AN: This is an essentially canonical sequel, however a few parts of the last chapter of the book must be ignored for it to work. It should be clear what when you read it.
Posted on Sunday, 17 June 2007
Colonel Fitzwilliam was enjoying a drink with some of his fellow officers. There were five men sitting with him in the tavern, all whom Fitzwilliam had nothing but respect for. They were all younger sons of noblemen and had all entered the army at similar times. They had trained together and now made a point of getting together when they were all in London to catch up and share stories about life in the service. There was Colonel Wright who had recently married and all of his stories seemed to start with “Madeline said…” or “Well, my Madeline thinks…” which brought much teasing from the others. Then there was Colonel Richards who had recently been posted to Newcastle and was currently regaling them all with tales of life in that city. Also Colonel George, lately returned from France who was objecting that Newcastle was the focus of the conversation when he had actually been doing some real fighting. He spoke now; “I say, Newcastle is hardly an exciting topic of conversation, I bet you haven’t even had a twisted ankle among your regiment up there!”
“Well, I did lose one man, about a year ago now.” Richards returned. “Not that I can say that I was sorry to lose him.
The men laughed and Colonel Wright demanded “Lost a man in Newcastle? How did you manage that? Madeline tried to loose a cat in Newcastle once, but it kept coming back.”
“He was a nasty piece of work all round. He had been transferred from the south about two years before, recently married to a pretty, young, flighty wife, not that he spent much time at home. It seems that he was causing some consternation around the camp, he had run up debts with every tradesman in the town, which makes it difficult for the rest of the regiment you know?” The men nodded and Richards continued, “Well this man… Wickham his name was… (here Fitzwilliam’s interested in the story suddenly doubled) seems that there had been some trouble with some of the other men’s wives, my own Gwendolyn said that she had heard him make some of the most inappropriate remarks. Then one day Wickham and another man Thompson had been out together doing a routine sort of exercise when Thompson carries the dead Wickham back into camp and says that he had been loading the gun and accidentally shot himself. Now Thompson was also recently married to an even younger, prettier and flightier wife than Wickham. I thought about investigating the matter further, but all the men seemed to stand by Thompson and his integrity and no-one was particularly sorry to lose Wickham. Even his wife when I went to tell her seemed more relived than anything. I don’t blame her, she seemed so young to be married to such a man. So I spoke strongly to Thompson about sensible use of firearms and left it at that.”
Colonel Phelps, who was the youngest of the men present, asked “So do you think Thompson killed him?”
“He might of. I wasn’t interested in finding out, nor in filling in paperwork that murder would entail or in seeing a good man, even one with poor judgement in women, like Thompson be hanged over a scoundrel like Wickham.”
The conversation moved onto the latest news from the front much to Colonel George’s pleasure, and soon Richards was doing his best General Montgomery impression. Fitzwilliam left soon after, making his way back to the Darcy townhouse with a question he wanted answered. He was shown in into the music room where Georgiana was playing. It was late in the season, indeed the Darcys were removing to Pemberley in two weeks, so he found there only Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and Georgiana Darcy as well as Mr and Mrs Bingley. Greeting them all he sat down on a settee and listened for a while to Georgiana’s playing. After a while he said in a low voice to the others, “There is something that I don’t understand.”
“Well, what’s that then?” asked Charles.
“I know Kitty and Davids are recently married and are living in the vicarage in Kympton. And I know that Mary has been living with you Bingleys since Mr and Mrs Bennet passed away last year. So who is Lydia living with since I know she is not living with either of you?”
“She is living with her husband, in Newcastle.” Lizzy said.
“She remarried?” the Colonel queried.
“I can hear your conversation,” interrupted Georgiana as she continued to play, “I know your talking about Wickham, and I don’t mind. But I don’t know what you find so difficult to understand, Richard. Lydia and Wickham are living in Newcastle where they have been, apart from occasional visits to the Bingleys, since they married.”
“But…” here Fitzwilliam paused if they didn’t know about Wickham which seemed entirely credible, since he was sure that Darcy would have told him if he knew, he was not sure that this was the right way to break it to them.
“Oh, go on” Georgiana had stopped playing and had spun around on the piano stool so that she was facing the group.
“I’m afraid Wickham died a year ago. He accidentally shot himself.” Fitzwilliam didn’t see the need to tell the assembled company that Wickham was probably murdered.
