Page 38 of May I Have the Pleasure
I came home to Gracechurch Street last night, and found Lydia thoroughly unrepentant, and boasting of her upcomingmarriage. I thought she was likely touched in the head, but Aunt assured me that all has been arranged.
I cannot imagine what it must have cost our uncle to accomplish it. I had been previously made aware of Wickham’s level of debt, and it is substantial. He also seems to have a commission in the regulars, and that must have cost as well. I cannot see how Uncle managed it for less than £7-10,000. Such a sum is more than Mr Bennet could possibly pay back in his lifetime, even should he attempt it, as Longbourn’s total income is short of £2,000 and Mrs Bennet overspends her allowance nearly every day. It would seem we are more indebted to Aunt and Uncle than we can ever repay.
Lydia was both boasting of her good fortune, and simultaneously berating Aunt because she was not to get a trousseau, or any new dresses or bonnets. Lydia had apparently been chastising Aunt for some time in this manner before I arrived home, and no amount of words from either of our lips could silence the little hoyden.
I must admit, at that moment I could well have killed her. Instead, I took the much more sensible approach of simply grabbing her ear like a misbehaving schoolboy and dragging her up the stairs.
When we arrived, I simply locked her in a spare bedroom and told her I would be back for her when her wedding was arranged. She stormed around, breaking things, and generally making herself every bit the worthless individual her mother has been shaping this last decade, but at long last relented. I have taken the bold step of forbidding Aunt and all the servants from so much as walking by her door, which Uncle found most amusing but agreed to.
I sent a note to Mr Ellery begging a few days leave to deal with her, as there is no possibility that I will force Aunt or her children to deal with the miserable chit. She is to be my cross to bear for the next two days until the wedding, and I will worry about just how far my own manners and language have fallen after that event is complete.
I have discussed the arrangements with Aunt and Uncle in some detail. I will stand up with Lydia, simply because I cannot imagine saddling anyone else with the miserable chore. Uncle and I will escort her to the church to meet her sorry excuse for a groom, who apparently is obliged to complete the ceremony or be turned over to the magistrate for debtor’s prison. Given the choice of Lydia or a life in debtor’s prison, I am not entirely certain he chose well, but I am somewhat satisfied that the two of them are most suitable for each other, and they are both removing themselves from the company of the rest of the world. Uncle also apprised me of what their income will be, and while they will survive, Lydia has not the slightest idea of how unwell they will live. Her education is about to begin in earnest.
We will host a wedding breakfast at Gracechurch Street, but Aunt has wisely sent her children away to a friend’s house until after the couple has departed. I will do my best to refrain from strangling either or both, so I would ask you to wish me luck or patience.
Now I must come to the most distressing part for you. They are to visit Longbourn for nearly a week, before travelling to his commission, which is apparently as far north as you can get and still be on English soil. With any luck, he will be shipped off to the continent and either killed or tamed.
I begged Uncle to stop this mad plan, but both Aunt and Uncle assure me that a very public visit to the neighbourhood is the only thing that will restore our reputations. He plans to simply tell Mrs Bennet a bald-faced lie about the whole affair, and she will spread it around like wildfire. You must endure them for a week, and then they will be gone forever.
I must close now to get some supper for Lydia. I refuse to let her out of her bedroom if she will not be civil, and I must admit to being pessimistic.
Your dutiful sister,
Lizzy
Astonishment
7 September 1812
Gracechurch Street
Dearest Jane and Mary,
Thank you both for your wonderful letter, and I especially thank you for managing to send it express. You have no idea how much it warms my heart to know I have two such wonderful sisters, and today I need all the reminder of worthy sisters I can get.
I hear Lydia preparing to face her wedding day, so I shall add to this letter after the hateful event has transpired.
~~~~~
I have endured Lydia’s wedding day now, and the party has finally, departed so I may deliver the surprising news of the day, but prepare yourselves for a shock. All previous exclamations of absolute astonishment are to be completely forgotten, as I have had the most fantastical experience of my life—actually two in rapid succession.
The first was that Lydia was reasonably quiet and polite as we made her ready for her wedding and escorted her to the church. I have come to really think the worst of her in every way. Even though that is uncharitable of me, considering how much she has cost our aunt and uncle as well as all our sisters, with no regard for consequences whatsoever, I find I cannot and will not forgive her. Perhaps someday in the far future I may relent slightly, but not today or anytime soon.
Aunt continues to show how a true lady acts, and helped Lydia make up one of her dresses as well as could be done, then patiently listened to her prattling on about lack of trousseau or new dresses or bonnets with astonishing patience. For my part, I kept staring at her ear, willing myself tonotgrab it and drag her back upstairs, but compared to that first day, she was an absolute lady.
As you would expect, there were just Aunt and Uncle in attendance, along with me standing up with Lydia. That idea obviously filled me with mortification, as if I would approve the union, but it is my duty to my other sisters, and I agreed to perform the office as I could not ask one more thing of our aunt.
We walked to the local parish and entered a cavernous building that looked thoroughly forlorn and lonely with just the four of us making up the party while waiting for the groom to appear. I was doing my best to not weep, and our least sensible sister was doing her best to not dance around in raptures. It was quite disconcerting.
The doors opened again, we all turned to the back, and I had thevery most shocking experience of my life. It quite exceeded Mr Collins’s proposal by a wide margin, every shock of the previous month, and the nasty letter from Mrs Bennet combined. All of those were as nothing compared to the extreme surprise of findingMr Darcystanding up with Mr Wickham. I must confess, I could do nothing except stand beside Lydia in open faced astonishment whilst the vows were read. Such was my shock; I did not even flinch when hearing Lydia and that man say words like love and honour without the slightest indication that they understood the irony.
Once the ceremony concluded, I found myself signing my name next to Mr Darcy’s in the wedding register, yet another experience I would never in my life have anticipated. His countenance wasnotthat of a man doing something he enjoyed, but more like a man on his way to the gallows; orcome to think of it, a man who had already been there. I have never seen such a look of abject misery, and I was quite at a loss to explain it. I had no idea why he was there at all, let alone with such an expression, but I must confess it was not very long before my suspicions were aroused to the fullest.
Before we quit the church, Mr Darcy stepped aside with the despicable groom and Uncle Gardiner, and a sheaf of papers were all signed with little ceremony. Wickham (I will never call him either ‘brother’ or ‘mister’) signed with a flourish and a despicable snigger, and Mr Darcy signed with grim determination.
That was not the oddest part—no not at all. I was at the time quite befuddled, and fully unable to find any explanation for the phenomena, butUncle Gardiner did not sign anything!Nothing at all! Not a single page. All he did was place himself in a position I could not understand, until I noted that it would be very difficult for Mr Darcy to see me observing the proceedings.
That gentleman had quite forgotten me, but I suspect had he had all his wits about him, they would have gone somewhere more private for the nasty endeavour. I know the look of business documents, and there is no doubt in my mind that Wickham was being paid to marry our sister, probably a handsome sum.
