A.N. (There are so many stories about Elizabeth and Jane's happy lives after their marriages with two of the most perfect men known to our fictional world, but what happened to the despicable and pitiful Lydia Wickham, nee Bennet? Of course, she brought on her miserable life herself, but I always thought it would be interesting to read about her, and see her life through her eyes. I find it hard to believe that she could have been so oblivious and stupid as Jane Austen made her out to be. Behind her annoying immature exterior, what had she been feeling? Was she really so clueless about Wickham's character? Anyway, this is a little one-shot I wrote for pure fun, and takes place 20 years after the end of Pride and Prejudice. I hope you enjoy it!)
Disclaimer: I don't, and never can own, the magical, wonderful characters of Jane Austen. I don't own the world of Pride and Prejudice, or any of the original characters. Only the ones you never heard of are made up by me.
By the way, I know my writing style is nothing like Jane Austen's, so please excuse it!
Lydia Wickham closed the window shut harder than she intended to."For heaven's sake Victoria, do keep the noise down!" she snapped, glaring at poor Victoria Wickham, who had only been whispering to her sister Noelle about the wonderful lace shawl she had seen in the milliner's yesterday. "But Mama," Vicky, as she was called, protested, "I was telling Noelle about the lace shawl I saw at the milliner's yesterday! It was of the most gorgeous shade of mauve, and it looked exactly like the one Cousin Anne Darcy wore last month to the Winter Ball at Pemberley, and…"
"That's enough!" Lydia snapped, "Don't mention that wretched Darcy family to me, you ungrateful child! You'd be better employed seeking a husband at this age. You're seventeen, and if you don't watch out, you will turn out like my sister Mary, an old maid!"
"I like Aunt Mary, she's very agreeable indeed," protested Vicky, her face colouring. She never liked it when her mother pestered her about getting married. Victoria Wickham, the first of four daughters and two sons, was very much like her Aunt, Elizabeth Darcy when it came to temperament. Her face was always buried in books, but she also loved having walks around their village in Hertfordshire. But in her heart of hearts, the true reason that Vicky spurned all her beaus was that she was secretly in love with Edward Fitzwilliam Darcy, the eldest of the Darcy children, the heir to Pemberley, and her nineteen year old cousin.
"You impertinent girl, don't you dare talk back to me, or I shall have to tell your father about this when he gets home!" shrieked Lydia. Vicky just stormed upstairs to her room and shut the door harder than she intended to. Downstairs, she heard her mother storming into the kitchen herself and shutting the door. Victoria knew she was going to be in big trouble when her father, drunk as always, came home. He would be in a furious mood, and would first lash out on her mother before collapsing on the sofa in the sitting room. Tears started pouring from the eyes of Victoria, and her shoulders shook as her sobs took over. She felt extremely guilty now. Her poor mother was only in a bad mood because they were running out of money once again, and Aunt Lizzy and Aunt Jane had refused to help this time. Well, Aunt Jane hadn't exactly refused, because she was incapable of refusing anyone, but a reply hadn't come from her, and Victoria secretly thought that Uncle Charles had stopped her from continuously sending money to them. She couldn't exactly blame them, as her father and mother were very extravagant with the money.
Lydia glanced at the stairs and glared while she cut the potatoes. "Impertinent girl," she muttered, "And completely disrespectful! If I had been like that when I was young, Mama and Papa would have skinned me alive! She's turning out just like Elizabeth, and poor Mama had such trouble with her! Well, I'm glad I was the first Bennet daughter to be married, so I'm superior to all of them, despite my being the youngest! And for all her beauty, Jane got married quite late. What a disgrace it had been, having an unmarried sister so old! We were all sure she was going to turn out to be an old maid, but it happened to be Mary, no surprise there! She always was my least favorite sister, even more so than Elizabeth."
