To Elizabeth's dismay, Mr. Darcy did not call on her, but she could not blame him. No matter how much both of them wished the circumstances were different, the scourge of Mr. Wickham in her life left little room for polite society. At night, she dreamt of marrying Mr. Darcy and living away from the world at Pemberley. She knew little about his estate up north in Derbyshire, but she imagined it to be a well-proportioned mansion with a welcoming, tasteful decor.
The more likely reason Mr. Darcy had not visited was the plague of storms for half a week. When the weather finally let up, Elizabeth pressed her sister to go sea bathing. At first, Lydia tried to hold her sister off, complaining that Mr. Wickham was due to visit. The entire household had grown tired of Lydia's incessant chatter about everything that Mr. Wickham said and everything that Mr. Wickham did.
Colonel Forster practically pushed them out the door to the carriage, with the maid he had wisely invested in to keep peace in his house. The new arrangement of the household meant Elizabeth spent her days with the maid as her companion for social invitations she received that Mrs. Forster did not wish to attend. Miss Lydia, who did practically everything that Mrs. Forster engaged in, remained with her. And in such a manner, there was a tentative tranquility so long as Lydia's tantrums of jealousy were not set off.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Forster's increasing condition had yielded a morning where his wife was indisposed to her bed. The last task Colonel Forster wished for was to play scorekeeper between two quarreling sisters.
The beach for women to dip into the sea was some miles away from the village proper, to provide privacy to the fairer sex. Dozens of wooden chambers affixed to wheels lay on tracks that led directly to the sea. Elizabeth paid the service for both of them, as Lydia had spent all of her pin money for the week on a new bonnet.
A large, stout woman, named Martha Gunn, took their custom and ushered them through the front door of the wooden chamber. It was a tight squeeze and she recognized weak-willed fancy ladies on holiday. They had the highest chance of shrieking and shouting, or worse, fainting in terror. Years of experience had taught her the best way to handle the most delicate was to bark orders at them like a Sergeant-at-Arms.
"Remove your gowns, and fold them kindly, placing them on the shelf up there. Put the solid gown on over your chemise. The lads outside will release the rope and the wagon will move quickly into the water. There is no reason to scream, as we are perfectly safe on the track."
Obediently, Elizabeth began following instructions immediately, and she looked up at the small window that was high above the door. A small hatch in the ceiling of the bathing machine was propped open, allowing air to enter.
"The machine will come to a stop at a suitable depth. It being high tide, the water will come in a bit. Again, there is no need to scream," Mrs. Gunn kept repeating.
Elizabeth regretted the entire decision to go sea-bathing, but it was far too late to change her mind. Mrs. Gunn aided Lydia, who began to fuss about which way the bathing gown fit. It was not a promising start.
"Is that top hatch for if we fall off the track and go too deep?" Elizabeth asked and the strong, stout woman grunted a non-response.
"Here we go," she said, putting wads of cotton into her ears. Almost on cue, the wagon held up at an incline on the shore began to roll with alarming acceleration and then crashed with a big splash into the water. Lydia and Elizabeth grabbed each other as they both closed their eyes and screamed.
Water seeped in between the boards and they both quick-marched their feet up and down as the water was cold and unpleasant smelling.
Mrs. Gunn laughed at the antics of the tourists and released the latch on the back doors. The water only came in a few inches, so the back platform was submerged.
Opening her eyes, Elizabeth took a few steadying breaths and marveled at the sight before her. There was nothing but the sea as far as she could see. The waves lapped against her ankles, but they were deep enough that they only provided a gentle, rhythmic sensation.
"The small one first," the dipper said, rolling up her sleeves. Elizabeth thought Mrs. Gunn meant Lydia. To her surprise, Mrs. Gunn's strong arms pulled Elizabeth around her midsection to promptly drop her into the depths. Elizabeth's head did not go under as the dipper held onto her waist and Elizabeth soon found herself floating with her arms and her legs suspended.
Elizabeth began to protest.
"I can swim, thank you kindly," she said, as she pushed against the woman and began to paddle away.
"Stay close to the wagon, it costs extra if I have to come to save you," Mrs. Gunn warned, then returned to the wagon to fetch Lydia.
