Constitute my Happiness
The sight of the company of men returning filled Elizabeth with hope. Or at least it filled her with relief. Lydia, herself was perched upon the horse in front of her father, her back resting against his chest, her legs dangling down the right side as was proper for a young lady. As they approached, her features came into focus, revealing a sullen glare for all to see. Then her father heeled his horse to a halt in front of the entrance, allowing her to slip to the ground below with a soft word spoken into her ear.
Whether it was because of embarrassment or anger, Lydia did not look up, did not acknowledge the company gathered to see her return. Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth noticed, looked on her youngest, her anger clear in the set of her jaw and the flashing of her eyes. When Lydia did not speak, however, Mrs. Bennet remained silent, looking to her husband instead, a sharp departure from how she might have acted only a few months before.
“As you can see,” said Mr. Bennet into the silence, “we have retrieved our youngest daughter. Let us go into the house so we may discuss what has happened and consider our path forward.”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine.
The lady turned and led them into the house, not deigning to show her disapproval to the disgraced girl. Within moments the family was situated in the sitting-room, tea provided by the house staff. Lady Catherine urged Lydia to partake of a few morsels, knowing she had not eaten that morning, and while Lydia’s upset prevented her from responding, she was eventually persuaded to nibble on a biscuit.
“It seems she did not get far, Mr. Bennet,” observed Mrs. Bennet when they were all settled.
“Only as far as Westerham,” replied Mr. Bennet. “And for that, we have my cousin to thank. If not for him, we might have been hard-pressed to apprehend Wickham before he reached London.”
More than one eyebrow rose at hearing this intelligence, Mrs. Bennet’s among them. Though Elizabeth thought her mother might inquire more minutely into her husband’s meaning, she changed the subject slightly.
“Then we can assume Lydia has not been irrevocably tainted?”
A startled gasp issued from Lydia’s lips and she peered up at her mother, her countenance filled with betrayal. Mrs. Bennet’s pitiless glare, however, precluded any reply she thought to make.
“No, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet. “There was no time for that, and Lydia assures me she would not have acted in such a fashion.”
Though Mrs. Bennet directed a look at her daughter, there was no skepticism in her eyes, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. Lydia had been foolish—of that, there was no doubt. But it would not do to browbeat her when they would be better served explaining her egregious behavior in a manner that would cause improvement.
“Then I am pleased to hear it,” said Mrs. Bennet with a nod. “How did your cousin become involved?”
Mr. Bennet informed the ladies what had happened during their hurried pursuit, how they had come upon Mr. Collins standing over the prone form of Mr. Wickham. It was a surprise to them all, no less to Lady Catherine than to anyone else, who had never suspected there were such depths to Mr. Collins’s character. When Mr. Bennet fell silent a few moments later, they sat back to consider what had happened.
“What I do not understand,” said Mrs. Bennet, being the first to speak yet again, “is how that libertine could have fooled you. Did he not shame you in the middle of Meryton’s street, treating you as if you were a girl in a brothel?”
Though Lydia looked up in alarm at her mother’s cutting words, Mr. Bennet stepped into the breach, patting his wife’s hand. “Let us soften our words, Mrs. Bennet. I am certain Lydia understands how foolish she has been.”
When Lydia murmured what might have been an assent, Mr. Bennet said: “In truth, I find myself as curious as your mother, Lydia. What possessed you to throw yourself into the power of this man, a man who had already insulted you, who you knew to be a scoundrel?”
Squirm in her seat though she did, Lydia could not avoid responding, eventually doing so, though appearing unwilling. “He promised to marry me,” said the girl, her gaze darting to Elizabeth.
“And you believed him?” came the insouciant voice of Lord Banbury. “Have you heard nothing of what we spoke these past days?”
The poisonous glare with which she fixed the viscount aside, Lydia did not deign to respond until her father prompted her. “Mr. Wat—Wickham was always kind to me in Meryton.”
“Until he suggested you give your virtue to him,” huffed Elizabeth.
