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Reading Pride and Prejudice at the Jane Austen Festival

I’m at the Jane Austen Festival in Bath this week, and was very honoured to be part of the Pride and Prejudice reading that took place on Sunday.
The opening chapters were read by the wonderful actors, Adrian Lukis, who played Mr Wickham in the 1995 production of Pride and Prejudice, and Caroline Langrishe, the well-known actress of British stage and television.
I love reading aloud – it’s always been a pleasure of mine ever since I was a little girl, but I hadn’t really thought about what a huge challenge this was going to be until I actually sat down on the same row of chairs as these wonderful actors! I’m sure appearing on the same bill as Adrian Lukis, Caroline Langrishe and Maggie Ollerenshaw would be the dream of most would-be actors, and all of a sudden the enormity of the whole event struck hard! Anyone who really knows me will appreciate how nervous I felt – I really have to make myself volunteer for speaking events – I’d much rather hide in a corner, but I decided a while ago that I would try and embrace those things that frighten me. With a bottle of water secreted in my bag as defence against a dry mouth, I tried to tell myself it would all be okay.
Adrian Lukis was fantastic – his rendition of Mr and Mrs Bennet both funny and memorable, and then Caroline Langrishe followed on with equal brilliance. Their ability to capture the characters was spot-on, and the audience reacted accordingly, laughing out loud as they interpreted Jane Austen’s wonderful writing.
Also reading was the lovely Sophie who presented the last readathon at the centre, and an up and coming actor, Jack Collard who I’m sure will be playing Mr Darcy one day!

With Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe

Waiting for my turn to read chapter five was agonising, and my knees were knocking together as I stood in front of the large crowd, but it was soon over – thank you, Jane Austen for writing short chapters – and I could return to my seat to wait for my turn again.

In the evening, we were treated to another fantastic performance from Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe who performed a set of duologues – all the wonderful scenes from Jane Austen’s novels. They are both so generous with their time, and so charming – I was lucky enough to have my photo taken with them, and they signed autographs afterwards for all their fans!

 

Jack Collard
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I love using pictures and prints for inspiration. When I was writing Lydia Bennet’s Story, I drew on many that I was able to find in museums and books. These prints of contemporary scenes in Brighton by the seaside helped me to write a scene where Lydia and her friend, Harriet Forster, are interrupted by the attentions of a certain gentleman.

The following afternoon found Harriet and Lydia taking a turn along the seafront. They were standing watching some ladies riding on donkeys when Lydia was startled by a voice in her ear which seemed to come from nowhere. “Mr Wickham,” she cried as she turned to face him, “whatever do you mean by pouncing on young women in such a manner?! You quite frightened the life out of me.”

“Forgive me, Mrs Forster, Miss Bennet, but you were so engrossed, I could not resist making you jump. I declare, Miss Bennet, that I never saw you in such studied contemplation since I saw you outside the milliner’s in Meryton!”

Lydia could not help herself; she struck him on the arm for his insolence. “As it happens, we are whiling away a pleasant afternoon by watching the fashionables on horseback. It is vastly entertaining. Look over there; that poor creature can hardly stand for the two comely dames he has on his back.”

“Ah, yes, that is most amusing, though for myself, there is nothing so delightful as a horseback ride for two in my opinion, especially if you can share a saddle. Now wouldn’t that be a prospect, Miss Bennet? I am sure you would enjoy a ride with me above all else!” Mr Wickham twirled his cane with a flick of his wrist. “However,” he went on, “press me not, I am unable to oblige today. I have important matters to attend, and in any case, I have promised Miss Westlake a turn in a donkey cart first.”

Lydia regarded Mr Wickham’s countenance, so smug and self-satisfied. He presumed too much if he thought that she would instantly say yes to his suggestion. She was most vexed to be considered only as an afterthought to Miss Westlake. He was full of his own importance, she decided, and determined right there and then that, if he ever should suggest they go out on horseback or in a donkey cart for two, she would refuse immediately. She was on the point of answering with a cutting retort when he started again, leaving her to gape with her mouth wide open.

“No, I must go,” he announced, clicking his heels. “I can spend no longer standing here in idle chatter; our Colonel awaits me! I look forward to tomorrow evening, and Miss Bennet, if you stop scowling and smile pleasantly at me, I shall engage you for the first two dances. Good day, Mrs Forster.” With a short bow he set off at a march along the promenade before Lydia had a chance to answer him. She left her friend in no doubt of what she thought of his behaviour.