Lost to her musings, Lydia almost forgot about the letter from Elizabeth which had arrived just that morning. But with a start, she remembered it, and her face turned into a glare again. Elizabeth had turned out to be very proud, very proud indeed, after marrying that Darcy. "Like husband, like wife," Lydia thought bitterly. Elizabeth had turned out to be just as disagreeable as Mr. Darcy had proved himself to be, unlike her dear Wickham! For twenty years, Lizzy had asisted her by sending small amounts of money from her own allowance, which Lydia could never understand. She had thought having a rich sister would be a comfort, but how wrong she had been! What was the reason to send small amounts when she was perfectly capable of sending much more! Lydia took out the letter again and re-read it.
Lydia,
I cannot have you constantly pestering me for money. Fitzwilliam doesn't understand why I don't just pay no heed to your letters, but I don't do so out of my affection for you. You are after all my own sister, and although you brought disgrace to our once honorable family twenty years ago, I chose to overlook that on account that you would discontinue your extravagant way of living, and learn to be mature after your unfortunate marriage, but I simply cannot assist you constantly. I have five children of my own, and as three of them are boys currently in Oxford, we have to look after their needs also. My two own girls are soon going to be of marriageable age, and I cannot squander our money by sending you 300 pounds each month. It is simply unheard of! And I would appreciate it if you stop pestering Jane also. You know Charles does not approve of her squandering her personal allowance on account of you, and Jane is simply too sweet to say anything. I am sending you one final check of 700 pounds, as per Fitzwilliam's wishes, and nothing more will come from me after that. I understand that Jane is sending you 500 pounds, and after that, Charles has told her not to send anymore, so use this money wisely, and please refrain from contacting me in the future, unless it is of an account not relating to money. Wishing you a good day…
Your sister,
Elizabeth Darcy.
As if Lizzy knew how it felt not to be able to eat extravagant feasts like she did everyday! And was it her, Lydia Wickham's fault, that she bought a new dress instead of much needed vegetables some times? How would Lizzy know? Mr. Darcy showered her with five new expensive dresses every two months, and her wardrobe was costlier than even Lady Caroline Harrington's, nee Bingley! "Lizzy has everything, and she's talking about saving for her children?" thought Lydia angrily, and even (though she wouldn't admit it to herself) jealously. Lizzy's five children from oldest to youngest: Edward Fitzwilliam Darcy, Bennet Geoffrey Darcy, Anne Georgiana Darcy, William Jonathan Darcy, and Jane Catherine Darcy, were all just as proud as their parents (in Lydia's opinion), and she resented the fact that Anne and Jane's fortune was 35,000 pounds each, when her own four daughters (Victoria, Kitty, Leyla, and Darla) would be extremely lucky to get 200 pounds as their fortune.
Why had Jane and Lizzy been so fortunate with their marriages, when she, Lydia, who had been married first, had been so unlucky with hers? Yes, even Lydia knew, and she now acknowledged it, that her dear Wickham, who had stopped being "dear" 17 years ago, didn't love her, and never had loved her. She had been so blinded by his charming nature, and his agreeable sweet words which had lured her away from Mrs. Forster's care twenty years ago! Had she made a mistake? Lydia had often wondered, but had been too proud to acknowledge the mistake she made. She had followed her heart, and to a sixteen year old who had been indulged greatly by her mother, what did she know of right and wrong? Was it her fault then that she was suffering this greatly, and along with her, her children?
Lydia knew her elder son was becoming just as bad as his father. Denny Wickham, only sixteen, was already into gambling, and he often came home very late into the night, sometimes with bruises on his face. When asked where he had been, he never answered, and Lydia had to make up an excuse for his behavior to comfort herself. Her 13 year old son, Howard, already looked up to his brother as a role model, and Lydia was frightened her would turn out like him if she didn't curb his behavior. But how could she? Wickham was no help with the children, as he was often gone most of the day and came home drunk, and Denny and Howard never heeded her words.
