Page 1 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

A Change in Perspective

Lydia Bennet sat to one side of the drawing room in her family home in Dovemark, contemplating the events of earlier that afternoon, her mother and sisters about her. She’d been exceedingly pleased to be permitted to remain during the celebration of Jane and Mr. Bingley’s betrothal, rather than shuffled off to Nanny Hill. That her younger brothers, Thomas and Matthew, had also been allowed to stay made it clear that Lydia was not being treated as more of an adult. Rather, the celebration was to be shared by all, even eleven-year-old Matthew.

Who may very well be the spare heir to the Earl of Pillory, if the letter Lydia had discovered, and revealed to Elizabeth and Mary, was to be believed.

Lydia tamped that thought down as hard as she could. She was determined that no one would find out about the letter, or her stepfather, Papa Arthur, being heir to an earl, or any of it. She would show Elizabeth and Jane and Mary that she could be trusted, and then they would let her in on their secret, whatever it was, and she would be a part of things. One of their group, not always stuck choosing between Mama and Kitty, who looked down on her, or Thomas and Matthew, who were nice enough but were only interested in cards and climbing trees and playing with toy soldiers. Nor did they appreciate when she brought dolls to their games, as if real soldiers didn’t have wives and sweethearts. Lydia didn’t imagine that Jane, Elizabeth and Mary cared for dolls either, but being part of her older sisters’ secret club would be far, far better than playing with her little brothers.

Not that it would matter much if she were part of their group now. Jane would be married before Christmas, and Mary in March, and Elizabeth… It was always difficult to guess what Elizabeth would do. She seemed pleased with Mr. Darcy’s attention but Mama wasn’t wrong when she called Elizabeth contrary.

“Now, Jane, you must marry as soon as possible,” Mama said for about the eighteenth time, the repetition likely what had driven Thomas and Matthew from the room after their guests departed. “No good comes of putting off these things. Why, your papa and I were married within a month of meeting, and it was a good thing, too, because you came to us not eight months later. What would a lengthy engagement have got us? Nothing good, I tell you.”

Seated on the same couch as Lydia, Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. Lydia, working through the calculation, covered her mouth with her hands. She cast Elizabeth an amused look. Elizabeth winked.

“The first banns have not even been read, Mama,” Jane said calmly, as she had every other time their mother demanded a hasty union, the injunction issued several times in front of their guests and many more times since they’d left.

“You could elope to Scotland.” Mrs. Oakwood gave a dreamy sigh. “That would be romantic.”

“Why does Jane get to elope to Scotland?” Kitty snapped. She’d been in a foul mood, and extra mean to Lydia, ever since Mr. Collins died and Mary announced that she would wed Cousin Robert and become mistress of Longbourn. “I should be the one who gets to elope to Scotland.”

“But no one wants to marry you,” Lydia quipped before she could think better.

“Mr. Bingley and I are not eloping to Scotland,” Jane said quietly.

Where she shared a sofa with their mother, Kitty twisted to regard Lydia through narrowed eyes, then adopted a sorrowful expression and turned to Mrs. Oakwood. “Mama, Lydia went to Lucas’s and bought the hat I had picked out to match my new cloak. She knew it was the one I wanted and she deliberately purchased it before I could, and now she will not let me borrow it.”

Mrs. Oakwood’s attention shifted from her eldest daughter to her youngest one. “Lydia, let your sister borrow the hat.”

Lydia scowled. She’d saved for weeks for that hat, and Kitty hadn’t wanted it at all. She’d called it a travesty of ugliness. As if Kitty knew what ugly looked like. She thought her paintings were good. “She doesn’t even like the hat, and I haven’t even had a chance to wear it, and—”

Mrs. Oakwood halted her with, “It is ‘does not’ and ‘have not.’ Speak like a lady or you will never become one. I sometimes wonder what Nanny Hill is teaching you.”

Not much, for she was usually dozing while Lydia, Thomas, and Matthew did as they pleased .

“And Lydia must share her hat,” Kitty repeated.

