Posted on 2017-09-09
I had this idea about what might happen if Lydia actually wised up a bit before eloping with Wickham, and so here it is. Will I expand it to be a novel? I don't know. But I thought I'd share.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl devoid of serious thought, and whose reading matter is generally confined to the fashion pages, is likely to fall for the first charming fribble in a red coat who chances her way.
So it was with Lydia Bennett, who was certain that the love of her life was George Wickham, and who thought the world well lost for love if she consented to run away and live in sin with him. To this end, she had planned, and the trip to Brighton was going to facilitate that.
Until, that is, Lydia fell in with the gypsy woman.
“Pretty maid, destined to be used and discarded like a crumpled stock if she not heed the gypsy’s warning,” croaked the old woman.
Lydia was silly enough to be superstitious, but she was also shrewd enough when she chose to be.
“Has my family paid you to warn me off my George?” she asked.
“Old Melvinia does not know the pretty maid’s family, but she saw the pretty maid’s destiny written on her brow,” said the gypsy woman. “The pretty maid is jealous of her sisters, but she has no need. Time soon brings relief to all things, and there is no need to run off with a man who has no intention of marrying you.”
“That’s not so!” said Lydia, hotly.
“No? Then ask to see the licence when you meet him,” said Melvinia.
“We ... we planned to go to Gretna,” said Lydia, defiantly.
“Gretna! That’s an expensive journey, pretty maid, unless he has his own coach and horses. You’ll not want to travel three or four long days in an open curricle, I’m thinking, or the wind in your face will make your eyes run, and spoil your looks. I wager he’d put you off, saying he is waiting to hire a good carriage. And what other excuse will it be from week to week? If he cannot afford a licence or a carriage, how can he afford a wife of your estate? Pretty maid, your family will not suffer you to be married over a broomstick like we commons. He will take your fresh beauty and then when there is not enough money he will expect you to earn for his drink and his younger, fresher women, one way or another. I see it on your brow. Heed my warning!”
“I ... I will talk to him,” said Lydia, shaken, and more impressed by the gypsy than by her own family warnings. She fished in her reticule.
“I will take no silver for a life saved,” said Melvinia, sternly. “I have granddaughters your age. Wish them well and that will pay me; and take this stone to help you unlock your memories.”
“I do indeed wish them well,” said Lydia, taking the stone. It was a dark red, polished pebble, no gemstone, nothing remarkable. Of course, she had to wonder if the old woman had already been paid by her family, but really? Could one see stuffy Elizabeth approaching a gypsy, or staid and proper Jane? Her father would never think of it, nor would Mary, Kitty entered into her feelings on all matters, and he mother would understand.
She found herself thoughtful and troubled, not the usual emotions permitted into Miss Lydia Bennett’s rather empty head. Indeed, she delayed her meeting, sitting in public gardens for a while, considering. She held the stone, and thought through every encounter she had had with George in her head, looking at them as dispassionately as she could. She blushed several times as she recognised a few times when her simpering had been embarrassing, and something she would be scornful about if it had been behaviour displayed by one of her sisters, or one of the other girls in the neighbourhood. And she saw, quite clearly how he behaved to all the girls with as much devotion as to her, how he took advantage of all of them to hold a hand for too long, to brush against a girl in a seemingly careless way so as to reduce her to hot, blushing desire. Whether the stone had magic powers, or whether turning it in her hand aided meditation Lydia did not know. What she did know was that she had been used, and was to continue to be used as a free whore.
Living together in the light of the world well lost for love sounded so free, so high-minded at first, but with that moment of cold reflection Lydia knew what the world called women who made that choice. And she blenched.
Lydia wondered whether she should still meet with Wickham, to tell him that she had changed her mind about eloping. It would be polite to do so, but the thought of his temper if she gainsaid him made her shudder. And that was enough to make up her mind. If a woman was afraid of her husband’s temper, then marriage was not a good idea. Lydia picked up her bandboxes, and went back to the house hired by the Forsters, where she returned to her room, and indulged in a fit of the vapours.
Harriet Forster found Lydia some hours later, where she had sobbed herself to sleep on her bed. Lydia stirred as her bedroom door opened.
“Oh, my dear Lydia!” Mrs. Forster was concerned.
“Oh Harriet! I’ve been such a ninny!” declared Lydia. The whole story came tumbling out.
Harriet Forster was profoundly shocked, of course. However, Lydia had seen the error of her ways and had returned to the house, and was not ruined. And that meant that the Bennetts would not be blaming her and her husband for failing to take better care of Lydia.
“Well, my dear, he seems a personable young man, but any man who would encourage a girl, especially one of your age, to run away and marry in such a shocking fashion is not the sort of man you wish to know. After all, there is no reason for him to press you for a hasty marriage, is there? He might court you, and show your parents his serious intent until you are more the age for marriage.”
“Oh Harriet! He will not gain Papa’s consent, for Elizabeth is set against him, and Papa listens to her. And I don’t see why, for I thought she was attracted to him for a while!”