“Well, of all the conceited, arrogant…good Lord! That man is the end! He thinks he has only to say the word and I shall jump. Well, I will not! I shall endeavour to dance all night with Denny and Chamberlayne or indeed anyone who might wish to partner me but Mr Wickham!”

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Lydia Bennet’s Online Diary.
At this time of the year I always read Pride and Prejudice and I thought it would be fun to see what Lydia is thinking about all the goings on at Longbourn. Lydia’s online diary starts just before Mr Bingley arrives and finishes where my novel, Lydia Bennet’s Story, begins.

When I came to, everything was upside down and the air strangely quiet except for the whinnying of the horses, the creaking of tree branches which were poking through the window of the coach, and the low moaning of my companions who appeared hurt and shaken.
I managed to climb through the window after smashing the glass with my morocco bag, (though who can say if the tortoiseshell panels will ever be the same) partly covering my head and shoulders with what remained of my mantle. The rest of it lay torn and trapped between two solid oak branches and had to be left behind, but I was grateful simply to be uninjured. I could not think what to do next. I called out to Shaw the coachman for assistance but he was not conscious and so having made my friends as comfortable as one can in an upturned carriage, I decided to head back to St. Albans to find Mr Wickham. I reassured Harriet and Emma who were conscious yet in no fit state to move and then I set off back the way we had come.
Our coachman had clearly taken a detour, we were off the main road and so there was no one around who could assist me. I was very cold without my cloak, the rain was persistent and drenched through my thin dress very quickly. I ran as fast as I could and had gone a fair distance when feelings of panic started to overcome me. I did not really know where I was going, I thought I was headed in the right direction but I could not be sure. You may imagine my feelings of relief when the figure of a gentleman I recognised loomed out of the torrent on horseback, but in my effort to avoid being ridden over I leaped for the safety of the hedge quite missing my footing and fell headlong into the ditch. All was confusion as darkness overcame me!
“Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet,” Mr Wickham’s urgent voice called me back to consciousness. I was suddenly aware of his manly figure looming above me, his mouth pressing on mine, which produced so curious a sensation all over me, that I was unable to come to immediately.
“Forgive me,” he said, as I struggled at last to sit up, “you were unconscious and as I am trained to relieve symptoms such as yours, I had no choice but to administer the kiss of life, to give you the breath from my own body. Are you quite well, Miss Bennet? Good God, I am relieved. I could not think what I would say to your mother if you were taken from us!”
“I am well, I think, but very cold, I am not dressed for this weather as you can see,” I laughed as I saw that he was studying my form intently, from top to bottom. I blushed, as it was very clear that he was far from shocked by my appearance and was enjoying the spectacle.
“I felt I had neglected my duty to you all for selfish reasons of my own,” he whispered. “I had to come back and make sure you were all safe. Thank the Lord that I did, although I cannot forgive myself, if I had been with you I might have prevented such an accident.”
“Even the great George Wickham would not have been able to prevent the demise of an ancient tree in a gale,” I retorted.
With one swift move he lifted me into his arms and carried me back whence I had come. It was impossible not to stare up at his handsome face above me as he walked. Once, he met my eyes and such a look passed between us as I cannot describe!
Before long help was summoned. Mr Wickham helped my trapped friends to their freedom and made our coachman comfortable. It was soon decided that it would be best to secure a room at an inn for the evening and return home on the morrow. Letters were quickly despatched to Colonel Forster and Captain Nicolson telling them of our calamity and the new plans. It was decided that we need not worry mama with a letter, as she was not expecting me home until the next day and so what had started as a most frightening ordeal, turned out to be strangely exhilarating and ended with friends, more intimate than ever, round a cosy fire, swapping stories from the past and hearty jokes from the present.

By some miracle, all our purchases are safe, Colonel Forster has been able to have his carriage repaired and through some contrivance of all the party involved, my mother is not wise to the full story. Papa, as ever, has no inkling. I myself have made light of it and fortunately they are both so occupied with their own concerns, she with the unmarried state of her elder daughters and he with the perusal of a new book in his study, that the incident has not even been mentioned.
I must admit that my admiration for Mr Wickham grows daily and I find in moments of reflection that the entire episode has a habit of playing over in my mind. I still feel the warmth of his lips on mine.
Mary King will be a lucky girl if she weds him!

