Obstinate, Headstrong Girl
“Mama, I am so tired of being in this place, for there is little to do!”
Miss Lydia’s voice was nothing less than a whine, a tone she had used more as the days passed, especially after they had informed her of her future attending a school for girls. All around him, Darcy witnessed several looks of exasperation in those present, though he could easily see that there were several also in the grips of ennui.
“Please do not speak so, Lydia,” said Mrs. Bennet. “You should be grateful that Lady Catherine is willing to endure our family and host us in such surroundings as this.”
“Perhaps you should find something to occupy yourself,” said Lady Catherine, not looking up from the book she held in her hands, from which she had been reading, interspersed with comments between herself and the Bennet matron. “If you are having difficulty,” continued she when Miss Lydia opened her mouth again, likely to reiterate her complaint, “I can summon Mrs. Jenkinson, for she is adept at teaching young girls. Why, look at how Anne has turned out!”
The sound of Miss Lydia’s lips closing was audible to them all, provoking several grins. A version of that particular exchange had played out many times since the Bennets’ coming, and more so in recent days. Miss Lydia pouted, crossing her arms and burrowing back into the sofa, glaring at Lady Catherine. Darcy thought to speak up, to warn her against such behavior, for Lady Catherine was not above banishing the girl to the nursery.
“Mayhap Miss Lydia is correct.” As one, the company turned to Fitzwilliam who had spoken, Darcy raising an eyebrow at his cousin, who returned the gesture with a grin. “We have been in this house for several days now, and while I am happy with the company, it feels a little close, for all it is a large house. It may be advisable to have an outing to allow us a little exercise and a chance to stretch our legs.”
“What do you suggest, Fitzwilliam?” asked Lady Catherine, setting her book down on her lap.
Fitzwilliam considered the question and said: “I might suggest a picnic, though it may still be a little cool for such an activity.”
“The ground is still wet in many places too,” said Elizabeth. Trust Elizabeth to know the state of the ground on which they may picnic, and Darcy could see several grins, proving others had had the same thought.
“Then perhaps a day trip into Westerham?” suggested Banbury.
“Westerham?” demanded Lydia. “What is there to do there?”
“What is there to do in Meryton, Lydia?” asked Elizabeth. “When we are at home, you can find reason enough to go there almost every day, and you have done so since long before the militia arrived.”
“Is there a music shop in Westerham?” asked Mary, her eagerness unmistakable. “I should like to find something new before our next lesson with the master.”
“I believe there is, Mary,” said Lady Catherine, smiling at the girl. “You may purchase to your heart’s content, for one can never have enough selection of music on hand.
Darcy watched the interaction with some interest. Since the Bennets’ arrival, she had seemed to have gained something of a soft spot for the middle Bennet daughter, possibly, Darcy thought, a result of the girl’s similar character to Anne. Once they married, Darcy thought the lady might turn her more particular attention on Mary, though the girl was to accompany them on their wedding journey, a prospect Darcy knew she looked on with eagerness.
“I do not wish to waste my time in a dusty old music store,” declared Lydia.
“Then what of a haberdasher?” asked Elizabeth, giving her sister a quelling look. “Or maybe a milliner’s or a dressmaker’s?”
“No one mistook you for one who wished to peruse music, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “Your sister has her interests, you have yours. Both may be assuaged, I think.”
It was rare, in Darcy’s experience, that a reprimand mortified the girl, and this was one of those times if her look down and rosy cheeks were any sign. That was another matter Darcy had noted. Though he had spent little time in the Bennet sisters’ company, he had noticed Miss Lydia’s general disdain for the quieter Miss Mary. Recently, however, her father had pushed back, such that Lydia usually kept her opinion to herself and treated her sister better. Perhaps there was hope for the girl.
“Then I believe it is settled,” said Lady Catherine. “Tomorrow would be acceptable if the weather does not turn. As for myself, I believe I shall remain at Rosings.”
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet exchanged a look, and the matron spoke up, saying: “We shall keep you company, Lady Catherine, for we need not go to Westerham.”
“As we will not go,” said Mr. Bennet, “Lydia, Kitty, you will stay with your sisters, for the town is unknown to you.”
While it was clear Lydia did not appreciate this stricture, she agreed with a nod and the company began planning for their outing. Thus it was the following day that they gathered together to make the brief journey to the town. As there were twelve participants, they divided into three carriages to cover the distance in comfort. It was to Darcy’s continued exasperation that his eldest cousin maneuvered his way into Darcy’s carriage and immediately spoke to garner Elizabeth’s attention for himself.
As the carriage wheels rumbled against the gravel of the road beneath, Darcy regarded his cousin, noting his animated statements, the gestures of his hand as he debated some point. Elizabeth responded with her own brand of verve, though Darcy knew there was nothing of admiration or pleasure in her responses.
