The militia arrived in their flawless red coats with as much self-importance as if they had saved all of England from old Boney himself. Mr. Fitzwilliam, for all his incessant flirting, was far preferable to these men who spent too little time drilling and too much time drinking. Elizabeth considered herself a rather social creature, but other than a few of the officers whom she met when they had attended an evening party at Lucas Lodge, the men of the militia inspired caution rather than anticipation. To Kitty and Lydia, the militia quartering near town represented the highlight of their year, and there was much discussion of the men, though they had never been formally introduced to any.
Elizabeth had met many fine officers over the course of her life. Her life as a girl abroad had not been nearly so constrained as it was now, and whilst Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam were the first of her father’s guests to stay at Longbourn for such a lengthy period, they were not the first of her father’s former officers to visit. Those men had all been of excellent character and her intercourse with them had always been respectful and proper. She had not been approached by any of the militia officers now in town, but they had not been circumspect in their dealings with the daughters of the town’s merchants.
Kitty and Lydia were wild to meet them.
“You will not sell yourselves so cheaply,” Papa warned them all, but mostly the younger two. “Those of you who are not out shall not even speak to them.”
“What if they speak to us?” Lydia had asked, clearly desperate for any excuse to meet the officers. “We would not wish to be rude.”
Elizabeth had never seen her father’s expression so dark. It was startling, and she thought it must be how he had appeared to his men when they had transgressed.
“If they speak to girls who are not yet out,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “I will be told.” There was no doubt what would happen after, not even to Lydia, who shrank back and was silent.
“Perhaps the girls should not walk into Meryton at all unless we know the men are not about,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Papa, no!” Lydia cried, shooting an angry glare at Elizabeth.
“With every outburst, I wonder afresh whether you shall ever have the decorum necessary to be out in company,” he told Lydia with a shake of his head. He stood to leave. “Mrs. Keller, do what you can with this one.”
Although Elizabeth could not repine her father’s instructions, she was sorry he would not explain his orders, or more properly, his fears, to Lydia. The youngest Bennet was rather wild, but she wanted her father’s approval even more than she wanted attention. Her sisters were a poor substitute.
After Papa was gone, Jane reassured their youngest sister. “We shall all walk into town together, Lydia. Papa will not be concerned if you are with us. But you must promise not to speak to the officers or any young man before you are out, my dear.”
“Why not?” Lydia exclaimed. “How am I ever to meet any men if I cannot speak to them?”
“You must wait your turn,” Mary said sombrely.
“I do not see why,” Lydia muttered, picking up the bonnet she had abandoned. “The three of you will never marry if you keep on as you have. I shall have to wait forever when I might be the very first to wed.”
“There is no advantage to being first, Lydia,” Elizabeth said. “If you marry in haste, you may regret your marriage and have no way out of it.”
“You are just trying to frighten me,” Lydia said, but the uncertainty in her expression indicated that Elizabeth might have had some small success.
“Miss Lydia,” Mrs. Keller said coolly, and rose from her chair. “We shall retire upstairs. Now.”
“What about Kitty?” Lydia insisted as she stood.
“Miss Catherine has behaved admirably,” Mrs. Keller said. Kitty smiled at the governess. “She may remain with her sisters.”
“That is not fair!” Lydia cried, stomping her foot.
“One more display like that, young lady,” Mrs. Keller said, “and you will not leave your father’s estate before the militia decamps in the spring.”
Lydia gasped, scooped up her bonnet, and strode out of the room with her nose in the air.
“That little piece of defiance reminds me of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth joked.
Kitty giggled.
“I am sorry you do not like them,” Jane said, as Mr. Hill entered with a note on a silver salver. Jane picked it up and thanked him. “I find them both kind and elegant.”
Jane appeared to have an interest in Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth hoped for her sister’s sake that he was a stalwart sort of man but, as Mr. Darcy had pointed out, he was still rather young. Perhaps he was too young to be wishing for a wife. Mr. Darcy was several years older with a similar income, and he did not appear to be looking for one yet, either. Elizabeth focused again on her embroidery. The wife of Longbourn’s newest tenant, Mrs. Lambert, would soon be churching a little girl, her first child, and Elizabeth wanted her to have something pretty for the babe to wear. Jane had finished a cunning little cap whilst Elizabeth worked on the gown. Mary was making up a few plain gowns for everyday wear.
Jane was reading her note. “How strange you should mention them, Lizzy.” She held up the note. “This is an invitation to dine with the ladies at Netherfield Park,” she said. “The gentlemen will dine with the officers. Oh, they will see Papa, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“It looks like rain,” Kitty said. “You should take your foul-weather coat.”
Papa had them well supplied with oil cloth outerwear, which was excellent at keeping the rain off, but they were hardly the sort of thing one wore to a dinner engagement.