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The winner of the competition is Milka from Finland! Congratulations! I have e-mailed you, so if you can send me details of where to send your books they will be posted soon.
I thought you might like to see one of the mood boards I created when I was writing Lydia Bennet’s Story. I always start with a map, in this case, one of Hertfordshire where Pride and Prejudice is set. We don’t know exactly where Meryton and Longbourn were but I based my research around Hertford. I like to find contemporary paintings for inspiration and look for portraits which might suit the characters I am writing about. As time goes on the maps get scribbled on with information about travel times, notes about towns and villages and plot directions. In this instance I added images which helped me to picture my heroine, so a girl in flimsy muslim, a pink bonnet, and bathing huts in Brighton all aided and inspired.
I do a lot of research, but I probably don’t use half of it. I find it very useful if you are trying to convey the mood of a scene. If you have read up on the subject you are writing about, it is easier to imagine transporting yourself back in time. Well, that’s the theory!

The following extract from Lydia Bennet’s Story was inspired by a true account, that of a mock battle that got out of hand which took place on Church Hill in Brighton, September 1803 between the militia of the South Gloucesters, The Sussex Volunteers, The South Hampshires and regular troops from the Flying Artillery.

With a mind excited by the promise of an entertaining afternoon, Lydia set forth with her friends on the following Wednesday to attend a review given by the Prince to celebrate the magnificence of the encampment. Barouches, landaus and gigs paraded into the grounds with military precision, each one filled with laughing girls in sheer muslin, decorously draped to best advantage, displaying new bonnets with fluttering ribbons, all determined to catch the eye of a handsome soldier. Every regiment was involved and participated in some way, every soldier out swaggered the last and it was impossible to know where to look; Lydia’s eye wished to be in every direction at once so as not to miss a single treat. They witnessed the Prince’s inspection of the parade ground and there were several mock fights and displays of sword fighting. Lydia watched in awe as Mr Wickham, whose execution in wielding a sabre was as superior as any of the royal dragoons, showed them all how it should be done with dash and flair.

“Mr Wickham is in such good looks today, is he not?” Harriet said, as she stood up out of the Colonel’s landau to make a closer study. “Where is Miss Westlake? I daresay she is enjoying his performance.”

“I have not seen her, indeed I do not think she is here,” said Lydia, well aware that she had not been seen at any function since the day of the pic-nic, and that she was not in attendance here either. Lydia had her own idea that Miss Westlake was out of humour with Mr Wickham and that she was keeping her distance. There had obviously been some falling out between them on that last occasion and though she had no idea what it had all been about, she felt certain that neither of them were in a hurry to make up.

The man in question chose to ride past their carriage at that moment, doffed his hat and blew a kiss in her direction.
Lydia glowed as she looked out at the scene, and though her bonnet afforded some protection, she shaded her eyes with both hands, thus obscuring her reddened face. She watched him gallop away on his horse, resolute in her desire not to completely forgive him. She had not forgotten how badly behaved he had been and she kept these thoughts uppermost in her mind.

“Would you like a drink, Harriet? I’ve a terrible thirst, it’s so very hot.”

“Yes please,” answered Harriet turning to face her. “Are you quite sure you wish to go? You look awfully pink you know.”

Lydia nodded furiously, opening the carriage door and skipping off to find the refreshment tent, before her friend could witness her agitation.

In the sweltering heat, a mock battle of epic proportions was taking place next, with the Prince leading his dragoons against the other regiments. Lydia kept one eye on the proceedings as the two opposing armies lined up, facing one another. All was quiet but for the clink of swords and stirrups, the creak of leather, the flap of flags snapping in the breeze. Horses stamped, twitching with impatience to be on the move. George Wickham, groomed to perfection, looked steadily ahead, waiting for the signal.

