Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  Tonight at the Meryton assembly, the Netherfield party felt themselves to be among friends. For Jane and Bingley, this was their first public dance as a married couple, and the affectionate glances they exchanged brought smiles to their neighbors. For Mrs. Bennet, this was an opportunity to revel in her status as the mother of a bride; thus, it was primarily for Jane’s sake that she spoke to Elizabeth as if she were a distant acquaintance rather than a disobedient daughter.

  Georgiana was a popular partner, and any young ladies who might have felt jealous of her kept their comments to themselves for fear her handsome cousin and handsome brother might not partner with them.

  As for Fitzwilliam, the assembly was an opportunity to dance with pretty ladies and to ask the men whether they were familiar with tonics sold under the names of Nicoll or Sillcon. (None were.) He also reflected on the fact that he had never danced with Lady Penelope. I must remedy that as soon as may be.

  For Elizabeth and Darcy, this was a night mercifully free of misunderstandings, and they moved through the patterns of the dances with the grace of long-time partners.

  Indeed, the only unhappy person at the dance was Mr. Collins. Charlotte had preferred to remain at Lucas Lodge, so her husband attended alone, in hopes of seeing Mr. Bennet. Upon discovering that gentleman’s absence—and noticing the affection Elizabeth and Darcy seemed to have for each other—Collins seethed. I know your game, Cousin; you are trying to seduce Mr. Darcy! I will never allow that to happen!

  ≈≈≈

  At Longbourn, meanwhile, Lydia sat alone in the dining room, her hands resting on the table and her chin resting on her hands. Sharing her misery with the family cat, she declared, “It is as if I do not exist, Master Mittens. My sisters scarcely speak to me. My friends never call. I am utterly alone—and all because the dreadful Miss Darcy could not take a joke!”

  Mittens was sprawled in the center of the dining table (a spot forbidden to him when the other Bennets were about) bathing himself; if he sympathized with Lydia’s plight, he gave no indication. Mr. Bennet, however, having just retrieved a book from his study, overheard his daughter as he passed the dining room.

  “Oh, stop your complaining!” he scolded. “How is it that you are the only one who does not see your foolishness? Here you are, at home with your tired old father instead of dancing the night away in town. And for what? George Wickham?”

  “Wickham is quite fond of me!” Lydia retorted.

  “According to your mother, who pays prodigious attention to these matters, you gave far more attention to him than he ever gave to you. Lydia, the man is a deserter who sneaked away in the dark of night to avoid paying his debts! And for all your noisy dislike of Mr. Darcy, it was he who paid Wickham’s creditors, though he was under no obligation to do so. And you were present when the rogue admitted to receiving three thousand pounds in lieu of the position as parson.”

  “Why shouldn’t Mr. Darcy pay? Had he honored his father’s wishes to give Wickham the living of the parsonage at Kympton, there would be no debts.”

  “Are you so certain? I suspect, Wickham, instead of charming and cheating his way through Meryton—in which case, you never would have met him—would be charming and cheating his way through his parishioners.”

  “The Darcys cheated him first. The world is blinded by their wealth or else frightened by Mr. Darcy’s imposing manners.”

  “In the unlikely event Wickham did complete his studies to take orders, he would be familiar with Romans, chapter 12, verse 19: ‘Avenge not yourselves.’ Do you understand, my girl? Even if Mr. Darcy did cheat the fellow, two wrongs do not make a right.”

  “The living was worth more than that!” she repeated Wickham’s claim.

  “You carry on as if there were a future to be had with that scoundrel; I assure you, there is not! By refusing to see reason, you are being childish again … still. Consider what your foolish attachment to Wickham has cost you. You are at war with your family; you are banned from any activity at which the Darcys might be present; and you are thought a fool for defending a deserter. How will you restore the relationships you have lost?”

  Tears filled Lydia’s eyes. “I need of fresh air,” she declared; wiping her damp cheeks on her sleeves, she ran out of the room.

