20 • Whiskey and Tobacco
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing on the steps of the house as the carriage drove up to the door. The joyful surprise that lit up their faces and moved them to huddle before the carriage door was a pleasing welcome compared to the somber house behind.
James caught the first to leap into his arms, and quickly kissed and acknowledged them while Jane rushed down the stairs. Mrs. Gardiner quickly attended her children while Mary embraced Kitty.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane breathed, holding his pale face before he gently pulled her hand down.
“Upstairs?”
She nodded and he hugged Mary briefly before he trekked into the house and up to his parents’ room. His mother’s door was silent as he knocked a familiar rhythm on the wood. Mrs. Bennet’s distressed voiced cried on the other side, “Leave me be! I’ll see no one…”
“Mama. It’s me.”
He could hear her sobs change, her clumsy stepping out of bed before the door opened to reveal her tear stained cheeks and mess of hair. “Oh, Jamie. Jamie!”
She fell into his arms as he hugged her tightly, waddling them back into the room. “Oh, Lizzy, a house full of children but mine were all gone!”
“I’m here, mama,” he soothed. “Kitty’s here too. The four of us are here, you haven’t lost us.”
“Lydia! Oh, I am a horrid excuse for a mother. My beautiful children, my beautiful nieces and nephews and all I can think of is Lydia!”
He coaxed her into one of the chairs by the fireplace while he tended to the extinguished embers in the grate. “Lydia is still yours. You’ve never lost one of us before. You never even had a miscarriage to prepare you for this.”
“Wretched!” she sobbed with her fingers pressed to her mouth.
“You’re not wretched,” James exhaled as he hung a thankfully full kettle over the growing fire. “Papa and your brother have gone after her. This was Lydia’s foolish decision, but her foolishness might get her found.”
“Might,” she whispered. “Oh, Jamie…”
He stood beside her chair, holding her hand as she sobbed against his torso. When her anguished seemed to ebb, he carefully detached himself. “I’m going to wash your hair.”
“Ughoh! Hair! To what end? For what purpose? I should look as wretched as I feel.”
He placed her washbasin by her feet as he poured water from her pitcher as well as the kettle into it. “And what if Lydia were to arrive today? Tomorrow?” he announced as he set her feet in the hot water. “What if she is closer to Meryton than we know? That she couldn’t bear to travel any further without one of Mrs. Philips’ hats? And then she comes home to see you like this.”
His mother rolled her head with her gaze, her fingers pressing into a mouth that refused to smile. “That sounds like her,” she admitted quietly, “but there are milliners everywhere.”
“Not like ours,” he refused. “Not like home. This is her first time away from us. Do you remember how I first behaved when papa took me to London?”
A huff of mirth finally escaped her. “You were insufferable. A week shriveled into a handful of days because you became ill without having your sisters with you.”
He retrieved another basin from her closet as well as her wash things. “I’m not the strongest of us,” he admitted as he set them on the small table behind her. She pressed her head to his chest as he hugged her, “That’s you. And she’s yours. She will come back to you. Lavender or honeysuckle?”
She sighed, resigned to her fate. “Lavender. You know I like lavender.”
He selected the corresponding bottle, and set to work.
* * * * * * *
Washed and after much convincing, fed, Jamie tucked his mother in for a proper rest. He came down the stairs, hearing Kitty occupying his aunt’s children outside while Jane and Mrs. Gardiner were discussing in their parlour.
“I have been thinking it over,” she declared, “and really, I am much more inclined to hope for the best. Consider it: Lydia is a bee to as many flowers as she can possibly manage. So it appears to me very unlikely that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless. She was staying with his colonel’s family and he already knows yours quite well! Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Or to really be unnoticed by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? There ought to be a limit to foolishness.”
“Do you really think so?” Jane queried, brightening for a moment as she found James passing through to the kitchen.
Her aunt nodded around the berries she popped into her mouth. “It is really too great a violation of decency, honour and interest. I, myself, never trusted the man, but I never took him for a complete goat. There’s something to be said for a man who seeks fortune through marriage, not to mention the outright disgrace he would bring to his corps for a dishonourable elopement.”
“But Lydia hasn’t any fortune,” Jane reminded.
“Indeed,” her aunt pondered, and then laughed, “I wonder if it is so inconceivable that the man actually likes her. To risk friendly and occupational integrity, one would hope a great deal of love would drive one so far from reason.”
Jane frowned, “But then…why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection or need for privacy? And haven’t we already been warned of his never intending to marry her? Wickham will never marry without money, as he cannot afford a wife, let alone children. All Lydia has left is youth, health, and good humour.”