Georgiana turned pale but recovered quickly, “He’s dead? But then I am confused too, where is Lydia?”
All eyes turned to Jane and Lizzy. “I had a letter from her about five months ago.” Jane said, “She seemed her usual self, writing about parties she had been to and a new hat that she had bought.” Here Jane paused and thought for a bit, “I’m trying to recall the letters she has sent me over the past year, I think it was about a year ago that she stopped asking me for money. I don’t remember any references to Mr Wickham in any of her letters. It was always hard to tell her notes were short and never informative about anything. What about you Lizzy? When did you last hear from Lydia?”
Lizzy blushed, “I used to get notes from her all the time asking for money, and I would send her a little from time to time. But then I guess about a year ago those notes stopped and I confess what with Jonathan being born, mother and father passing away and Georgiana coming out I haven’t written to her or heard from her since then.”
“So she just decided to omit from her letters that her husband had died?” Georgiana was understandably incredulous.
There was a pause, “It seems that way, yes.” said Jane in a quiet voice “I replied to that last letter about a month after I received it, it was her birthday and I sent her a necklace. I never received a reply. I hope she is safe.” The two older sisters quietly reflected both blaming themselves yet again for the way Lydia’s life had turned out.
“So we know at least she was alive and in a position to write letters five months ago and no one has heard from her since?” Fitzwilliam wanted to make sure he had the facts straight.
“Unless Kitty or Mary has heard from her. Poor, poor Lydia. I wonder how she has been living.” Lizzy turned her big green eyes onto Darcy; the request in them obvious to Darcy after two and a half years of marriage.
He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I will leave for Newcastle first thing tomorrow. Don’t worry I will find her and bring her home.”
“Do you want me to come and help?” Fitzwilliam and Bingley offered their assistance simultaneously.
“No, I do not know how hard it will be to find her. If I need help I will let you know.”
The Bingleys stood up to leave. They had two daughters that they had left at home and the youngest was only two months old. Fitzwilliam made his goodbyes also but on the way out he had a flash of inspiration. “Gwendolyn Richards” he said to Darcy. She is the wife of Colonel Richards who was Wickham’s superior in Newcastle, the one who told me of Wickham’s death tonight. She would be a good place to start in your search. I have met her several times and she is a clever, well bred woman.” Darcy thanked him and Fitzwilliam walked out into the night.
Chapter 2
Having left London before first light the morning after discovering that Wickham had died, Darcy was able to find the home of Gwendolyn Richards before two days had passed. So it was late in the afternoon of the second day that he found himself in a tastefully decorated sitting room awaiting that lady.
Mrs Richards entered the room, her maid had told her that there was a gentleman, a Mr Darcy awaiting her, and despite the odd time of day she had agreed to see him. The name meant nothing to her but upon surveying him and noticing the fineness of his clothes she decided to give him her time. That is not to say Gwendolyn was a snob, but the life of Colonel’s wife was not always an easy one, she had married her Paul because she loved him, but had not found the adjustment from her carefree life in her fathers house to running her own home in Newcastle easy. But now she turned her attention to the stranger in her sitting room, who had stood to greet her.
“Mrs Richards, thank you for allowing me to visit you. I believe you know my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Gwen relaxed, Fitzwilliam was one of her favourites among her husbands friends. “I do know him and it is a pleasure to meet a relative of his. I hope he is well?”
“He was when I saw him last night. However he told me some news that surprised me greatly. Did you know a man in your husbands regiment called Mr Wickham?”
“I did”
“Were you perhaps also acquainted then with his wife, Lydia Wickham?” Darcy saw Mrs Richard’s eyebrows raise questioningly and he continued. “I should explain that she is my sister-in-law but she and my wife have lost contact now I am trying to find her.”
“You are family to Lydia? I am so glad! I have been trying to encourage her to go home to her family ever since that terrible accident. Lydia is a friend of mine and I hold her close as a sister. She has suffered greatly over the past year and as much as she pretends to be self sufficient she is desperately in need of someone to look after her. I can not tell you how relieved I am that you have come.”
She then went over to a writing desk and wrote out an address, “You will find her here.” she said, handing it to him, “I tried to find her a better place, but jobs for gentlewomen are few and far between in Newcastle, and well, with her limited education she could hardly have been a governess.”
