Page 5 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 5

N either the two-mile march to Longbourn nor Elizabeth’s appeals to reason were sufficient to stir her youngest sister’s conscience. Lydia refused to see how her actions might affect Jane or anyone else.

“Mr. Bingley will be glad to have a lively sister when his are so stodgy. Did you see their pinched faces? Lord, what a laugh!”

It was not so much the stodgy sisters whom Elizabeth worried about. It was Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley relied heavily on his guidance in estate matters, and who was to say whether he would not also trust his opinion in matters of the heart?

Elizabeth could practically see Mr. Darcy’s disapproving stare. Gentlemen of his circles were all propriety and appearances. She had to own, this was not without good reason, but it was maddeningly frustrating when her own family did their level best to make themselves scandalous.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. Jane and Kitty followed shortly behind, their breath puffing clouds in the crisp air. At least Kitty appeared contrite with her downcast eyes and solemn silence.

Hill opened the door, and Elizabeth slipped him the sugar plum while Lydia dallied removing her bonnet.

“Did you get the shoe roses?” their mother called from the drawing room.

Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. She had completely forgotten.

Jane whispered, “I will see to Mama.”

“I shall join you.” Kitty slipped away from Elizabeth before she could be dragged along with Lydia into Papa’s study.

Lydia tugged against Elizabeth. “Oy, you know Papa does not like me to go inside his book room. I’m too noisy.”

Elizabeth tightened her grip around Lydia’s arm and knocked on the door once, then twice.

Lydia began to look smug. “Serves you right for dragging me here. He’s not even in.”

Tapping the door again, this time Elizabeth pushed it in. “Papa?”

He looked up from the papers spread over his desk. Papa had many interests: botany, bees, language, and literature. Nothing practical or advantageous to the estate or his wife and daughters. Despite that, Elizabeth loved her father dearly. He was a clever conversationalist, witty, and insightful in many things except that which was most useful. His staunch refusal to address reality when he preferred to live in a sheltered bubble of knowledge had contributed to Lydia’s poor behavior, and if she was not checked, she would ruin them all. When Mr. Collins inherited Longbourn—an unjust but eventual reality—Mama’s worst fear would come to fruition. They would be dependent on the charity of their relatives—Aunt Philips, who did not want them, or Uncle Gardiner, who did not have room enough for them.

Elizabeth pulled Lydia forward with her, closing the door firmly behind them. “I had to pry Lydia off Mr. Wickham on the high street.”

Papa’s eyebrows shot up, a suitable reaction at first. Until he chuckled and said, “Is that all?”

Elizabeth leaned forward against his desk. “Is that all? How far will you allow her behavior to decline before you take notice? Mr. Bingley’s sisters were there, and you can rely on them to give a full report to their household.”

He waved her concern away. “People will talk no matter what we do.”

“But must we give them so much fodder? They may very well conclude that an attachment with such a shockingly improper family would reflect poorly on them.”

Lydia plopped her bottom down on the nearest chair with a huff. “Lizzy is overreacting. I was merely reaching for a sweetmeat Mr. Wickham offered me.”

Elizabeth clenched her hands to keep from shaking her sister. “You were reaching over his person in what can only be described as a garish display of bodily contact.” She appealed to her father. “If you do not check her, she will ruin us!”

Papa clucked his tongue and shuffled the papers on his desk. She was losing his attention. If she did not press her case now, they might as well wave goodbye to Mr. Bingley. “It is my firm belief that until Lydia and Kitty can show that they have matured enough to behave properly, they ought not to be allowed out in society.”

The door opened, and Kitty appeared. “But I didn’t do anything!”

Papa sighed. “Shut the door, Kitty.”

Closing the door and taking her place behind Lydia’s chair, Kitty repeated, “I didn’t do anything.”

Elizabeth would not back down now. “You should have stopped Lydia, but you did not. You always follow her lead.”

“I do not!”

Lydia twisted to look up at Kitty. “Yes, you do! You’re too much of a ninny to think for yourself.”

Kitty crossed her arms and pouted.

“And you”—Lydia turned to look at Elizabeth—”you are jealous that I steal all of the attention away from you and shall marry before all of my sisters.”

“Only a fool would take a silly girl for a wife.” Papa held up a paper, perusing over its contents. “Surely, gentlemen of quality recognize Lydia’s youthful exuberance. It is harmless.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank. He would do nothing. She offered him proof and a simple solution. Still, he would do nothing. Still, she tried.

Clenching her hands, Elizabeth said firmly, “But it is not harmless. Not if it costs Jane Mr. Bingley and the rest of us our reputations.”

He set down the paper and rubbed his fingers over his whiskers.

Encouraged, Elizabeth pressed, “Their behavior will not improve until they experience the consequences of their actions.”

“And what is it you suggest?”

Glory be, there was hope yet! She looked at her sisters. Kitty stared at the floor, her chin quivering. She only lacked the confidence to come out from under Lydia’s shadow. But unless she strengthened her own character, she would always be susceptible to others’ influence, especially Lydia’s, who watched their father with a smugness that fed Elizabeth’s courage. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth answered, “They should not be allowed to attend the ball this evening.”

Lydia rose to her feet with a shriek. In a performance worthy of Covent Garden, she fell at Papa’s feet, her voice choking with tears until she secured his handkerchief. “You could not be so cruel, Papa! I shall behave! I shall behave better than Lizzy. Only let me prove how well I can behave when I put my mind to it.”