“My dove, if she was attracted to him, I wonder if she uncovered something to his detriment, which she preferred not to speak to so young a girl as yourself about? It may be that her liking turned to despite for a reason.”
Lydia nibbled the end of one of her dusky ringlets in contemplation.
“Do you think so?” she said.
“I think it highly likely,” said Harriet.
“Well, then, I shall write to Elizabeth, so there! And tell her to explain to me,” said Lydia.
“An excellent idea.”
oOoOo
Elizabeth deciphered her sister’s scrawl, and gasped as she read that George Wickham had asked her to elope with him. Relief flooded her when Lydia wrote on that ‘of course she would not do anything like that.’
“There’s an ‘of course’ to be considered in avoiding rash action?” Elizabeth spoke out loud.
“I beg your pardon, dear sister?” Jane asked.
“I was just reflecting that it is extraordinary that Lydia should avoid doing something rash like eloping as a matter of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh Lizzie, surely you wrong her; even Lydia knows how wrong eloping is,” said Jane.
“Apparently you are correct,” said Elizabeth. Her suspicions regarding her sister notwithstanding, one had to give her credit for avoiding such perfidy. She read on, assimilating that Lydia was moved by her own rejection of Wickham and asking what she knew to his discredit, for it behoved her to tell her sister.
Elizabeth sighed.
oOoOo
Lydia cracked the wafer sealing her sister’s letter with trembling fingers.
“My dearest Lydia ,” it ran,
“I cannot tell you details regarding George Wickham, since the whole was revealed to me in confidence, and I will not break a confidence. However, suffice it to say that he has persuaded Another Young Girl to consider eloping with him, with the sole intent of gaining control of her Not Inconsiderable Fortune . You will understand, of course, that I consider that such a young man to be most unsteady and I suspect his motives in trying to flee with you might be to force poor Papa to find enough money to hush up a scandal, as such a flight would undoubtedly render the rest of us quite unmarriageable.”
Lydia gasped in horror. That had not been something which had ever crossed her mind, but she considered what would have been the consequences had it been Kitty who had eloped. She would become a pariah as a result, as would the others. She read on,
“I am glad that you have seen through his false charm for yourself, but do not be downhearted. Somewhere there is a young man who will be the perfect husband for you, and who will care for you most tenderly.
Your loving sister,
Elizabeth.”
“It’s more than I deserve,” said Lydia, to herself, in a moment of honesty. “I could have ruined Lizzie’s chances, and spoiled Jane’s romance with Bingley, who might be an amiable idiot, but he’s neither amiable enough nor idiotic enough to marry a whore’s sister. I hope George gets posted abroad and has his head blown off.”
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl devoid of serious thought, and whose reading matter is generally confined to the fashion pages, is likely to fall for the first charming fribble in a red coat who chances her way.
So it was with Lydia Bennett, who was certain that the love of her life was George Wickham, and who thought the world well lost for love if she consented to run away and live in sin with him. To this end, she had planned, and the trip to Brighton was going to facilitate that.
Until, that is, Lydia fell in with the gypsy woman.
“Pretty maid, destined to be used and discarded like a crumpled stock if she not heed the gypsy’s warning,” croaked the old woman.
Lydia was silly enough to be superstitious, but she was also shrewd enough when she chose to be.
“Has my family paid you to warn me off my George?” she asked.
“Old Melvinia does not know the pretty maid’s family, but she saw the pretty maid’s destiny written on her brow,” said the gypsy woman. “The pretty maid is jealous of her sisters, but she has no need. Time soon brings relief to all things, and there is no need to run off with a man who has no intention of marrying you.”
“That’s not so!” said Lydia, hotly.
“No? Then ask to see the licence when you meet him,” said Melvinia.
“We ... we planned to go to Gretna,” said Lydia, defiantly.
“Gretna! That’s an expensive journey, pretty maid, unless he has his own coach and horses. You’ll not want to travel three or four long days in an open curricle, I’m thinking, or the wind in your face will make your eyes run, and spoil your looks. I wager he’d put you off, saying he is waiting to hire a good carriage. And what other excuse will it be from week to week? If he cannot afford a licence or a carriage, how can he afford a wife of your estate? Pretty maid, your family will not suffer you to be married over a broomstick like we commons. He will take your fresh beauty and then when there is not enough money he will expect you to earn for his drink and his younger, fresher women, one way or another. I see it on your brow. Heed my warning!”
“I ... I will talk to him,” said Lydia, shaken, and more impressed by the gypsy than by her own family warnings. She fished in her reticule.
“I will take no silver for a life saved,” said Melvinia, sternly. “I have granddaughters your age. Wish them well and that will pay me; and take this stone to help you unlock your memories.”
“I do indeed wish them well,” said Lydia, taking the stone. It was a dark red, polished pebble, no gemstone, nothing remarkable. Of course, she had to wonder if the old woman had already been paid by her family, but really? Could one see stuffy Elizabeth approaching a gypsy, or staid and proper Jane? Her father would never think of it, nor would Mary, Kitty entered into her feelings on all matters, and he mother would understand.