Darcy left the house shortly after pleased with the success of his visit. He was puzzled by Mrs Richards, she seemed a graceful, intelligent woman, yet held Lydia as a close friend. He wondered if Mrs Richards was putting up a front of if Lydia had changed.
It was too late to find Lydia that day so Darcy found a room in a tavern and stayed the night in Newcastle wondering what Lydia would be like. Would she ruin the happy life which he now found himself in? The past two years had been as close to perfect as life in this world could be, he was married to his darling Elizabeth, they had a handsome son, Jonathan and Georgiana was blooming under the guidance and friendship of an older sister. Did he really want to bring a new sister-in-law into this equation? Especially one like Lydia who had been a known flirt at just sixteen.
Lydia Wickham was reading the Bible to the elderly widow who she was a paid companion too. She was reading softly and melodious way which she knew would send Mrs Carrigan to sleep. Soon this was achieved and Lydia closed the book and spent some time thinking.
Today marked a year since her husband had died. It had taken her two months of marriage for Lydia to realise that eloping with George Wickham was a mistake. She was alone and friendless in a city far from home and expected to look after a household by a husband who did not care for her. George had made it clear from the time when they arrived at the small house which they were to inhabit in Newcastle that she was to keep the house clean and food on the table, to not ask him any questions especially about where he was going or what he was doing, and she was never to ask him for money. He had provided her with a small stipend each month with which to achieve this and also to pay for the girl who came in during the day to help. He insisted that she supplement this by asking her sisters for money and would forcibly make sure that she wrote letters to both Jane and Lizzy each month to that effect.
Lydia who had never learnt to cook or to help out around the house (she couldn’t even sew straight when she married) had to grow up very fast. Daisy, the girl who had been hired to help was only fourteen herself but soon realised who was in charge. She had taken pity on Lydia and showed her how to manage, how to cook simple meals, how to help with the laundry and how to sew her own dresses. Lydia was far too proud to write about any of this home and instead wrote home letters about parties (heavily embellished but based on the ones she attended) and the clothes she would buy if she had the money. When they had first moved to Newcastle the wives of the other solders had called upon her. Lydia had quickly isolated them all, finding them all old and boring, she had always preferred male company anyway. Soon she was so busy trying to keep her household in order that she never had time to call on others, not to mention she was ashamed of her poor clothing and her husband’s behaviour.
After about a year of married life she started to get on top of things a little and suddenly found that in her week she had a few hours of free time. She was insufferably lonely only ever seeing Wickham when he was asleep or drunk and having isolated all her peer group only had one friend in Daisy. About this time a new Colonel took over Wickham’s regiment and as a matter of course his wife called on all the other officers wives. Gwendolyn Richards had immediately seen Lydia’s situation and despite struggling with being newly married herself had gone out of her way to take Lydia under her wing. Not only did she instruct the girl in housewifely arts where Daisy’s knowledge had been limited but she found an intelligent mind to form. For Lydia’s brashness had been taken away by a year of hard work and her once held dreams were stripped bear. She had never applied herself to anything, she had never been encouraged to except occasional strictures from Jane or Lizzy and now she found that there was something else to discuss beside officers and clothing. Indeed she mused to herself that was a good thing since now she was married and could hardly afford new clothes.
Then Wickham had died and Gwen and a few other friends that Lydia had made had encouraged her to go to her sisters. But Lydia was proud and did not want to go home admitting that she should never have eloped. Besides only sisters she still wrote to were Jane and Kitty, Kitty was engaged soon to be married and Jane was having a difficult pregnancy so she wasn’t going to force herself on either of them. Also she liked her independence and the friends she had in Newcastle so after a few months of trying she and Gwen found her a position as a companion to Mrs Carrigan.
Lydia looked at Mrs Carrigan sleeping now and tucked the shawl more firmly around the old lady. The position was a tolerable one, Mrs Carrigan had no money of her own, Lydia was paid for by Mrs Carrigan’s son who owned several mills around Newcastle. There were two Carrigan children, the other a girl who had married a local land owner and strongly reminded Lydia of Caroline Bingley. Lydia was not fond of either of them, they were both filled with their own self worth, and despite Lydia’s now reduced circumstances she knew she was better born and bred than both of them. It was Mr Carrigan however who was more of a worry, he had in late weeks taken to making little comments which made Lydia feel uncomfortable.
