Chapter 16
Lydia was furious, but she couldn’t possibly show it. Instead, she had to pretend to be grateful, grateful to Georgiana for hosting her, grateful to Kitty for buying her gowns, grateful to Elizabeth for accompanying her all over London, both shopping and sightseeing.
It was all so hard. She had to stand by at every single ball, every single dinner, and watch as the men flocked to Georgiana and Kitty while they ignored her. The only time any of them paid much attention to Lydia was when both Georgiana and Kitty were busy. Even then, it was clear that none of them liked her much.
Why couldn’t she have been lucky enough to inherit a fortune? It wasn’t fair. But she had to hold it all in, pretend that everything was pleasing and fun, otherwise she would be sent home. As difficult as her current situation was, home would be far less pleasant.
In mid-February, she attended a dinner party at the Matlocks’ home, though it was being hosted by Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had invited quite a few officer friends, and he needed some female guests to balance the tables. Thus, he had invited Mr. Darcy and his relations.
At dinner she was seated next to Colonel Benedict, and they struck up a conversation. The colonel regaled Lydia with tales of his exploits on the continent. He had been in the army for tenyears, ever since he was eighteen, and unlike some colonels, he had gradually worked his way up through the ranks, so he had many tales to tell.
Lydia was shocked that he did not censor his stories like so many men did around young ladies. Instead, he talked of prostitutes with the same tone of voice as he spoke of washer women. He talked of violence without softening it, though he wasn’t gory in his details either, and he even cursed and swore without batting an eyelash.
The entire conversation was an education like none Lydia had ever experienced before, but instead of being horrified and offended at such coarse language, she was drawn in by it. It was all so raw, so real, so exciting, and so awful all at once.
She vaguely noticed that the other dinner guests sitting near them, especially the ladies, were gradually becoming more disgusted with their conversation, but she could not help but ask questions and listen to Colonel Benedict’s stories.
Near the end of dinner, Lydia observed, “You must be very wise after experiencing so much hardship and violence. You know so much of the world that I can’t even imagine.”
For the first time that evening, Colonel Benedict look straight into Lydia’s eyes with his own piercing green ones. “Such experiences seldom make a man wise. Rather, they prey upon his spirit. If he is not supported by friends and family, those who love him, he will eventually be destroyed.”
Such a bleak statement! Yet, at the same time, Lydia felt the truth of it in her soul. “You are fortunate, then, to have such good friends to surround you.” She glanced around the room at the various officers there.
“I am very fortunate in that regard. It is why we brothers-in-arms are always so close, so that we may keep each other whole.”
Not long afterward, the dinner came to an end, and the ladies withdrew, leaving the men to their port.
~~~~~
Robert Benedict did not know what to make of Miss Lydia Bennet. There were many ladies who professed to have a fondness for men in red coats, always claiming that the uniform made them handsome. He quickly tired of such ladies. The life of a true officer of the British army was anything but glorious, especially one such as him.
His father, a gentleman of Suffolk, had purchased a Lieutenancy for him when he was eighteen. A couple of years later, his father had been able to afford a promotion to captain, but Robert knew he could not afford to do anything else for him. He expected to stay a captain for the rest of his life.
Through a series of rather misfortunate incidents on the war-torn continent, Robert secured two non-purchased promotions, landing him in the position of Lieutenant Colonel.
Then, after leading a particularly heroic charge and capturing an important and strategic location, and receiving a wound in the process, the crown had promoted him to Colonel, thus sending him back to England six months ago.
No one had expected the wound to heal fully. No one had expected him to be able to walk normally again or even to ride a horse. This was part of the reason he had been given the rank of colonel, which was fundamentally a rank of organizational and clerical importance, rather than strategic.
Robert had surprised them all, even himself. His leg healed normally, and though he walked with a slight limp, he had been able to ride his horse properly for over a month now.
Though Robert was born a gentleman, he no longer considered himself one. He had seen too much harshness, too much violence, for the term “gentle” to be applicable. Thus, he made no effort to change his manner of speaking or subject matter for the benefit of the ladies who occasionally sought his company.
This habit of his made it so that no lady had spoken with him more than once unless she was obliged to. He did not mind. They had all been the kind of ladies who admired a red coat simply because it looked sharp, never thinking about the kind of life that went with it.
Miss Lydia Bennet had not shied away from his harsh speech. If anything, she had been drawn in by it. Despite her interest, there was no light of hero worship in her eyes. She was suitably horrified by the horrors he described. She simply seemed interested in life, all sides of it, both the beautiful and the horrific.
Robert had never met a woman like her.
After the ladies departed, he moved closer to Fitzwilliam. “What can you tell me of your cousin’s sister, Miss Lydia?”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes popped open. “You abhor the company of young ladies,” he said.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Robert said. “It makes me sound quite unnatural. Let us simply say that I am not fond of blind hero worshippers.” After a pause, he added, “Who quite often take the form of young ladies.”
“I take it, then, that Miss Lydia did not treat you as a hero?” Fitzwilliam asked.
Robert made no answer to the question. Instead, he repeated his own. “What can you tell me of Miss Lydia?”
