"Harriet! What do you think of this one for the ball tonight?" Lydia asked as she came bursting into her friend's dressing room with her new worked muslin gown fluttering in the breeze of her wake.
"Oh, yes!" replied Mrs. Forester, as Lydia held the dress in place against her. "I think that will do quite nicely. As I recall it looks very becoming on you. It shows off your… ahem… attributes to great advantage," Harriet said, smiling mischievously and raising her eyebrows. At this the two young ladies descended into a fit of giggles.
"At this rate, Lydia," said Harriet, "I expect to have to you engaged by midsummer's eve!"
"I have told you before Harriet," replied Lydia smugly, "there is but one man in the world for me, and he is an angel." Lydia feigned a swoon into a nearby chair.
"Don't get me wrong Lydia, Wickham is a fine specimen of a man," counselled Harriet, "but there are plenty more out there. We are in a veritable sea of red coats here in Brighton. Don't sell yourself short."
"My Wickham is the handsomest thing in a red coat this side of Scotland," declared Lydia, "I shall never be happy without him."
….oOo….
"Miss Bennet," addressed Captain Denny to the lady as she arrived at the ball, "may I have the honor of your hand for the first two dances this evening?"
"Why, yes, Denny," said Lydia with a simpering smile. While it was good to be so promptly engaged for the opening set she had wished for Wickham's application instead. Maybe she could get him for the supper set and therefore have him to herself for a greater length of time.
As she and Harriet strolled around the room waiting for the music to begin she spied Wickham on the far side of the dance floor with a drink in his hand. As he downed that one and reached for another from a passing servant he caught her eye. Looking her up and down he gave her a roguish grin of approval and raised his glass to her. She gave him a coy smile, raised her hand and wiggled her gloved fingers at him.
Wickham was not in the best of moods. Tomorrow, thankfully, was pay day. However, he had spent the bulk of today dodging tradesman who insisted on reminding him to pay off his credit at their establishments and being harangued by his fellow officers to whom he owed some substantial debts of honor. His meager Militia pay would not be enough to cover everything he owed. Add to that the odd tradesman's daughter - or three - that claimed to be increasing on account of him. It was enough to give the man a headache. So, since the drinks at the ball this evening were free he intended to take full advantage of it and worry about all of his problems tomorrow. Some solution would surely present itself to him by then.
The dancing soon commenced and Captain Denny came to claim Miss Bennet's hand. She noticed Wickham at the other end of the set, dancing with some coquettish little imp. She will have to move quickly when the dance was over to secure Wickham for the supper set.
At the end of the second dance she found Wickham not too far off with another drink in his hand, conversing with some of his fellow officers.
"Captain Wickham," said she, touching his arm, and he turned to face her, "how many drinks have you had so far this evening? I declare, every time I turn around you have got either a drink or some pretty girl in your hands."
"Well, maybe now I shall have both at the same time," said he, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, thus getting a better view of her decolletage.
"Wickham!" she exclaimed swatting at his red coat, "behave yourself or I shall not dance with you." She turned away folding her arms and lifting her chin haughtily in the air.
"You," he emphasized, laughing and cocking his head, "want me to engage you for the supper set, don't you?"
"I will not reward such impertinence with an answer," she replied, still maintaining her haughty stance, "Anyway, you are drunk."
"What does that matter," he retorted, "I can still dance better than any of these other blokes." He downed his drink and snagged another one. "I'll tell you what, Miss Lydia, I'll make you a deal," he blatantly leered at her and whispered in her ear, "I will dance the supper set with you, if you, in turn, will join me for a private walk in the garden after the meal."
"But it will be dark by then," she protested.
"Precisely," said he, with that devilish smile of his.
Putting her finger to her lips and affecting to think for a moment, she responded with a hint of suspicion, "Well, alright, but you'll have to stop drinking."
"Bloody hell!" he said to that.
She sighed. She will just have to accept him as he was, liquor breath and all.
….oOo….
When their two dances were over they sat down together to a scrumptious meal during which, to Lydia's dismay, Wickham continued to imbue copious amounts of alcohol. When desert was finished Wickham leaned down and whispered in her ear, "When you see me step out on the terrace, wait a few minutes and then come and join me at the garden gate." She nodded her assent.
