Hello! I just wanted to thank you all for your lovely reviews and the immense support! This chapter's for you :))
The weekend comes and goes, and then there's Monday and I'm so up to my neck in assignments and looming deadlines that Jane has to repeat to me four times that our mother invited us for dinner tonight (Thursday night, to be specific) and I said I'd be there.
"You're kidding?"
Jane shakes her head, sighing at me. "I'm afraid not, Lizzy."
"Well, when is it?"
She glances at the clock hanging in our kitchen. "In about an hour."
"Shit," I say and Jane agrees wholeheartedly with me before we both head to our rooms in an attempt to make ourselves presentable. I don't think our mother would appreciate if we showed up in sweatpants and crop tops.
At four-thirty Jane and I head out to catch the bus. She's in a green blouse, I'm wearing a white-with-red-stripes blouse and we both have on jeans. Hopefully up to our mother's standards.
On the bus, Jane and I talk in low voices about whether or not she should go out with Charles again. I say she absolutely should.
"But what if he brings his sisters again?" Jane bites at the nail of her pinky finger. "That was weird."
"Well… Yeah, no, you're right. That was really weird." I concede. "But maybe he was just nervous."
Jane shrugs. "It's really not a big deal, Lizzy. I don't think it'll happen again - us going on a date, I mean." She glances away and then spins back to me, eyes glinting before I have the chance to start telling her the exact opposite of what she thinks. "But, Charles' friend! He was cute!"
I cock a brow at her, teasing, "So, what? Are you into them both?"
She slaps me lightly on the arm. "For you, Lizzy."
"I'll have to kindly refuse," I tell her, wrinkling my nose at the idea. Me, and Fitzwilliam? I know he's tall and showed up to dinner dressed to the damn nines, but he's not… He's nothing special.
"You're so picky," she replies, but that's all she says on the matter and I find myself grateful.
We arrive at our stop a little while after, and walk about five minutes from there to get to our parents' house. My childhood home is on the very outskirts of town, but it is not lonely. The houses are old and spaced out down the street and surrounded by beautiful flora. As we walk Jane picks flowers here and there, slowly assembling a bouquet for the dinner table. She did it all the time when we were children and I smile at the memory.
Soon enough we come to our house, a two-story monstrosity bracketed by two tall, tall trees with well-groomed walking paths that lead around the property. There's light emanating from the downstairs windows and I catch a glimpse of my mother bustling to the door because she'd - per usual - been watching out the window.
The door bursts open and there is our mother, hair piled on top of her head and wearing a dress two sizes too small (and I know because it looks as though it might burst at the seams any second). "My girls!" She throws her arms wide just as Jane and I reach the porch. Obligingly, we wrap our arms around her in a hug and just as quickly pull away.
"Hi, Mom," Jane gives a smile that looks genuine and I try my best to match it. In all honesty I don't really want to be here. I have more important things to be doing than listen to my mother coo over the twins and say that she can't believe how no one has snatched up Jane yet, beauty that she is.
"Jane, Eliza," her voice is over-enthusiastic, almost theatrical. "Come in, come in, supper is almost ready."
We follow after her, getting in trouble for not at least bringing coats because our mother insists it is going to get cold out by the time we have to leave to go home. It's May, I want to tell her. Have you been outside?
"Your sisters all here already," she says, rather needlessly. The rest of our sisters still live at home.
"Where's Dad?" I ask as we kick off our shoes at the front door and head for the living room.
My mother waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, probably in his office." She laughs, "Who knows with that old bat?"
"Lydia stop being such a brat!" Mary shouts from the living room. "Give it back!"
"Oh, dear," my mother whispers before rushing ahead of us to attempt to smooth out whatever it is Mary and Lydia are fighting about now. But when Jane and I reach the living room, we can clearly see that she has not, in fact, been able to smooth it out. Not that that's unusual. It was usually up to us to sort out the sister spats.
Jane and I turn to each other, sharing a look and then head into the living room. Lydia has, presumably, stolen Mary's book and is running around the living room, holding it as high as she can because she's taller than Mary. Kitty is stretched out on the couch, laughing. Mary looks absolutely furious, and Lydia is laughing at the man on the cover: "Oh, you looooove Fabio, don't you, Mary?! I bet you dream about snogging him -"
"Lydia you're such a bi -"
"Lydia," Jane says in her sternest teacher-voice. Lydia, Kitty and Mary all stop dead in their tracks. Swivel their heads to look at us. "Give Mary back her book, please."
Our mother, who was in the midst of chasing Lydia, stops too. She lets out a huff as Mary sheepishly holds the book out to Mary, who snatches it back all but snarling. "Well, no more of that now, girls," she runs her hands down the sides of her too-tight dress. "Dinner's nearly ready. I expect you all seated at the table and being polite when I return with your father."