It was so hot Lydia felt she might faint as she hurried along under the blistering sun, and she wondered how it was that the soldiers did not collapse in the heat. She appeared to be the only person moving amongst the quiet crowds, who watched intently in expectation. Then the silent, tranquility of the day was broken. A flag waved, a pistol fired, the Prince’s troops advanced with lightning speed. The battle began with such bloodthirsty vigour that, within minutes it got completely out of hand, and it soon became impossible to separate the spectators from the combatants. The defending army was forced back into the crowd. Soldiers on horseback became entangled with carriages and laundelettes, phaetons and tilburies. Horses reared and bolted, ladies screamed and fainted, blood was spilled by over zealous swordsmen, and the air was thick from pistol fire, sending all into confusion.

Lydia found herself in the middle of the battle scene through no fault of her own. Officers on horseback charged toward her, shouting to get out of their way, as they let pistol shots fire into the air to warn others of their proximity. She ran as hard as she could, but there was nowhere to go but further into the ensuing battlefield, and she missed being trampled underfoot by seconds. A young officer of the Prince’s regiment grabbed Lydia’s arm as she stood looking about her helplessly. “Come along my pretty girl, I will look after you,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away at a trot.

She snatched her hand from his firm grasp and ran toward the place she thought she had left Harriet, but she could not find nor see the Colonel’s carriage. Everyone was running in every direction, horses panicked and brayed, and gunpowder smoke from the cannons filled the air, making it impossible to see or decide on the best course. As she started to feel more than a little hysterical at the worsening scene and had become like a young rabbit rooted to the spot, too frightened to move, a horse galloped alongside her and a hand was thrust and proffered in her direction. She looked up but hesitated as she identified her rescuer. She was overcome to see him but wanted him to know that she had not fully forgiven him.

“Do you want to stay here and be killed? Give me your hand for God’s sake!” shouted George Wickham. He leapt down from the horse to help her mount before she could utter another word, and as he settled into the saddle behind her she felt his arm snake around her waist, his fingers pressing through the fabric of her gown as he held her close. She was enjoying the sensation so much she quite forgot to be vexed. All she could do was smile.

“I have you safe, Miss Bennet,” he whispered into her hair. “Hold tight, lean into me, I will not let you fall.”

Mr Wickham is rescuing me, she thought as they left the horrific scene, galloping away at speed, weaving their way through the mayhem. It was all quite delightful.

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Lydia Bennet’s Online Diary.
At this time of the year I always read Pride and Prejudice and I thought it would be fun to see what Lydia is thinking about all the goings on at Longbourn. Lydia’s online diary starts just before Mr Bingley arrives and finishes where my novel, Lydia Bennet’s Story, begins.

I set off for Meryton shortly after breakfast and met Mr Wickham in the High Street, intent on a few calls.

“Miss Bennet, I declare I have not seen you or any of your family for a month at least. Have you all been in hiding?” he asked with a mischievous grin, as he stepped in alongside me with a bow and a flourish.

“No,” I retorted. “Any reasons I might have had for hiding have long since disappeared and are enjoying themselves at Bath, as well you know. My sister Jane is still in London, Catherine has gone to stay with her friend in Hatfield and I believe you did see my sister Elizabeth before she went to Hunsford, not more than five days ago.”

I paused outside the milliner’s and made a study of the bonnets in the window and my reflection in the glass. I glanced sideways at Mr Wickham and twirled a curl that was intent on escaping from my bonnet around my finger.

“Ah yes I did, you are quite correct,” he answered. “Forgive me, it had quite escaped my mind. How is Miss Elizabeth? Have you had any news? Has Lady Catherine condescended to entertain your sister and the Collinses?”

“Elizabeth is quite well, thank you, but suffering greatly as far as any of us can tell from the tone of her letters which are very few. She has dined once at Rosings Park, I believe, but we have yet to hear the particulars. I daresay she will survive, but it must be a dull month she will have to endure, without the promise of any stimulating company or dancing. I envied her the trip at first, but I am so glad to be here now that Colonel Forster’s Harriet is come.”

“And so am I, glad that you are not gone with your sisters. Who would make me laugh, Miss Bennet? What should I do for amusement? And if you went away, I should have no-one to dance with-now what should I do then?”

“You are cruel to tease me so, Mr Wickham, and I think you had best not let Mary King hear you say that you would have no partner with which to dance. How is she? I have not seen her lately. We have been much at home with the weather as it is and, I have had much to do,” I added quickly, lest he should think I am a hopeless creature with no interests, pursuits or society.