Her aunt raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “You’d be surprised how far that takes someone. When they all moved to Brighton, and after Lydia’s insistence on going there, you had no reason to believe them fond of each other?”
“Not in the slightest,” Jane persisted. “I can remember no symptom of affection on either side. When first he made himself known, she was ready enough to admire him, but so we all were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for the first two months. However he never distinguished her by any particular attention. After any moderate period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him and others of the regiment — truly anyone who treated her with more distinction — became her favourites.”
Jane sighed, scratching her nails gently along her hairline. “She is very young, and never was taught to think on serious subjects, much as some of us tried. Ever since the regiments were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, flirtation, and officers have been in her head. Lydia did everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, perhaps to validate her feelings externally. Instead of checking them, our silence was taken as tolerance. And we all know Wickham has every charm of a person and address that can captivate a woman. I imagine such attention falling on a girl such as Lydia was overwhelming and welcomed.”
Her aunt tipped her head to that. “I would say it is a natural discourse, to be led by the nose by some roguish charmer at one point in life. However a firm word and small amount of intelligence is ideally all it takes to intervene.”
Jane reached for James as he returned with a sandwich and jar of hastily made tea. He sat with her on the sofa, his plate on his knee while he gulped from the jar. Jane requested, “Let us talk of better things. Where did you go? What have you seen? Before my devastating letters reached you.”
Mrs. Gardiner visibly brightened as she sat up to exclaim, “We came directly from Derbyshire! And just after frequenting the Darcys’ home for a number of days.”
“The Darcys?” Jane perked up with a look to her brother.
Mrs. Gardiner spoke while he chewed. “I far prefer the opinions of Derbyshire than Longbourn of that family, and I do think even our James’s mind was changed about them.”
Jane’s eyes softened as she gazed at him for confirmation. He nodded, “It shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m a fool. Wickham once told me that Georgiana Darcy was just as proud, reserved, and disagreeable as her brother. He was entirely wrong. Kitty was smitten and you would have similarly fallen in love with her. The Darcys were more than hospitable.”
Jane knew better than to press for details with their aunt present, but the children soon came inside for food and distracted her. For the rest of the day, the siblings were free to go to their mother’s room, where they lay on either side of her. There they slept and spent most of their time comforting her: James massaged his mother’s hands, taking care around the swollen, arthritic knuckles as Jane practiced her calligraphy; if nothing else than for their mother to watch and comment on something that was not Lydia.
“And now Mr. Bennet’s gone away,” she lamented one morning. “I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all?”
James gently rolled his eyes. “Really, you get one person in your head and the world ceases its rotation. I’m old enough to manage things here. And with our uncle joining him, papa will be fine.”
As if on cue, their aunt knocked on the door. With a nod from Mrs. Bennet, Jane let her in and she sat at the foot of the bed against the post. Their mother asked, “Have there been any letters?”
“Only from your brother,” she confirmed, handing a warm half of a bread loaf to Jane, which she shared with James.
Mrs. Bennet sighed, “Mine never had much puissance for the post. My brother is as much as I could hope for. As you write back to him, tell him from me, that if he should find them and they are not married already — make them marry. And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting.”
“Rest assured, I dictate him most efficiently,” she smiled.
When the Bennet siblings helped their mother to bed, they joined the others for a late dinner. Mary and Kitty likewise emerged from their rooms, one from her books and the latter from her sewing manuals. They were both calm given the turbulence of the household, only revealing otherwise once they had reasonably filled their stomachs.
One of their nieces asked if Lydia was coming back, which their mother occupied while Mary spoke to James, “This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be often spoken of.”
James agreed, “People enjoy gossiping about the destruction of virtue.”
Mary considered this and replied, “Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it these useful lessons: that a person’s virtue and integrity, either male or female, is only as strong as the familial support behind them; sibling consolation will be her balm once she returns.”
James peered at her, mildly impressed as he replied, “Then Wickham has not much integrity to speak of, as he has done away with any familial relations he once had.”
Mary absorbed this and disagreed, “I see their union as kindred foolishness. Lydia is known for lacking sense, and therefore standards, but Wickham does not redeem confidence in his undeserving sex. It may be the greatest irony that they are well fitted for one another. One can only hope that they remain foolish, and therefore in love.”
James lifted his eyes in amazement, and slowly smiled as her attention diverted elsewhere.
When he and Jane were free to be alone, he immediately availed himself of the opportunity to speak freely, and she likewise to make inquiries. His retellings of his time at Pemberley both relaxed and thrilled her. “But this is wonderful, is it not?”
James was not sure, and this reflected upon his face. “He’s gone to London as well.”
