Page 22 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

The Bennet Carriage

Biggleswade

“What?!” Lydia whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment.

Elizabeth, too, was incredulous and asked feebly, “I do not understand. How is this possible?”

“It is most remarkable,” Mr. Bennet replied, and now he looked amused. “While I was speaking with George Wickham in the coffee room, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Alexander arrived. Over the ensuing two hours, the elder Mr. Wickham drank himself into insensibility, whereupon Mr. Alexander offered to marry Lydia in his stead. I was and am startled at such an offer, but given the lieutenant’s obviously degenerate behavior, I could only accept with gratitude.”

“But I do not want to marry Mr. Alexander,” Lydia whined. “I want to marry George!”

“Well, that is no longer an option, Lydia,” Mr. Bennet said coolly. “You can either wed Mr. Alexander or be confined to a small cottage on the estate of Pemberley. Mr. Darcy has graciously offered to house you there.”

Lydia stared at her father. “What do you … a cottage? For how long?”

“For the rest of your life,” her father replied, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set. “I have no intention of allowing you to ruin your sisters’ reputations and futures.”

Lydia’s eyes flared wide, and she paled. “My whole life? But … oh, how could you be so cruel to me? George loves me, and I love him. Why will you not allow us to be married?”

“I might have been forced to,” Bennet replied, “if Mr. Alexander had not nobly offered to take his brother’s place. But to clarify the situation, did you know that the man who said he loves you refused to marry you for two hundred pounds a year, which is a substantial sum? He insisted on five hundred pounds a year, which is ridiculous.”

“ Why is it ridiculous?” Lydia demanded. “George explained it all to me during our journey north. Jane will soon be married to a rich man, so she does not need any income from Longbourn. That leaves just the four of us, and it is right that my husband and I would have five hundred pounds a year, which would leave five hundred a year for each of my sisters when they marry.”

Elizabeth turned a dismayed gaze on Mr. Alexander Wickham. Surely, in the face of such stupidity, he would not be willing to wed her ridiculous sister!

“Miss Lydia,” the parson said with a gentle smile.

“Yes?”

“Do you know how your father obtains his income?”

“Of course I do. From the rents of the tenant farms.”

“Exactly. Now, do you know that your father must spend a large portion of that money on fencing, and draining fields, and tenant cottages and the like?”

Lydia scrunched up her nose. “I suppose I did not, but why does it matter?”

“Because if your father pledged five hundred pounds a year to each of his younger daughters, and all four of you married, there would be no money to put back into the land, much less pay for servants and food and books and clothes for your father and mother.”

Lydia wrinkled her brow thoughtfully and, after a moment of cogitation, said, “I suppose that would not be quite fair. Perhaps four hundred pounds a year for each of us would be appropriate? That would leave four hundred pounds for Mamma and Papa to live on.”

“Estates are expensive to maintain,” Alexander said. “Of course, a landlord can choose to let fences and houses fall into disarray, but if he does, the farmers and their families will suffer and likely get sick, and livestock will be lost or injured as they roam, and thus yields will decrease so that the tenants will not be able to pay their rents. Indeed, if too much rent is asked in return for little yield, they will move away. Moreover, while Longbourn is not nearly as large as Pemberley, it is still a substantial house and requires a number of servants, all of whom require yearly salaries, not to mention the cost of food and clothing.”

“How much do servants earn a year?” Lydia asked.

The following discussion was an interesting one for Elizabeth, as Mr. Wickham, assisted occasionally by Mr. Bennet, describing all the financial burdens for an estate like Longbourn. While she was far more aware of the price of food and clothing and such than Lydia, she found herself genuinely astonished at the hidden costs of living in the style to which she and her sisters were accustomed.

“How do you know all this?” Lydia finally asked in amazement, and Mr. Alexander replied, “My father was steward of Pemberley for many years, and in my youth, I considered becoming a solicitor like him and eventually a steward of an estate. When I was fourteen, I felt a call to the church, but I have never forgotten my father’s invaluable lessons. Indeed, I find myself using some of these precepts in my parish. While my income is a good one, I must be sensible in my spending. Moreover, there are times when I am called upon to assist my parishioners in making decisions about their own purchases.”

“It sounds very dull,” Lydia declared with a truculent pout on her face. “I would far rather go to parties and dance than deal with the lower classes.”

“Do you believe, Miss Lydia, that we are called by God merely to amuse ourselves all the time?” Alexander inquired.

Lydia looked genuinely confused and said, “But of course. I am a lady, and ladies do not work!”

“Ladies and gentlemen may not work for an income exactly,” Mr. Bennet interposed, “but Mr. Wickham is entirely correct that we all have responsibilities, and some of them affect the income we make from the estate. I am not a particularly diligent master of Longbourn, but I do spend time writing business letters and visiting tenant farms and authorizing fencing and other necessary items. As for your mother, she spends time every week working with Mrs. Hill and Cook to arrange for meals and she is also responsible for arranging for your clothing. Moreover, your elder three sisters assist in visiting the tenants and providing assistance to them, like arranging for Boxing Day gifts. I realize I am much to blame for your folly, Lydia. I should have taken you in hand long ago, but I was too lazy, and I deeply regret it.”

Lydia turned an astonished countenance on her father.

“What are you talking about, Father?” she sputtered. “There is nothing wrong with my behavior!”