She found herself thoughtful and troubled, not the usual emotions permitted into Miss Lydia Bennett’s rather empty head. Indeed, she delayed her meeting, sitting in public gardens for a while, considering. She held the stone, and thought through every encounter she had had with George in her head, looking at them as dispassionately as she could. She blushed several times as she recognised a few times when her simpering had been embarrassing, and something she would be scornful about if it had been behaviour displayed by one of her sisters, or one of the other girls in the neighbourhood. And she saw, quite clearly how he behaved to all the girls with as much devotion as to her, how he took advantage of all of them to hold a hand for too long, to brush against a girl in a seemingly careless way so as to reduce her to hot, blushing desire. Whether the stone had magic powers, or whether turning it in her hand aided meditation Lydia did not know. What she did know was that she had been used, and was to continue to be used as a free whore.
Living together in the light of the world well lost for love sounded so free, so high-minded at first, but with that moment of cold reflection Lydia knew what the world called women who made that choice. And she blenched.
Lydia wondered whether she should still meet with Wickham, to tell him that she had changed her mind about eloping. It would be polite to do so, but the thought of his temper if she gainsaid him made her shudder. And that was enough to make up her mind. If a woman was afraid of her husband’s temper, then marriage was not a good idea. Lydia picked up her bandboxes, and went back to the house hired by the Forsters, where she returned to her room, and indulged in a fit of the vapours.
Harriet Forster found Lydia some hours later, where she had sobbed herself to sleep on her bed. Lydia stirred as her bedroom door opened.
“Oh, my dear Lydia!” Mrs. Forster was concerned.
“Oh Harriet! I’ve been such a ninny!” declared Lydia. The whole story came tumbling out.
Harriet Forster was profoundly shocked, of course. However, Lydia had seen the error of her ways and had returned to the house, and was not ruined. And that meant that the Bennetts would not be blaming her and her husband for failing to take better care of Lydia.
“Well, my dear, he seems a personable young man, but any man who would encourage a girl, especially one of your age, to run away and marry in such a shocking fashion is not the sort of man you wish to know. After all, there is no reason for him to press you for a hasty marriage, is there? He might court you, and show your parents his serious intent until you are more the age for marriage.”
“Oh Harriet! He will not gain Papa’s consent, for Elizabeth is set against him, and Papa listens to her. And I don’t see why, for I thought she was attracted to him for a while!”
“My dove, if she was attracted to him, I wonder if she uncovered something to his detriment, which she preferred not to speak to so young a girl as yourself about? It may be that her liking turned to despite for a reason.”
Lydia nibbled the end of one of her dusky ringlets in contemplation.
“Do you think so?” she said.
“I think it highly likely,” said Harriet.
“Well, then, I shall write to Elizabeth, so there! And tell her to explain to me,” said Lydia.
“An excellent idea.”
oOoOo
Elizabeth deciphered her sister’s scrawl, and gasped as she read that George Wickham had asked her to elope with him. Relief flooded her when Lydia wrote on that ‘of course she would not do anything like that.’
“There’s an ‘of course’ to be considered in avoiding rash action?” Elizabeth spoke out loud.
“I beg your pardon, dear sister?” Jane asked.
“I was just reflecting that it is extraordinary that Lydia should avoid doing something rash like eloping as a matter of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh Lizzie, surely you wrong her; even Lydia knows how wrong eloping is,” said Jane.
“Apparently you are correct,” said Elizabeth. Her suspicions regarding her sister notwithstanding, one had to give her credit for avoiding such perfidy. She read on, assimilating that Lydia was moved by her own rejection of Wickham and asking what she knew to his discredit, for it behoved her to tell her sister.
Elizabeth sighed.
oOoOo
Lydia cracked the wafer sealing her sister’s letter with trembling fingers.
“My dearest Lydia ,” it ran,
“I cannot tell you details regarding George Wickham, since the whole was revealed to me in confidence, and I will not break a confidence. However, suffice it to say that he has persuaded Another Young Girl to consider eloping with him, with the sole intent of gaining control of her Not Inconsiderable Fortune . You will understand, of course, that I consider that such a young man to be most unsteady and I suspect his motives in trying to flee with you might be to force poor Papa to find enough money to hush up a scandal, as such a flight would undoubtedly render the rest of us quite unmarriageable.”
Lydia gasped in horror. That had not been something which had ever crossed her mind, but she considered what would have been the consequences had it been Kitty who had eloped. She would become a pariah as a result, as would the others. She read on,
“I am glad that you have seen through his false charm for yourself, but do not be downhearted. Somewhere there is a young man who will be the perfect husband for you, and who will care for you most tenderly.
Your loving sister,
Elizabeth.”
“It’s more than I deserve,” said Lydia, to herself, in a moment of honesty. “I could have ruined Lizzie’s chances, and spoiled Jane’s romance with Bingley, who might be an amiable idiot, but he’s neither amiable enough nor idiotic enough to marry a whore’s sister. I hope George gets posted abroad and has his head blown off.”