“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Oakwood brushed Kitty’s words aside with a gesture. “And you must let your sister borrow your hat.”

“But, Mama, I saved for—”

“I will not have any of my daughters being bad sisters,” Mrs. Oakwood said firmly. “If you do not let Kitty borrow your hat immediately, I will keep your pin money for her until she can buy a new hat of her own.”

Kitty smirked.

Knowing she wouldn’t get her hat back even though Kitty didn’t like it, Lydia sighed and said, “Yes, Mama.”

“And no sighing in public, or behind closed doors. A lady does not sigh. You never hear Jane sigh, and look what a wealthy gentleman she has caught.” So saying, their mother turned to her eldest. “Jane, dearest, you truly should endeavor to persuade Mr. Bingley to marry you as soon as may be. A woman must learn to exert her influence over her husband as quickly and thoroughly as possible if she is to have any happiness in her union. Especially a husband as good and kind as Mr. Bingley. If you do not accustom him to giving concessions to you, he will be giving them to everyone else.”

Lydia suppressed another sigh and returned to her thoughts, letting her mother’s tirade slide over her, the familiar rise and fall of Mrs. Oakwood’s emotions over the course of a rant soothingly familiar.

It wasn’t only her inclusion that pleased Lydia about earlier that afternoon. The moment Jane and Elizabeth had departed to walk with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, Mama had sent for the Phillips, and Lydia loved her Aunt Phillips. Mama hadn’t invited her over for ages, or called on her, because she’d been worried that their relations in trade would prevent Mr. Bingley from offering for Jane. That edict had apparently changed the moment Mama felt certain an offer was forthcoming. She had been entirely convinced that Mr. Bingley would propose, and had wanted as many people to witness the announcement, and spread the word, as possible.

As happy as she’d been to see her aunt, Lydia wondered if her mother’s change of heart might be too quick. She suspected that Jane was not the only one of her older sisters being courted by a wealthy gentleman who might be put off by poor relations. But Mama always ignored Elizabeth, and Lydia was too happy to have her Aunt Phillips join them to say a word about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Aunt Phillips loved her and doted over her, and Lydia loved her aunt right back.

Few others gave her much attention. Some of the members of the militia had, until word got around that not only wasn’t she out, but Kitty was and had five thousand pounds. After that, the redcoats mostly ignored her, and now they were leaving, and her favorite, Mr. Denny, was a criminal. Worse, that new officer, Mr. Wickham, had been thrown in gaol for trying to kill Mr. Bingley, and Lydia had found him almost irresistibly handsome the one time they’d met. It troubled her that the officers she’d found the most charming were so vile. Was something wrong with her? Would Elizabeth know?

“I believe I will go visit Tuck,” Elizabeth said when, by Lydia’s count, their mother’s nineteenth rendition of her call for Jane to marry quickly ended. From her place on the couch she shared with Lydia, Elizabeth stood.

“I should bring Mare Marian some apples,” Mary said, putting aside the book she’d been reading in one of the chairs near the window.

Jane stood. “If you will excuse me, Mama, I—”

“No riding,” Mrs. Oakwood exclaimed, her eyes wide as she stared at Jane in something akin to terror. “You are not to ride before you marry. I will not have it. I will have that horse sold if you so much as saddle him, Jane Francine Bennet. Do I make myself clear?”

Along with her sisters, Lydia stared at their mother in surprise. Mrs. Oakwood sounded desperate. Nearly mad with worry.

Going to her, Jane dropped to a knee, capturing one of their mother’s hands. “Mama, I swear to you that I will not ride Robin, or any horse, without very good cause. Not until after Mr. Bingley and I wed.”

“Good cause? What cause could there be for you to court death?”

“Riding a horse is not courting death,” Elizabeth said. “Were it, most every gentleman we know would be in the ground already.”

Casting her a quick frown, Jane turned back to their mother. “You have my word, Mama.”

