Regret: A Variation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice

Prologue

August 1812, London , England

Her step light, Lydia Bennet skipped along the hallway. Tomorrow was her wedding day. Tomorrow Miss Lydia Bennet would become Mrs George Wickham and truly, she was excited! Finally, she had her own way. The past two weeks spent languishing in her handsome lover’s company was fun and how they had laughed at the fun of it! Laughed at the expense of others, believing no one knew where they had travelled. One day Lydia was dancing at a ball in Brighton and the next she was encompassed in her lover’s arms as their carriage travelled from the great seaside resort. Where to? Lydia hadn’t known. She hoped Scotland so they could exchange wedding vows, but alas, they stalled in London. Not that Lydia had complained. Hidden away at an inn, Lydia and Wickham chuckled at the mischief of their actions. What an adventure they were having! Wickham keen to savour Lydia and equally, Lydia was eager to wallow in his attention. Two weeks alone, that is, except the odd occasion when Wickham left their bedchamber for an hour or two to sit at the gaming tables. Time that Lydia made good use of, brushing her hair and imagining herself the only married sister amongst the company of her spinster, unmarried siblings. Certainly, it was a thought that made her squeal in delight - Lydia keen to gloat and take advantage of her married status to her four sisters.

Languishing in the inn, their frivolity came to an abrupt end when Lydia’s Uncle Gardiner in the company of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy arrived at the inn. Startled by their appearance, it was the first and only time Lydia had observed her beau to be lost for words. Uncharacteristically silent as her Uncle Gardiner and Darcy escorted Wickham out of their bedchamber to discuss the matter. Pensive, Lydia waited for a whole hour and thirty-five minutes and it was time to compose herself and look like she hadn’t done what she ought not to. To put it bluntly, Lydia was keen for her Uncle Gardiner to assume she had kept to the morals her upbringing had given her. Patiently she waited and on return, her Uncle confirmed she and Wickham were to marry! Lydia got her wish and though her Uncle and Mr Darcy’s arrival had quashed the merriment; her uncle insisted she had her own bedchamber, but that aside Lydia was glad of their arrival because it forced Wickham’s hand. Not naïve to the fact that marriage was not her lover’s first thought when he ran away with her, but with her Uncle Gardiner’s encouragement, Wickham was prepared to do what was required. He was to marry her. Their wedding tomorrow and her Uncle and Mr Darcy would be witnesses to their marriage.

Now as Lydia stepped up to Wickham’s door, she couldn’t wait to show him the lace she had bought for her special day. Wanting her hair to look extra nice, Lydia purchased some adornments. She wanted Wickham to accompany her. Sneak out and be alone but he declared he had business to attend to and not wanting to hear about his business, bored by such words, Lydia left her beloved at the inn while she went shopping. Raising her hand, Lydia froze. His door was open and immediately she wondered why. Wickham was a man keen always to have the door closed and locked. It was a strange trait of his and quickly Lydia had become accustomed to it. Oh, and hoping he hadn’t left the inn and forgotten to lock his door, Lydia pushed the door wide and stepped into his room.

Wickham? Lydia called out and with no response from her lover, she stepped further into the room. Wickham! Lydia’s voice shrill, momentarily she froze as she studied his body. Lying on the floor, Lydia wondered if he was sleeping, but if so why sleep on the floorboards. Shaking the thought, Lydia giggled. Oh Wickham, how silly you are. I have bought ribbon for my hair. Tomorrow I will look a delight. Wickham? Not receiving a response from him, exasperated Lydia tutted; now was not the time for fun and games. He must admire her ribbon. Striding up to his still body, crouching, gently Lydia shook him. Wake up, but with no response made, leaning over his body and clutching his waistcoat Lydia pulled him, hoping to stir Wickham from his assumed alcohol slumber. Oh. Startled, Lydia dropped the parcel of ribbon. Her mind taken from her recent purchase and with her gaze cast down, Lydia studied her red fingers. What? Oh. Attention back on Wickham, desperately Lydia shook her beloved. No, no, no - Wickham! Her voice loud, but Lydia didn’t care she would be caught alone in his room; Lydia had a more pressing matter. Quickly pulling open his jacket, the sight that greeted her, caused her to gasp. The material of his waistcoat bloodied, frantically she called out his name. Clutching the material, roughly the waistcoat was wrenched open and in his stomach was a knife. The metal protruding from his flesh and the sight seemed surreal, strange even. Instinctively, Lydia clasped the handle and pulled the blade out.

