While it's been my goal to keep to the canon, this chapter might be a bit of a detour. Why would Wickham do it? Why would he risk his own interests? Dr. Cox broke down that question in her video very well, but I do have a theory...

Chapter 29

Quite a number of entries had been made since Lydia left for Brighton. In fact, for all the years she'd kept this journal of secrets and private thoughts, it was astonishing that this trip to Brighton occupied a whole third of its entirety. To be expected, she was full of life and detail when the militia were first quartered in Meryton. Mary blushed as she came across the first entry, in which Lydia had made the acquaintance of Captain Carter. There was nothing that occurred, by Lydia's account, to make her blush for herself. For all that he looked and behaved handsome, Mary breathed a sigh of relief to solidly confirm that Lydia's infatuation had always been one-sided. Indeed, according to the reading of that entry and proceeding ones, Lydia found him rather aloof and reserved. Still charming, but reserved, hard to make laugh, bookish, and well-mannered. Of course, he had always been too good for her. With a bit of time, she must've sensed his disinclination. He was certainly smart keeping out of the way until her infatuations cooled.

Mr. Denny appeared, disappeared, and reappeared over and over again. At first, he was a darling and a dear, but she'd never called him dear Denny, as Kitty had done. She spoke about the red bonnet, delighted to have seized the opportunity to purchase it. With precision, Lydia recounted the conversation at the milliner's when Denny had lend her the money. She called it a loan, though not the proper term. He gave her money, never requesting it be repaid. Up until that time, it was the proudest moment of her life. Then, the two sisters finally came upon Wickham's name for the first time. She had been wild about him, from the first moment they chanced upon him in Meryton. At first, he seemed no different than her previous infatuations, but that fancy never moved in any other direction after Wickham. That did not stop her from flirting with anyone else. Her own record and her sisters' memories validated the fact.

There was the episode involving Mary King. Mary actually smiled as she read some of the words herself by the light of candle and lightning. How grieved and vexed she had been, to be overlooked and cast aside. It was comical! Unfortunately, it was a different time, and how delighted Lydia had been to hear when the engagement was broken off. Her language of the poor girl was even more abusive after the engagement than when it all began. Among other things, just like she did with them in person, Lydia attacked all of Miss King's physical characteristics: her freckles, choice of bonnet, her toilette, and little figure. Dumpy, she called it. Even worse and so gross was it to read her attack of Miss King's shy disposition and social standing, especially in comparison with Lydia's own birth. It had come out at times in her speech. Mary and Kitty would hear little hints of that supercilious mentality in private moments. No mistaking that. While it may be true that Wickham himself came of common birth, and boasted nothing in the way of material security, Lydia overlooked everything for an object of obsession; but for little Miss King to inherit a large fortune, being of the same common birth, was not the natural order of things.

"I feel as if I'm really seeing her for the first time," mumbled Kitty, attempting to digest this biography. "If she weren't my sister, born into our family, I shouldn't be her friend at all."

Lydia had been egregiously offended when her father demanded her little writing desk, accused and caught her stealing from his money box, for smashing her personal property on the floor, and humiliating her without a shred of remorse. Of course, those were her feelings about it; her sisters were not inclined toward any pity on that account. They read on about the day the girls all sneaked up on the camp and military drills. Kitty did blush for some of what Mary read about herself, and Lydia did Kitty no service in their argument about Denny. But it was a turning point for Lydia, her first time ever alone with Wickham. She relished the memory of his tender words, offering his handkerchief. From then on, he was her dear Wickham on every occasion.

Little meetings occurred here and there, nothing remotely similar to their encounter in the woods. There were one or two entries full of despair for the upcoming removal and decamping of the militia. Mrs. Forster's party of charades was reviewed in great deal, again causing numerous blushes in Kitty and head shakes from Mary.

"I knew about the charade with Mr. Chamberlayne, but reading it through her eyes, it's more hideous than I had imagined," condemned Mary. "And you were a party to it."