  ≈≈≈

  Standing in the garden under the moonlight, Lydia could not hear the music emanating from the open windows of the assembly room in Meryton, but she closed her eyes and swayed to the songs in her mind. She was deep in her imaginings when the first pebble Wickham tossed hit her shoulder, so she ignored it. But when she felt the second pebble, her eyes popped open. “Who’s there?” she demanded, more annoyed than afraid.

  Wickham stepped out of the shadows. “By heaven, you are lovely, Lydia Bennet!” he said with a whispered enthusiasm so as not to attract unwanted attention. “I tried to stay away, but my regret at leaving you was stronger than my will.”

  When he opened his arms, Lydia ran to him, embracing him passionately. “I have missed you so!” she exclaimed. Once Wickham was certain she had a firm grip, he staggered a bit. “Oh, my love, are you ill?”

  “I am well enough, but I’ve not had much to eat of late,” he said, pleased that he could say at least one true thing. “Might there be some bread and cheese in your kitchen for me?”

  “Yes, of course! Come inside—”

  “I cannot. You know I am disgraced.”

  “La, what nonsense!”

  “Perhaps you could bring me a bite of food out here.”

  “Yes, right away!” Lydia agreed. Wickham has returned! In his hour of need, he has come to me!

  As she reluctantly removed herself from his arms, he said, “I beg of you, tell no one I am here. Let this be a secret between us.”

  “Of course, my love.” Lydia hurried to the kitchen while Wickham returned to the shadows and studied the lit windows of the house, wondering where Mr. Bennet might be.

  Because the Longbourn and Netherfield parties were coming for a late supper, various foods were already laid out in the kitchen. As Lydia filled a small basket with bread, cheese, and ham, she imagined herself on Wickham’s arm, parading through Meryton—and him so handsome in red regimentals. Everyone will see I was right about dear Wickham!

  Returning to the garden with the food and a half-full jug of ale, Lydia set them on the table under the tree. Wickham emerged from the shadows, confident they would not be observed. Having already spoken of his hunger, he ate with less genteel manners than he typically used in the presence of others. (To Lydia, this was merely more proof of his desperate state.) Between bites of food and swallows of ale, Wickham spoke of his affection for Lydia, recalling details of what she had worn and of how they had shared some joke. Soon, he began hinting for her to elope with him, and he interspersed his praise of her with predictions of their happy future. He also suggested items she might bring for their elopement: money, food, and perhaps bottles of wine.

  When he complimented Lydia, she savored his words, but a voice in her thoughts asked why he had never said these things during his months in Meryton. On the heels of this question came Mrs. Gardiner’s prediction that Wickham would not be welcomed in the neighborhood. Then her father’s voice echoed: “You carry on as if there were a future to be had with that scoundrel; I assure you there is not!”

  As Wickham spoke, Lydia struggled to picture herself in the pleasant fantasies he spun, but once one awakens to a truth, it is difficult to lose one’s self again in the lie. Her awareness came quite suddenly, and she saw herself as others saw her: a silly girl defending a scandalous blackguard. Her father had spoken true; there was no future—no good future—with George Wickham. How could they parade triumphantly through Meryton? As a deserter, he could not wear his regimentals. As a debtor and a cheat, he would be shunned. And Lydia Bennet would be confirmed a fool.

  Upon realizing that he was doing all the talking, Wickham asked, “What say you, dear girl? Will you be my lovely bride?”


  Lydia smiled. “I am so delighted at your return, I have no words.” However, she was thinking about her father’s challenge: “Consider what your foolish attachment to Wickham has cost you. How will you restore the relationships you have lost?”

  Once and for all, Wickham proved how little he knew Lydia Bennet, for he truly believed happiness could render her speechless. It never occurred to him that she now heard his words for what they were: a penniless man’s plea for her to take care of him. He kissed the back of her bare hand and promised, “We shall be so happy together!”

  Lydia assured him that while it was her fondest wish to be Mrs. Wickham, she could not elope until Tuesday at the soonest, as this was when a friend had promised to repay the loan of some money. That Wickham believed Lydia ever could or would lend money was further evidence of his ignorance of her character.