Elizabeth’s devotion had never been in doubt—her morality was above question. What Darcy wanted to know was what his cousin meant by lavishing this much attention on her. Darcy was no simpleton; he had not missed his cousin’s blatant attempts to intrude upon her consciousness, the way his banter sometimes strayed into flirting. It was like Fitzwilliam’s usual manner—he was like his brother in character, after all—yet in some intangible way, it was something different from his experience with his cousin. He was not a man to behave with little regard for social niceties, and Darcy knew he would not attempt to make love to an engaged woman.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Darcy’s attention, and he noted Charity, who had joined them in the carriage, sitting by Elizabeth’s side, frowning at her brother. Feeling suddenly a little easier knowing that someone else had noticed Banbury’s behavior, Darcy caught her eye and rolled his, informing her he did not feel threatened by her brother. Charity nodded, but her glare soon returned.
When the carriages rolled into Westerham, Darcy stepped down after his cousin, turning at once to hand Elizabeth and Charity from the conveyance, immediately claiming Elizabeth’s hand on his arm. Banbury’s knowing smirk did not annoy him as much as it might have if he had not had that moment with Charity in the carriage.
“This is what we came for?” was the first comment from any of them, delivered, of course, by the irascible Miss Lydia Bennet. The girl looked up and down the street, her critical gaze seeming to find fault with everything in sight as if she were an empress visiting the lowliest hovel in her empire.
“Westerham is not the center of England,” replied a cheerful Anne, “but it is a pleasant enough town. What it has for us now is a hint of amusement and perhaps a bit of luncheon.”
“It is quaint enough,” said Elizabeth, fixing her sister with a dark glare. “If you compare it to Meryton, Westerham is larger.”
“It has not half the charm of Meryton,” said Miss Lydia, sniffing and turning her nose up in an unconscious imitation of another young lady of Darcy’s acquaintance.
“If you prefer,” said Elizabeth, this time the warning clear in her voice, “you may return the carriage which may then convey you back to Rosings. We would not wish to offend your sensibilities, after all.”
Darcy stifled the laugh at the sight of Miss Lydia swallowing whatever retort she was about to make. Elizabeth watched her for a moment and then nodded.
“Good. Remember, Lydia—if you do not wish to be here, you may always return. We can make do with two carriages for our return.”
The girl took the point and shook her head, turning with Miss Kitty, who watched the interaction with alarm, making their way down the street, Miss Mary, along with Bingley and Miss Bennet trailing behind. Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye and shared a glance heavenward with her before they both broke into chuckles.
As outings went, their time in Westerham was not precisely the most enjoyable, though every moment in Elizabeth’s company was to be cherished. But Fitzwilliam had been correct; days on end in Rosings had left them all languorous, wanting for something with which to occupy themselves. This opportunity to be out for a time was no less than welcome.
For a time, they walked through the town together, several times entering this shop or that as a group. A few times the Bennet sisters came across little trinkets that they purchased, and Miss Lydia spent her money on a bonnet, much to her sisters’ amusement; it seemed such purchases were a common occurrence for the girl.
After a time of this, they made their way laughing to the local inn where they partook of the promised luncheon. Such a large group of gentlefolk seemed to take the proprietor by surprise, but the man quickly recovered and served them an excellent repast, such that no one could complain. For a time, they sat about in the inn, speaking with animation and enjoying a bit of tea or ale.
“I suppose we must return to Rosings soon,” said Fitzwilliam as they exited the inn, his tone revealing he had no real desire to do so.
“We have a little more time,” said Darcy as he saw the faces of the youngest Bennets fall. “Perhaps we might split up a little? I suspect there are places we have not visited yet which might appeal to each of us in particular.”
“The bookshop?” asked Elizabeth, directing a sly smile at Darcy. “We have not gone there yet. It has been some months since I have last been in such a place, and I feel the need most keenly.”
“Of course, you do,” said Miss Bennet, grinning at her sister. “Let it not be said that Lizzy Bennet could visit a town without spending an hour perusing books.”
“Then I shall escort you, fair maiden,” was Darcy’s gallant declaration. “Shall we?”
With a nod and a smile, Elizabeth turned to her elder sister, who appeared to understand her before she opened her mouth. “I shall stay with Lydia and Kitty, Lizzy. Should you find something Father would enjoy, I am certain he would appreciate it.”
“Jane, shall we not go to the haberdasher’s?” asked Miss Lydia.
Though they had already been to that shop, Miss Bennet, with the well of patience Darcy had often noted in her, agreed, following the younger girls as they set off down the street. Darcy noted that Miss Mary followed her sisters and Bingley who was, as always, in attendance with Miss Bennet. The others separated to other locations that interested them, leaving Darcy in the street with Elizabeth.
“Shall we?” asked Darcy, offering his arm.
“By all means,” was her reply.