Lydia looked up and saw that Mr Carrigan had entered the room, he looked across at his mother and seeing she was asleep sat down in the chair opposite Lydia. Mr Carrigan often called when his mother was asleep, Lydia thought he must have some inbuilt intuition that he could come so often while she was napping. She had worked out ages ago that it was his way of cleansing his conscience, visiting his mother but at the same time not having to talk to her. Unfortunately this meant that Lydia had to talk to him, he often stayed for up to an hour telling her about his mills and his workers and his dogs. She was interested in none of these topics but sat through them as he was her employer and so she affected interest. He was a short man of about forty, almost completely bald and had a tendency to crack his knuckles as he talked. “Mrs Wickham,” he began now after they had exchanged pleasantries, “It must come as no surprise to you that I am very fond of you.”
Lydia had somewhat subconsciously dreaded this was coming but she hadn’t expected it so soon and had thus not formulated an acceptable response. As she said nothing he continued. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I am marrying too far out of my class to marry my mothers companion. I know that you have no money but I shall never reproach you on that when we are married.” He cracked his knuckles again.
Lydia, seethed inwardly thinking of what Mr Carrigan would say if he knew who her brothers-in-law were, tried to evade the actual question thereby not risking offending him “Sir, I am sorry but I cannot marry you. I am not yet out of mourning. I was not thinking of marrying again. It would insult Mr Wickham’s memory”
“Come, everyone knew that your husband was sleeping in every bed in Newcastle but yours. It would take a great deal to insult his memory”
Privately Lydia agreed with that statement but that was not the point, “I am sorry sir, but as my period of mourning is not yet over I can not think about marrying again.”
Mr Carrigan stood up and Lydia not wanting to be at any disadvantage did likewise. Unfortunately for him she was a good head taller than him, he reached out and grabbed her arm and lowering his voice began, “Mrs Wickham…”
He did not get any further however for at that moment the door opened to reveal Mr Darcy.
Chapter 3
Posted on Monday, 23 July 2007
Darcy had knocked at the door and been admitted by a maid. She had confirmed that Mrs. Wickham was within and had then left him, muttering something about soap. After some deliberation, about whether he would receive an invitation to enter or if he should just walk in, he had made the decision to walk up the stairs toward the sound of voices. Upon opening the door to what he presumed was the sitting room, he saw an old lady asleep in her chair, a short man who looked angry, and a tall lady who briefly looked shocked and then bemused. The tall lady spoke, “Mr. Darcy, it seems you have a habit of rescuing me from difficult situations.”
Darcy had judged the lady to be in her late twenties from her looks, but now, as he turned to her, he saw her startling resemblance to Jane Bingley and though she looked much older, thinner and drawn than he had been expecting, he realised it must be Lydia. She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, “Were you passing by?”
“I have come to take you home” Darcy replied.
She considered this for a short while and tipping her head to one side said, “Really? That is nice. I will come for a visit if you wish. It will not take me long to pack.”
Mr. Carrigan had watched this display with considerable interest; the man that Mrs Wickham had referred to as Mr Darcy was obviously wealthy, yet he talked about taking Mrs Wickham home. He spoke now, “Mrs. Wickham, you forget, you are engaged as a companion to my mother; you are not entitled to holidays for another four months.”
Lydia turned back and smiled once more, “Mr. Carrigan, I resign my post, effective immediately. I will look for a new position while I stay with my sister and brother-in-law.” She turned to look at the sleeping lady, “Please, give my best wishes to your mother when she wakes.” Then turning to Darcy she said, “I presume the large carriage outside is yours? I will be out in twenty minutes.” With that, Lydia left the room.
Darcy saw no reason to remain, so he bowed to Mr Carrigan and left, choosing to wait in the carriage. He was surprised that she only took fifteen minutes to pack all that belonged to her and, handing her box to the driver (He could see that it was marked Miss Lydia Bennet, Longbourn.), she entered the carriage and sat opposite him.
Lydia, noticing that he was staring at the package in her hands, spoke, “There are some people I must call upon before I leave Newcastle, I think it is unlikely that I will come back.”
Darcy nodded and instructed her to tell the addresses to the driver. Lydia did so, and soon, they found themselves driving through narrow streets in one of the poorest parts of Newcastle. The carriage stopped, and the driver got down and opened the door saying, “I can’t go any further, sir, the place is just down there.” He pointed down the street toward a house that, while no bigger than the rest in the street, at least had clean windows and looked as if someone had attempted to attend to its upkeep.
