Chapter 29
Breakfast Parlor
Longbourn
Phoebe stepped into the breakfast parlor and moved hastily over to the sideboard to choose some food from the buffet set up there. She was later than usual because she had spent a few minutes in the music room preparing for today's lesson with Mary. To her surprise, Mrs. Bennet, Mary and Kitty had already come down.
"What are you planning to do today, girls?" Mrs. Bennet asked as she slowly stirred sugar into her tea.
"Miss Adler and I are intending to go outside and sketch the roses," Kitty said enthusiastically. "They are so beautiful!"
"Yes, I do pride myself on my rose garden," Mrs. Bennet said smugly, "the large red ones especially. My dear Miss Adler, do you not think my roses are lovely?"
"They are," Phoebe replied. Mrs. Bennet still could not tell her governesses apart, and therefore called them both Miss Adler. "My sister informs me that Miss Kitty is quite gifted at sketching."
Kitty blushed happily at these words, and Mrs. Bennet cast a vague eye around the breakfast table. "Where is your sister, Miss Adler? Did she lie abed this morning?"
Phoebe shook her head and said, "No, Sophia is always an earlier riser, even more than I am. But she intended to speak with Lydia this morning, who has been a trifle under the weather of late."
"Oh yes, poor Lydia," the mistress of Longbourn said. "I daresay it is one of those dreadful spring colds that a person may get this time of year. I only hope she does not spread it throughout the house!"
"I hope so as well," Phoebe agreed and turned her attention to Mary. "I took the liberty of setting up the new music we acquired yesterday in the music room, Miss Mary. I think it will be a delightful duet, if a challenging one."
"I look forward to hearing it," Mrs. Bennet said. "It is quite wonderful that Mr. Bennet hired you both, Miss Adler. My Mary was already the most accomplished lady in the neighborhood, but London society is more demanding, and I am certain that my daughter will impress the high society ladies and gentlemen!"
Mary blushed at these words and opened her mouth as if in protest, but Phoebe merely smiled and said, "Miss Mary is very diligent, which is most important when learning difficult skills."
"I daresay I will have five daughters well married when all is said and done," Mrs. Bennet said complacently. "Mary will win a gentleman due to her accomplishments, and Elizabeth will win a husband because of her money, and the other three will win husbands because of their beauty!"
/
Lydia's Bedchamber
Sophia tapped at the door and peeked in. The room was dim, the curtains drawn and the fire died down low. The candles beside the bed were snuffed out. A foul smell hung in the chill air, and Sophia slipped inside, peering through the gloom. A large lump lay beneath the wadded blankets, unmoving.
"Miss Lydia?" Sophia asked softly.
The lump stirred and turned over, and Sophia glimpsed the pale face of Lydia Bennet, with her nightcap tied closely on her head. The room was cool but not cold. It was obvious that a maid had crept in earlier and started the fire, but it had burned down significantly.
"Shall I add a log to the fire?" Sophia asked.
Lydia moaned aloud and pulled a hand out of her blankets and held it out into the still air of the room.
"Yes," she muttered.
Sophia picked up a log and threw it into the fireplace and stirred it vigorously. The flames leaped up happily, throwing welcome heat into the room, and she turned back toward the bed.
"Are you feeling unwell, Miss Lydia?"
Lydia whimpered and muttered, "I feel terrible."
"Do you have a fever?"
"I … I do not know. I feel cold..."
Sophia frowned and hurried over to place a soft hand on the girl's forehead, and then sighed in relief. "I do not think you have a fever."
"I feel … feel so sick…"
Sophia found Lydia Bennet very tiresome, but she could not help but sympathize with the young lady, really hardly more than a child.
"Oh!" the girl cried out suddenly and struggled out of bed toward a basin sitting nearby. A moment later, she vomited into the basin, and Sophia's nose wrinkled as the stinky miasma spread throughout the room.
"Oh!" the girl said again and began crying, which caused Sophia hurried forward to wrap her arm around the girl. She wiped her face off with a nearby handkerchief and guided her to the chair near the fire. She then hurried over to push the window open, which allowed cooler, but far cleaner, air to spread through the room.
She hastened over to kneel on the floor and peer into her charge's face. Lydia's face was sweaty now, and her pretty face was twisted into an expression of disgust.
"Oh, how I hate being sick!" the girl whispered.
"I do as well," Sophia replied quickly. "Shall I ask a maid to bring you some tea and toast? That might help you feel better."
Lydia groaned again and shook her head. "Not … not now, no. I … I will feel better soon, but in the morning I feel … feel like this and soon it will pass off and … if I eat now, I will be sick again. I will be better soon. I always am."
Sophia sank back on her haunches and stared at the girl.
"How long have you been sick in the mornings?" she asked softly.
"It started … about two weeks ago, and it is getting worse. Oh, it is so dreadful!"
Sophia felt her heart beating faster as her mind struggled to make sense of this information. Surely it could not be…?
"When did you last have your courses?" she asked gently. "That makes me sick sometimes."
Lydia shook her head and wiped her mouth with the handkerchief again. "No, I have not had my courses in some time. It is not that."
The thundering of heartbeats in Sophia's chest was growing.
"How long has it been since you had your courses?" she inquired softly.
Lydia frowned and rubbed her sweaty forehead with one unquiet hand. "I do not know," she said fretfully and then said, "Oh, I do though; it was the day after the assembly in February. I was so happy that I was not sick the night of the dancing…"
Sophia swallowed and felt a cowardly desire to flee. This conversation was a terrifying one, and Mrs. Bennet ought to be discussing the matter with the girl, but Mrs. Bennet was more or less useless in such a matter as this.