Papa patted her on the head. “There, there. Do not cry.”

Elizabeth’s hope cracked and her stomach churned as she saw where this was so clearly going.

“Is this the punishment you sought? You see how sorry Lydia is, and how she has promised to improve.”

“If I were convinced she knew how to behave, perhaps I might believe her.” Elizabeth spoke through clenched teeth. What had Lydia ever done to deserve such leniency?

Papa chuckled and patted Lydia’s head again. “You hear that? Lizzy doubts your sincerity, but I am not so stingy in my credulity. I expect you to do as you say, but I also see how you will never improve unless given the opportunity to expose yourself, and you cannot very well do that from here.”

Elizabeth groaned. That her father had used her own words against her smarted almost as much as his negligence.

Lydia blinked, her eyes lighting up as she began to understand the meaning of his words. Springing to her feet, she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.” Her pretty smile turned to an ugly smirk as she passed Elizabeth.

“She should not be allowed to go,” Elizabeth appealed once again.

“Oh, Mr. Collins! Whatever are you doing standing at Papa’s door?” Lydia exclaimed.

Mr. Collins’ flushed complexion told Elizabeth that he had heard enough of their conversation to merit a sermon on the importance of maidenly virtue.

With an evil arch of her brow, Lydia added, “If you were looking for Lizzy, there she is. And if you have found your boots, I am certain she would appreciate you walking her into Meryton to buy our shoe roses.”

Elizabeth was not given to a violent temperament, but she could have killed her sister right there.

“Close the door on your way out, Lizzy.” Papa dismissed her and shut out Mr. Collins in one fell swoop.

The hallway was too cramped, and Mr. Collins seemed content with the close proximity. He smelled of perspiration, and since he was wearing his slippers, Elizabeth surmised he had not yet recovered his missing boots. At least she would not have the burden of his company for the walk to Meryton and back.

He followed her line of vision to his feet. Clearing his throat, he said, “Mr. Hill found my boots after you had left for Meryton. I apologize for not being present. A lady of your sensibility ought not to carry the burden of correcting her younger sister’s misconduct. Her Ladyship, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would praise your modesty and—”

Did the fool not realize how his compliment confirmed that he had been eavesdropping? The nerve!

Elizabeth raised her hand to stop him. His nearness and flattery gave her a headache. “I am sorry, Mr. Collins, but this morning’s exertions have given me a headache.”

He bowed. “Of course. I shall ask Mrs. Hill to send you some tonic. I saw she keeps a well-provisioned still room. Not like the one at Rosings, but ample enough to suit…”

If Elizabeth did not depart, he would continue elevating the residence of his esteemed patroness at the expense of her home. “Pardon me, sir. I really must retire to my room.”

He bowed again. She was at the stairs before he peeked up to see if she had observed the elegance of his gesture.

Lydia met her at the top of the landing, her eyes gleaming with her recent triumph.

Elizabeth tensed. “I will be watching over you tonight. Any hint of impropriety, and I will personally see you returned to Longbourn.”

“You tried to prevent me from attending,” Lydia hissed, her victory taking a harsh turn. “I will return the favor, Lizzy. You may count on that.”

“You wish for me to stay in from the ball? I would volunteer rather than be forced to watch over you.”

“You will be sorry for trying to spoil my fun. You will see, Lizzy, I shall get even.”

Elizabeth’s head genuinely hurt now and standing in the hallway listening to her sister’s empty threats did nothing to lessen the ache throbbing at her temples. “Do as you wish, Lydia, as you always do. I only hope the rest of us are not forced to pay the price for it.” She continued down the hall to her bedchamber. It was going to be a long, arduous night.

As tempting as it was to wallow in despair at the exhausting uphill battle ahead of her, Elizabeth did not dwell too long on the obstacles, instead turning them into challenges. She refused to allow the events of this day to dampen her excitement for the Netherfield Ball.

Lydia’s flagrantly public flirtation with Mr. Wickham? Elizabeth would stick to her youngest sister like ink on a writer’s fingers through the night.

Their father’s selfish indifference? Elizabeth had a long history of managing that deficit, providing the valuable experience she would require that evening.

Mama’s presumptuous proclamations of Jane’s engagement to Mr. Bingley? Well, nobody really took her claims seriously, did they? Elizabeth would do her best to keep her mother away from those who would think the worst of her. So long as the Netherfield party did not hear her boasts, she could not embarrass Jane too badly.

Mr. Collins’ request for Elizabeth’s first dance? Yes, that was profoundly disappointing. If she was not careful, he would make good on Mama’s threats and make Elizabeth an offer of marriage. She held out hope that his slippers might disappear as his boots had earlier.

The greater the obstacles to Elizabeth’s merriment became, the more determined she was to prove herself victorious over her less-than-ideal circumstances. Tonight was for Jane.

Elizabeth would be vigilant, ready to check her sisters without being too obvious lest she draw more attention to their unbecoming behavior by provoking their ire and making herself noticeable to those who had nothing better to do than to refuse to dance.

Not even the prospect of Mr. Darcy’s disapproving stares could stifle Elizabeth’s hopes for Jane. She anticipated his criticism, and many happy hours passed that afternoon while she imagined her witty retorts.