"No, please, I cannot swim. I will stay right here, and watch Lizzy," Lydia tried to negotiate.
Treading water and positioning herself to see Lydia's descent, Elizabeth suddenly understood why she had been called the smaller one. Certainly, Lydia had always been taller than her, but her sister looked remarkably different and Elizabeth hadn't noticed until a stranger pointed it out.
There was no other word to describe Lydia aside from voluptuous. Her face was full and round, and her bosom pushed the fabric of the bathing gown to its very limit.
Lydia tried to avoid the inevitable, but Mrs. Gunn stood firm about all patrons who paid to be dipped in the sea were dipped in the sea! Just before she turned her face away from the expected splash, Elizabeth noticed a strange red mark along the neckline of Lydia's gown.
Screaming as Mrs. Gunn dipped her in the water, Lydia clung to the experienced local. Unlike Elizabeth, she had not learned how to swim in the summers their father had insisted each of his girls learn.
Despite Lydia's displeasure, Elizabeth tried to enjoy the sea-bathing experience, but in truth, the smell of the salty water stung her nasal passages cruelly. After floating for a few more minutes, she reached out for the door of the wagon, and pulled herself in, finding the submerged wooden stairs very slippery under her bare feet.
"Back in! I wish to go back in!" Lydia shouted, after seeing Elizabeth return to the chamber. With a groan, Mrs. Gunn pulled Lydia back into the bathing machine and instructed them to each grab a leather strap along the wall.
The girls stood close to one another as the air was much colder outside of the water than in. Their teeth chattered in an off-beat staccato. Mrs. Gunn slammed and locked the back door, then pulled on a rope sticking out of the corner. They heard a bell ring on the other side and then shouts. Slowly, the wagon began to be pulled up the incline back out of the water. The entire experience had been less than a half-hour, and Elizabeth didn't understand why anyone would find the experience to be worth repeating.
"Kitty and Mary would never have been so brave," Elizabeth said, trying to get Lydia in a better mood.
"No one would be brave enough to do this if they knew how dreadful it was!" Lydia complained, and Mrs. Gunn shrugged at the wealthy tourist ladies giving her family's business a bit of coin. Lydia reached as though she were to put her gown back on, but Mrs. Gunn warned her to wait.
"I'll be opening that door there, Miss, and you don't want to be showing the world your privates. Your maid will help you dress," she said, explaining the limit of her services. She dipped and dunked ladies into the sea, she didn't button any buttons!
The water drained out of the wooden vehicle, and they waited for their maid to return after Mrs. Gunn left them to fetch her.
Elizabeth tried to inspect the marks that she'd seen on Lydia's body once more, but it was difficult in the low light.
"I have been remiss in asking how your courtship with Mr. Wickham is going," Elizabeth said as though they did not live in a shared household together. But the truth was, Elizabeth had taken great pains to avoid all discussion of Mr. Wickham.
"Much better than yours with Mr. Darcy. You must be careful Lizzy, a man as wealthy and proud as Mr. Darcy will never offer for someone like you," Lydia said.
"You should not speak on matters you do not understand," Elizabeth said, wishing she could find only comedy in her sister's ironic statement. In fact, Mr. Darcy had already offered for her hand in marriage, though she had spurned it when she believed the worst of him as a direct result of Mr. Wickham's lies. Of course, Elizabeth had not been wrong about Mr. Darcy's misguided actions in separating her sister Jane and his friend, Mr. Bingley. But it had not been with malice.
Elizabeth would never offer Lydia that information no matter how wrong her sister was in her beliefs.
"It is you who do not know things, Lizzy. Mr. Wickham says we shall be able to marry any day now," Lydia said, shocking her sister.
Their maid arrived with a lantern and while the two sisters began to restore their attire, complete with new chemises, Elizabeth took a good glance at Lydia's body when she had the opportunity. Seeing her sister look at her, Lydia made a face of disgust and quickly covered up the very clear marks that were of various colorings from bright red to slightly purple.
"Lydia!" Elizabeth exclaimed as the maid said not a word. "Have you allowed Mr. Wickham liberties? Are you mad?"
Lydia stuck her tongue out at her sister and snatched the fresh chemise from her from the maid.