"It has been at least eight weeks since your courses, then," Sophia said.
"I suppose so. Why?" Lydia demanded, crawling back into bed and laying her head against the pillow.
"Miss Lydia," her governess said, "I do apologize for this question, but I must ask. Is there … is there any chance that you … er… could you be with child?"
Lydia's eyes flared open in shock at these words and she exclaimed, "With child? Of course not!"
Sophia blew out a breath and could not help but smile in relief. "I am glad…"
"Everyone knows that to be entirely impossible, as I am only just sixteen years old this month. It is not possible to become pregnant until at least seventeen!"
Her companion sucked in a horrified breath and asked sharply, "Who told you that?"
"Why my dear Wick…" Lydia began and then scowled dreadfully. "Now you will tell Mamma, will you not? Though really, it is quite all right, as I will soon be married, and that is all she wants for me, and Papa too, to be well married."
Sophia took a deep breath, let it out, gathered herself, and asked, "Miss Lydia, have you been … intimate with Mr. Wickham?"
Lydia stared at her, a slight smirk forming on her pale countenance, and she sat up a little. "You and the other Miss Adler think I am such a child, and my sisters do as well, and yet I have experienced something that none of you have. I have been in the arms of the most handsome man in all of the world! And we are to be married, so it is quite all right!"
Sophia felt like fainting at these brash words, and she said, "To Mr. Wickham."
"Yes, I will soon be Lydia Wickham," the girl replied, grinning saucily. "He is … well, you are still a maiden, and it would not be appropriate for me to tell you what it is like!"
A moment later, the smile disappeared, and the girl lurched out of her bed again in search of a basin. Sophia helped her clean up again and then tucked her back into bed.
"Do try to get some more sleep, Miss Lydia," she said gently. "I will arrange for the basin to be washed, and it will be placed at hand."
"I am so tired," Lydia murmured and then glanced out the window at the blue skies. "I will feel better soon, though. I always do."
/
The Drawing Room
The House on Half Moon Street
"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Lady Appleby greeted their guest, "please do come in and sit down."
"Thank you, Madame, Miss Bennet," Richard replied, his heart beating madly.
Jane smiled at the colonel and said, "Lizzy is upstairs writing letters, but I can fetch her if you like?"
"No, no," Richard replied, sinking into the chair and managing a nervous smile. "No. In truth, I am … well, I am here to speak to you, Miss Bennet, if I might?"
Lady Appleby, who had been placidly working on needlework, paused and turned a surprised look on the colonel and then shifted her gaze to Jane. "My dear, are you willing to speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
Jane felt her own heart pounding. Could it be … but perhaps the colonel was wishful of offering for Lizzy and merely desired her advice on how to go about it.
"Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I would be honored," she managed to say, though rather breathlessly.
Her patroness rose to her feet with surprising grace and walked over to the door before turning to face the couple, a mischievous grin on her aged face. "Colonel, I have great respect for you and know you will behave yourself."
"I will, of course," Richard replied with a returning smile and felt his chest ease a little.
When the door had closed behind his hostess, he turned to look at Jane, who was staring back at him gravely.
"Miss Bennet," he began, and then paused. What could he say? How should he say this?
"Miss Bennet," he repeated, "I have no idea in the world whether what I am saying is agreeable to you. Indeed, I … well, I fear that it cannot possibly be, but I find that I cannot refrain from speaking…"
He trailed off, gazing at her hopefully, and she looked back and said, very reasonably, "I cannot know until you say what you need to say, sir."
This was, he realized, an eminently rational response, and it was not fair for him to delay further, so he said bluntly, baldly, "Miss Bennet, I need to ask you a question. Are you and Mr. Bingley involved with one another? By that I mean, do you have an understanding, or do you wish to have an understanding in the near future. I…"
He stopped and forced himself to close his mouth and keep it closed. This was the moment upon which his entire future hinged.
She gazed at him gravely for a moment and then slowly shook her head. "We do not have any sort of understanding, Colonel. There was a time when I thought that he would ... well, in any case, I have come to the conclusion that, as much as I admire Mr. Bingley, he and I will not suit."
Richard Fitzwilliam could not help but grin joyfully at these words, and he leaned forward and said, "Miss Bennet, I must tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Jane stared in wonder and then, to her embarrassment, burst into tears. Based on the gentleman's expression, he was dismayed, so she forced herself to beam through the drops, and she said, "Oh, I am so thankful. I was so afraid that you were pursuing Lizzy!"
Richard Fitzwilliam felt very much as if a mortar shell had burst nearby as stars danced in his vision. She cared for him! Perhaps she even loved him!
He was tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he could not, partially because he had pledged to Lady Appleby that he would behave, and partly because…
"Before I officially request a courtship, and I wish to, I must tell you of my financial situation," he said, his words tumbling out rapidly. "I am a second son, as you well know, and I have an allowance from my father of five hundred pounds a year, and I will sell my commission, which will bring in several more thousand, as I am a member of a respected regiment. But even with that, I will not be able to support you in luxury and…"
Jane lifted a gloved hand, gently placed it across his mouth and said, "I do not need luxury, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as long as I am happy in my marriage. I also have a dowry of six thousand pounds. I am confident that together we will be well enough, if we indeed wed. I would very much welcome a courtship with you."
He grinned and gently pulled that slender hand down from his mouth. "Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of entering into a courtship with me, with the hope that one day, in the not too distant future, we will marry and live happily ever after?"
"I will," Jane replied, her own eyes brimming with joyful tears. "I will."