Kitty grimaced, saying nothing in her defense. On they read, and finally, the invitation to Brighton. Her gloating reflected self-congratulatory, an inflated sense of self-importance. Indeed, it was an honour that the youngest daughter of the family should be requested to accompany the wife of the colonel. For as much as Lydia had written, wishing Kitty were with her, there was a naughty pleasure of having the Forsters, Brighton, and a camp full of soldiers all to herself. Just as she had spoken, she hoped to find herself in tender flirtation with six officers at once. Repetition heightened their feelings.

Every party, every ball had been recounted with meticulous detail, better than she had ever given in her letters. They confirmed a few of their fears. Lydia had been to some of the local gaming houses, accompanied by Mr. Wickham and others. Mrs. Forster also received invitations to a few card parties that indulged those who played for high stakes. She'd spoken of her new gown, a new parasol, and a few frivolous purchases, now fully in charge of her own purse strings. Mrs. Forster seemed to encourage this extravagance; for she herself was a young woman of giddy spirits with a penchant for spending. She was careful to be secretive with some of her purchases, for fear Colonel Forster should frown upon it.

"It's rather odd, sadly ironic even," shrugged Mary. "Colonel Forster is not a bad man. He even refused to let the men engage in such high stakes betting while they were here in Meryton. I remember at one of Aunt Phillips' supper parties how a few young officers complained that he looked down on their reckless gaming. He has principles, clearly, but chose a rather foolish wife."

The final three entries in her diary were perhaps the most outrageous of all.

Colonel and Mrs. Forster were dancing, while I kept to the card table. Normally, I'd join in, but something held me back. Mr. Wickham was at the table next to mine, looking rather put out. He must have lost a good hand. One loss wouldn't do it, but several bad hands turns the tide of his mood. I can wholly understand. I was anxious to get away and speak to him, get him to dance, but our game wasn't over just yet.

"There are no fortunes to be found here," said Miss Towlley, sitting to my right. "My family should've gone to London or Bath. Now there is the place for rich gentlemen, and titles too. I shouldn't mind one."

I shrugged. What does Lord or Lady mean really? It's nice, I'm sure, but titles are not quite the same as money. This girl, the daughter of a wine merchant, has thoughts above her station.

"Should you like a title, Lydia?" asked Mrs. Chapman, across from me.

"No. Quite honestly, I shouldn't care. I have met some titled ladies and gentlemen in my time. They have some money to spend, but never have any fun with it, so it seems."

"Perhaps you're moving in the wrong circles."

"Lord no!" I was quite sick of her airs. "I'm perfectly content with my lot. Titles are chains. Money is freedom! Ah-ha! I've won!" I cried. My ace of hearts trumped everyone. "As long as you've got a fortune, freedom and fun comes to you. That's how I look at it."

"Is that why you're here, Miss Bennet?" She has these long lashes and shrewish eyes, as if she could read my thoughts. Squaring my shoulders, I dealt my next card and began the hand.

"Of course. I am here as a guest of the Forsters of the –shire regiment. I've come to have it all, enjoy it all!"

"Afraid to say, your ten shillings will not last you long," she cooed threateningly, as she lay down a higher card than mine.

"I fear nothing. My uncle is one of the richest merchants in all of London. He is generous to my family in their troubles, and generous to all his nieces. And when he unhappily leaves us, I'll have a dowry of seven or eight thousand. Possibly more!"

That certainly made Mrs. Chapman choke on her words, and Miss Towlley gaped as I spoke it. They all think they're so much better than everyone else. I thought it would be a fine joke. After all, they'll never know any better. I'm sure we'll never see each other again after we leave Brighton.

"Has she taken leave of her senses?" Mary growled. "Lydia! What monstrous lies!"

"Where does she get off saying Uncle Gardiner will leave her a large fortune?"

"Wait a moment…" Mary flipped one page back. "Where was Wickham?"

"What do you mean?"

"Wickham was sitting at the table next to hers… As it would seem, he hadn't left the table. Oh Lord, no…"

"What, Mary?"