  Ultimately, Wickham and Lydia agreed to meet on Tuesday night at Bishop’s barn, the ramshackle farm building on the field that abutted Longbourn; from there, they would travel to Gretna Green. As if I would forego a beautiful church wedding with my family and friends so I could be married in a blacksmith’s shop! I may not be the first Bennet to marry, but by heaven, I will have a finer ceremony than Jane did!

  Lydia let Wickham kiss her several times, admitting to herself he had a talent for it, and she pretended not to notice when his arms brushed her breasts as he took her into his embrace. Then he collected the remaining food and disappeared into the darkness.

  After Wickham left, Lydia rearranged the food on the platters in the kitchen so that what she had given to Wickham would not be noticed. Then she sat in the dark parlor, plotting how best to turn this unexpected situation to her advantage. I wish to be the heroine who captures the villain and redeems herself. Everyone will be rapturous in their praise, agreeing that I have matured greatly after being tragically misled by evil George Wickham. Indeed, I was as much his victim as was any other lady!

  When the longcase clock in the foyer struck half-past eleven, Lydia returned to the kitchen and offered to help Hill set out the food on the sideboard. The Bennet’s long-suffering housekeeper responded by checking Lydia’s forehead for fever.

  As the carriages with the Netherfield and Longbourn parties pulled up to the house, Lydia waited in the kitchen. She heard the front door open and her mother urging the others to have supper while she looked in on Mr. Bennet. Thus, while Bingley and Jane, Ainsworth and Mary, Elizabeth and Darcy, Kitty, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam were filling their plates, none noticed when Lydia stepped into the doorway of the dining room.

  Speaking loudly over their cheerful chatter, Lydia declared, “Wickham has returned. He expects me to run away with him on Tuesday.” The room was silent as everyone turned to look at her. Pleased to have their attention, she added, “He seems rather destitute.” When no spoke, she gave an exasperated sigh. “Doesn’t this seem the perfect time to capture him?”

  “Yes, certainly, yes!” Darcy said.

  “Wickham was here? Tonight?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “I was in the garden when he approached me,” Lydia said.

  “Are you all right?” Jane asked. “He did not harm you?”

  “No.” Lydia was tempted to mention Wickham’s kisses, if just for the fun of shocking everyone, but she realized such a revelation would not improve her reputation.

  Only Elizabeth expressed doubt over her sister’s unexpected shift in allegiance. “For some time now, you have accused all of us of abusing your poor, dear Wickham. I must ask, Sister, what has brought you to this change of heart?”

  “I had a conversation with Papa tonight; I suppose you could say it opened my eyes.” After a pause, Lydia added, “I forgive you, Lizzy, for your suspicion of me.”

  Darcy held out his plate to Elizabeth. “Will you take this, please?”

  Holding her own plate in one hand and Darcy’s in the other, Elizabeth watched as he pulled out a chair from the table. “Miss Lydia, will you join us this evening?” After she sat in the chair he offered, he reclaimed his plate and set it in front of her.

  “Thank you. And I would like some wine,” she said.

  Fitzwilliam did not even try to hide his smile. “Allow me, Miss Lydia.” He filled a glass from one of the bottles on the table and, holding it in both hands, offered it to her as if it were a gift from an acolyte. She acknowledged him with a queenly nod as she accepted the glass.

  A moment later, Mrs. Bennet rushed into the dining room. “Mr. Bennet is sleeping, but Lydia is gone! She has run away, unable to bear the disapproval of—” She stopped when she saw her youngest daughter. “Oh. Oh, there you are. Oh, my!”

  Darcy explained, “Miss Lydia has some useful information, so she has joined us for supper.”

  Mrs. Bennet bustled forward and gave Lydia a quick hug. “Ah, good! Everything is back to normal. I am delighted!”

  Exchanging wary glances, with Mary, Kitty murmured, “I, for one, refuse to return to our old normal.”

  “Amen,” Mary agreed quietly.

  ≈≈≈

  July 7, 1811

  After church, the Netherfield party (which now included Jane and Elizabeth) strolled through Meryton with the Longbourn party (which still included Ainsworth). Walking beside Mary, Elizabeth said, “You arrived to church so late, I began to fear you were unwell.”