“In other words,” interject Mr. Bennet before Lydia could respond, “you wished to avoid school so much that you were willing to do anything, including run away with a man who had no means of supporting you, even if he was not one of the most worthless men in all England. And this does not even consider your foolish desire to marry before your elder sisters.”
“The girl will not be ready to marry until she is thirty,” muttered Lady Catherine.
“Yes, well, I believe that is nothing less than the truth,” said Mr. Bennet, drawing Lydia’s unwilling eyes to him. “As you are to go to school before long, we shall allow your instructors the first opportunity to reform you. When you are too old for school, I dare say you will return to Longbourn, where you will remain in the nursery for an additional ten years.”
“Ten years!” shrieked Lydia.
“We shall schedule a review of them at the end,” said Mr. Bennet.
“But Papa! How can I be thirty years of age and still not out in society?”
“Miss Lydia Bennet,” snapped Lady Catherine, taking full control of the conversation. “Perhaps you have missed the jesting nature of your father’s comments. Of course, you cannot remain in the nursery until you are thirty. At the same time, I do not think you understand what you might have accomplished by your flight, and that is a condition that cannot persist for the good of us all.
“Had you succeeded in your mad plan, do you know what might have happened to you?” Lydia scowled and refused to respond; that did not deter Lady Catherine. “If you were lucky, Mr. Wickham might have held you for ransom. Had you lost complete control of your wits you may have been forced to marry him, a man who has nothing more than the clothes on his back? Then what would have become of you?
“I shall tell you,” continued the lady, her pitiless gaze raking over Lydia’s form. “The things you take for granted at present, the clothes, the amusements, the status you enjoy as a gentleman’s daughter—you would have lost all these things. Eventually, Wickham would likely have deserted you, leaving you perhaps with children, alone and with no way to support yourself. I cannot imagine my nephew, good man that he is, would have allowed you to suffer privation, but you would have paid for these missteps the rest of your life. Furthermore, it would have adversely affected us all, for the gossip would have drowned us all.”
“But how can my actions affect you?” protested Lydia.
“For heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “Are you spoiled and witless?”
“Lydia knows, or we have taught her this much,” said Mr. Bennet. “It is just that she does not wish to hear.”
“Because,” said Lady Catherine, nodding to Mr. Bennet, “it is the way our society works. One false step by one member of the family affects those around them. Surely you must have seen what happened in Meryton when by the very jackanapes with whom you decided to elope spread a few unfounded rumors about your sister and my nephew.”
Lydia blanched, perhaps remembering for the first time what had happened in Meryton. Elizabeth suspected she had pushed the memory away in her desperation to avoid the fate her parents had decreed for her.
“Though Mr. Bennet has jested about delaying your debut, that is now a real possibility. You must prove that you have attained maturity before they will allow you to be in a situation where you might embarrass us all again.”
Tears now rolling down her cheeks, Lydia’s wild gaze found Mrs. Bennet, her expression beseeching. The days of her mother supporting Lydia in everything she did, however, were in the past. Mrs. Bennet was not in the mood to offer clemency.
“Everything Lady Catherine says is true, Lydia. You will go to school as soon as we can arrange it. Learn as quickly as you can, for I do not wish to be embarrassed yet again.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Bennet, patting his crying daughter’s shoulder. “Let us not destroy her confidence completely. All jesting aside, Lydia, it is time you attained maturity, and I suspect his event will have a hand in helping you realize that end. For now, perhaps you should return to your room and rested for a while. It has been an eventful morning.”
“I shall go with Lydia, Papa,” said Kitty, eliciting a smile of approval from her father.
When the girls had left the room, Mr. Bennet sighed and leaned back on the sofa.
“Perhaps you should post a footman, Mr. Bennet,” said Lord Banbury. “It would not do to allow her to take flight again.”
“I believe her days of fleeing from Rosings are over, your lordship,” was Mr. Bennet’s sardonic reply. “But perhaps it would be best to inform the servants to inform us at once if she appears anywhere she should not.”
