It was a smooth, familiar voice, but it sounded somewhat high-pitched and panicked.
Lydia stepped closer to the wagon and pressed her back against the wooden spokes.
“You must grant me three additional weeks.” George was pleading. “I have an infallible plan. You will have your money, I swear.”
“We need our money tonight, Wickham.” A second voice spoke, Ensign Miller’s, Lydia realised. “You owe us fifty pounds each. We are tired of your strategies.”
“If you do not produce the funds,” Ensign Burton added calmly, “we shall be forced to break both of your legs. It will make marching quite difficult.”
Lydia pressed her hands over her mouth. Her beloved George was in danger.
“I am securing the funds tonight!” George’s voice cracked. “I am executing a compromise. The youngest Bennet girl is meeting me at midnight. She believes we are travelling to Gretna Green.”
Lydia smiled behind her hands. He was explaining theirromantic flight.
“You are stealing the silly girl?” Ensign Miller laughed harshly. “Her father is a gentleman, but he is not wealthy. He cannot pay your debts.”
“He will pay to avoid public ruin.” George hissed the words. “He will empty his accounts to purchase my silence. A compromised daughter destroys the marriage prospects of the entire family. They have four other girls to settle. You shall get your money.”
Lydia lowered her hands, the smile vanishing.
“So you are getting shackled to the chit?” Ensign Burton sounded disgusted.
George let out a mocking laugh.
“Heavens, no.” He snorted loudly. “I am not marrying that exhausting, empty-headed child. Once Mr Bennet delivers the extortion payment, he may have his ruined daughter back. I shall be halfway to London.”
Silence settled over the supply wagon.
Lydia Bennet stood in the shadows, but her heart did not shatter into a thousand tragic pieces after the betrayal. She did not feel the urge to weep or faint.
She felt a burning, volcanic wave of fury.
Empty-headed child. The gall of him!
He was a liar. A scoundrel. He had no intention of marrying her. All he wanted was to steal her father’s money and leave her ruined.
Furthermore, upon sudden and highly critical reflection, his cologne was too heavy. He did not smell nearly as nice as Lieutenant Thompson.
Lydia turned on her heel and stomped away from the encampmentwith the furious momentum of an insulted hurricane. She ignored the streets and the uneven paving stones, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She reached Harriet’s townhouse. She bypassed the parlour and marched up the stairs, straight to Elizabeth’s door. She threw the door open without knocking.
Elizabeth sat at the small writing desk in her nightgown. She jumped, dropping her quill upon the blotter.
Lydia slammed the door shut and threw back the hood of her cloak, her face bright red with rage.
“Mr Wickham is a treacherous, foul-smelling toad.” Lydia announced the fact to the room.
Elizabeth stared at her youngest sister.
Lydia crossed the room, threw herself onto the edge of Elizabeth’s bed, and confessed the humiliating truth. She detailed the proposal in the assembly room and described the planned midnight carriage ride. She recounted the horrific conversation behind the supply wagon word for exact word.
Elizabeth listened in stunned silence, the colour draining from her face.
“He planned to extort Papa.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “He called me an empty-headed child.”
Elizabeth stood up, the shock vanishing, replaced instantly by determination. She crossed the room and sat beside her sister.
