediately found his brother and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street. Before his arrival, Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, but without gaining any satisfactory information. He was now determined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet thought it possible they might have gone to one of them on their first coming to London before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London and promised to write again very soon.
Every day at Longbourn was filled with anxiety. Before they again heard from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for their father from Mr. Collins. As Jane had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, she accordingly read aloud to Elizabeth, “My dear sir, I feel myself called upon by our relationship, and my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathize with you and all your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove.”
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