Miss? Miss? Miss Bennet?

The man not heard, and it was only as he bent over her that Lydia realised she had company. Her face drained of colour and with her words barely audible, Lydia replied, He is dying. He is dead. I think Wickham is dead.

Chapter One

Longbourn, Hertfordshire , England

Clutching his glasses, anxiously Mr Bennet rubbed his forehead. His gaze on the letter, the words blurred. Twice he had read the letter, but it didn’t make sense. That is to say, it made sense to Mr Bennet, but the content seemed farcical, a cruel joke, but it was not a joke. Mr Bennet aware his brother-in-law, Mr Gardiner wouldn’t write such a horrid tale unless it were fact. Over the last few days, he had lamented on Lydia’s position. Agitated that his wife’s brother had bailed out George Wickham, aware the young military man would only marry Lydia and save her family from ruin and scandalous gossip if his debts were paid; secretly Mr Bennet had cursed the matter. Not wanting to be indebted to someone, especially to his brother-in-law in a matter he should have controlled and resolved, Mr Bennet felt resigned to his new lot in life. It was an undignified position, but one he understood was his; his alone. Yesterday, the circumstance burnt him, embarrassed him and made him feel weak, especially when his wife could speak only of her newly married daughter having a new wedding wardrobe. Listening to her prattle on, Mr Bennet wished to tell her to shut-up, but he didn’t. He bit his tongue, but if he had said something, Mr Bennet considered it reasonable to have asked, how can we afford a new wardrobe? Barely able to live comfortably, although he was a gentleman, the matter of paying back his brother-in-law and Mr Bennet would ensure he did, only burdened an already tight monthly account.

These earlier problems now appeared insignificant. Yesterday he was worried about paying back his wife’s brother, now his worries had increased. Worries? No, that was too light of a word. It was fear Mr Bennet felt. Fear for his family. Fear of the unknown and gladly he would take back the burden of being indebted to his brother-in-law if it would erase the horror that had hit the family. Lost in his thoughts, Mr Bennet didn’t see his daughter Elizabeth step into the room. Holding a tray, his second eldest daughter was concerned that her father hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Papa, I have brought broth and bread. You must eat.

Snapped from his thoughts, Mr Bennet smiled at his most cherished daughter. Five girls, but no sons and on the birth of their youngest Lydia, Mr and Mrs Bennet resigned themselves to the fact they would never have a son. Instead, they had, in order of birth, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia; all so different in their character, but it was Elizabeth who he favoured. Thank you, Lizzy. I confess food is far from my thoughts.

You must eat, replied Elizabeth placing the tray on her father’s desk and picking up the bowl, she put it in front of him. Bread?

No, but thank you, and picking up his spoon, Mr Bennet scooped up the broth. No appetite felt but wanting to please his daughter, Mr Bennet took two mouthfuls before placing the spoon down.

Watching her father, Elizabeth noted the paleness of his complexion and sitting opposite him, anxious, Elizabeth declared, Is there anything troubling you? That is except for the situation with Lydia, though, thankfully that is resolved. On hearing the news that Lydia and Wickham were to marry, Elizabeth felt relieved. Not wanting Lydia’s reckless behaviour to affect her family, in particular, her parent’s health, on receiving the news, Elizabeth hoped the situation would be smoothly resolved. A half-hearted hope due to having an understanding of Wickham’s true nature; an understanding gained in confidence by Fitzwilliam Darcy who informed her that once Wickham had attempted to elope with his younger sister Georgiana. Understandably, with this added knowledge, Elizabeth wouldn’t feel fully satisfied until her sister and Wickham had exchanged marriage vows. Now studying her father, Elizabeth wondered if her fears had materialised.