Page 43 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Phillips House
Meryton
That Evening
The plush armchair beside the fire was also the most comfortable one in the room, and Lydia claimed it without compunction, plopping down with a small bounce, which she hastily suppressed, lest someone see her childishness.
She situated herself gracefully and looked around with pleasure.
She had missed her aunt Phillips' dinner parties, which had ceased entirely for several months, ever since Mr. Bennet’s apoplexy, which was ridiculous.
It was not as if he were dying! Apparently, her aunt had finally come to the same conclusion, which was fantastic.
She was tired of being at Longbourn every single evening and missed dancing with the militia officers.
Kitty and Jane were here, too, at Uncle Phillips' insistence, as he seemed to think they needed to relax. Miss Fairchild had come along, of course, but she always came along to Meryton, much to Lydia’s displeasure.
She missed the before times, when they did not have a nosy governess overseeing their every move.
Unsurprisingly, Mr. Bingley was also present.
He was handsome enough, but he was rather dull and interested only in Jane.
He had already gravitated to her side and was engaging her in low conversation.
How boring! Lydia much preferred livelier men, but then, poor Jane had a tendency to be dull herself, and preachy at times.
This would not be a terribly exciting party as it was only dinner with no dancing, though Aunt Phillips had mentioned that they might play games later in the evening.
But even a dinner party was better than nothing at all.
Never in Lydia’s life, since emerging from her nursery, had she been subjected to such boredom as she had over the past few months.
Yes, their father was ill, but so what? He had not died or even worsened, and Lydia did not understand why his infirmity meant that the rest of them could not enjoy themselves.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet had been far testier than usual, dissolving into hysterical shrieking at the slightest provocation and short-tempered with even her favorite daughter!
It was intolerable! Naturally, few visitors wanted to visit when Mrs. Bennet always seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Jane and Kitty were so solemn. It was completely unfair.
Even Lydia’s usual trips to Meryton, usually without Kitty nowadays – honestly, she had become nearly as dull as Mary and Jane!
– provided only a lackluster version of her former entertainments.
Miss Fairchild, with her repressive ways and overly starchy sense of propriety, always insisted on accompanying Lydia.
Moreover, Mr. Bennet’s indulgent hand no longer held the purse strings, and Lydia’s allowance had been severely curtailed by her stingy uncles.
Mrs. Bennet, they said sternly, could not be trusted to handle the money appropriately and set aside sufficient funds to cover the additional care for Mr. Bennet’s illness.
How tiresome that their father should require so much!
Lydia had discovered that it did no good to argue with Uncle Gardiner.
He resolutely refused to advance a greater sum to his “silly sister,” as he put it.
Lydia, foiled and furious, had applied to Uncle Phillips, who knew her better and should therefore love her more.
If her allowance was to be curtailed for the sake of her father, then was it not only fair that she should be advanced the interest from her own dowry?
After all, that was not her father’s money to spend!
It was an entirely reasonable argument, and Lydia stood by it, but her cold-hearted uncles had refused to acknowledge the reason of it. No, they had said, she was too young to need such a sum, and it would be held in trust for her until she was older or dire need arose.
Dire need had already risen quite high, Lydia thought, and so she had shrieked the same at them, but might as well have been shrieking at the stone walls. Her uncles, mean as they were, were not to be moved.
It had finally been borne upon Lydia that she would need to be choosier with her purchases henceforth, at least until her father recovered and took back financial control of his family.
She had mournfully relinquished her habit of buying multiple ribbons when she could not decide on which color she liked better and had become choosier about her lace.
The lace at the neckline of this dress was a recent acquisition, and Lydia was proud of it.
As tiresome and interfering as Miss Fairchild was, she had at least made herself useful in one way; she had helped nurture Lydia’s innate talent for decorating and ornamenting dresses and hats.
This dress was one of her finer creations, in Lydia’s opinion, and she had chosen it with care.
Tonight was going to be fun. She was determined to make it so, even if there would not be dancing.
There would be officers to flirt with, and Lydia needed to look her best and had nobly sacrificed comfort for appearances.