"Don't be prudish," Lydia said. "Mr. Wickham plans to speak to Colonel Forster next week. The Colonel will understand because now Mr. Wickham has the funds to support a wife," she explained.
Elizabeth used a towel to dry her hair, while the maid helped Lydia first into her gown. "I don't see how that could be," she began. The militia, as she understood it, was not paid particularly well. The work was unlike the Navy where there was prize money split amongst the officers.
Lydia laughed. "Shows what you know. Certain officers, like my dear Mr. Wickham, are so proficient in their work that others recognize their superior abilities. Captain Shawcroft recruited him for a highly dangerous mission. And there was a bonus," Lydia said triumphantly.
Elizabeth let the matter drop, but Lydia continued to wax eloquently about how she and Mr. Wickham had not decided where they would live after they married. She considered looking for a home in Hertfordshire, but the society was too lacking for him. Instead, he promised they would live in London, and she would have all of the best gowns and trimmings the shops could offer.
Feeling hopeless, Elizabeth distracted herself with a foolish calculation of what traumatized her more, the endeavor of being thrown into the sea, or realizing that her sister Lydia may already be carrying Mr. Wickham's child. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but it was time that she did something.
Chapter Twenty-FourBy the time they arrived back at the Forster town home, Lydia hurried upstairs, to visit with Mrs. Forster, and restore her appearance. Elizabeth politely inquired from the butler if there was any post for her, and to her surprise, she finally had a letter from Jane!
Overcome with joy, Elizabeth ripped the missive open and dashed to the parlor to read her post. Retreating upstairs risked another fight with Lydia. Looking at the date, it took Jane's letter nearly a week to reach Brighton.
My dearest Lizzy,
I read carefully your letters that we received. I have to say I was very surprised to hear the news that Mr. Darcy was visiting Brighton as well. Perhaps it is not so much of a coincidence that you spoke of. We have received word from the stores in Meryton that Mr. Bingley has ordered Netherfield Park to be reopened. No one is certain as to when he might arrive, but I imagine Mr. Darcy may be extended an invitation as well…
Elizabeth blinked at the intelligence in her hand. Mr. Bingley was returning to the neighborhood? Such a circumstance had to be the work of Mr. Darcy. The man truly was making amends for everything he had done, and Elizabeth felt sickened that it was all too late.
Tears blurred her vision and made reading the rest of the letter more difficult. But the end of her sister's letter finally offered the advice she so desperately needed. Jane agreed that writing to their father would not remove Lydia from Brighton. However, Jane suggested that Elizabeth speak to Colonel Forster about her concerns.
Laughing at her elder sister's advice that had matched her own two weeks prior, Elizabeth wiped her tears away. She held the letter in her hands and realized that Colonel Forster was so preoccupied with Mrs. Forster's delicate condition, that he likely had not noticed any changes in Miss Lydia. How could he? She only noticed that morning her sister's likeness resembled the times she had seen Aunt Gardiner with child.
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth heard laughter from Colonel Forster's office. She waited and listened closely, and she heard more laughter. It did not sound as though the man was deep in work, and though she did not wish to interrupt him, she resolved herself to do exactly that. It wasn't just for her benefit, Jane's future with Mr. Bingley was at risk as well!
She had to knock twice before she was permitted entry. Colonel Forster sat at his desk with Mr. Denny standing uncomfortably rigid next to him. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side as the Colonel visibly exhaled a deep breath he had been holding. The situation appeared strange to her, but she could not have stated why if pressed.
"Colonel, I was hoping I could ask you for a private interview, sir. I have a matter that I must urgently bring to your attention."
Mr. Denny moved as though he would leave the office, but the Colonel placed a hand on the man's forearm.
"May I ask you who this matter concerns?" he asked.
Elizabeth gulped, feeling the burn of shame on her cheeks as she named her sister and Mr. Wickham. When she met the eye of Mr. Denny, instead of judgment, she spied compassion.
"I believe whatever you are to say on the issue of your sister and Mr. Wickham can be shared with Mr. Denny. He is Mr. Wickham's sponsor into the militia and close friend. If there is truth to your concerns, then he will be able to corroborate."
