{"id":2522,"date":"2018-07-19T09:55:06","date_gmt":"2018-07-19T13:55:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elizabethannwest.com\/author\/?p=2522"},"modified":"2021-12-17T12:25:23","modified_gmt":"2021-12-17T17:25:23","slug":"chapter-11-a-summer-shame","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/elizabethannwest.com\/author\/readingroom\/chapter-11-a-summer-shame\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 11 A Summer Shame"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Buckle up, it’s an exciting ride…\u00a0<\/p>

XOXOXO<\/p>

Elizabeth Ann West<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Chapter 11 - A Summer Shame, a Pride and Prejudice Variation<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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“Excuse me madame, but Miss Lydia has the girls all in a tizzy. She demanded more and more fabric, and I’m afraid there won’t be enough for the needs of the manor.” Mrs. Buchanan interrupted what had been a placid, peaceful afternoon by approaching her mistress for assistance.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Is she making those bonnets again?” Elizabeth slammed down the embroidery hoop she was working on, a sampler with foxgloves to commemorate the date of her marriage. She wished to have a token reminder\u00a0of the summer’s holiday, even if the days had rarely felt restful.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Yes’m, up to a dozen or more in just the last week.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Jane’s eyebrow arched and she joined the conversation. “Lydia makes bonnets in her room?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh and nodded to Jane. Following Mrs. Buchanan up the stairs to Lydia’s suite of rooms, the whole bedroom was in an uproar. Gowns, as old as a few years, were strewn about on nearly every piece of furniture and Lydia stood with a needle in hand, hunched over the hem of a ball gown she wore when they lived in Hertfordshire. Lydia’s trunks were out and half empty, half full of neatly pressed garments as one would prepare for a journey.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Lydia! What is all of this mess?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Lydia grunted, pulled the needle tight and bit the thread with her teeth. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m nearly packed and ready to leave. I thought Mama would be so pleased for me to repair my clothing so that I’m ready for my debut on my arrival.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Debut? What, where are all of the baby’s clothes?” Elizabeth gaped at the room strewn with bonnets and stockings and petticoats galore. A heap of white linens cast in the corner caught her eye, and she marched over to inspect the pile. It was indeed the clothing for the baby she had started to help Lydia with at the beginning of the summer until every sewing session ended in a tantrum. “Lydia, the baby will be coming soon. He needs a stitch of clothing to wear.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“La, his new family will provide him that, I’m sure.” Lydia held up a gown much too small for her even if she were not heavy with child and admired herself in the mirror. “Mama says the new fashion is for the ladies to wet their bodices. Isn’t that such a scandal?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

The energy and carrying on reminded Elizabeth precisely of the Lydia she knew long before Mr. Wickham and before they had lost their father. “Please! I am trying to understand. You keep talking of Mama, did she send you a letter?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Mmhmm, it’s there, on the bed.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

In a rare display of youthfulness, Elizabeth hopped onto the bed full of miscellaneous items and scrounged around for the piece of paper. Her mother’s hand was sloppy, careless, but it spelled out promises of balls and dinners and sponsorship by Lady Matlock just as soon as her unpleasantness was resolved.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

The tips of Elizabeth’s ears burned as she digested the callous way in which both her mother and her sister threw this innocent child aside. Now three months into her marriage, Elizabeth would relish an increasing waistline, but as her courses began just days ago, there was no indication that a new Darcy was on the way despite regular labors to the contrary. Crumpling the paper, Elizabeth slunk off the bed as Lydia twirled and modeled in the mirror, shrieking and laughing and playing out introductions.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Without a word, she gathered up the baby’s clothes and handed them to Mrs. Buchanan. “Take these to Jane. She and I will work on them. Please take any calicos and other linens as needed from my closet and place an order for more. I will explain the situation to Mr. Darcy.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Aye, ma’am.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Behind her back, Lydia grimaced briefly, then returned to her jolly merriment. She bumped into Lizzie as she continued to traipse around the room. “Oof, you can’t stand on a dance floor, silly. Will you help me finish packing?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Blood pounding in her ears, Elizabeth inhaled numerous deep breaths before she could find the calm manner to address Lydia. “Your child should be your priority. No more dancing. No more playacting. You must rest. I shall send some maids to pack for you, but in the meantime, lay in bed and reflect on the happy life you wish for your son.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“But, but, I’m not tired! I could run, Lizzie, truly run from here to Hertfordshire and back I am so light on my feet.” A dazed, happy countenance covered Lydia’s face as she cradled the gown in her arms to her chest. The happiness of a young girl who had spent so much of the summer in abject misery played on her older sister’s heartstrings.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“I am persuaded. You may continue to work on your clothing, but you must make one gown for the babe and lay it in his cradle over there.” The ancient wooden rocker was already in Lydia’s room as well as the birthing chair in preparations for the coming child.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Oh, thank you thank you thank you, Lizzie. I shall, I shall. I’ll make the most beautiful baby gown ever right now.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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