Mrs. Oakwood gave a shaky nod, clinging to Jane’s hands. “I am sorry. I do know how you love to ride, but it is too dangerous. Far too dangerous indeed. I will not have you taken from us when you are about to become the happiest of women.” Pulling her hand from Jane’s, she turned to Mary. “That goes for you as well. No riding until you marry Robert. Promise me. Swear.”

Mary looked to Elizabeth, who shrugged, then turned back to their mother. “I rarely ride as it is.”

“Promise me,” Mrs. Oakwood reiterated, command and desperation mingled in those words. “I will not have you go the way of your father. I should have sold all those beasts years ago, but your Papa Arthur bought them for you, and I know how you girls love them. But I will sell them now to keep you safe. You cannot tell me you truly hold such monstrous creatures in affection. I should—”

“I promise,” Mary broke in. “I give you the same oath as Jane. I will not ride Mare Marian without good cause, until after Robert and I marry.”

Mrs. Oakwood sank against the back of the couch. “Thank you. Thank you, my dear, sweet girls.” She flapped a hand before her face, fanning.

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane and Mary, then said lightly, “But we will still bring them a few apples.”

Taking in that shared look with envy, Lydia blurted, “Can I come too?”

“It is ‘May I,’” Kitty said with a sniff. “Honestly, what is Nanny Hill teaching you?”

Ignoring her, Lydia pleaded with Elizabeth with her eyes.

“Certainly you may,” Elizabeth said in that same easy way. “Go collect your cloak.”

Lydia jumped up, elation shooting through her. She hurried from the room after her sisters, leaving behind the beginnings of Kitty’s favorite new tirade about the unfairness of all the years she’d spent charming Mr. Collins.

Lydia struggled not to run to her room, instead walking decorously with her sisters. None of them spoke, so she didn’t either, but words bubbled in her mouth like stolen champagne. She squeezed her lips closed to hold them in.

Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary maintained their silence as they left their rooms and walked back through the house to the kitchen to collect some dried apples. They went out the kitchen door into the garden, still silent, so Lydia kept her words in. They didn’t take the walkway that led to the walled garden, even though it let out near the stable on the other side, instead strolling up the more direct path.

Lydia followed them into the stable, watching as they each went to their horse. She closed the door, then turned back, uncertain. Usually, she would start talking and keep talking until she was noticed, but she had the strong suspicion that were she noticed too much, they’d send her away.

Elizabeth turned from rubbing Tuck’s ears. “Mama may be correct in this idea of hers.”

“That we not ride until we are married?” Jane asked, petting Robin’s nose. In the next stall, Mare Marian scarfed down the apples Mary offered her.

“That you eloping to Scotland might prevent the Hargreaves’ visit,” Elizabeth clarified. “I am certain that is why she keeps suggesting that you marry quickly, so that Mr. Bingley will close Netherfield Park to guests.”

Jane turned a startled look on her. “How can I ask Charles to elope after he nearly died to restore my honor?”

Over the door of his stall, Robin nuzzled Jane’s shoulder.

“He did not nearly die.” Elizabeth’s words were slightly acerbic. “A ball grazed his shoulder.”

“So it is ‘Charles’ now?” Mary cut in with a sly grin for Jane.

“You call Cousin Robert ‘Robert,’” Jane cast back, turning to resume petting Robin. Robin liked pets the best, Lydia had always noticed. Mare Marian liked treats, and Tuck, for all his name sounded jolly, was the most aloof of the three.

“We all of us have always called him Robert,” Mary countered. She patted Mare Marian once, then turned. “And I am not certain we should attempt to keep the Hargreaves away.”

Elizabeth frowned at her and Lydia stifled a giggle, suddenly reminded of Mr. Darcy. “You saw the letter Papa Arthur left us.”

Mary nodded. “You know I did. We also know that the Hargreaves have accepted an invitation from Miss Bingley. Not to disparage the Bingleys, but why would the heir to an earl follow his sister to Hertfordshire to visit such a new connection as Miss Bingley, if not to meet us? We must be the reason they plan to visit, which means that we can now expect them regardless of anything Mr. Bingley does.”