We help my mother put out the food: roast and potatoes, a nearly ridiculous spread of vegetables. My father is getting everyone drinks. Water and juice are our options, while he pours my mother wine and himself something that's either bourbon or whiskey.
"My Lizzy," he begins as we all take our places at the table (My mother and father at either end, Jane and I on one side, the other three opposite us).
"Yes?"
He spears a piece of roast off the tray, begins cutting it slowly and almost tenderly. "How is school going?"
"Oh, yes!" My mother adds, waving around a spoon spilling peas all over. "How is it going, Lizzy?"
"It's going...well," I smile a close-lipped smile. "I'm almost done."
"Well that's wonderful," he says, returning my smile. My father is a white-haired man, with neatly-kept facial hair and a deep, rumbly voice. He's never been so...busy as her. Where my mother was bustling around taking Jane and I to ballet, Mary to piano, Lydia and Kitty to the playground, he was tucked away in his office, doing whatever it is he does when he's all alone. He prefers the solitude, prefers books to people. I think that's where most of us get the quietness, where Lydia and Kitty are the ones with my mother's...vivality.
I bite into a warm carrot. Chew. Swallow. Smile again. "I'd love it if you all came to my graduation in May."
"We will all be there," my father assures me.
We clear away the dinner dishes, bring out saucers for the pie we have for dessert.
My mother doesn't sit down, instead, she moves to stand next to my father's chair. She clears her throat. "Before we all dig in, Lydia has an announcement," she's smiling like mad, hands gesturing almost spastically to where my sister sits. My father cranes his neck back to look at his wife, expression wary.
Lydia stands up now. She runs her hands down the sides of her skirt, and that's when I see it: "Lydia!" I almost shout. "Are you wearing an engagement ring?"
Jane's head snaps to me and then to Lydia's left hand, where, yes, there's an obnoxiously huge rock on her finger. "Mom -" Jane starts.
Mary shoots to her feet. "You're seventeen!" She bangs her hands, balled into fists, against the wood of the table.
"That's not fair!" Kitty shouts, face red. "She's getting married and I can't even go on a date -!"
My father turns fully in his chair now to gape at the ring on Lydia's finger. Somehow knowing he didn't know about this makes me feel better. Because of course, this is all my mother's doing. I shouldn't have expected anything different. "Harriet, what is the meaning of this?" He asks, face twisting to something like disapproval and annoyance.
My mother lifts her nose at all of us, crossing her arms over her chest. "As I was saying, Lydia has an announcement to make."
Lydia holds up her hand, grinning wildly. "I'm getting married!" Her voice is pitchy and I want to cover my ears. This is not happening, is it? My father is not going to let this happen -
He pushes out of his chair. "You most certainly are not, young lady!" His voice is booming and sends the chaos of the room to silence in seconds. Mary's expression is furious and I imagine mine looks much the same. Lydia, a teenager, practically still a child, is getting married?
My mother rolls her eyes, lays a hand on my father's shoulder. "Oh, John, don't be so -"
He brushes her hand away in a swift move, picking up Lydia's hand. "Dad - ow! - Dad, stop it!" Lydia tries to yank her hand away as he pulls the ring off her finger.
"You will not be wearing this," he tells her and pockets it. Lydia's face turns as red as Kitty's and then tears are rolling down her cheeks.
"You're - you're horrible!" She screams at him and this time is successful in pulling her hand away, running from the dining room. Despite herself, Kitty follows, because wherever Lydia goes, so does Kitty.
My head falls into my hands and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. She's not engaged to who I think she is, is she? The timing is just too perfect for it not to be but she's seventeen…
I can hear Lydia sobbing somewhere in the house, hear her screaming at Kitty to leave her alone, Kitty yelling right back.
I lift my head. "Who is she engaged to?"
My father cuts me an unimpressed look from where him and my mother where arguing, "She is not -"
"His name is George Wickham," my mother sighs, looking like she might be daydreaming. "He's just the most handsome man and can't you just imagine: Lydia Wickham! It rolls so well off the tongue -"
I don't listen to the rest of what she's saying. The blood is roaring in my ears. I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"Lizzy?" Jane's hand is rubbing my shoulder soothingly.
"Lizzy dear," my mother says, "What's wrong?"
"George dumped me last week because he got engaged, and now you're telling me that the person he is engaged to is my seventeen year-old sister! That's what's wrong!" I stand up, voice carrying through the room. "This is illegal, not to mention all kinds of wrong! Lydia hasn't even graduated high school yet and she's engaged to a man six years older than her. And you're happy about it!"
"Elizabeth -!"
"I do want to and will not speak to you until you realize how disgusting this is," I spit at my mother and storm out of the room. I'm at the door when I notice Jane is there with me, pushing her shoes onto her feet. She follows me out the door, slamming it for me and I don't think I've ever been more grateful to have her not only as a sister, but as my best friend.
We reach the bus stop before we say anything to each other. Sympathy is written across her face and she tells me, "You're crying," and pulls me into a hug.