Page 6 of Mounted By Her Officers

“Is that so?” said a voice she knew well.

Lydia’s steps faltered, and her eyes widened. It couldn’t be.

“When I heard from my solicitor that he saw someone who looked very familiar while in Brighton with his invalid mother, I thought to myself: ‘That cannot be true, not my Lydia, cavorting with gentlemen who are not the husband I arranged for her to marry.’”

Mr. Bennet, Lydia’s father, stood in front of them in the public room of the inn. He had his hat in hand and looked unchanged from when she’d seen him last, shortly before she’d departed Meryton with her officers.

“Father…”

“Mr. Bennet, always a pleasure to see you,” said Captain Denny, coming forward to ease them through the social niceties. Which was beneficial, since three denizens of the inn were watching them intently. “Perhaps we might secure a private parlor and enjoy a meal together. Ladies?”

Chamberlayne minced after him, but Lydia couldn’t find it within herself to move.

“Lydia, are you well?” asked Carter, a hand under her elbow.

Her father observed them. Unlike when she’d been discovered at sixteen in the company of Wickham, Lydia’s skin was hot and she longed to study the sticky floor.

“We should join the others,” she said.

***

If anything, Carter was being more courteous to her than ever before, as if he had met a situation that demanded shame and marched right through it.

Denny’s movements and speech became exaggerated; the draws on his cheroot more elegant and drawls comically exaggerated. Chamberlayne sat at his side and turned his face away; he must still hope to avoid being identified.

Mr. Bennet slapped his thighs. “A lovely meal, but we really should be going. Are your things down from the carriage, Lydia?”

Oh, so he meant to take her back.

When she was sixteen, another man entirely had fetched her out of Wickham’s lodgings and arranged a marriage. Her father had come home and shut the library door, even if he now claimed to have orchestrated her nuptials.

No attempts were made at questions in private. Nor did her father seem curious about what would make a wife decamp with officers when she’d been married just four years before.

“You mean to take me home?” she asked, angling for some sign that she’d read her father wrong.

“Yes, of course,” he said, chuckling while wiping his hands. “Meryton is on the way to Longbourn. I won’t make you walk, as I know you dislike it.”

“Lydia,” Chamberlayne whispered.

Her disappointment must have been written on her face. How like her father to be the one not to see it.

“I wish you well on your travels,” she said, rising from the table.

“And I you, seeing as we’ll be making them together,” Mr. Bennet said with all evidence of good cheer. He rose.

“You’ll be traveling alone,” she said, aiming for quiet dignity but sounding like a vermin had crawled into her throat last night and taken up residence. “At least I’ll not be going with you.”

“Lydia,” he said, the first note of ire entering his voice.

“Mr. Bennet,” said Carter, standing at last. “I wonder if…I might get your opinion on Tacitus.”

“Tacitus?”

“Yes, the…opinions of Tacitus on the…conquest of England. By the Romans.”

“Well,” said Mr. Bennet, cleaning his spectacles with relish. He had done that at her wedding, too. “As you know…”

The men headed back to the public rooms, leaving Lydia stewing.