“You mean, even if he takes back his invitation, they will still come looking for Thomas and Matthew?” Lydia asked, feeling very daring. “That makes sense. They won’t just give up.”

“Precisely,” Mary said.

Relief washed through Lydia. She’d thought of something to say, something reasonable, and said it, and no one had laughed at her or sent her back to Nanny Hill.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “You are likely right. I had not thought on it in that light. If they suspect they have found the earl’s lost heir, nothing will keep them away.”

Mare Marian huffed into Mary’s hair.

Mary cast her horse a look of reprimand before once more addressing Elizabeth. “So best they arrive as planned, unaware that we know why they have come, or that they may be related to our brothers.”

“That makes sense,” Jane said quietly, relief in her voice.

Lydia suspected that her kind older sister didn’t want to attempt to argue Mr. Bingley into eloping. Perhaps Jane would even have refused to do so.

“We are decided?” Mary gave the words an air of formality.

“Yes,” Jane replied quickly .

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed.

Mary looked to Lydia. “Lydia?”

She blinked, surprised. “Ah, yes?”

“Very well, then.” Mary turned back to her mare, her expression softening. “I will arrange for some of the footmen to exercise Mare Marian and Robin.”

“For now.” Elizabeth gestured to Lydia. “But soon enough, Lydia and I will take up the task. It is high time she learned to ride. Past time, really.”

Mary turned a suddenly intense look on their older sister. “Lydia does not need to learn to ride.”

“I believe she does,” Elizabeth countered.

They glared at each other.

Lydia looked back and forth between them. She had no idea why the question seemed so important, but she wanted Elizabeth to win. “I want to learn,” she blurted.

Mary left off frowning at Elizabeth to eye her.

“I believe Lydia should learn to ride,” Jane said softly. “Thomas and Matthew as well. We are leaving, Mary. This is their home, and they have the right to learn. Thomas will be master here someday.”

Lydia considered Jane’s words, feeling as if she had no idea what they meant. Not understanding aggravated her. She twisted that tight and held onto it, worried that letting any anger show would harm her cause.

“Or Matthew will be, if Thomas truly does become an earl,” Elizabeth said. “Regardless of any of that , it actually borders on the criminal that our brothers are not being taught horsemanship. I know Mama is afraid to let them ride, but they will be young men soon. What gentleman does not ride?”

“Mr. Collins didn’t ride,” Lydia said, the words coming out before she could halt them.

Mary cast her a sour look.

Elizabeth snorted, clearly amused. “I believe Lydia makes my point.”

“Won’t they have to go to some fancy school?” Lydia asked, emboldened by Elizabeth’s amusement at her last contribution. “I mean, if they do turn out to be heirs to that earl. They will be made to ride there, I shouldn’t wonder. They shouldn’t go without ever having ridden. They will be laughed at.”

She clamped her mouth closed then, suddenly realizing that by advocating for her brothers, she would bring them here. Yes, she would be allowed into Jane and Elizabeth and Mary’s group, but it wouldn’t be half so fun if Thomas and Matthew were, too. It would be like the celebration earlier. Lydia still wouldn’t be any more special, just the same amount of special as everyone else.

Which, she supposed, was better than being less special.

“That is true,” Jane said. “Thomas is thirteen. His grandfather will want to see him at Eton, and, at eleven, Matthew will not be far behind.”

“Very well,” Mary said grudgingly. “I vote yes to Lydia and our brothers learning to ride.”

“And I have the right to further their educations as I see fit.” Elizabeth nodded at the back wall of the stable, meeting Mary’s gaze.

Lydia looked back and forth between them with no idea what they spoke of.

Mary turned to Jane.

Who scrunched her face in thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Tell them what you believe they should know, Elizabeth. You are right that I will have a new home before year’s end, and Mary will too, once Cousin Robert is done with deep mourning. It is time.”

Mary huffed. “Very well, but before they all start traipsing about in here, I am removing the ledger and...” Her gaze snapped to Lydia. “And whatever else I see fit.”

