Page 77

Pemberley

25 th July, 1817

“My dear Lydia, what have you been doing to yourself?” Mrs. Frances Bennet demanded in horror.

Lydia looked down at herself with a frown. She had been careful to change out of her working dress and was now clad in a simple muslin gown of pale green. Her maid had quickly brushed out her hair and thrown it into a simple knot. She thought she looked well enough.

“Of what are you speaking, Mother?”

“Your left hand!” the Bennet matriarch squealed. “Look at it!”

Lydia colored a little and sat down across from Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and Kitty, all of whom were seated at a table in the Pemberley conservatory.

“It is nothing, Mother,” she said airily. “The conservatory looks lovely, Elizabeth. Thank you for allowing Nathaniel and me to have the wedding breakfast here.”

“It most certainly is something, Lydia!” Mrs. Bennet continued, refusing to be distracted, “Your hands used to be so white and beautiful and now look at them. What are those dreadful spots?”

Lydia sighed, “I was spattered with sulfuric acid, Mama, but do not worry. Nathaniel had water nearby and I quickly washed myself off. I am not in any pain, nor was there any significant damage.”

Mrs. Bennet’s peevish expression shifted to one of horror, “Acid! What are you doing playing with acid?”

“I did not intend to touch acid, Mother. We were doing an experiment pouring sulfuric acid over iron filings to produce hydrogen gas and it spattered a bit. We have since adjusted our method so it is safer. Do not worry.”

“Worry? Worry? Of course I am worried! Your wedding is in a week and your hands look worse than those of a washerwoman. I insist you set aside all of these ridiculous experiments until at least after your honeymoon.”

Lydia stared at her mother incredulously, “Well, that is impossible, of course. We have far too much to do before Mr. Sadler arrives, Mama. I daresay you have not heard, but he had to move his trip forward so he will be arriving a day after our wedding. We have a great many experiments to complete before his coming.”

Elizabeth, who had been calmly writing a list of food for the wedding breakfast, said, “I do not believe Mama knows who Mr. Sadler is.”

The youngest of the Bennets stared at her mother with wide eyes, “Mr. James Sadler was the first English balloonist! He flew a balloon from Oxford to Woodeaten back in 1784! He lives in Oxford and is an accomplished scientist and aeronaut.”

Mrs. Bennet’s face grew slack with incredulity, “A balloonist? A balloonist? Why would you care about such a man?”

“Oh Mother,” Elizabeth interposed gently. “He does sound like a fascinating visitor, and I can understand why Lydia is so excited.”

Lydia’s face brightened, “I am absolutely thrilled! We all are! Mr. Collins met him last year when Mr. Collins journeyed to Oxford for a series of lectures, but I never dreamed Mr. Sadler would come here. We have so much to grasp before he arrives, though, if we are to pursue any ballooning experiments of our own …”

This provoked an irate squawk from her mother, “Lydia Bennet, do not tell me that you intend to go up in a balloon! I forbid it!”

Lydia sighed, her plump lips turned down in a pout, “I fear that Mr. Collins will not permit any of us to ascend in a balloon as ballooning is still dangerous. Indeed, Mr. Sadler crashed a balloon in the Irish Sea only a few years ago and had to be rescued by a fishing boat.”

“It does sound rather too precarious for my precious little sister,” Jane Bingley commented, entering the room with her baby son in her arms and her daughter Annabelle and niece Rosemary Darcy at her heels. Rosemary, squealing with enthusiasm, rushed up to her mother at the table and peered curiously at the various papers scattered about on it.

Lydia shrugged at this, “There is some risk in pursuing scientific endeavors but yes, I agree it is too dangerous for me to ascend now, at any rate. Besides, it is the scientific principles of ballooning that I find so fascinating. Just think, we will learn about ballooning from the master himself! Mr. Sadler will be bringing two of his balloons with him, one used with hot air and one with hydrogen. The hot air one has a far larger envelope, of course, because the density of hot air is higher than that of hydrogen gas. The hydrogen is thus far more appealing in terms of lifting power but the gas is regrettably flammable. There are various experiments in progress to use coal gas, which is cheaper, but the flammability issues must be considered. Nor can I wait to discuss the issues of material for the balloon itself. Rubberized silk reigns supreme, but are there less expensive possibilities?”

Mrs. Bennet stared in bewilderment at her excited daughter before turning to Kitty, who was calmly sketching a picture of a wagon wheel leaning somewhat precariously against a wall.

“Kitty, you must speak to your sister! You are her closest sister and I assume you have some influence on her! She must stop these experiments, at least until she is safely married. I will not have my daughter looking like a scarred chimney sweep on her wedding day.”