Jane had noted Mr. Bingley’s distraction from the time the gentlemen had arrived from the parsonage that morning. It was most unlike Mr. Bingley, for though she loved him dearly, he was not the type of deep thinker his friend was. Then again, as Jane was not like Lizzy in that respect either, she found she had no need of it and preferred him the way he was. The longer they were in Westerham, however, the more she noted his distraction, and was rendered curious, wondering what he was about.
The haberdasher was another opportunity for Kitty and Lydia to bicker about ribbons and other such nonsense, such as Jane might have expected. As the girls had used their money, they begged Jane to buy them the ribbons over which they argued, and after giving the matter a moment’s thought, Jane declined, reminding them that they had declared them barely worth their time only moments before. The girls, though disappointed, proved they were not truly affected only moments later when they forgot about it and left the shop, eager for other adventures.
“Miss Bennet,” said Bingley when they were out of the street again, his voice sounding slightly strained. “I beg your pardon, but might I speak with you in private for a moment?”
Taken aback though she was, Jane was not averse to Mr. Bingley’s request. A fluttering had begun in the belly as she considered Mr. Bingley's reason for wishing to speak to her alone. But she could not leave Lydia and Kitty to their own devices in so strange a place.
“Mary,” said Jane, aware her voice had taken on the same characteristics of Mr. Bingley’s tone from a moment before. “Can you please accompany Kitty and Lydia for a moment? Mr. Bingley and I will rejoin you shortly.”
“Go, Jane,” said Mary, apparently coming to the same conclusion as Jane herself. “I shall watch them.”
Gaining their freedom from her younger sisters, Mr. Bingley grasped Jane’s hand as if he never meant to let go and pulled her around the corner of a shop. After looking about for a moment, Mr. Bingley turned to her, his gaze softening. That did not last long, unfortunately, for he seemed to become agitated. The man fidgeted with his hands for a moment and then started pacing; Jane thought he might wear a furrow in the ground if he kept it up long.
“Miss Bennet!” exclaimed he suddenly, startling her with the force of his voice. “I have . . . What I mean to say is . . . Can you . . . Oh, hang it all!”
“Mr. Bingley?” asked Jane, feeling bewildered.
“Will you marry me?” demanded Mr. Bingley all at once.
Though the sudden question took Jane aback, a feeling of utmost peace suddenly came over her. The man she had not so secreted loved for months now had proposed to her! There was only one answer to make.
“Of course, I will marry you, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane. Mr. Bingley’s nervousness disappeared like snow on a warm spring day, and the gentleman grinned. “Is this what you have been about all day?” chided Jane. “I might have thought you would be more confident, sir, for did you not see how I have been waiting for your proposal?”
“It was not the most romantic, I know,” replied Mr. Bingley, no hint of abashment appearing in his manner; in fact, he appeared almost beatified. “For that, I apologize; though I have thought on what to say when the moment arrived, all but the most basic thoughts fled. I had worried you would think me a madman, spouting nonsense. Either that or an idiot.”
“Never,” said Jane. “You could not have asked my hand in any possible manner that would have induced me to reject you.”
Mr. Bingley’s grin widened to a great beaming smile. “I am happy to hear it, Miss Bennet. “I believe we shall do very well together.”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley; I suspect we shall.”
“Come now,” said the gentleman in his irrepressible way. “Now that we are engaged, you should call me Charles, and I shall call you Jane.”
Jane could not help but laugh at his exuberance. “That would make me happy, Charles. But I will remind you we are not engaged until my father gives his approval.”
The smile ran away from Charles’s face and he appeared to turn a little green. Jane, knowing what her father could be like, understood, though she stifled her laughter in favor of building up his confidence.
“Do not concern yourself, Charles. My father does not bite. Much.”
Perhaps they should not have indulged, but they spent several more moments, exchanging whispered promises, and even a kiss or two. At the end of it, Jane was satisfied she had made the correct decision, not that she had ever doubted.”
“I think it is time we returned to the others, Charles.”
With a wide grin, Charles agreed and offered his arm, which Jane took for the first time as an engaged woman, reveling in the ability to refer to the man by her side as her fiancé. They walked around the corner of the shop together, each feeling as content as they ever had, and found themselves confronted by a commotion. At the center, unsurprisingly, was Jane’s youngest sister.
After some enjoyable time in the bookshop, Elizabeth departed with her fiancé, several books clutched in her hands. As her sister had suggested, Elizabeth had found two volumes she thought her father would enjoy, works William had recommended to her. The scene outside the bookshop caught her attention at once, much as it did her elder sister from the opposite side of the to do.
“It is no wonder our father means to send you to school!” Mary was scolding Lydia, who appeared ready to fly at her sister, claws extended her rage. “Can you not behave yourself for one minute, Lydia? Must we all keep watch on you every moment of every day, lest you ruin us?”