Jane’s countenance fell. “For Lydia?” He nodded from his place by the window. Jane’s brow furrowed, “You’re not relieved?”
The crescents under his eyes were stark against the light as he turned his fact to the window. “I’m leaving the kindest man with an endless chain of unhappy memories.”
Jane smiled mercifully. “But you did not ask this of him. He’s gone of his own volition—”
A slight knock on their door drew their gazes to Kitty anxiously arriving. Jane saw the letter in her hands first. “Did that just come?”
She shook her head. “No. I received it while we were in Derbyshire. I didn’t think anything of it; I suspected any letter from our sister would be just a gloating account, but now I can’t help but feel responsible.”
Jane took the letter from her as she went to hold onto Jamie, his arm opening for her. After a time, Jane shook her head, “There is nothing to regret, Kitty. There is but a slight hint at something making her particularly happy, nothing more to infer. Did you know of any infatuation between them during his stay here?”
Kitty replied, “She spoke of him but I did not think anything in it was special. If only I had taken her more seriously instead of being consumed in my own wants.”
James squeezed her shoulder. “The boy cried wolf too many times and the whole village ignored it. You are not at fault.”
Jane agreed, “It could have been better handled by many of us. We only acted with the best intentions.”
James’ head slowly lifted as he stared at the paper in her hands. “Did the Forsters happen to bring Lydia’s note with them when they were here?”
Jane nodded, “Yes, they brought it for us to interpret ourselves.”
She retrieved it easily from the bedside drawer on her side for him to read:
My dear Harriet—
You will laugh when you know where I have gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham! What a joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing.
Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my engagement and dancing with him tonight. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; I wish you would tell my dear sister, Kitty, to mend a slit in my worked muslin gown, before they are packed up. Goodbye. Give my love to Colonel Forster, I hope you will drink to our good journey!
Your affectionate friend,
Lydia Bennet.
James stared, dumbfounded at the note, too fatigued for further anguish. “Our sister is a halfwit.”
Jane sighed, but did not outright disagree. “At least it shows that she was serious in their journey’s objective. Poor papa, how he must have felt; I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for a full ten minutes.”
“I suppose he never truly believed one of his children could be of such caliber,” James retorted, dropping the note on the writing table. “I suppose in typical fashion, every person in Hertfordshire knew by the end of the day this all started?”
“All the better,” Jane contrasted. “The more eyes and ears listening for Lydia, the more to our advantage. With our mother in hysterics and father departing, the voluntary help has been most kind. Our aunt Philips came just after papa went away, and was good enough to stay two nights with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all, and Lady Lucas has been very kind. She walked here when the dew was still cold on the grass to console us and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if they could be of use to us.”
“She would have done better staying at home,” James disagreed. “I’m sure she meant well but under such misfortune, mama would prefer they triumph over us at a distance and be satisfied.”
“Which is why I kept her in the parlour with our nieces and nephews,” Jane returned with a small smirk, earning a breathy laugh from him.
* * * * * * *
The whole party was in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to choose his spoken words with care, and so expected nothing more from his written correspondence. They were forced to conclude that he had no intelligence to send, as much as they were eager for even a note regarding his wellbeing.
In his place, they were reliant on their uncle’s letters. He promised to prevail on Mr. Bennet’s return to Longbourn as soon as he could, to the great consolation of his sister, who lamented her husband’s return as her only security.
Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few days longer. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their aunt Philips also visited them frequently, however her arrivals soon evolved into a unique source of mirth.
With the design of cheering and heartening them up, she never came without reporting some fresh instance of Wickham’s extravagance. Kitty was dispirited and Mary unimpressed as to why she would bring such news, until they looked to their elder siblings, who appeared oddly amused.
During a much needed walk through Meryton, James remarked, “Everyone is striving to blacken the man who but months before was almost an angel of light. I’m quite looking forward to Lydia’s return: our neighbors will do the scolding for us.”
“Gossip is not a balm,” Jane scolded. “Far more like a bouquet concealing thorns against those who wield it.”
However as they listened to or were delivered various accounts, Jane’s hand rushed to her mouth to hide her giggles. Wickham was declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place. His intrigues, scornfully honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman’s family. On the whole, everybody claimed he was the wickedest young man in the world, and so found that they had always distrusted the appearance of his goodness.
Kitty caught up with her laughing siblings and rushed, “Why do you laugh? What if these accounts are true?”
Her siblings caught her with their arms linking hers as Jane explained, “If Wickham were truly in as much debt as to earn the scorn of every family in Hertfordshire, Lydia would be his last choice for an elopement.”
