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of her
situation at Netherfield, as well as finding herself out of her depth in a
discussion of husbands and offspring. She nevertheless had no very good opinion
of her younger sister’s attitude… or of her first husband either.
    Mr. Wickham’s
conduct in life had been nothing short of infamous, yet Lydia persisted in holding him up as some sort of martyred hero, still to be mourned long after his
death. Even with her limited experience, Mary counted herself a better judge of
male character. She had no complaint against Mr. Denny, yet it was her other
two brothers-in-law that now set the standard – a standard to which Mr. Wickham
could never have risen, even should he have aspired to do so. As for her
employer, Mr. Farnsworth, his true character was more difficult to develop.
     
    ~~ * ~~
     
    Lydia, finding nothing to hold her at Longbourn, took leave of her grieving mother the following
morning to return home to Plymouth. She embraced each of her sisters in turn on
the stoop, and then climbed into the Bennets’ carriage, which was to take her
as far as London.
    “Do write to
me,” she told Kitty through the open window, “and tell me what is to become of
you. I am vastly curious to hear news of the heir, and how soon he shall arrive
to turn you and Mama out onto the street.”
    Kitty’s eyes
grew wide with alarm.
    “Of course, I
am only joking,” Lydia continued. “If you are flung out of this place, you are
sure to come to ground somewhere far better. Jane or Lizzy will take you in,
and I should feel no pity for you ending up at either Heatheridge or Pemberley.
You have been used to spending half your time at one or other of those houses
as it is.”
    “It would be a
sad event nonetheless,” Kitty repined. “Longbourn should have been my settled
home until I married. I am only a visitor any place else, no matter how
comfortable.”
    “Well then, I
suppose you must hope the new owner is disposed to letting you and Mama stay
on, though I shouldn’t think it likely. Now, I must be off.” With that, the
youngest of the Bennet daughters waved cheerfully and was gone.
    “Never mind,
Kitty,” said Jane, lightly resting her hands on her sister’s sagging shoulders.
“Lydia does not mean to be unkind. It is only her free and spirited way of
speaking.”
    “You need not
always be making excuses for her, Jane,” said Mary. “We are, all of us,
responsible for curbing our tongues when the occasion requires it. Yet it seems
Lydia cannot be troubled to consider whom her careless words may injure.”
    When the
carriage had traveled down the sweep and disappeared behind the hedgerow, they
turned back into the house.
    Elizabeth said, “I doubt Lydia can fully appreciate the attachment to Longbourn the rest
of us feel, and thus the loss for losing it. When you think of it, she lived
here fewer years than any of us, and has been somewhat of a vagabond ever
since. That life may suit her, whereas it never would me.”
    “Nor me,” added
Jane. “I can hardly bear being away from Heatheridge and my children, even for
a few days.”
    Elizabeth echoed Jane’s sentiment, and the two of them led the conversation in a decidedly
domestic direction once again. It was not surprising that this should happen,
Mary reminded herself, for they had seven children between them – Lizzy with
her three sons, and Jane with two boys, two girls, and, according to early
indications, another child on the way. Kitty, who spent weeks at a time in both
households, could join in. Not Mary, however; she knew none of her nieces or
nephews well, and had never even set eyes on Elizabeth’s youngest.
    “I had best go
and sit with Mama,” Mary said, excusing herself. “No doubt she is missing Lydia already.”

 
     
     
    3
    The Heir
     
    The following
day, the watch began for the carriage that was to bring Mr. Darcy and Mr.
Bingley, returned from London. It did come, and exactly when it might be
reasonably looked for.
    To Elizabeth
and