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Lydia took a sip of her tea before answering her father. “I was just having a bit of fun.”

“Fun at the expense of your dignity... and your head, it seems.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed. “She did nothing wrong, except perhaps have a little more wine than she ought. You know how young people are.”

“I know very well about the folly of youth,” said Mr. Bennet. “I must say, Lydia, that usually it takes a rifle shot to so thoroughly gain the attention of so many officers.”

“You mock her too much, Mr. Bennet!” cried his wife. “Lydia did nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thanks to Mrs. Ellington, I hear.”

“Mrs. Ellington interfered where she was not welcome,” muttered Mrs. Bennet, although all in the room heard her.

“She certainly was welcome to prevent my daughter from having more than a sore head to deal with in the morning,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone suddenly serious.

“She would not have done anything reckless, Mr. Bennet.” Mrs. Bennet was offended on her daughter’s behalf.

“Indeed, Papa,” said Lydia. “I know how to go on.”

“Go on next time, Lydia, with a little less wine and a little more thought,” he said.

“I will, Papa,” his daughter promised.

“Good. Now off you go, child. I wish to speak with your mother.”

Lydia left, glad to have escaped so easily, but then, she never considered the sort of punishment that most fathers might have given at such infractions. Mr. Bennet was not the sort to be overly harsh.

Retreating to her room, Lydia entered to find both Kitty and Elizabeth within. They were poring over La Belle Assemblée together, but looked up at her entrance.

“What did Father say?” asked Kitty.

“That I ought to drink less wine at the next gathering.”

“Is that all?” Elizabeth watched her sister as Lydia sat down, nursing another cup of tea.

“Essentially. He is speaking with Mamma now. I am sure that Mrs. Ellington shall be after me at the next gathering if I have more than one glass of wine.”

Elizabeth watched her sister crawl back under her quilts, a heavy weight settling in her chest. It was exactly as she feared: her father had laughed the matter away with a few clever remarks, and Lydia had heard only permission. The burden, as always, would fall to others.

Leaving Lydia to her rest, Elizabeth walked down to the morning room to fetch her work-basket. There she found Mrs. Ellington, who was quietly reorganising the threads in her lap-desk, her spine perfectly rigid.

The older woman looked up as Elizabeth entered, her expression grave but entirely composed.

“Your sister is resting, I hope, Miss Elizabeth?” Mrs. Ellington asked.

“She is, ma’am. Her head still troubles her.”

Mrs. Ellington gave a single, firm nod. “A physical ailment is easily mended. I only hope that reflection follows. A young lady’s reputation is a delicate thing, Elizabeth; once a single thread is pulled, the entire garment may unravel before she even realises the danger. You and your elder sister have a great deal of sense. I must look to you both to help guide the younger girls when they are out of my sight.”

“We shall do our best, cousin,” Elizabeth replied quietly, feeling the truth of the warning deeply.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a quiet, strained monotony. Mrs. Bennet, thoroughly insulted by her husband’s defence of Mrs. Ellington, had taken to her bed with a severe fit of nerves, leaving her chamber door firmly shut against the household. Mr. Bennet remained safely retreated within his library, entirely content to let the storm blow over in silence.

It was a relief when Mr. Hill appeared to announce that dinner was served, breaking the stagnant quiet of the house. Mrs. Bennet descended the stairs, heavily scented with lavender water and looking thoroughly martyred. She took her seat at the foot of the table, entirely consumed in her own grievances, and it was not until the dishes were being set down that she noticed a vital piece of the family was missing.

“She is dining at Netherfield this evening. The gentlemen are dining with the officers, and thus Mr. Bingley’s sisters invited Jane to keep them company,” Elizabeth explained when her mother made inquiry.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, all earlier frustrations forgotten. “That is most fortunate, indeed! How did she travel?”