"Kitty, I have a bad feeling. Perhaps Wickham heard her say that." She hastily flipped back to pick up the narrative, concluding the third-last. Now came the second to last.

Tonight's ball was a sensation, as only to be expected. I wore my new red silk gown, with a red plume in my hair. Harriet and I agreed how delightful it would be to match feathers of opposite colours. She was darling in her gold pelisse and ivory silk, with a pearl collar and earrings. She's as fine as any lady that ever walked was seen in a house on Mayfair. Colonel Forster should be a proud and happy man to have such a wife. Though I am shocked, as much as I love Colonel Forster for her sake, that he should be so petty about how his wife spends her own money. They're not rich but certainly not poor either. We have such a pretty address, so close to the boardwalk, in the richer part of Brighton. I'm sure he can afford it.

But enough of that! I do love them both. Every one of us was wondering about rather distracted. At first, Harriet and I kept together. For the colonel was called away by some other corporals along with Captain Carter. So we were left to fend for ourselves, but Chamberlayne, Pratt, and Denny took pity on us. The floor was overcrowded already, too crowded for dancing. They were playing Scotch airs, which vexed me, to be denied the privilege of dancing. Pratt must've noticed, and asked if we might dance later, to make up for the loss of these Scotch tunes. Handsome man! I gave him my word, the first dance. Normally, that is reserved for one man, but I had yet to find him.

We had no choice left but to find ourselves a table. It was just like when we all sat down at a card table in Aunt Phillips' parlour. We played lottery tickets, just to be safe with our scarce money for one evening. I'm quite impoverished after the last evening at cards. Perhaps I could ask for more money, next time I write home to Mama. She'll understand, I thought to myself. Besides, I should've hate to be wanting for the next game I play with that hateful Mrs. Chapman. We were sequestered in a corner of the card room for above two hours. It was too much fun!

By then, I spied dear Wickham! He was approached by Saunders, and one or two other officers from the corp. It was all hushed and off in the corner of the room. I saw one of the men pass some sort of letter or document to Wickham. He did not have it in his hands long before he scowled at the fellow. Heated words exchanged. Saunders tried to pacify Wickham, but whatever was said or done, Wickham gave the other officer, Mr. Bellamy, a small shove. The other officer shoved him back. It almost went to blows, but Saunders grabbed hold of Wickham. The other officer grabbed Bellamy, calling them to order. Perhaps a good thing he did so. I believe Wickham could do real harm if he wished to, and Bellamy is a runt of a man.

My dear Wickham said something else, then turned and headed for the hallway, towards the front door. Mrs. Forster did not observe it, as she was facing the opposite direction. All the others were too preoccupied until right before Wickham took his leave. They called out to him, and he looked over, but turned and walked out of the card room. I couldn't resist. I couldn't help but wonder what distressed him so. Begging pardon of the table, I followed him out. I did not catch up with him until the terrace. He was already half way down to the street, wrapping round to the street on the south side. I called out to him, running as fast I could and my shawl billowing behind.

"Oh dear! Wickham, whatever is the matter?" I finally caught up to him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that in there. I'm afraid I've not had very good news. I'm afraid I must leave Brighton tonight."

"What! Tonight?"

"Yes. It was a mistake. I'm afraid joining the –shire was all a mistake."

"You mustn't say that! I'm sure whatever's the matter, it can all be set right by tomorrow morning."

"I'm afraid not. A local merchant has named me as a defendant in a lawsuit. Some trivial misunderstanding just blown out of proportion."

"Oh no!"

"Unless I can pay him back quickly, settle out of the courts, he's going to demand damages. I cannot afford that, not on my wages. It's not a quick or easy matter at all. You ought to go back. You're missing the ball."

"No, I shall not! I—oh Wickham, I can't bear it. You would really leave your friends? Would you really leave me?"

"Leave you?"

"I love you!" I confess tears were beginning to overwhelm me. "I love you with all my heart! I've loved no one else as I've loved you, and I can love no one else as I love you!"