A few minutes later she spied Wickham slipping out the door. In a moment she followed him. When she reached him at the garden gate he took her by the hand and pulled her deeper into the garden. As he stumbled into the bench he had been searching for he pulled her down haphazardly onto his lap. The two of them burst out laughing.
"Wickham, you are so ridiculous!" she declared as he began to nibble at her neck.
"Oh, Lydia!" he panted, "I have been wanting to do this for so long."
"Oh, George!" cried Lydia ardently.
After some time of passionate kissing Lydia was putty in his hands. A drunken and lustful Wickham decided to see how far he dared go. In an attempt to reposition her he ripped a great slit in the side of her skirt partially exposing her thigh. While not exactly what he had intended, he decided to take advantage of the newly exposed skin. Lydia was in wild transports at the feel of the warm touch of his hand on her thigh while his lips pressed kisses onto her decolletage. As his hand crept higher and higher Lydia began to come to her senses. Noises coming from the direction of the manor house brought her fully to and she firmly but gently pushed Wickham away.
"George, my love," said she as they both struggled to catch their breath.
"Lydia, I want you so much," he said in his drunken lustful stupor.
"George," she proclaimed, "you know we cannot until we are married."
"Then marry me Lydia," begged he.
"What?" she asked.
Sobering up a bit and realizing this might be the solution to his problems, he said, grabbing her arms and looking into her eyes, "Let's run off to Gretna Green – tomorrow, after I get my pay."
"Oh, George!" she exclaimed with a broad smile and she threw her arms around his neck.
"Meet me tomorrow morning at the parade grounds, eleven o'clock," he suggested, "and we will discuss our plans."
"Oh, yes, I can't wait" she said and she kissed him. "Now how am I supposed to get back inside with this slit in my dress?" she whined.
Examining it for a minute and running his fingertips along her exposed skin he grinned devilishly at her.
Smacking his hand away, she said, "Wickham! Go find my cloak and bring it here. Some people are starting to leave so I won't look out of place with it on."
He did as she bade him and they returned to the house. She soon found Harriet and, declaring how fagged she was, asked if they could go home.
….oOo….
The next day a sober Wickham reexamined the hasty plans of yestereve with a clearer head. Marriage to Lydia Bennet was out of the question. She had no fortune and he absolutely must marry for money.
However, his recent losses at the gaming table and the high debts he had run up with the many tradesmen in Brighton, not to mention those tradesmen's daughters, made the escape (as he preferred to call it) with the voluptuous Lydia actually seem like a good idea.
So he planned instead, to whisk her off to London rather than Gretna Green. In London they would be able to hide with much greater ease. He was certain Lydia would consent to this change in plans. He could tell her that they would marry in London in secret as soon as possible. He knew that the prospect of taking part in the many diversions London had to offer would appeal to Lydia immensely.
However, he did not tell her of this alteration to their scheme at their morning rendezvous as he feared she might let the cat out of the bag. If she happened to let Greta Green slip her lips that would just help serve to put any pursuers off their track.
….oOo….
After their morning meeting, Lydia and Wickham parted ways. He would meet her with a chaise at Colonel Forester's house just after midnight.
Lydia spent the afternoon, with an ignorant Harriet, shopping for some necessities for her London trip. While the two ladies were perusing the shop windows on Kings Road she was approached by Captain Pratt who made so bold as to request her hand for the first two dances at the assembly the next evening. As she could not risk suspicion by refusing, she feigned immense pleasure and gladly accepted him.
Lydia spent much of the afternoon in her chambers preparing for her journey. Harriet thought that there might be something afoot as Lydia was behaving rather oddly. However, she decided that her friend was probably just planning some sort of trick, as she often did, and just hoped that the joke would not be on her.
Lydia retired early that evening but she could not sleep. While waiting up for midnight, and Wickham, she wrote a letter to her friend:
'MY DEAR HARRIET,
You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my engagement and dancing with him to night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.
Your affectionate friend,
LYDIA BENNET.'
She folded and sealed the letter, leaving it on the bedside table for Harriet to find in the morning when she was missed. When the clock struck midnight she grabbed her bag and crept silently out of the house to meet Wickham who was already waiting for her. They quickly stole into the chaise and departed for London.