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"La, Wickie!" Lydia smacked him gently with her fan for being so silly. "I could never elope." Travel to Gretna Green might be a lark, but to give up all the marvelous attention surrounding a wedding? No, that wouldn't do at all.
"Think of how romantic it would be my dear," Wickham said softly. He drew one finger gently down the back of her forearm out of sight of Harriet Forster. He was always subtle like that, careful of her reputation, controlling his ardor in public to ease her way. Lydia frankly couldn't give a fig for it. Not when having such a beau was the best for making all the ladies jealous. "Imagine how it would be to slip out in the dead of night, a dash for the border, wild to proclaim our love over the anvil."
Lydia sighed dreamily. Her Wickham did talk well. He was charming. He was handsome. He was hers. Lydia sighed again, this time less content. He was hers, and she wanted to show him off. She wanted what was coming to her as a prospective bride. "If we steal away in the night, there won't be anyone to farewell us. If we go straight to Gretna Green, there won't be time to order wedding clothes. We won't be able to visit all our friends here in Brighton or in Meryton to hear their congratulations on our engagement."
"Imagine how much more splendid the congratulations will be when we return as man and wife," he cajoled.
"But the wedding clothes! The teas and parties!" The thrill of being first to the altar wouldn't be the same without seeing the envy on her sisters' faces at having caught the most handsome husband in all the world.
"Lydia, my love," Wickham crooned. Lydia thought she detected a hint of falseness in his tone. If she didn't know better, she might suspect he was annoyed with her. That could never be, she knew. Wickham was ever so in love with her. She had him completely in her power. He'd told her so himself. "I am dying to make you mine."
"Lord, Wickie. I shan't have you dead." Having a man expire for his love of her may sound romantic, however Lydia knew she would far prefer a live groom to a dead suitor.
"Pack a light bag. Meet me tonight at--"
"La! You'll be able to reach Meryton much faster by horse," Lydia pointed out.
"Meryton? Horse?" Wickham looked at her with the most adorable look of confusion on his face. It was a pity that he could be rather slow at times, then again, Lydia didn't think many people were as intelligent as herself. Not even the supposedly clever Lizzy. If Lizzy was as clever as purported, she would have been the one to catch the handsome Wickham.
"So you can ask my father's permission for us to marry as soon as possible, of course," Lydia explained to her dashing, if somewhat dim, beau. "Have Papa send to me express to let me know when he'll arrive to collect me. I shan't mind leaving Brighton a little early to plan our wedding." Mama would insist that Lydia have the trousseau she deserved. "Lord, I only hope there is time for Sally to mend my worked muslin gown before it needs to be packed up." Harriet's maid wasn't the fastest seamstress as Lydia had discovered over her time in Brighton.
"I..." Wickham cleared his throat. "I had best be off if I am to reach Lo--" Wickham cleared his throat again, "Ah, Longbourn tomorrow."
Lydia thought him a bit nervous. She patted his arm, gently. Naturally, he would be nervous about approaching her father. Her Wickham did not know her papa as she did. "Papa won't object, you know. He never does. You needn't be worried on that score."
"Ah, no. No worries on that score," he agreed. "Well, my dear, I am off. Do not let on to Mrs. Forster or the colonel that I have gone." Lydia started to ask why, then realized that, of course, he would want to be present for their congratulations. He was to marry the best of the Bennets after all.
Lydia watched him slip out of the party. Her handsome beau did cut an excellent figure in his regimentals. She was looking forward to becoming Mrs. Wickham.
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Naturally, Lydia soon learned that Wickham stole away to London rather than Longbourn, and he had taken along Harriet Forster's maid Sally. When she discovered that Sally had made off with what was left of Lydia's pin money and her worked muslin gown, Lydia might have been devastated had it not been for the dashing new major who joined Colonel Forster's regiment that same day. La! What a joke! Sally did not even realize there was a great slit in the gown the maid had stolen.