Elizabeth looked at the two men in confusion. Mr. Denny was nothing to her and her family, and her first reaction was to protest. But something in Mr. Denny's eyes gave her pause. He walked forward and closed the door behind her and aided her to the chair, next to the Colonel's desk.
"I have a report of an alarming nature to make. I believe my sister may be with child. Mr. Wickham's child," she said, with a sigh. She shocked both men by starting with a most indelicate subject.
"Miss Elizabeth, that is quite an accusation," Colonel Forster began, looking rather uncomfortable, but Mr. Denny sighed.
"I'm afraid it may be true, sir. I have served as a lookout for Miss Lydia and Mr. Wickham's amorous pursuits."
Colonel Forster became flustered. "What? What? Why did you not tell me at once?"
Mr. Denny gazed down at the floor. "I did so at Miss Lydia's insistence. I am afraid there's more bad news, sir."
Colonel Forster stood up from his chair, pushing it back with such force that the poor piece of furniture tipped backward and crashed to the floor. Mr. Denny rushed forward to right the chair immediately.
"Am I to understand that a Lieutenant in my own outfit has assaulted a young woman in my charge?"
Elizabeth hesitated as both she and Mr. Denny clarified that Miss Lydia was more than a willing participant.
"I believe they need to be made to marry," Mr. Denny stated. "But that will prove difficult."
Believing him to be speaking about the lack of funds, Elizabeth volunteered the other information that her sister shared.
"Mr. Wickham has promised my sister to marry. He recently came into a bonus of some kind from Captain Shawcroft."
"Shawcroft? That man deserted two days ago. He is accused of stealing from the Prince Regent's household," Colonel Forster explained, and Elizabeth gasped.
A loud thumping began in her ears as she felt as though the room was beginning to spin. She felt as though she could not breathe, hearing that Mr. Denny knew of her sister's shame. Worse, there was a charge of theft against the very captain that Mr. Wickham had involved himself with.
Mr. Denny did not notice Miss Elizabeth's distress as he had walked over to Colonel Forster to speak to the man in a hushed whisper. When he turned around and saw her anguish, the man hurried to her side.
"Miss Elizabeth, oh please, do not cry," he said, trying to calm her with a gentle voice.
Between sobs, she gasped for air. There was nothing to be done! Even if Lydia was made to marry Mr. Wickham, surely even the Colonel could see that the man was a cad.
Bewildered and overwhelmed by the disaster of it all, the maid she shared with Lydia was called.
The Forster household was soon in an uproar as Colonel Forster confronted both his wife and Lydia. Mrs. Forster confirmed that she suspected Lydia was in danger of a Jack-in-the-box. The entire ordeal turned uglier when Mr. Wickham appeared for his normal afternoon visit.
Unable to stomach the discussion around her, Elizabeth didn't bother to excuse herself upstairs. She merely walked away without notice. The maid dutifully followed her to her room and asked her if she needed anything. Shouts from downstairs, mostly from Colonel Forster, could be heard and Elizabeth winced.
"Can you brew a sleeping draught? My head aches," she said, touching her hand to her temple and sniffing to show that her sinuses were still congested. The young woman nodded and left to see to Elizabeth's request.
Instead of waiting for the woman to return, Elizabeth began to stare out the familiar window where she had often daydreamed about becoming Mr. Darcy's wife. There was no question such a dream could never come true.
Tears began to fall down her cheeks again as Elizabeth tended to her own undress and changed into a nightgown. When she was finished, the young maid returned with a tray of herbal tea and explained a drop of laudanum had been added.
Settling herself in her bed, Elizabeth thanked the maid and lifted the cup. She blew over the top of it gently and took a careful sip. Finding the water to not be too hot, she drank more freely and felt better that the loud voices had quieted from down below. Completely uninterested in comforting Lydia in any fashion, she finished the cup of liquid without delay.
Dreading the thought of writing to Jane in the morning, Elizabeth thought of the rest of her family back at Longbourn. She imagined her sisters would be most angry with Lydia, but potentially reserve some ire for her. After all, she had failed entirely to keep Lydia safe.
Refusing to cry again as she felt the familiar prickling sensation at the corners of her eyes, she forced them shut as she laid back on her bed, snuggling under the covers. Her last errant thought before sleep overcame her was that she began to understand why her mother took so often to her bed to avoid conflict.