“Miss King is well enough, I daresay, but you are probably as well qualified to comment on her welfare, as I have not seen her for a fortnight and then t’was only to tip her the nod as she was calling on her friend, Miss Harrington. Are you acquainted with the Miss Harrington’s?”

“I know them slightly, not as well as I would wish,” I stated before enquiring if Mr Wickham had seen anything of Colonel Forster’s fiancee.

“Tell me Mr Wickham, have you seen Miss Harriet Fitzalan yet? What is she like?”

“She is a very handsome young girl, a little older than you, I would guess. Indeed, I would say the Colonel is a very fortunate fellow.”

“What, have you already been introduced? Pray, is she fair like her sister? Has she Isabella’s blue eyes? Do not delay, Mr Wickham. Do tell all!”

“No Miss Bennet, I have not yet had the pleasure of introduction, but I certainly had a capital view of her stepping out of the carriage when she arrived early this morning and, I think I can safely describe her appearance as most attractive. Whether she is dark or fair, however, I cannot say, owing to the large bonnet and bunches of ribbons that were obscuring her hair and most of her features. I will never understand why young ladies enjoy wearing such contraptions on their heads and the practice certainly impedes any chap’s close scrutiny, which has to be a disadvantage to my way of thinking.”

“What do you mean by this, you impossible tease, I do not believe you have noticed anything about Harriet apart from the turn of her pretty ankle, which is just the sort of feature that arrests the attentions of certain gentlemen who strut about Meryton in scarlet coats, giving their pronounced opinions on any poor creature who happens to cross their path. Deny that you are one of them!”

“Miss Bennet, you treat me too harshly, but then, what can I expect from a girl whose heart is still tender from a bruising?”

“Mr Wickham, you vex me exceedingly. Indeed, my heart is not bruised or even grazed and, if you make one more reference to that gentleman, I declare I shall never stand up with you again. I am not in love with him, I never was and, you quite mistake the matter!”

“Consider it settled, Miss Lydia Bennet, I shall never mention a certain person within your hearing ever again as long as I have the breath in my body to cut a quadrille, for henceforth I will live in fear of being shunned and spurned by your good self on the dance floor. Speaking of the latter, when may I expect to have the pleasure of dancing with you again, do you think?”

“If you ask me very nicely as a gentleman ought, I may consider taking a turn with you at the next Assembly Ball, which I believe is to be held on Monday. That is, if you are not already engaged to dance every one with a certain young lady whose talents far exceed my own,” I added, with a playful reference to Mary King’s legacy.

George Wickham’s eyes narrowed as they penetrated mine, yet he laughed as he took his leave and graciously requested to be given the honour of leading me in the dances. “I will teach you a new Valse, my dear, Miss Bennet, in which I am sure you will excel. And despite what you have to say about Mary King’s accomplishments, whatever they may be, I think you know there are none who dance as beautifully as you. It will be my pleasure to be your instructor and I look forward to the Ball!”

A brand new Valse! How I long to see such a dance and to have the joy of partnering Mr Wickham again, I daresay I shall be the envy of all!
After this encounter, I called briefly on my aunt to tell her about Harriet’s arrival. She was very pleased to see me but I could not stay long as it was time to keep my engagement at Emma’s and finally meet Harriet. As Emma opened the door, I could hear high spirited conversation and laughter and knew before I set eyes on her, that Miss Harriet Fitzalan would be the epitome of good nature and playfulness.

She is everything that I admire in a fellow creature. Harriet is tall and slender with dark eyes and brown curly hair which falls in natural ringlets about her face. She is very pretty and is possessed of a sunny disposition. Indeed, it is when she laughs that she reminds me most of her sister. In physical appearance, she is as different as any sibling can be from another, but there is something in her manner and personality which is so similar to Isabella that we are on easy terms already. I just know we shall be great friends!

Lydia Bennet

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Lydia Bennet’s Online Diary.
At this time of the year I always read Pride and Prejudice and I thought it would be fun to see what Lydia is thinking about all the goings on at Longbourn. Lydia’s online diary starts just before Mr Bingley arrives and finishes where my novel, Lydia Bennet’s Story, begins.

