Uncaring whether she bumped into the knees of others, the youngest of Elizabeth’s sisters pushed her way to the fireplace before plopping down on the stone hearth. “There. I can finally get warm. It was frigid cold outside.”
Miss Bingley asked with a sneer, “What were you doing outside, Miss Lydia?”
“I…” Miss Lydia began only to have her eldest interrupt her.
Miss Bennet replied, “Surely, you cannot be implying that my sister did anything wrong in attempting to return to the safety of Longbourn, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley scoffed as Miss Lydia preened. It was obvious that the youngest Bennet loved being the center of attention.What a simpleton!
CHAPTER 15
Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to cover her ears to the strident whining of her mother. Francine Bennet complained about sitting lower at the table than Mrs. Hammond, despite it being a kitchen work table and an emergency. Then she was too cold. Then she was too hot. Then someone bumped her elbow. Did they not know her nerves were fragile?
Rolling her eyes did nothing, so Elizabeth continued to arrange the chairs until even the maids could be seated. Keeping busy kept her mind off her mother and the terrifying noises coming from the main part of the house and the roof of the kitchen. Hail pounded against the tiles like horse hooves on cobblestones. The constant shaking of the kitchen shutters sounded like a criminal demanding entry to strip the household of silver. Although she had heard the expression ‘howling winds’ many times, even used it on occasion, this reality was truly dreadful.
Drawing comfort from Mrs. Hammond’s composure, Elizabeth moved to where her youngest sister was sitting. Over the scent of the burning logs, she smelled…burned cork?Oh, no!Surely, Lydia did not paint her eyelashes and brows? Peeringcloser, Elizabeth’s stomach dropped to her toes. The Egyptian craze in London tempted ladies to imitate the pharaohs by trying to copy the royals by lining their eyes and brows until they were black. She heard of a mixture of lamp-black soot and oil being used around the eyes, but charred cork?Lydia!
“What are you looking at?” Lydia asked as innocently as possible for her.
Instead of chastising her for taking off with the officers, Elizabeth hissed, “What have you done?”
“I spent all my money on new ribbons, so I didn’t have funds to purchase the proper cosmetics. I had to make do.” Lydia batted her eyelashes. “Do they not look grand? Why, I believe my lashes are now longer than yours, Lizzy.”
In truth, Lydia looked anything but grand.Ugh!Her face was unnaturally colorful. When a drop of whitish paste began to trail from Lydia’s lower lip from the heat of the fireplace, Elizabeth realized that the fool child also usedRose Lip Slave,made from white wax, almond oil, the scent of roses, and a root powder for color.
Closing her eyes to the sight, she could not help but wonder how her mother and father did not notice the state of their youngest before they departed Longbourn. Elizabeth had never seen the reputed stage actresses from Drury Lane who painted themselves up to attract male companionship, but she could not imagine that they looked any different than her sister.
As it was, Elizabeth would give all her saved pin money for a damp cloth to clean the mire from Lydia’s face.
Then she spied something odd about her sister’s hair. Instead of her tresses having a healthy glow, they glistened unnaturally in the firelight.
“What did you do to your hair?” Whatever it was, it smelled no better than the burnt cork.
Lydia’s hand patted the curls in place. “I was fearful that the wind would undo all the work Mrs. Hill did so I ‘borrowed’ some of Jane’s hair tonic that Mama gave her. Mama insisted that it was the only way to get a man. And Jane has never used it. It was going to waste, Lizzy. I was helping Mama to save money.”
Elizabeth was so disappointed and angry that she could barely force the words through her lips. “Jane has too much sense to use anything that would take away from her natural beauty. Lydia! You not only look odd, but you smell. Perhaps you should move far away from the fire. I cannot think you are safe sitting here with that…that tonic in your hair, wax on your lips, and soot and oil on your lashes. Do move, I beg you.”
Lydia snorted. “You know nothing, Lizzy Bennet. I can do as I please, and right now, I would rather be warm where the firelight is behind me, highlighting my good looks. You sit in a corner. After all, no one is looking at you.”
Lydia had always been headstrong. Her sharp tongue usually affected Kitty and Mary the most. Setting aside her ire, Elizabeth softened her tone.
“Do come away, Lydia. You can be seated at the table with the women where you will be safe from the fire. Should the chimney cap blow off, the sparks could easily ignite your hair along with the lace of your gown. Besides, the only man in the room to observe how you look is Mr. Darcy and, on occasion, a footman who comes up from the cellar. Their attention is elsewhere. Come.”
Lydia folded her arms across her middle, her chin jutting out. There would be no reasoning with her. Going to her mother, Elizabeth attempted to move her to act.
“Lydia? Why shouldn’t Lydia sit by the fire? What does it matter where she sits when there are no officers in the room with whom to flirt?”
If only Colonel Fitzwilliam were dressed in his regimentals and stood alongside his cousin, perhaps her errant sister would listen to him.
Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, surprised to discover him looking at her. Where she expected his expression to be one of disdain, instead she found concern.
Shifting her eyes from him to Jane, attempting to soothe their mother, Elizabeth realized something important. Mrs. Hammond was drawn to Mr. Darcy because his qualities likely were similar to Captain Hammond’s. Where her father, Mr. Bingley, the officers, and even Colonel Fitzwilliam sought a measure of their own comfort and ease, Mr. Darcy remained behind to see to the needs of others.
Good heavens!Elizabeth cupped her hand over her mouth. How could she have been more wrong? It was not Colonel Fitzwilliam who appealed to her. She swallowed. It was Mr. Darcy.
Darcy surreptitiously watchedMiss Elizabeth as she moved gracefully from lady to lady, checking their welfare. Over the noise and the weather, he could not hear the topic of her discussion with her sister. Nevertheless, from her posture, he sensed that she was either upset or disappointed. Miss Lydia was stubborn in her insistence on her way. When Miss Elizabeth retreated and pleaded with her mother (to no avail), Darcy was confident that she had not given up. Instead, she retreated to plan a different tactic.
Deciding it was time to retrieve Bingley from the wine cellar to remove his sisters from the stillroom, he was pleasantly surprised how many ladies stopped him to offer their thanksfor his care. When he reached the end of the table where Mrs. Hammond sat, he knelt.