Bennet’s face became bright red, and he snarled, “You ran away with a villain, you were intimate with him, and all without the benefit and protection of my blessing or marriage or settlements. You were and are a complete idiot, Lydia!”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Lydia shrank back in her seat, and her eyes grew shiny. A moment later, it occurred to her that Mr. Bennet, while he often mocked Lydia, had never paid much attention to her and certainly had never raised his voice in admonition. Perhaps it was not astonishing that Lydia was genuinely taken aback by her father’s obvious fury.

“Miss Lydia,” Alexander said in a kind voice, and Lydia turned toward him with an anxious expression on her face. “The most important truth of God’s Word is that we all have sinned, and we can all be forgiven for our mistakes and failures. I know I am not the twin you wished to marry, but in face and form, I am very much like my brother. Please, will you not accept my hand in marriage?”

She stared at him and then at her father, whose face was still set in an angry grimace, and nodded hesitantly. “Yes, Mr. Alexander. I will marry you.”

“Thank you,” he replied simply and lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

***

Parsonage

On the Road to Kympton

The Next Day

Smoke curls rose in the near distance from where Kympton nestled in the snowy hills. The hedges and the frozen branches of the trees that lined the road wore thin coats of white that sparkled like diamonds in the sun. The world was blinding in its brilliance, no clouds to obscure the bright sun now blazing down on the hills and fields and forests below.

The beauty of their surroundings was a slight balm to Elizabeth’s bruised heart and shattered peace. Conversation had largely languished since the discussion the previous day of the financial burden that estate management entailed, culminating in Alexander’s proposal and Lydia’s timid acceptance. Elizabeth hoped that Lydia was doing some hard thinking about her folly and her new life, though Mr. Bennet remained cold towards his youngest daughter. No more words had been exchanged until they ceased their travel for the night, some scant hours later. Dusk fell early, and with no moon to light their way, they had by tacit agreement stopped as the light faded.

Mr. Bennet had severely bidden his youngest daughter into the room with Elizabeth.

“Perhaps you can ensure that she does not run away or attempt anything ... anything else foolish, Lizzy,” he had said.

Lydia had submitted with unaccustomed meekness and climbed in silence into the generous four-poster beside Elizabeth within the half-hour. It was, at least, a large bed in a nice room. They had stopped in a little hostelry right outside Northampton, with clean rooms and aired sheets and flower boxes that lay fallow in the winter cold.

Silence had reigned between the sisters for a few minutes, but neither one could sleep, and eventually Lydia had whispered, "Lizzy? How much is it costing Father and Mr. Wick- Mr. Alexander for us to stay here tonight?"

“I do not know,” Elizabeth had whispered back. "Several pounds, perhaps.”

They had not spoken again. After a few minutes, Lydia had turned over and apparently gone to sleep, but Elizabeth's mind had been too busy. Their father's distrust notwithstanding, she did not think Lydia would try to sneak away. Bold and brash her youngest sister might be, but she had handled none of the logistics of the original elopement, trusting the scurrilous Wickham to manage their flight. Now she was hours of swift passage away from the lieutenant and was entirely incapable of obtaining food or shelter or conveyance for herself.

Elizabeth felt a sudden pinch of guilt. It was shocking how little Lydia knew about the basic realities of her comfortable lifestyle. Perhaps she should have tried to explain to both Lydia and Kitty the value of money…

But no. That responsibility lay squarely on the shoulders of their parents. It was Mr. Bennet's laziness and Mrs. Bennet's folly that had made Lydia and Kitty what they were. It was thanks to Jane and Elizabeth that the two girls had any semblance of decorum in company at all. In a way, it was a wonder the family was not already ruined through their parents' neglect.

The entire party had risen early in the morning, hastily eaten breakfast, and set out toward Derbyshire in the hopes of reaching Kympton by early afternoon. Elizabeth, while still distressed, could not help but find some pleasure in scenery which was entirely new to her, including vast forests and steep hills stretching upward into the sky.

Now the carriage entered another small town and Alexander, who had been silent for the last hour, said, “This is Kympton.”

Elizabeth turned eagerly to stare out of the window. The main street was well kept and laid with cobblestones, and women stood before houses and businesses alike, sweeping off their doorsteps. The residents of the town bustled on foot or atop some sturdy farm horse around the carriage with a curious second glance or two, but they moved on about their own business. The carriage passed the blacksmith's shop, the smith busy at his forge within. Two young ladies were emerging from the butcher's, laughing together, to walk a few paces down the street to step into the bakery, the windows filled temptingly with loaves and scones and biscuits.

A little stone church, doubtless the one overseen by Mr. Alexander, sat at the junction of the main road and a side street. It was modest in size and demeanor, an unadorned steeple and a handful of colorful windows its only claim to ornamentation.

The carriage turned left into a lane and then came to a halt in front of a neat brick house some five hundred feet from the church itself.

“This is very convenient to the church,” Elizabeth remarked, and Alexander nodded. “Indeed it is. I am grateful, as it allows me to hurry back home on those occasions when I forget something.”

A servant opened the door, and Alexander stepped down onto the bricked lane, and then handed out first Lydia, and then Elizabeth, while Mr. Bennet made his own way down.

Elizabeth was pleased by what she saw. It was not a large house, but neither was it small, and the bushes were well trimmed, the paved walkway even, and ivy grew on one side of the house. Given the time of year, there were of course no flowers, but Elizabeth spied an open space in front of the main window, which would be a lovely place for daffodils or narcissus in spring.

“Please,” Alexander said, “come in out of the cold.”