Lydia looked at her shoes. “I was not certain that you would want me. I know I am a disgrace to the family.”
“Oh, Lydia, of course we want you! Though your Papa might never let you out of the house again.”
“He would be right to send me back to the nursery,” Lydia agreed.
Mrs. Gardiner asked, hesitantly, “Lydia, is there any chance that you – I mean, given that you and Mr. Wickham shared a bed – well, might you be –“
Lydia stopped her. “I am not with child, Aunt.”
Her aunt breathed out a long sigh of relief. “I thank heaven for that!”
“As did I!”
“Lydia, before we continue, may we not do something about your clothing?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. “You must wear mourningfor your mother, of course, but I think we can do rather better than your maid’s uniform.”
“Oh, I had quite forgotten,” Lydia said. She gave a small, sad smile. “It is not like me to not be concerned about my attire, is it? But I think the old Lydia and the new Lydia have little in common.”
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “There was a good deal to love about the old Lydia, but I hope she has learnt some wisdom in the past weeks.”
“She has, indeed, Aunt,” Lydia replied, gravely. “I have two dresses in my satchel, but they are quite wrinkled and likely not fit to be seen.”
“Go and dress her, my dear, but come back as soon as may be; we have a great deal to settle,” Mr. Gardiner reminded his wife.
Upstairs, Mrs. Gardiner rummaged through her own wardrobe to find something that might fit Lydia with a few alterations. She selected a dress and tacked up the hem quickly, saying, “I wore this when my own mother passed on. We will have to take in the bodice and the waist, but it will do for now.”
Lydia took off her cap and her grey uniform, and Mrs. Gardiner helped her don the black dress and put up her hair. “There, now you look more like the Lydia I remember!”
“But look at my hands, Aunt.”
Mrs. Gardiner did so and immediately winced. “I have some cream that will help heal your hands, Lydia, but you must wear gloves when there are others about. Your hands tell a story that every lady will read in an instant.” She went to her dressing table and produced a small glass jar; she rubbed the lavender scented cream into her niece’s hands. Looking up, she saw tears in Lydia’s eyes. “Surely I am not hurting you, Lydia?”
“No, it feels lovely; it is just that this is Mama’s scent.”
“Ah, of course; lavender. She always wore it. I can find a different cream for you tomorrow.”
“No, please, I like this. It is as if Mama is close by.”
Returning downstairs, they found Mr. Gardiner staring into the fireplace. He looked up when they entered the room. “Ah, you found something for her. Good. Lydia, we will send some fabric home with you when you return to Longbourn, so that you may make up more mourning clothing. You will be in deep mourning until February.”
“So I am to return to Longbourn?”
“Most certainly; I will take you there myself.”
“Will it not rather surprise everyone in Meryton when it is seen that I am returning with you?”
Mrs. Gardiner chuckled. “Your very clever sisters have solved that problem for us.” She went to her little writing desk in the corner of the room and returned with her letter from Jane, explaining that they would henceforth say that Lydia was staying with the Gardiners. “Here, read it for yourself.”
Lydia did so, her eyes widening. “Kitty wrote a letter in my handwriting!”
“Yes; she is very clever, your Kitty.”
“And Papa is saving money!”
“A good deal has changed in your absence, Lydia.”
“Will you write to them first, Uncle?”
“What do you think, Madeleine?”
