will run into them at any moment, I am sure.”
No sooner did she speak than they heard the boom of a man’s voice a little way off. Before Harriet had a chance to call out, Lydia snuffed the lantern.
“There, what did I tell you. Let’s keep quiet and jump out on them; what a good joke we will have,” she whispered.
“Do you not know that I am afraid of the dark?” Harriet cried at once. “I am quite terrified! Oh, Lydia, why did you do that? It is so black; there is not a chink of light!”
“Harriet, we are perfectly fine,” Lydia assured her. “We are not in any danger!”
“How do we know that the voice belongs to someone we know?” Harriet whispered in terror. “It could be anyone, even a murderer! It does not sound like Henry to me!”
“Of course it must be someone we know,” Lydia moaned. “Stand still and be quiet or they will realize we are here!”
“Well, I am not going to stay here to be frightened or starved to death, I am going back,” Harriet retorted. “Henry will be worrying where I am.”
“Suit yourself,” Lydia told her, “but you would be much better off waiting here with me for the lantern to be lighted again.”
She would not be told, and feeling her way along the craggy walls, Harriet set off in the direction they had come, complaining of ill usage as she went.
The voices grew nearer and were heard more loudly. They belonged to Miss Westlake and Mr Wickham. Lydia strained her ears, but she found it almost impossible to hear what they were saying. They were in the next chamber and it was plain they were in dispute over something.
“I will not listen any longer to your foolish plans, it is hopeless,” she heard Miss Westlake say. Wickham answered, but his voice was so deep and low, she only caught the words “love” and “money.”
“It will only make matters worse; I never heard of a scheme more doomed to failure,” his agitated partner replied. “I am going now, are you coming?’
Without waiting for his reply, Miss Westlake left him without speaking another word and scuttled down the passageway in the opposite direction. After a moment or two of listening to him cursing the world and every female in it, Lydia called out his name before she knew what she had done.
Chapter 10
“WHERE ARE YOU, MISS Bennet? What has happened to your lantern?” called Mr Wickham. As she lied and told him the candle had blown out by itself, Lydia heard his steps come closer until at last he reached out to touch her. She stumbled backwards in the dark; his touch, though gentle, made her heart hammer.
“Where is your lantern?” she asked, recovering herself enough to speak, knowing that Miss Westlake must have taken the one they shared. “I suppose you have given it to your cross companion.”
Wickham sighed deeply.
“I must admit I overheard you both talking,” Lydia continued. “At least, I gathered you were in disagreement with one another. I didn’t hear all that was said, but one thing seemed very clear.”
“And what might that be, Miss Bennet? Pray tell, for I have never found dealing with any lady to be clear cut.”
“You are in love with Miss Westlake, are you not?”
There was a silence, and Lydia wished she had not spoken. How could she have said such a thing? How would it sound to him? She wished she had kept her tongue.
“No, I am not,” he replied eventually, his voice very low. “I am not in love, you must know I am not.” He paused and she heard him sigh again. “I have never been in love in my life,” he continued. “Indeed, Miss Lydia, I do not know if I am capable of ever loving anyone. I confess I do not know what will become of me.” He took a step towards her, and though she was inclined to move back, her legs seemed to have lost their power to take any action at all. “Who will teach me of love, Miss Bennet?” he asked. “Will you?”
“Please stop being silly, Mr Wickham,” Lydia replied as firmly as she could. She did not know how to answer
No sooner did she speak than they heard the boom of a man’s voice a little way off. Before Harriet had a chance to call out, Lydia snuffed the lantern.
“There, what did I tell you. Let’s keep quiet and jump out on them; what a good joke we will have,” she whispered.
“Do you not know that I am afraid of the dark?” Harriet cried at once. “I am quite terrified! Oh, Lydia, why did you do that? It is so black; there is not a chink of light!”
“Harriet, we are perfectly fine,” Lydia assured her. “We are not in any danger!”
“How do we know that the voice belongs to someone we know?” Harriet whispered in terror. “It could be anyone, even a murderer! It does not sound like Henry to me!”
“Of course it must be someone we know,” Lydia moaned. “Stand still and be quiet or they will realize we are here!”
“Well, I am not going to stay here to be frightened or starved to death, I am going back,” Harriet retorted. “Henry will be worrying where I am.”
“Suit yourself,” Lydia told her, “but you would be much better off waiting here with me for the lantern to be lighted again.”
She would not be told, and feeling her way along the craggy walls, Harriet set off in the direction they had come, complaining of ill usage as she went.
The voices grew nearer and were heard more loudly. They belonged to Miss Westlake and Mr Wickham. Lydia strained her ears, but she found it almost impossible to hear what they were saying. They were in the next chamber and it was plain they were in dispute over something.
“I will not listen any longer to your foolish plans, it is hopeless,” she heard Miss Westlake say. Wickham answered, but his voice was so deep and low, she only caught the words “love” and “money.”
“It will only make matters worse; I never heard of a scheme more doomed to failure,” his agitated partner replied. “I am going now, are you coming?’
Without waiting for his reply, Miss Westlake left him without speaking another word and scuttled down the passageway in the opposite direction. After a moment or two of listening to him cursing the world and every female in it, Lydia called out his name before she knew what she had done.
Chapter 10
“WHERE ARE YOU, MISS Bennet? What has happened to your lantern?” called Mr Wickham. As she lied and told him the candle had blown out by itself, Lydia heard his steps come closer until at last he reached out to touch her. She stumbled backwards in the dark; his touch, though gentle, made her heart hammer.
“Where is your lantern?” she asked, recovering herself enough to speak, knowing that Miss Westlake must have taken the one they shared. “I suppose you have given it to your cross companion.”
Wickham sighed deeply.
“I must admit I overheard you both talking,” Lydia continued. “At least, I gathered you were in disagreement with one another. I didn’t hear all that was said, but one thing seemed very clear.”
“And what might that be, Miss Bennet? Pray tell, for I have never found dealing with any lady to be clear cut.”
“You are in love with Miss Westlake, are you not?”
There was a silence, and Lydia wished she had not spoken. How could she have said such a thing? How would it sound to him? She wished she had kept her tongue.
“No, I am not,” he replied eventually, his voice very low. “I am not in love, you must know I am not.” He paused and she heard him sigh again. “I have never been in love in my life,” he continued. “Indeed, Miss Lydia, I do not know if I am capable of ever loving anyone. I confess I do not know what will become of me.” He took a step towards her, and though she was inclined to move back, her legs seemed to have lost their power to take any action at all. “Who will teach me of love, Miss Bennet?” he asked. “Will you?”
“Please stop being silly, Mr Wickham,” Lydia replied as firmly as she could. She did not know how to answer
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