“That is true enough, Uncle, but one cannot eat romance.”
“And this is why suitors are expected to go to the young lady’s father for permission to court her; the father is unlikely to be swept away by romantic notions.”
“I should not have been in Brighton, Uncle; I was too foolish to have been left alone with so little supervision.”
“I assure you that your father feels his failing deeply. In fact, your sister Lizzy has taken some of the blame upon her own shoulders, for she knew more about Mr. Wickham’s character than she let on. Kitty has her own share of blame for not telling your father the content of your letters.”
“So everyone is blaming themselves! Ha! I shall happily set them all to rights on the subject, for the only person who should be blamed is my own self.” Her tone was quite matter-of-fact.
“You have changed a good deal, Lydia,” her uncle observed.
“If the past fifteen weeks scrubbing floors and emptying bedpans have not changed me, then there would be no hope for me at all!” she exclaimed.
“Will you tell me more of your time at Greenfield House?” Mr. Gardiner asked. “Or is it too painful?”
“It is not painful at all, Uncle. The work was hard, but I felt it was right for me to work hard. I had a friend…hmm, I wonder, did Edith take my money?”
“Edith was the girl who shared your room?”
“Yes, and I gave her half the money I earned from waiting on ladies at the Greenfield ball; the other half I put in my drawer.”Lydia scrabbled through her satchel. “She kept my money; I should have guessed it.” Lydia’s face fell.
“She doubtless needs that bit of coin more than you do, Lydia,”
“I know you are right, Uncle. Papa will give me pin money someday, once he has forgiven me. But money that you have earned is somehow different from money that you are given, and that was the only money I ever earned in my life.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
They are here,” Mary said. Her voice was quiet, but tense, and her hands were clenched tightly around her workbasket.
“Mary, remember that we agreed to hear her story before expressing our own feelings,” Jane said, urgently.
“I recall it, Jane.” Mary’s voice was impatient.
The four girls peered out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Lydia; Mr. Bennet stood, waiting to greet his youngest with as stern an expression on his face as he could manage.
Mrs. Hill opened the door; her mouth was quivering, but she managed to hide her feelings as she motioned Mr. Gardiner and Lydia toward the parlour.
“Welcome home, child,” Mr. Bennet said. His face remained quite severe, but he could not stop a small quiver of emotion in his voice.
“Oh, Papa –“ And with that, Lydia burst into tears.
Mr. Bennet had his arms around his daughter in a moment, stroking her hair, and murmuring into her ear.
“I should have known he could not be strong enough to be angry at her,” Mary grumbled quietly.
“His baby girl has come back to him, Mary,” Elizabeth replied, whispering. “I would have been everything surprised if he had shown no joy at her homecoming.”
Lydia looked up from her father’s embrace to her sisters. “I know you are all quite angry with me, and I cannot blame you in the least. But I hope you will forgive me someday.”
“Sit, Lydia; there is much to discuss,” her father said. “Henry, I thank you for bringing her to us. Will you stay?”
“I hope to be home before sundown,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “But I can remain here for an hour or so.”
“Doubtless you will be grateful for refreshments,” Jane said. She left the room to request a tea tray with sandwiches as well as sweets, but was back in a moment, not wanting to miss a word.
“I see that she is not with child,” Mary whispered to Elizabeth.
Lydia looked up. “I am not, Mary; that is one blessing, anyway.”