"Oh my girl—"

"Please, don't ask me to go back and live my life saying goodbye."

"I'm not worth all that, my dear girl."

Before he could say anything more, I suddenly had an idea. "Mr. Wickham, perhaps I can help. Or actually, my uncles might be of assistance. My Uncle Gardiner. He is a rich man. He could help."

"How do you mean?"

"Why with my fortune."

"Your fortune? Lydia, what do you mean? You have no fortune."

"Well, not from my father, of course. My portion from him and my mother are rather small, but my uncle intends to leave his children and his nieces all a great deal of money. With that money, I could make my husband independent. You could settle your lawsuit with the wretched man! You might be independent and live in comfort, like a gentleman. Just as you've always wanted."

I could tell it rather surprised him. "Do I understand you rightly, my girl? You are willing dispose of your inheritance, for my benefit? Why, you should only do so for the man who would be your husband."

"Yes!"

"Lydia Bennet, I must say, I've never known a lady to propose to a man." I almost laughed, as hard as I wished not to, at that moment. So much I struggled it was painful. "Perhaps you're starting a new tradition here in Brighton."

"I didn't intend to, but I should be glad of it."

"You really love me, do you?" He reached a hand to my cheek, something foreign and wonderful an experience itself, to have him caress my face. Though an officer, he had the smoothest palm and fingers. I wonder I never noticed before.

"I've loved you all along," said I. "If you give me a chance, I know I can make you happy. I'll be the best wife in the world. And we'll have such fun together. It'll be beautiful, all our lives."

How sweetly he smiled!

"… I wonder, back in Meryton, what on earth was I thinking."

"Do you love me, dear Wickham?"

"I love you very much, my girl."

And with that, he wrapped me in his arms, and we kissed in the moonlight on the terrace of the hotel. It was everything I ever dreamed it would be: beautiful, perfect—like being queen of the world!

"When?" I whispered, as soon as we had recovered breath after our affectionate embrace.

"Soon, very soon. Perhaps, it would be best to leave in the middle of the night. The sooner, the better."

"Oh yes!"

"Your father, would he approve the match, do you think?"

"My father? I don't know, but I'd rather not ask him. I'd be afraid he would say no if he thought too long about it. Let's not wait for word from Longbourn. It would be a much greater surprise, if we could be married before they even know it!"

"Yes… Yes, but for that, there's only one way. We elope."

"Oh yes! Yes! Let's elope!" I almost raised my voice too much, and couldn't help laughing. I could hardly believe I was talking about this, about myself, about each other.

"It will take some days to reach Gretna Green. We'll have to travel fast so as not to be stopped before we reach the border. Lydia, can you be ready to leave tonight?"

"I can do anything, my dearest love. Just tell me what to do."

"Be ready at midnight. I'll have a hired chaise waiting on the street to escort us. And try to pack light. Try to pack only as much as you can carry."

"That sounds sensible." I just remembered all our friends inside. Wickham insisted I go back inside and linger awhile, which I did, but after a short while, I told Mrs. Forster that I was getting a headache. So we left shortly thereafter. Colonel Forster will be escorted home by Captain Carter.

Another bolt of lightning blinded them a moment from reading. Both were left gaping, as if they had witnessed the tender scene all before their eyes. Mary couldn't help wonder what really transpired. For they only saw their exchange of words. Mary was interested most in his eyes, his expressions, silences, his tone. Did Lydia really conjure this love and marriage all on her own? Or did Wickham let her believe this scheme was all her own? Had their sister deceived him, or was he playing along? The worst was yet to come, in the last entry.

I've scarcely time to write. I have a million things to do before I set off on my long journey to Gretna Green. Now that I shall be a married woman, I'll leave off this diary, on a happy conclusion of my childhood. I've already left my note for Harriet. Sally will find it first, and take it to her. Because she sleeps so late, she will probably not notice I'm gone until noon tomorrow. What a fine joke! I'm almost sorry to miss the look on her face!