“Be silent, Mary!” was Lydia’s hateful reply. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Perhaps you do not, but you will speak anyway,” said Elizabeth, stepping toward Mary in a show of solidarity and support. “What happened, Mary?”
Mary fixed Lydia with a look of utter disdain and turned to Elizabeth. “When we came out of the milliner, Lydia disappeared for a full ten minutes! Kitty and I searched everywhere and could find no sign of her. Then she comes sauntering in from one of the side streets, looking like a strutting peacock, as if she had not a care in the world.”
Frowning, Elizabeth turned to Lydia. “Why did you run off, Lydia? You know Father instructed you to stay near one of us.”
“I did not ‘run off,’” replied Lydia, waving her hand in the air as if the matter was of no concern. “It is nothing more than losing my way.”
“If you will pardon my saying so,” said Lord Banbury, watching Miss Lydia with little trust, “but you did not appear as if you had become lost. If I was to guess, you were pleased you had succeeded in slipping away from your sisters. The question is, what were you doing by yourself, and why acted the way you did.”
Lydia fixed the viscount with a disdainful glare and turned away, unwilling to respond. Becoming more incensed with her sister by the moment, Elizabeth grasped her arm and forced Lydia to look at her.
“No, Lydia, you shall not ignore his lordship’s question. In what mischief were you engaged?”
“I did nothing,” insisted the sullen girl. “In fact, I may blame my sisters, for I was looking at one of the shop windows and when I turned, I could not see them.”
“Do not lie, Lydia,” spat Mary. “After Jane left, I did not move without knowing where you were. It seems to me you waited for my attention to be diverted and skulked away.”
“Believe what you like,” Lydia replied, her manner again dismissive. “It matters not.”
“Perhaps we should not bicker on the street like this,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “It is best to return to Rosings and take the matter to Mr. Bennet. He may decide what to do.”
“That would be for the best,” agreed Darcy. “Fitzwilliam, can you keep an eye on Miss Lydia to ensure there are no more mishaps?”
Fitzwilliam nodded and motioned to the youngest Bennets who began walking toward the carriages. Lydia, Elizabeth noted, walked ahead of them, her head held high. But she had noted Lydia’s expression of fear when they had mentioned her father. The girl was engaged in something she should not be.
“What do you think?” asked Darcy of the viscount.
Lord Banbury snorted. “Smugness is not what I would associate with a girl who thinks others left her behind.”
“I apologize, Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley. “I wished to speak with Jane; perhaps we should not have left Miss Mary alone to watch after her youngest sister.”
No one present missed Mr. Bingley’s usage of Jane’s Christian name. “Oh?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Is there something you have not yet told us?”
Seeming to realize what he had let slip, Mr. Bingley could not contain his pleased grin. “Jane has agreed to marry me, Darcy. I have joined you in the wonderful state of being betrothed.”
Congratulations were offered by those present, complete with slaps on the back and professions of delight. Elizabeth, for her part, embraced her sister, thankful Jane had finally received all for which she had wished and everything she deserved.
“I believe you will be a happy woman, Jane,” whispered Elizabeth in her sister’s ear.
“Shall I be as happy as you?” asked Jane.
Elizabeth grinned. “No one could be that happy. But I dare say you will have a go at it.”
They laughed together and set off toward the carriages and one recalcitrant sister, Colonel Fitzwilliam looming over them. As they walked, Jane and Elizabeth spoke together in low voices, their euphoria over Jane’s engagement forgotten as they discussed their sister.
“What do you suppose Lydia was doing?” asked Jane.
“Little of which we would approve,” replied Elizabeth. In response to her sister’s look, however, Elizabeth sighed and added: “I suppose there is little enough mischief she could discover here in Westerham. It is not as if she knows anyone. Besides, the nearest officer is miles away.”
“Then why would she go off by herself?”
“I cannot say, Jane. It is possible she simply wished to be alone, or she may have calculated her disobedience to show us her independence.”
“Papa will not like it.”
“No, I dare say he will not.”
Elizabeth took on the responsibility of escorting her youngest sister home, Mr. Darcy and Lord Banbury traveling with them in the carriage. Kitty was traveling with Jane and Mr. Bingley, as they had determined it would be best to separate the two girls from each other, though Elizabeth supposed they had no indication Kitty had anything to do with her sister’s disappearance.
“My absence was no more than I have already stated,” insisted Lydia when Elizabeth raised the subject again. “Do not bother me about it any further.”
“Very well,” said Elizabeth. “I shall leave it to our father to discuss with you. Do not be sanguine about your disobedience, Lydia, for I expect Papa will take as dim a view of your rebellion as I do myself.”
Lydia did not deign to respond, and Elizabeth did not press her again. It was just as well she stayed silent the entirety of their return journey, for Elizabeth did not know if she could have withstood the girl’s petulance. She thought their companions’ view of it would have been dimmer than her own.