Kitty looked up in surprise and smiled a little, “My dear Mama, no one can stop Lydia except Mr. Collins and Mr. Stanton and, perhaps, Mr. Darcy. Besides, she will be wearing gloves at her wedding.”

***

3 rd August, 1817

Nathaniel Stanton took a final bite of his toast and chuckled as the last bit of raspberry jam oozed down his chin. He was still learning to eat such luscious preserves for breakfast; before his marriage, he had never made time to eat tasty food at this hour of the morning. That was yet one more of the myriad blessings of being married to the former Miss Lydia Bennet, who had quite a love for sweet jellies and jams.

“Darling, it is nine in the morning,” the love of his life announced, sailing into the small dining room dressed in a particularly becoming pink gown, a simple white bonnet dangling from one elegant hand. “Are you quite ready to go?”

“I am,” he declared, wiping his face off with a napkin and surging to his feet. He smiled slightly, provoking a bemused look on his wife’s face.

“What is it, Nathaniel?”

“I was just thinking how very happy I am,” he confessed, stepping forward to plant a kiss on Lydia’s rosy lips. “How blessed I am.”

The lady blushed at this and stepped forward into her husband’s embrace. It was a source of amusement to the extended Bennet clan that Nathaniel Stanton was a short man and Lydia Stanton a tall woman, and thus they were almost exactly the same height. This was in stark contrast to the other former Bennet women, all of whom were married to much taller men.

The embrace turned into more passionate kissing and several minutes passed by pleasurably until Lydia disengaged reluctantly.

“We must go if we are to see the balloon filled.”

Nathaniel unwillingly pulled away from his brideand gazed down at her adoringly. He considered himself a sensible man but he loved his wife with almost alarming passion. He had never dreamed that he would find a woman whose mind and heart, whose soul and spirit matched his so well.

“Of course, we would not wish to miss that,” he agreed.

“Oh, I do believe that my hair is a mess, Nathaniel. Do help me put it up before we leave the house!”

He helped her with alacrity and considerable enthusiasm, entwining his fingers through her chocolate curls before twisting them into a simple knot. Together, they managed to tame her rather riotous locks and then place her sunbonnet over it all. He sighed a little; he did adore seeing her hair down.

“Nathaniel Stanton,” his wife said with mock censure. “You are hopeless. You know we both wish to see the initial stages when the balloon is first being inflated. It will be fascinating!”

“Dearest Lydia, you are a thousand times more fascinating than any balloon.”

She laughed at this, her eyes sparkling, and kissed him again, though quickly.

Nathaniel, once his breathing had returned to some semblance of normalcy, gallantly took his wife’s arm in his own, and they exited their honeymoon cottage and walked swiftly down the path toward Pemberley. Their home was an old hunting lodge located only a mile from Pemberley’s main mansion, and had been refurbished recently by Pemberley’s staff for Lydia and her new husband.

“What a delight these last days have been!” Lydia exclaimed joyfully. “We have learned so much from Mr. Sadler. I could not ask for a better honeymoon.”

She glanced at him, her expression roguish, and added, “Of course, the nights have been even better.”

Nathaniel found himself gasping at this, his grip tightening on her arm, and he forced his mind onto the topic of the production of hydrogen gas from iron and sulfuric acid. It was a well-known method, but the process was still somewhat dangerous, and he, Lydia and Mr. Collins had spent several hours discussing possible improvements ...

His breathing returned to normal again and the nearly overwhelming temptation to pick her up and carry her back to the cottage faded. Lydia, in turn, wore an amused smirk on her face – she well knew how profoundly she affected him.

The tall oak trees fell away at the end of the path, and Lydia and Nathaniel stopped in mutual astonishment and joy. The field in front of them was level and only three hundred yards away, Mr. Collins, Mr. Sadler and several other men were working with casks of hydrogen.

“Oh, Nathaniel. Oh, you are wrong, my dear. It is the most gorgeous sight in the world!”

Nathaniel gazed upon the scene as well, his heart full at the sight of the gigantic, deflated balloon lying on the ground. As they watched, the envelope began to ripple and surge as the low density gas filled it. Together, the couple walked forward another hundred yards, though they were careful to keep well away from where the men were working. Both knew, as scientists, that having extra people cluttering up one’s working space was most annoying.

Within fifteen minutes, the red and white striped balloon was nearly filled and tugging at its many moorings. For this flight, the giant silk bag filled with hydrogen would stay tethered to the ground, which would permit the scientists to study the process without requiring a dangerous flight across the craggy topography of Derbyshire.

Nathaniel found his eyes shifting to Lydia’s face, which was such a glow of sweet delight that he had to remind himself to breathe. She was so beautiful, so wonderful, so glorious, so smart, so passionate, so ... so everything good.

Thank you, Lord, for my sweet wife.