  “It is Hill who was unwell this morning, so she took to her bed. Mama said that as I was now the eldest daughter at home, I must stay with Papa.”

  “I confess I would be uneasy if no one were around should Papa be in need assistance.”

  “As would I. However, Papa declared he did not need a nursemaid. I said I would not be convinced of that until he left his bed. Now he is sitting in the garden, playing drafts with Johnny, and he has promised to be there when I return.”

  “That is progress,” Elizabeth said with an approving nod.

  Darcy claimed everyone’s attention by saying, “I have been considering how the capture of Wickham could best be achieved.”

  Fitzwilliam said, “We need to get the lay of the land, but as he knows Darcy and me, he might bolt if he sees us at Bishop’s barn.”

  “He doesn’t know me,” Ainsworth said. “I could wander around the place to see if the fellow has made a nest for himself there, and I can make note of the good hiding places nearby.”

  “Excellent! Thank you, Ainsworth,” Darcy said.

  “But I did not get a close look at Mr. Wickham’s face, what with his regimental hat.”

  “I can sketch a reasonable likeness,” Kitty volunteered, “if Lydia will give me the details of his most recent appearance.”

  “That would be most helpful, Miss Kitty,” Fitzwilliam said. “And once we are assured Wickham is not at Bishop’s barn, Darcy and I will take a closer look for ourselves.”

  While Jane, Bingley, Elizabeth, and Georgiana returned to Netherfield, the others went to Longbourn where, within an hour, Kitty had produced a very true likeness of George Wickham that was small enough to fit into a Bible. Ainsworth, dressed in his work clothes and an old straw hat, had coaxed the Laidlaw’s dog, Bailey, into following him.

  Ambling along, he occasionally threw a stick for Bailey to fetch, but after the third time of returning the stick, the dog refused to chase it, looking at Ainsworth as if to say, If you do not want it, I will not waste my time bringing it to you.

  While there were indications of someone camping in the barn recently, the decrepit structure was deserted now. Upon returning to Longbourn, Ainsworth made a map of the area, identifying ditches, copses, and paths. “Most impressive,” Fitzwilliam said. “Should you wish to exchange your plowshare for a sword, I will recommend you to my commander.”

  Ainsworth smiled and shook his head. “Thank you, but I am still seeking a parsonage.”

  Darcy shook Ainsworth’s hand. “We appreciate your efforts to help us capture this rogue.” Had I met this man during my first visit here, I would have dismissed him without a second thought. Tha
nk you again, Elizabeth, for opening my eyes.

  “What is your plan as to the how of it?” Ainsworth asked.

  Darcy looked at Fitzwilliam and shrugged. “Stay out of sight until Wickham comes to collect Miss Lydia and then grab him.”

  “We must prepare for the possibility that Wickham will have a horse or even a cart. And I expect him to have a pistol and perhaps his sabre if he has not gambled them away.”

  “Fitz, I believe that you, a groom, and myself can manage one man. Bingley and a footman should stay at Netherfield with Jane, Georgiana, and Elizabeth.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded. “Just in case Wickham does something unpredictable.”

  Ainsworth asked Mary, “Would your family object if I were to be at Longbourn on Tuesday night? I know you have Johnny, but the presence of another able-bodied man would be a wise precaution if Wickham is an unpredictable fellow.”

  She assured him, “We would be grateful for your company.”

  ≈≈≈

  Shortly before dinner, Darcy surprised Georgiana with a request. “Will you take a turn around the garden with me? There is a matter I wish to discuss.” Seeing her worried expression, he quickly amended, “That is, there is a matter on which I wish to hear your thoughts.”

  “Certainly.” She accepted the arm he offered, but said no more, waiting for him to speak first.

  Only after they were shielded by the tall hedges of the garden did Darcy speak. “Since Ramsgate, we have scarcely spoke of Wickham. Once you were safely back at Pemberley, I wanted to pursue him, but as the days passed, I convinced myself there was no need, that he was gone from our lives forever. You seemed fragile in those days; I feared for your health. Nor did I wish to initiate a confrontation with that blackguard that I could not control. Did my decision disappoint you? You can tell me your feelings honestly, dearest.”