“I shall see to it, Mr. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine with a nod.
“If I am speaking out of turn, I apologize,” said Lord Banbury. “This school to which you propose to send her may not be enough. If she proves ungovernable, you have may have little choice but to arrange her marriage to a man who can control her.”
The glum look her father sported was reinforced with his softly spoken: “Believe me, my lord, I have considered little else since we discussed sending her to school. I have only myself to blame for coming to this end, for I have not disciplined her as I ought.”
“It is hardly your fault alone,” said Mrs. Bennet. “We have all had a hand in it, Mr. Bennet. Let us not think of what might be and concentrate instead on what we can do to help her see the error of her ways.” Mrs. Bennet paused and grinned. “After all, if I can see the error of my ways, I am confident our daughter can too.”
“Apportioning blame will do nothing,” said Lady Catherine. “Think to the future, as Mrs. Bennet has suggested.”
“The responses to our queries should arrive soon,” said Mr. Bennet. “Assuming they do, I should prefer to have Lydia in school as soon as may be arranged. When she returns during breaks, we can continue to work with her. The key, I should think, is to ensure she is in a structured environment as soon as possible.”
“Lizzy’s wedding is fast approaching, Mr. Bennet,” reminded his wife. “I should think that both girls would wish to attend their sister’s wedding before they must go.”
“In Lydia’s case,” said Elizabeth, “I should think she would not wish to attend, given the many times she has stated her desire to marry first.”
By her side, Mr. Darcy clasped her hand, showing his support, for which Elizabeth was grateful. Elizabeth was feeling no little anger at her sister for her near-disastrous actions, and the touch of his hand on hers soothed her.
“Even so,” said Mrs. Bennet, nodding at Elizabeth, “I should think witnessing you marry would be beneficial for her. At the very least, it will force her to acknowledge that her wishes will not be met.”
Elizabeth nodded, allowing her mother’s point.
“Then perhaps we should get on with it,” said Lady Catherine, throwing Elizabeth an affectionate smile. “The sooner we arrange Elizabeth’s wedding, the sooner her sister may be off to school. As I recall, we were discussing flowers when we were interrupted this morning.”
The enthusiasm with which Mrs. Bennet returned to the discussion spoke to her eagerness to dispose of a daughter in marriage, and two more by sending them off to school. Though Elizabeth knew her mother would likely lament it when she had no more daughters left in her home, for the present, she could not blame her. Being married to William seemed like an excellent notion, an event that could not come soon enough.
When the day of her wedding finally arrived, Elizabeth sat at the vanity in her room while the maid worked on her hair. About her others moved, seeing to different tasks. Her mother and Lady Catherine were in the closet directing some last-minute changes to her dress, while Jane stood next to the maid, watching as she worked wonders with Elizabeth’s unruly hair. Even Lydia and Kitty were present, looking over Elizabeth’s jewelry for the day, murmuring in awe as to its fineness while Mary looked on.
It was fortunate that Lydia had accepted her fate, for in the days since they had rescued her from the clutches of Mr. Wickham, she had proven herself to the extent that her father had relaxed his restrictions if only a little. The girls were to depart for their respective schools within days after Elizabeth’s wedding, escorted by their father to Kitty’s school, and then to Lydia’s which was more distant. Elizabeth’s mother had also determined to go with them to see the places her daughters would reside for the next few years of their lives. As for Jane and Mary, they were to stay with Lady Catherine for a time, Jane until Mr. and Mrs. Bennet returned, and Mary for a short time to give Elizabeth and William a little privacy before they all repaired to London for the end of the season, and thence to the lakes.
In June, Mr. Collins and Charlotte would be joined together, Elizabeth and William returning for a short time to attend that wedding as William had promised Mr. Collins. Of Jane’s wedding, there had yet been no official determination, though Elizabeth knew that Mrs. Bennet was keenly anticipating the planning of her eldest daughter’s nuptials which would take place in Longbourn church. Lady Catherine had already indicated her interest in traveling to Hertfordshire to assist, leading to the amusing notion of Lady Catherine staying at Longbourn, a place far humbler than the lady’s lofty estate.