Lydia stepped out of the carriage, surprised that Darcy had followed her. She looked at him curiously, and he said, “I could not let a young lady walk around, especially in this neighbourhood, unaccompanied.”
She looked at him with a half smile and a considering look in her eyes, as if he had said something very simple. She did not say anything, rather she merely turned and walked toward a house near the end of the lane.
After knocking, a small child granted her entrance, and she found herself greeted affectionately by someone whom she referred to as Daisy. Darcy followed Lydia into the house where he immediately felt cramped as the space seemed overfilled with Lydia, himself, three small children and a young lady of about eighteen, all crowded together in what seemed to be an entryway, kitchen, and a dining room. Lydia explained to Daisy that she intended to visit her sister and brother-in-law for a while and use that time to look for a new position. She added that she would probably not be returning to Newcastle.
The visit lasted for about half an hour, and in this time, Darcy watched in amazement as Lydia kneaded bread and tended to the children while Daisy prepared the midday meal. The children and Daisy had initially been in awe of him, but after Lydia had explained that he was her relation, they soon forgot about him in the wake of the news that Lydia planned to leave. There was no doubt that Lydia was well loved by this family; the three younger children all sat on her lap at different points during the visit, and the older one, Daisy, seemed genuinely upset by the news that Lydia intended to leave Newcastle.
Conscious that Darcy was not entirely comfortable with his surroundings, and that he was probably eager to leave Newcastle, she soon made her farewells with promises to write. She then pressed the package she had been holding into Daisy’s hands with the words, “I can not thank you enough for all the help you have given me; I never would have survived that first year without you. Lydia quickly brushed a few tears away from her eyes. This is a small token of my affection for you to remember me by.” Daisy opened the parcel to reveal a pretty little silver bracelet.
The two women embraced, and then Lydia and Darcy made their way back up the street to the carriage. On the way to say goodbye to Gwen Richards, for Lydia also wished to see her before she left, Lydia wondered if she should explain to Darcy her history with Daisy. She questioned whether she should tell him how, when she had first moved to Newcastle, she and Wickham had had a cook and a manservant as well as Daisy, but soon, due to her husband's excesses, they had had to let the other two go. Or if she should inform him of how she had gone to work for the Carrigans when Wickham had died, and how she had given Daisy a reference and helped her find a new position. Would he care to hear that soon after that, Daisy’s mother died, and Daisy had moved back home to care for the little ones? No, Darcy seemed content to stare out the carriage window, so Lydia did the same.
The two travelled in silence until they arrived at the Richards's. The farewell here was similar to the other but in very different surroundings. Gwen met them at the door and, seeing both Darcy and Lydia, she said, “I suppose he is taking you away then?”
Lydia looked confused, and Darcy explained, “Mrs. Richards told me where you lived. It was indirectly through her husband that we found out that Wickham had died.”
Gwen insisted that they join her for lunch before they started their long journey south. So, the three of them partook of the afternoon meal. Gwen, with her easy manners, soon had Darcy describing Pemberley and Derbyshire. Lydia listened with interest and a little astonishment. The Darcy she had known was proud and haughty, not at all the man who now sat laughing with Gwen over shared stories of Colonel Fitzwilliam. She reflected upon how little she had known the man. She had not paid any attention to him whilst he was staying at Netherfield. After that, she only knew the stern faced man who had found her and then forced Wickham to marry her. It wasn't until afterwards that she had realised that it, indeed, had been forced. Lydia supposed that Lizzy was probably in part responsible for the open manners that he now displayed. The meal soon ended, and Darcy said he would leave the two ladies alone, so that they could make their farewells in private. Gwen pulled Lydia close and hugged her as she would a beloved little sister, who was going far away. She then drew back and looked into Lydia’s eyes, “If you don’t mind, I will take the liberty of giving you one piece of advice.” Seeing no refusal on Lydia’s face, she continued. “I don’t know why there is a breach between you and your family, but I imagine that they care for you very dearly, give them the benefit of the doubt. Write to me often, and let me know what happens. Here, I thought that you might be leaving, so I prepared a little going away package for you. I will miss you so very much.” Saying this, she placed a large basket in Lydia’s hands and walked her out to the carriage. They embrace again; Lydia kissed Gwen’s cheek, thanked her, and promised to write, then got into the carriage. Gwen waved until the carriage was out of sight; whereupon, she went back inside, wondering what would happen to Lydia Wickham.