James agreed, “We are only amused by how fickle our townsmen prove themselves to be. We find ourselves in the middle of a spectrum of society: Mr. Collins and his foolish pomposity, as well as our neighbors’ runaway imaginations.”
Kitty frowned, “But if we are flanked by foolishness, what are we in the middle?”
Mary answered, “Thankfully, people are more diverse than they are given credit. Batter is raw and burnt sweets are burnt under any extreme, but in between these, it may be a macaron, a cake, a pudding of any kind.”
Jane smiled, “Mary, I do think that is the most eloquently delicious thing you’ve said.”
Mary surprised James by taking his hand. “Would you make cakes again?”
He smiled softly. “The small ones? With the treacle?”
* * * * * * *
The smell drew his mother to the kitchen, which was more progress than anyone predicted. Hill provided a chair for her in between his helping James cook the sugar and monitor the oven.
“Lizzy, do take care of the left corner. It burns everything,” Mrs. Bennet sighed as if it had taken great strength to travel to the kitchen.
“I know, mama,” James said mechanically as he dipped teaspoons into the treacle, letting them cool before passing them off to his nieces and nephews.
“I quite miss candied lemon,” she said to no one in particular as she watched a niece enjoy her sweet. James met Hill’s gaze, who nodded gently before he marked lemons into his pocketbook.
He sautéed an apple with cinnamon and oats for her as Mrs. Gardiner came down the three stairs into the kitchen. Jane perked up from her twine crafts with the children to observe, “A letter?”
“Nothing to be excited about,” their aunt quickly hushed. “Merely my husband saying he’s written to Colonel Forster with the instruction to seek out any intimates in the regiment who might know Wickham’s character better than himself.”
Mrs. Bennet’s fire sparked as she huffed, “Well yes, if there were anyone that could be applied to, with a probability of gaining such a clue as to their whereabouts, it would be of essential consequence. You mean my brother or Forster did not think of this in the beginning?”
James could only chuckle, pleased how if nothing else, annoyance would bring his mother back to life.
He looked up as Jane leaned against the counter next to him. “How well does Lord Darcy know him?” she whispered. “It’s been a number of years, hasn’t it?”
James peeked around the bustling kitchen and shook his head. “Better than any of us, to be sure. But uncle hasn’t written of him and aunt has not mentioned him. I think no one wishes to catch mama’s hopes up.”
Jane nodded gently the same time their mother exclaimed, “What has put your heads together? I won’t stand being left out!”
James smiled as he set the bowl with her apple and oats on a towel in her lap. “You seem ready enough to stand for cake.”
“Well!” she harrumphed. “We rarely have it. The only reason children get so many sweets is because they are guaranteed another set of teeth!”
The little Gardiners giggled and at the command of the eldest, held up their spoons for more treacle.
* * * * * * *
Slowly, the days at Longbourn grew calm and peaceful; the children’s laughter welcomed and unhindered while James and Hill kept the kitchen full of aromas that drew them all together.
Letters remained a steady source of anxiety upon the household, and were withheld from the group until the reader was able to temper its contents for the rest of them. Such was the case as when a letter arrived from Mr. Collins, of all people. Jane, under the direct order to open anything arriving for her father, read it in the safety of hers and James’s room while he waited patiently.
When his sister’s brows flew up, he commented dryly, “This is why it would have been better for Lady Lucas to stay away. She would have the insensibility to write a letter to the Collins household instead of to her daughter directly. Charlotte would know better to keep this to herself.”
But Jane’s lips pressed together as she merely hummed, “Mmhm.”
Unable to wait any longer, James came around her shoulder to read:
My dear sir,
I feel myself called upon by our relationship to condole with you on the grievous affliction under which you are now suffering. Be assured, my dear Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathize with you in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune, or that may comfort you under a circumstance that must be most afflicting to a parent’s mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison to this—
James snorted as he moved away. “Burn that one. Mama will fly to poor Charlotte’s house this evening if she hears of it.”
“To be sure,” Jane agreed, her eyes still on the paper. “Lady Catherine knows.”
“Of course Lady Catherine knows,” James scoffed. “If she were half as decent as she considers herself, she would use her power to return a lost girl to her family. But no, no, kindness is too simple and therefore too low for her kind to reach.”
Jane peered at him. “She was that insufferable, huh?”
His head fell back theatrically from where he had seated himself by the window, blowing his lips like a horse.
Two more letters arrived that afternoon, one from Charlotte, profusely apologizing for not handling all correspondence from Longbourn in place of her husband. James set to replying to her while their aunt joined them to read the latest from their uncle.
“Gambling debts?” Jane repeated. “A gamester!”