Lydia was sure she had never been this bad with her parents. After all, hadn't she been her mother's favorite? But Lydia knew that all of Hertforshire talked of the disgraceful Wickham family who lived in the poorest house in town. Lydia and Wickham had originally lived in Newcastle up North for seven years after their marriage, and their life there hadn't been that bad, but once again, Wickham had landed himself in major debt, and so they moved to Hertforshire, where Lydia already had friends. Her father had died only a year before their move to Hertfordshire, and the Collinses were the owners of Longbourne, her childhood home, so Lydia could not get any help from there. Her mother had died two years before her father of a heart attack, so Lydia could get no sympathy, much needed and wanted, from her. Soon, Lydia found out that all of her so called friends did not want to associate with her anymore, even Maria Lucas, who was now Maria Long.
Even Kitty and Mary had better lives than her. Kitty, who had spent the chief of her time after Elizabeth and Jane's marriage with her two elder sisters in high society, married the Derbyshire parishioner, Mr. Jameston, who was not at all like Mr. Collins, and was actually interesting to talk to. She had two children (one boy and one girl) and led a very satisfied pleasant life living within five miles of Elizabeth. Mary, who had long ago decided that married life was not designed for her, had become a governor to none other than Lady Anne Birmingham's (nee DeBourgh) daughter, Catherine Birmingham. She found her duties quite pleasant and enjoyed looking after young Catherine, who was pleasant, polite, and not at all like her grandmother, Lady Catherine DeBourgh. Not only was she governor to Catherine Birmingham, but also her educator, and Lady Anne soon found Mary Bennet to be a valuable asset to her daughter, and treated her with respect not usually given to governors.
Lydia sighed, and thought about what she should do with the 1200 pounds her sisters had so "kindly" given her for the last time. She did not at all want to present it to her husband Wickham, who she knew would squander it on drinks or gambling. She thought about her life in general. What had she, a once much loved Bennet girl, and daughter of a respected gentleman, become? Why had her life taken this drastic turn? What lesson was she to learn from it? For the first time in twenty years, Lydia Bennet Wickham realized the mistake she had made, and the disgrace she had brought her family those many years ago. Was this her punishment? This disgraceful life, with the vilest man possible, couldn't possibly have appeared exciting and charming before? Lydia Wickham sighed, and stood up with determination. No, she was not going to sit back and see her family fall into ruins. After all those years, Lydia had finally matured, but was it too late to set things right?
"This family is in enough disgrace. What could be worse?" Lydia thought, calling Victoria and her other girls into the room. When she explained to them her plan, their surprise was evident, and even their unwillingness to partake in it, but finally, it was Vicky who broke the silence.
"I'll come with you, Mama," she said, looking confident much like her Aunt Lizzy.
"As will I," said Kitty Wickham, 14 years old. Lydia looked gratefully at her daughters, and turned to Leyla and Darla, her two twelve year old twin daughters. They looked reluctant, but said, "We shall come with you, Mama. Papa…Papa scares us, and…and we do not want to stay here without you."
"My darlings," Lydia murmured, touched by their loyalty to her. She thought about Howard, who had gone somewhere with Denny. Where was he? Just then, he burst through the door.
"Mama! You shall not believe where Denny goes in his free time!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with horror. Lydia made up her mind. She had to do it, now or never. Taking out a sheet of paper, she started writing.
Dear Lizzy,
I thank you for your generous donation, but I am afraid I must ask you for one final favor. I am estranging myself from Wickham, and hope to never see him again. I am taking five of my children with me, but Denny, who is much like his father, will remain with him, as I know not what his activities are anymore. You must help me, Lizzy, one final time, I plead you! If it is not asking too much to give my Howard a decent education, I shall hope you will provide him with one. He is not at all like his father, and with good guidance and education, may succeed in life by taking orders in the church. As for me, I shall have to stay in an inn with the money you and Jane gave me, until an appropriate living situation can present itself. I dare not ask you for help in that aspect, but I think I shall manage fine. I shall look for a profession like a governess, seeing Mary's so well at it. But Eliza, please do help me with the education of Howard. I need you.
Forever thinking of you,
Lydia Bennet
A.N. (I know, it's probably one of the worst stories you ever read, but I was bored with writing my other stories for awhile and needed a break, so I wrote this one-shot! Please tell me what you think of it!)