Chapter 4
Soon, Newcastle was behind them, and Lydia and Darcy had started the long journey back to London. Darcy, at first, attempted some conversation, but he met with such short replies that, after a while, he pulled out a book and began to read. Lydia felt relieved as she wanted some time to reflect, and spent the first two hours staring out of the window in silent contemplation. She found herself startled, therefore, when they stopped to change horses, and realized that she could not remember what she had been thinking about for the past few hours.
Though it was late, the inn they stopped at was so crowded and noisy, that they found their conversation limited in the quieter intervals to comments about the weather, the distance already travelled, and the miles to go before they reached London. They did not linger and boarded the carriage again soon as it was ready. Lydia began to wonder at why the silent Mr. Darcy had married Lizzy, who always had something to say on every topic. However, she was not in the mood for conversation, and so she turned her attention to the basket that Gwen had given her. Lifting the cover, she saw that there were two parcels inside. Smiling, she took out the package marked “Day One”.
Wanting to savour the experience, as it had been a long time since she last received a present, Lydia tried to see if she could feel what was inside through the paper. She could not, so she untied the string and carefully peeled away the wrapping. On the top sat a mesh bag, which contained two pieces of fruit and a knife. Underneath that, she found a box filled with sweets. Lydia stopped to sample one as she examined the rest of the contents, where she found some fine linen, an embroidery hoop and some threads. This made Lydia smile. Lydia had gone into her marriage with a very selective knowledge of hand crafts; she could sew small items and decorate bonnets, but she had always left the harder work to one of her sisters or used manipulation to get Kitty to do it. Gwen had painstakingly taught her the correct way to hold the needle and the material, the neatest way to finish off the threads, and how to design her own patterns. It had taken a lot of time to relearn everything the proper way but, luckily, Lydia had had plenty of time over the last ten months during which she had been companion to Mrs Carrigan Gwen had encouraged her to use the time she had whilst the old lady slept to better her education in the hope that she could get a better position as a governess later on. Embroidery had been one lesson; Italian had been another. This second lesson Lydia had enjoyed far more. She had never before attempted to learn a language, and she had found that she was good at it. So it was to her delight that she found at the bottom of the parcel two slim novels, one a Gothic romance and the other an Italian story.
Lydia returned everything but the sweets and the romance to the basket and settled back into her seat. Opening the sweet box, she offered one to Mr Darcy, who looked startled at the interruption (she presumed he had been lost in his book) and declined. She selected one for herself and started to read her novel. She had not gotten long into it when she decided that the heroine was very silly; however, she found the nonsense that filled the book pleasantly diverting.
Darcy wondered if he should talk more to his sister-in-law; he probably should have accepted the sweet from her out of politeness, but he had been thrown by her even speaking to him, let alone offering sweets. He didn’t think that Elizabeth would be particularly proud of him if she were able to see him now. Lydia had not seemed inclined to chat. Indeed, it seemed that she had been happy for the first few hours merely to stare out of the window. He had then felt justified in reading his book, and now he saw that Lydia had a book, as well. It looked like some sort of romance novel, just the sort of thing he would have expected her to read. He wondered, again, how she would fit into their family circle.
They spent the night at an Inn somewhere between Newcastle and London and began again early the next morning. The silence that had descended over them since leaving Newcastle abated briefly during dinner when they discussed Darcy’s son, Jonathan. However, the second day's carriage ride was as noiseless as the first. Lydia finished both of her novels and began to embroider aimlessly on the linen. When she looked down, she saw that she had stitched the initials “IW.” She quickly folded up the material and placed it back into the basket. The second day’s parcel, like the first's, contained sweets and fruit, but in addition, she also found a beautiful grey shawl and two more books, this time a collection of poems and a book on the effect of the Renaissance on English Art. Lydia had become a much more avid reader in the year since her husband's death. Reading was one of her primary duties in caring for Mrs Carrigan, whose eyesight prevented her from enjoying the activity herself. Now, Lydia had a great appreciation for many types of books, including histories, biographies, poetry, and novels.
Thus, it happened that Lydia and Mr. Darcy spent another full day's carriage ride without either of them saying more than a few words.