“Apparently the only friends Wickham could be bothered to have were his gaming partners or debtors,” their aunt confirmed. “Colonel Forster has tallied the sum to be more than a thousand pounds to clear his expenses from Brighton.”
Jane looked to her brother, who simply shook his head and returned to his own writing. “I have nothing more to say.”
Their aunt picked up, “There is good news. Your father has left London. You may expect him as soon as the morrow.”
Jane sighed with relief, “He is certain to not be withheld by a duel now.”
However when their mother was told of this, her children mutually groaned. “What? Is he coming home without poor Lydia? Surely he will not leave London before he has found them! Who is to fight Wickham and make him marry her?”
Mrs. Gardiner left her spirits to Hill and Jane while she otherwise confronted James. “I will be departing from you tomorrow, I think. I reckon your father and I may pass each other and he will return in the chaise in which I leave. My bairns need their own beds. I must ask you, have you received any news from his lordship?”
James’ eyes softened as he shook his head. “Not a word.”
“Ah,” his aunt exhaled with a nod. “Was I foolish in thinking he had gone to London to help?”
“No,” he soothed, “but far be it for me to guess the man’s methods or successes. I’m sure a great deal in London occupies his time.”
“Oh, yes,” his aunt agreed. “One such as him could only hope to travel in quietude, or else the pish posh of London would spring upon his arrival.”
James chuckled to himself as she kissed the air beside his cheek and heralded her children to begin packing.
Sure enough, they heard the rattling of a chaise not long after their aunt’s left in the morning. When Mr. Bennet stepped out, he had all the appearance of his usual philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the habit of saying, his only signs of relief at being home were how he pulled his children into his arms, holding them tightly.
He made no mention of the business that had taken him away while James made tea and Hill prepared a hot and hearty meal for him. No one disturbed him while he was in his study; it was he who drew himself to the kitchen as his family had since made it a habit to comfort themselves there. Sitting upon the stairs beside Mrs. Bennet’s chair, he kissed the back of her hand and simply looked around the room, at everyone he still had.
In the evening, James returned to the kitchen to find him seated by the open window with a pipe in hand. The blue tendrils dancing from the end dissolved against his pale exhalations. “It’s been a long time since you smoked.”
“London drives me to tobacco,” he quipped dryly. “Make enough for three.”
Puzzled, James looked up to realize Kitty was entering behind him. Their father gestured for her to join him at the window as he said, “I feel out of season. The air smells of summer but the night is still cold with winter. Did you cook with cinnamon recently?”
“I did,” James confirmed. “Do you want something with it?”
“Whichever tea you’re making, put it in a hot toddy,” he confirmed.
James did, choosing to make three versions of the autumnal beverage, taking care to only splash Kitty’s with whiskey.
“Oh!” she giggled as her cheeks warmed. “This is good!”
“Say nothing to mama,” James teased. “She forbade our father from whiskey and tobacco ages ago.”
The man blew fragrant smoke up to the moon as he said, “Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”
“You must not be too severe on yourself,” James soothed.
“You warned me well against such evil. No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I am to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.”
Kitty voiced, “Are we mourning her passing, then?”
He looked at her and fondly touched her cheek. “I choose to celebrate that I have four healthy and intelligent children. Not too bad, I’d say.”
Their heads turned toward Mary descending the stairs. James handed his mug to her while she asked, “Do you suppose them to be in London still?”
“Yes,” their father answered. “Where else can they be so well concealed?”
Kitty sighed, “And Lydia used to want to go to London.”
“She is happy, then,” he finished. “Her residence there will probably be of some duration.”
The embers in his pipe glowed orange before he amended, “Lizzy, I bear you no ill will for being justified in your advice to me. I am not the kind to hold my child’s greater intelligence against myself like an injury.”
James smiled and shook his head as the eldest Bennet child arrived. Their father leaned back against the window frame. “Well this is a parade.”
Jane chuckled. “I don’t mean to disturb. I’m just here for mama’s tea.”
“You disturb nothing, sweet heart,” he hushed, eliciting keen glances among his children. Their father was grateful to be home. “A day will soon come when I am back in my study with my nightcap being the most troublesome one in this house. Or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away.”
Her jaw dropped as she frowned at him. “I am not going to run away, papa. If I were ever to go to Brighton, I would behave a great deal better than Lydia.”
Smoke trembled as he laughed warmly. “You go to Brighton? No, I have at last learnt to be cautious and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand with one of your siblings. I daresay you are never to stir out of doors until you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day rationally.”
Kitty was a mixture of confusion and affront while her family laughed merrily. Oddly enough, it was the first in a long while that they had seen their father grin as he patted her knee. “Do not make yourself unhappy, my love. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will review it all at the end of them.”