“Oh, what a good joke! No one will guess tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. Lydia Wickham. I, the youngest sister, first to be married. Mama will be so happy!” 

Lydia Bennet turns to the lit candle on the nightstand and blows out the flame. With her room completely dark, she is positive no one in the house will know she is gone until breakfast. Satisfied, she tucks her skirts and climbs out the window. With one hand on the sill, she uses the other to grab her carpet bag. Her room is on the second floor, but beneath her window is a small outcropping. 

Lydia drops her bag to the ground with a thud. Her hands grip the edge of the roof before falling to the ground below. 

“Ouch! I didn’t think it was that far down.”

 She grabs her ankle and rubs the skin. 

“It’s not too bad and I am in a hurry. I have to find dear Wicky before he leaves me behind!”  

Stumbling down the street, she heads to the corner of Westham and Townford Street. There, below the street lantern, Lydia stands waiting for George Wickham to arrive. 

“It’s so dark and quiet. Why hasn’t George come yet?”

 A tall man turns onto the block and walks in her direction.

“Is that a redcoat down the way? Maybe that’s him now. George! Over here! Where’s the hired carriage?”

The click of boot heels rings off the cobblestone as the shadowy figure nears. 

“Ms. Lydia? What are you doing out alone so late? It’s too dangerous for a young lady.” 

Mr. Denny stands directly in front of Lydia, concern on his face.

“Oh, Denny, it’s just you. I thought you were Mr. Wickham. Have you seen him?” 

Mr. Denny rubs his brow and lets out a huff.

“Miss Lydia, I beg you. Please let me escort you to Colonel Forester’s house.”

She stamps her foot and sighs. 

“Denny, don’t be such a bore. I promised Wickham I would meet him here. Oh, no!”

Lydia covers her mouth with her hands, realizing her mistake.

“Wickham. Said. What?” 

Mr. Denny’s mien morphs from frustration to anger. 

“I-I wasn’t supposed to tell. He made me promise to keep it a secret, but since you’re our friend, I don’t think he’d mind.” 

Lydia laughs nervously. Finally, the gravity of her situation sinks in. 

“George has been courting me these past few weeks. Yesterday he asked me to elope to Gretna Green! I am so excited about being married. I’ll be able to stay out late and go to all the parties.” 

Her smile turns into a frown.

“Denny, you must swear not to tell anyone. They’ll try to stop us and George will get in trouble with Colonel Forester. Please swear.” 

By this point, Mr. Denny’s patience was worn thin. 

“I will do no such thing! Are you completely out of your senses? You foolish girl! Wickham will not marry any woman unless she has the dowry to support him. He’s penniless, and so are you!”

“Denny, I don’t like you speaking to me in that manner.”

Lydia tears up, angry at what he’s telling her. 

“I couldn’t care less what you like at this moment. March.” 

“Denny, you can’t-”

“March!”

With Mr. Denny’s arm firmly behind her back, she trots down the road, glancing behind her back, hoping to catch sight of George Wickham. 

“Don’t waste your eyes on him, Miss. He’s not coming.”

Tears ran down Lydia’s cheeks and the night air nipped at her damp flesh. Only a couple of minutes pass before they are in front of the Colonel’s house. Lydia sniffles before pulling away from Mr. Denny. He sighs at her defiance and steals himself for his next confession. 

“He wouldn’t have shown up. I saw him at the tavern tonight, drinking and gambling. Miss Lydia, it’s almost dawn. Would a man who loves you allow you to wait in the cold for over an hour?”

Her shoulders slump in acceptance, and she slowly steps up the stairs of the house.