Lydia began to watch outside the carriage windows as they entered London. The only other time she had been to the city was when she had ‘eloped,’ and she had been somewhat too distracted at that time to remember much about what London looked like. They travelled through poor areas that reminded her of Daisy’s neighbourhood in Newcastle, and then they moved on, into richer areas, with the houses steadily getting bigger and more beautiful, until they pulled up in front of one such grand house. Lydia saw the front door swing open and then noticed Lizzy standing in the entryway with a small boy holding onto her skirts.
“This is our home.” Darcy said as he opened the door and waited to hand her out.
Lydia raised an eyebrow at him, “I guessed.” she replied. If he had been looking at her when she said it, he would have seen the slightly teasing light in her eyes and the smile that played around the corners of her mouth, but as it happened, he had turned toward his wife.
Lizzy embraced her husband with the warmth of gratitude for finding and bringing home her sister. Upon being released, he stooped down to lift up the little boy. Lizzy then turned to Lydia and moved to embrace her, also. Lydia returned the hug quickly and let go. Lizzy stepped back and a multitude of questions about Lydia and her life since Lizzy had last seen her rushed into her mind, but she did not want to overwhelm her younger sister, so she merely said, “Lydia, welcome to our home! Come in and have some supper, you must be tired and hungry.” Lizzy smiled again, “Georgiana is at the theatre with Colonel Fitzwilliam tonight, so it is just the four of us at home. This little boy is our son Jonathan, he is fifteen months old, and you can see he looks just like his father.” Here, Mr. Darcy interrupted and claimed that the boy was the spitting image of his mother.
Lydia could sense this was a much debated issue between the pair, but she could not suppress a smile when she looked at her nephew who was, despite what Mr. Darcy said, an adorable, miniature version of his father. Who were Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam she wondered? Were they also guests of the Darcys'?
Lizzy saw Lydia smile and was comforted; she still could fathom no reason why Lydia would not have informed them that her husband had died. She had barely been able to sleep the past few nights in worry about where her little sister was and in the knowledge of her guilt for not properly caring for her. But relief washed over her now that Lydia had come to them; comforted that her sister seemed happy. As she showed Lydia to a room, where she could wash up and tidy her hair, she took note of her sister's appearance. Lydia had been the tallest Bennet sister when she was sixteen, and now; although she hadn’t grown more than an inch since her marriage, she stood about eight inches taller than Lizzy, who was the shortest of the family. If Lizzy had not been able to remember vividly the day that Lydia had been born, she would have guessed her age at about twenty-six. There was a droop to Lydia’s shoulders, worry lines marked her features, and a general greyness about her face, all of which made her look far older than her twenty years. Lizzy could see that her dress had been hand sewn (She wondered who had made it.), and that Lydia’s hair had been quickly scraped back into a large, unbecoming hair net. It was hard to recognise her bright, feisty sister, who had formerly spent hours obsessing over her image, in this tired, drawn, unfashionably dressed woman.
Lydia noticed Lizzy staring at her and stared back. Lizzy had always been pretty, but now, dressed in a gown much finer than Lydia had ever seen her wear, she presented an exquisite image. With her hair styled elaborately, curls framing her face, and flowers studded throughout, and with a diamond pendant resting just below her collar bone, she looked beautiful and very self possessed. Lydia realised that it was more than the clothes and the hairstyle; it appeared to be the relaxed, confident stance and the graceful movements which Lizzy had acquired through the love of a good husband, success with the ton, and the joy of motherhood. Lydia finished her toilette and let Lizzy place an arm around her waist and escort her downstairs. As they moved through the house, Lizzy pointed out the various rooms, the paintings, and the statues of note. Lydia did not know that this had become second nature to Lizzy, who was barely aware that she did this as she led anyone new through her home.
The two sisters reached the dinning room, where they found Mr. Darcy awaiting them. He had also washed, changed, and looked far more comfortable than Lydia had ever seen him as he seated her and her sister at the table. The conversation during the meal was limited as Lydia claimed tiredness in order not to have to speak. She listened vaguely as Lizzy informed her husband about what Jonathan had said and done while he had been away. Lydia looked up; Lizzy’s voice had suddenly gotten a lot louder, now it was soft again, loud, soft. Lydia put a hand to her head. There seemed to be a strange ringing in her ears and a pounding near temples.
Lizzy looked across at her sister in time to see her go deathly white and suddenly slump in her seat.