Thursday, 11th March, 1802

Mama received news from Lizzy this morning – despite the fact that she writes with compassion for Charlotte and with derision of our cousin, it has nevertheless set mama off again into a diatribe of what might have been. Lizzy’s account of their comfortable surroundings and description of a tour of the house and garden had mama exclaiming how some people who ought to be satisfied with one house agreeably fitted up, should not be so anxious to snatch another from under the very noses of its rightful owners. However, she took some comfort from the fact that the house is small, and was forced to laugh out loud at Lizzy’s revelation that Mr Collins is a great gardner and is encouraged by his new wife to be in his garden at every opportunity – thus reaping the benefits of exercise for good health – and as I see it, keeping out of her way.

Cousin Collins is very pleased with his patroness, he and Charlotte dine at Rosings twice a week and are never allowed to walk home.
Kitty has gone to stay with a friend in Hatfield for a fortnight. Selina Deane is one of the dullest girls I know. I cannot think how Kitty will stomach her company for all that time – she will miss the party on Saturday and will not have the pleasure of meeting Harriet. I am sure if I were her, I would have declined Selina’s invite in favour of accompanying my sister who is far more fun!

I persuaded mama that we might go shopping in Meryton this morning as Mrs Brown has just received some new muslins. She bought white muslin for Jane and Lizzy, and I found the prettiest material with pink flowers just perfect for a spring gown. It will do very nicely for Harriet’s reception if I can have it made up in time. I hope papa will not notice all my mother’s purchases for he is sure to make her send them back. My new bonnet of white persian trimmed with an ostrich feather looked so well on my head in the milliner’s that my mother did not have the heart to refuse me – and I insisted that she treat herself to the blue with matching feathers, so we are both well satisfied. I have hidden my hat for the time being because if Kitty gets wind of it I shall be plagued to death with her protestations.
Saw several very handsome officers, who for their cheeky impudence flashed many smiles and winks in my direction. That Mr Wickham is most blatant in his admiration! I cannot blame any of them, if I say so myself, the sunshine and spring air has put quite a bloom in my cheeks!

Lydia Bennet

Engraving of Westerham, Kent. Westerham is near to Jane Austen’s Hunsford

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Lydia Bennet’s Online Diary.
At this time of the year I always read Pride and Prejudice and I thought it would be fun to see what Lydia is thinking about all the goings on at Longbourn. Lydia’s online diary starts just before Mr Bingley arrives and finishes where my novel, Lydia Bennet’s Story, begins.

Saturday, January 23rd, 1802

Kitty and I took great pleasure in snubbing George Wickham today, as we walked through the High Street in Meryton. He was walking along with Mary King at his side, swaggering along on the opposite path with an air of self congratulation. On seeing us, he raised his hat and waved. Perfectly affronted, we immediately looked away and took refuge in Brown’s, where we spent a pleasant half hour trying on all the new bonnets. During our sojourn, we made the observation that Mr Wickham and Mary King could be seen through the elegant bow window of Holland’s Coffee House, partaking of hot beverages and cake, whilst enjoying the company of Mr Denny, Mr Chamberlayne, and Mr and Mrs Nicolson. There was no sign of Captain Carter and I must add that I was grateful for that small mercy.

As we were peering through the glass which contorted the view somewhat, Miss Brown said that if we were satisfied that there was nothing to tempt us, she would like to be able to close the shop for an hour in order to take some nuncheon. In any case, she only had two bonnets worth a second look, a silk with red cherries and a straw with plaited ribbon. After coming to the conclusion some minutes later, that neither were to my taste (or pocket), we left, taking great care not to look directly into Holland’s where we knew the party were seated.

Moments later, I heard footsteps running up behind us. I turned, fully expecting to see George Wickham but it was my friend, Emma Nicolson, entreating us to join them for some refreshment. Before I had a chance to speak and comment on the indecent haste with which some people drop firm friends to acquire new ones, Kitty answered for us both. She said we were much obliged but were expected at our Aunt Philips’s and were already late on account of having spent the better part of the morning in the employment of choosing a new bonnet. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and were on our way, Kitty marching me up the road before I had a chance to say anything very much at all.

So we have seen confirmation of all the rumours for ourselves and have decided that this evidence of Mr Wickham’s partiality to Miss King’s company (and her nasty freckles) need not be related to poor Lizzy who can have no idea how brazenly they are sporting themselves about the vicinity.

Lydia Bennet

Kitty and Lydia image from the movie, Pride and Prejudice

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