Of one further note, Miss Bingley was also to marry in June, just after the season ended. Mr. Bingley was to go to the north to attend, after which he would return to Netherfield to prepare for his wedding. Elizabeth was grateful that all had worked out with respect to the man’s sister, for both he and Jane were of such complying temperaments, Elizabeth was certain Miss Bingley would have ruled them had they given her the opportunity.
All was well, it seemed. Elizabeth had never been concerned about her choice of husband, for she had known within weeks of meeting him that she wished to marry no other. But the world had conspired against them, making the destination more difficult to achieve than it should have been. Lord Matlock still opposed them, though he had become resigned to the match. He would not attend, though the family was well represented with Lord Banbury, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Charity present. Should the earl remain pleasant in company, presenting a united front before society as William and Lady Catherine suggested he would, Elizabeth knew it would be enough.
“A penny for your thoughts, Lizzy.”
Pulled from them, Elizabeth turned to her sister and smiled. “I was just considering the journey to come to this point, Jane. It has been much more difficult than I anticipated it would be when I met William in August.”
“More difficult, perhaps,” replied Jane. “But is it not said that those things most worth earning are by far the most precious?”
“Yes, Sister dearest,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “I am certain you must be correct, though I will note it is difficult to see it that way when one is in the midst of such struggles.”
“I hope it will not affect you as you join with your husband.”
“You know me, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “The past can only be considered as it brings one pleasure. I am determined to follow my own good counsel.”
“Is it not hubris to consider one’s own counsel to be the best one can receive?”
Elizabeth smiled at Lydia, who had spoken, noting her other sisters had drawn near and were listening to their conversation.
“Perhaps you are correct, Lydia, though I hope I am not one of those people. I should think that you would be one of those who would live by the maxim I just repeated.”
Lydia made a face, though she nodded. “It would please me if you all would not raise the subject at all times,” said she, a plaintive note in her voice. “I have apologized and promised to do better.”
“It was not my intention to bring you distress,” assured Elizabeth. “If you do better, then you may consider the past as I do. It is only when you do not learn from your mistakes that you end repeating them.”
“Are you nervous, Lizzy?” asked Kitty, an obvious wish to change the subject.
“Not at all, Kitty,” replied Elizabeth. “For I am marrying the best man of my acquaintance. Though no one can know the future, I believe I shall be happy in my life with him.”
“But how can you know?”
Regarding her sister, Elizabeth suspected Lydia was not asking how she knew she would be happy. Lydia, it seemed, had done much thinking these past days, particularly about Mr. Wickham and the assurances of all around her that she would never have been happy with him.
“It is difficult to explain,” said Elizabeth after a moment’s thought. “Jane will testify to this, I think, but it is near impossible to determine how you know the man you are to marry is the one for whom you have been waiting all your life.”
“I cannot explain it any more than Lizzy,” was Jane’s soft interjection.
“It is more than simply loving a man,” continued Elizabeth. “It is more than feeling drawn to him. It is . . . Well, it is more wonderful than all these things. When you find a man, come to know him better than any other, understand your wishes in life are aligned, then you will know what a mean. Until then, learn your lessons and prepare yourself for that eventuality.”
“What if one does not find such a man?”
Turning to Mary who had spoken, Elizabeth smiled and reached out to grasp Mary’s hand. “As you all know, I was determined not to marry if I could not find what I wished in a husband. It is no shame, Mary, for not everyone thinks alike. If you never marry, you may find something else which fills your life with joy, something that gives you purpose. Your life is what you make of it. The only thing you need to understand is that you now have the choice to do whatever it is you wish, for William and I shall support you in whatever you decide.”