“Certainly,” Elizabeth said.

Jane nodded.

“It is all settled, then.” Mary looked down, studying the floor.

Relief filled Lydia. Happiness, too, even though she was uncertain what they were actually discussing, for it was obviously more than riding horses. Could it have to do with what she’d seen in Papa Arthur’s letter? He’d written that he’d been teaching Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary how to defend themselves and to fight, though Lydia had never seen any evidence that they knew how to do those things. Perhaps he had not been able to teach them much before Mr. Collins’ father shot him.

Although Jane had hit Mr. Collins in the nose, all those years ago. Or so Elizabeth said.

Lydia opened her mouth to ask what more she would learn than riding, but the sorrow she read in all three of her sisters held her tongue.

“We should burn the ledger,” Jane said, the words catching in her throat.

Why did a ledger make Jane look as if she would cry?

Elizabeth sighed. “I daresay we should. It serves no use now and can only be considered incriminating. ”

“Is it truly over?” Jane asked softly.

Silence hung in the stable. Lydia tried not to move, not to attract any notice, worried again that she would be sent away.

“It is changing,” Elizabeth said into the stillness. “Over seems…too dramatic. Too permanent.”

“Once the banns are read for Jane, it is over for her.” Mary cleared her throat, as if tears closed it.

“Yes. I promised Charles,” Jane murmured. She turned back to Robin, leaning her forehead against his.

“I still say you should not have told Mr. Bingley anything,” Elizabeth muttered.

“How could she not?” Mary shook her head, seeming not to notice that Mare Marian was munching on the end of one of her curls. “She and Mr. Bingley will be bound together forever, before all of us and God.”

“And until they are, it was none of his concern,” Elizabeth cast back, still sour. “What if, when she told him, he had changed his mind? Then he would be out there, knowing, and under no obligations to us.”

“You would have her tell him after their wedding, when he no longer had a choice?” Mary asked.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Is this your way of informing us that you have told Cousin Robert as well? You are not even to have the banns read until March.” She looked from Jane to Mary and back. “We should have voted on you telling him.”

“No,” Jane said. “The vote that we should not permit a gentleman to court us without telling him the truth stands as well for Cousin Robert as it does for Charles. Besides which, I am not certain the matter even required a vote. What I choose to tell Charles is between us, just as what Mary chooses to tell Robert is between them. You will understand once you have someone.”

“And if you do not understand, perhaps you have not found the right person,” Mary added.

Elizabeth looked down. Lydia had never seen her older sister like this, dejected and uncertain. Elizabeth was strong and sure. Smart and slightly impertinent. Everything Lydia wanted to be.

And Lydia couldn’t even help her, because she had no idea what her sisters were talking about. “Do I get to know?” she asked.

“We will begin with the riding,” Mary said crisply before anyone else could answer.

“And we will start now,” Elizabeth added, her features smoothing. With something near to her usual cheer, she continued, “We will brush down the horses and I will teach you about their tack.”

“I will fetch the ledger.” Mary went into the tack room. She came out moments later with a leather-bound book and a wrapped bundle. “This is the last of it. With all the changes, it should go to the church.”

“Yes,” Jane said. “I discussed that with Charles. He was very generous.”

With a nod, Mary took the book and the bundle and left.

Lydia wished she knew what was in that ledger, or the bundle, or why Mr. Bingley was generous. She hadn’t been in the tack room often, but the times she had, she hadn’t seen any books.

“I will get the brushes,” Jane said, absently rubbing her left arm.

She’d been doing that a lot of late. Ever since she’d recovered from her Mama-like fit of nerves over the duel and been well enough to come down to the drawing room again.

Elizabeth must have noticed too because she shook her head. “You go in. Lydia and I will take care of Robin.”

Jane smiled in that sweet way of hers that worked so much better to get what she wanted than Lydia ever managed with her too-wide grin. “Thank you.”

As Jane left, Elizabeth turned to Lydia. “Come with me to the tack room. It is time you learn about horses.”