This dress, while among her prettiest, was not particularly warm.
Jane, on the way out the door, had suggested that Lydia run upstairs to grab a shawl, but such a proposition had been unthinkable.
What was the point of wearing a lovely dress that showed off one’s figure to the best advantage, if one was just going to cover it up with a dowdy old shawl?
It was as if Jane did not understand anything.
Lydia was distracted from her thoughts by the door to the sitting room opening. A moment later, all her musings were forgotten in a rush of joy, as several red-coated officers filed into the room.
“Captain Denny! Lieutenant Pratt! Lieutenant Chamberlayne,” she cried out, leaping to her feet and hurrying forward. “It is so good to see you all!”
Captain Denny, who was the most handsome of the militia officers, bowed and said, “We are very pleased to be here, Miss Lydia.”
He then turned toward the other ladies and said, “Mrs. Phillips, Miss Bennet, Miss Kitty, Miss Fairchild, good evening.”
The women curtsied, and Mrs. Phillips said hospitably, “Please sit down, gentlemen. We are still waiting for Colonel and Mrs. Forster and several other officers, and then we will enjoy dinner.”
Lydia smiled and shifted slightly to better show off her décolletage.
“Will you not sit down with me, Captain Denny?” she asked winsomely. “I feel as if I have not seen you in ages!”
The captain, who was some five and twenty years of age, smiled back and said, “Of course, Miss Lydia. Would you like to sit by the fire?”
“Yes, as it is rather chilly today,” Lydia replied, making her way back to the chair closest to the fire. “Do have a seat, Captain, please!”
He did so with easy grace, and she took a moment to admire Denny’s red coat and dark brown curls and brown eyes. He looked marvelous in his military attire, absolutely marvelous! If only she could win such a man as a husband!
“I do wonder where you have been of late,” she said with a dramatic pout. “Why have you not visited Longbourn recently? Am I so dull?”
The captain appeared a trifle startled and said, “Of course not, Miss Lydia, but with your father so ill, my fellow officers and I thought it would not be appropriate for us to visit your home. I understand that not only is Mr. Bennet ailing, but that your mother has been unwell too.”
Lydia grimaced and tossed her head. “There is nothing wrong with Mamma that would not be fixed by some enjoyable company. I believe she is quite lonely, and would relish your visits very much, Captain Denny.”
“But she is not here tonight, I see?”
“No, because she had a headache,” Lydia replied, “but I promise you that she would be very pleased if you called.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Denny promised.
“And if you would rather spend time with me alone,” she continued, batting her lashes, “I could creep out of Longbourn to meet you whenever you like. The spring weather makes it far more pleasant to go for walks, and there are several secluded paths on our estate which provide privacy.”
Her companion turned to gaze into the fire for a moment and then turned back to face her with unexpected gravity. “I have no desire to be alone with you.”
She was startled and knew her expression showed it. “Why not?”
“Because if someone sees us alone, you would be compromised, and I do not wish to marry you.”
This was blunt indeed, and she felt her mouth droop open for a few seconds in disbelief.
“Why … why would you not want to marry me?” she demanded. “I am handsome, am I not?”
“You are handsome,” the captain said calmly, “but you are also very young, and you do not have control of your fortune, which is, in any case, smaller than I desire in a wife.”
Lydia gaped at these pragmatic words. “But surely … that is, my own mother only brought four thousand pounds into marriage, and I have five thousand!”
“Indeed, and that is a respectable sum, but you are still many years from your majority, and I am confident that if you were compromised, your uncles, who manage your dowry, would be outraged to the point that they would likely not hand over the money. It would be difficult and unpleasant, Miss Lydia, and I have no intention of putting myself at risk of such a position.”
Lydia stared at the captain and then turned her attention to the other officers in the room. Colonel Forster and his wife had arrived in the last minutes, along with several other officers. To her surprise, she realized her eyes were filmed with liquid. Why was that? She never cried!
“Do your fellow officers think the same way about me?” she asked. “That I do not have enough money to be a good wife?”