“That is sage advice, Elizabeth.” As she looked up, Elizabeth noted Lady Catherine and Mrs. Bennet watching her, both appearing more emotional than Elizabeth might have thought. “You are wise beyond your years, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lady Catherine turned to the younger girls and bestowed a warm smile on them. “Listen to your eldest sister and find your own paths in life. You will be happiest if you do so, rather than conforming to what others think is best for you. For now, I believe the maid is finished with your hair, Elizabeth; it is time to dress. You would not wish to keep my nephew waiting.”
Laughing, Elizabeth rose and thanked the maid. “No, Aunt Catherine, there is nothing in the world that will keep me from meeting William at the appointed time in Hunsford.”
The conversation in the room largely ceased as Elizabeth donned her dress. The elder ladies fussed about her, ensuring that not a hair was out of place, not a blemish on her cheeks or a thread loosened from her dress. At length, she passed their inspection, and they stood back to regard their handiwork.
“I believe, Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine, “that there never has been such a beautiful bride. My poor nephew’s eyes will pop from their sockets when he sees her!”
They all laughed, Elizabeth joining them and feeling not a hint of embarrassment. It was entirely the effect for which she hoped, after all, for nothing made a woman feel better than to be desired by the man she loved.
“Now, if you will all follow me, we shall depart.”
Mary, Kitty, and Lydia murmured their congratulations before following Lady Catherine from the room, and Jane lingered for a moment, kissing Elizabeth’s cheek. When she departed, Elizabeth was left alone with her mother, who embraced her and then pushed her away to arms’ length.
“You have found yourself a wonderful man, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I cannot be happier for you and wish you every happiness in your life with him.”
“Thank you, Mama,” replied Elizabeth.
Mrs. Bennet paused, appearing to wish to say something more. “I hope, Lizzy, you will think better of me and know that I am trying to improve myself. I have not always been the best mother—this I know. However, I have always loved you girls and wished for the best for you.”
“Do not think on such things for another moment!” exclaimed Elizabeth, this time initiating the embrace herself. “We are a family of diverse characters. But I could not imagine being in another family, for I love you all so very dearly.”
“Then let us go and meet your young man.”
Together they descended the stairs to greet the rest of the party. Mr. Bennet was waiting to escort her to the church in his best waistcoat and jacket, smiling with appreciation when he saw her. With a final few words, Lady Catherine departed with the Bennet ladies, leaving Elizabeth with her father.
“Well, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet as he guided her from the house. “I suppose it does no good at this late date to inform you how much I shall miss you.”
“And I shall miss you, Papa,” said Elizabeth. Then she grinned. “But remember, William has promised we shall purchase an estate in the neighborhood, so you shall have my company far more often than you might have thought.”
“With that, I must be content,” replied Mr. Bennet. “I hope you choose Netherfield if Bingley decides he can be parted from it. I should like to see Goulding’s face when the calamity of which I warned him comes true.”
Elizabeth could not stifle her laugh at her father’s words. “Perhaps I should not inform you of this, but Mr. Bingley has spoken to William of purchasing an estate nearer to Pemberley when his lease expires.”
“And I shall lose a second daughter to the north. For you, the pleasure of having Jane nearby will make your life complete.”
“Yes, I suppose it will. I shall inform William of your wish that we purchase Netherfield. There is little, I suspect, he will not do if I ask him.”
“Of that, my dear, there is no doubt.”
Within moments they reached the little church beside the parsonage and stepped inside. There, all those most important to her were already waiting for her arrival, Mr. Collins standing at their head, flushed with pleasure for the solemn responsibility conferred upon him. Near the front of the church, Charlotte sat with Sir William, having made the journey from Hertfordshire to witness her nuptials. Elizabeth could not help but smile at her friend, a gesture returned with the greatest of joy. And Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, were in a position of honor, each regarding her with the joy that mirrored her own.
And there, at the front of the church, flanked by Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley, stood William, looking resplendent in his tailored suit. The man regarded her as if he had not seen her in many years, a slight smile adorning his face. Elizabeth returned that smile, allowing her joy to show forth in her eyes, her very countenance.
Then Elizabeth took the final few steps toward her destiny.