My trunk and little bag is all packed and ready. My parasol won't fit. I'll have to carry it. After returning from the ball, I've dressed quickly. It was only an hour ago when I left off my previous entry. Feels like an age since then; for dear Wickham is running late. I do hope nothing has happened to him! Perhaps he had difficulty getting a carriage at this hour. It's 12:55 now. He did warn me that if he delays, remain expectant. To think, in a few days, we will be married! When I write to my family at Longbourn, I'll be able to sign my name, Lydia Wickham. I, too, will miss the looks on the faces of all my family. Mama will faint. Father will throw a fit. All my sisters will be green with envy; to think that I've done what none of them have—and I the youngest of them all! Now I'm going ahead of them into the state of matrimony. I'll be able to chaperone my elder sisters to balls. I'll have to find them all husbands now. How droll! I wonder what Lizzy will say about it. For she was once violently in love with him, and I stole her beau. She'll probably be too angry to speak to me for some time. I'm sorry but I'm expecting it. We'll mend in time. To own the truth, I have Lizzy to thank for this whole scheme. When Wickham announced his betrothal to Miss King, she said: Handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.

What great advice! It may be a lie about an inheritance, but if I write to Uncle Gardiner, perhaps I can give my colourful story some truth to it. They're so generous. They'd be glad to settle something on us—Lord, I hear the carriage! Farewell, little friend, I sign my name for the last time, Lydia Bennet.

"Mary? What are you thinking?"

Her head shook. "I don't know. I seriously do not know what to say."

"Lydia…"

"I expected… Well, I expected nonsense when we opened this, but I did not expect this. What a stupid girl. So selfish!"

"I wonder what happened. Why did Wickham tell her they'll go to Scotland, then go to London instead?"

"He had other plans for her, Kitty. If he is not legally bound to her by marriage, then what's to keep him from abandoning her?"

"Lydia has stated in her letters that they're in love. She wrote it here in her diary. We have Wickham saying he loves her. He was so good to all of us! It will come right!"

"Yes. Wickham says he loves her. And that means what, Kitty? We're reading her journal, not his. The real danger is: he's going to find out, sooner or later, that Lydia lied to him. He will not marry her. It's so dubious that even Denny was unconvinced of his intention being marriage. If she motivated him to take this step, based on these lies, Wickham has a number of options. He might be feel very betrayed, and very angry. If the man has any kind of violent temper, Lydia is at his mercy!"

"You don't really suppose he'd do that…"

"You don't really know. None of us know! He may choose to abandon her. If there are large debts, he could think to get money by demanding a ransom for her release. 'You must pay or you'll never see her again.' "

"I'm sure he's not that kind of man!"

"You don't sound so sure!"

She sniffled. "No… I don't know."

"I cannot believe her. She's too young, unprepared for marriage. She jumps into it blindly, and did so spitefully!"

Without really knowing what she said, she began to babble through watery despair. "And she thinks rather highly of herself, if she thinks she stole Mr. Wickham from Lizzy. But of course, that's just like Lydia, liking to make more of something than it really is; well, good riddance!" The words barely left her lips, and Kitty curled inwardly. Recovered from the shock, how quickly and savagely passionate anger racked in her whole frame. Mary did not attempt to reprimand. A vicious desire burned in her likewise, to take all of Lydia's precious childhood secrets and hurl them to the hearth. If a fire had still been burning, the temptation would've been too great. As it was dark, it would take too much time, before reflection and better thoughts got the better of anger.

On the other side of the house, the Gardiner children had been calmed. Yet, the pathetic sobs and wails of the mother for her stolen baby could be heard through all of upstairs. Nobody slept through the thunderstorm that night, but Jane spent the sleepless hours in attendance.

What are your thoughts? Could it have happened that way? And I did not skip recognizing one of Jane Austen's most crucial one liners in P&P. I've been saving it for this chapter. Not a very upbeat, happy update, but I'd say probably one of the more important ones.

Thank you for following and reviewing as always. Hope you're having a good weekend. I'm on Aleve this weekend. So my hopes are for the weekend after.