P&P Prelude to Pemberley: Lydia’s Come Out (Sort of)

Welcome to our Pride & Prejudice prequel! P&P: Prelude to Pemberley tells the story of the time leading up to the events of Pride & Prejudice, including what Darcy and Elizabeth were doing and thinking, Georgiana Darcy’s story, the events of Ramsgate, how Mr. Bingley came to lease Netherfield, and much more! Join us on our journey as the Austen Variations authors post the events of 1811 in real time on the date they happened – 214 years in the future.

Lydia’s Come Out (Sort of)

5 March 1811

The matter of Lydia’s come out remained unresolved as spring approached. While Papa had not officially given his consent, neither had he refused outright, and Lydia took this as a sign of her victory, and Elizabeth feared she might be right. Lydia constantly lorded it over Kitty, who remained resentful but seemed sadly resigned.

Her mother, too, spoke of it as a certainty, and as the weeks passed, Mamma and their youngest sister became absorbed in detailed discussions of gowns, ribbons, shoe roses, and the summer assembly. Mamma praised Lydia’s high spirits, declaring that she would be the toast of Meryton. Lydia basked in the attention, parading swatches of fabric and rattling off imagined compliments from admirers she had yet to meet, confident that her moment in society would be an unparalleled success.

Kitty sat at the same table while these discussions were held but enjoyed none of the attention that by right ought to have been hers. Though she had patiently anticipated her turn to come out, Lydia’s intrusion had clearly left her feeling overlooked and diminished. Elizabeth saw the flicker of bitterness in Kitty’s eyes, the way her fingers twisted in the folds of her gown as Lydia prattled on.

“Oh, Kitty, do stop fidgeting so,” Lydia said with a toss of her head. “It is not as though you would know what to do with admirers if you had them. You have not my natural vivacity.”

“Proverbs tells us that pride goeth before destruction,” Mary intoned from her corner, barely looking up from her Fordyce’s Sermons, “and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

“La! Nobody cares for your sermons, Mary,” Lydia retorted. “I should rather have my spirits than your dusty old books.”

Kitty wore the same expression as when Lydia took her ribbons, her books, her bonnets . . . But this was worse. This was a privilege that Kitty had earned by right of her age, and Lydia had stolen it. Elizabeth was angry with Lydia, but she was even angrier with her father.

As it happened, Lydia’s opportunity for triumph presented itself before the next assembly in the form of Mr. Alfred Danvers, a young gentleman who had arrived in Meryton just after Twelfth Night. He was not remarkably wealthy, but he was well-mannered and respectable, and he had taken a particular interest in Jane. Though he had not yet made his intentions clear, Elizabeth could not help but notice his quiet admiration, and Jane, ever gracious, had accepted his attentions with a warmth that spoke of more than mere politeness.

Unfortunately, Lydia had also noticed. And one evening, when Mr. Danvers arrived at Longbourn for tea, she saw her chance.

“Mr. Danvers,” Lydia called loudly across the room before he could greet Jane properly. “You must come and sit beside me. I have the most fascinating story to share.”

Elizabeth, seated nearby, stiffened. She could see the gleam of mischief in her youngest sister’s eyes, and she doubted that any gossip Lydia had to share would be appropriate. Jane’s calm smile froze in place as she looked beseechingly at Mamma. But there was no help to be found from that source.

Mr. Danvers reluctantly allowed himself to be led to a seat near their youngest sister, though his gaze drifted frequently back to Jane. Lydia, determined to command his attention entirely, leaned forward to speak to him. Elizabeth’s mouth nearly dropped open when she realized Lydia’s—assets—were on full display.

“Do you know, Mr. Danvers,” Lydia began, “Jane was just telling me this afternoon how exceedingly dull she finds most of her admirers. She much prefers gentlemen of spirit, those who know how to enjoy themselves properly at an assembly.” She cast a meaningful glance at Jane. “Though of course, she has had so many admirers, it must be difficult to keep track of them all.”

Jane’s cheeks flushed. “Lydia, I have said nothing of the sort—”

“Oh, but you need not be modest about it!” Lydia pressed on, interrupting Jane’s attempt to speak. “Why, I am certain that when I come out—which shall be very soon indeed—I shall have twice as many admirers as Jane. I plan to dance every single dance at my first assembly, and drink at least three glasses of punch. One must know how to enjoy oneself properly in society, must not one?”

Mr. Danvers, visibly disconcerted, cast a doubtful look at Jane. Elizabeth, watching closely, saw the moment his confidence began to waver.

“I see,” he said, clearly struggling to compose an appropriate response.

“Oh, yes,” Lydia continued airily. “Jane agrees entirely. She was just saying how tiresome it is when gentlemen are too . . . what was the word she used? Ah, yes. Too fastidious about propriety.”

Her mother apparently did not hear anything amiss in Lydia’s blatant prevarications, and so Elizabeth took her place. “Lydia,” she said warningly.

“La, Lizzy,” Lydia said coyly, “you know it is true.”

“I know no such thing,” Elizabeth replied, but could go no further. To erupt in argument before Mr. Danvers would only make everything worse.

Jane attempted to salvage the conversation. “I do not believe Mr. Danvers came to Longbourn to speak of such things, Lydia,” she said firmly. “And it is not right of you to say such things. Mamma, I think Lydia ought to go upstairs.”

“Oh, there is no call for that, Jane,” Mamma said, her attention on the embroidery in her hands. “Lydia is just high spirited. I am certain Mr. Danvers understands.”

Her mother was always so enthusiastic about gentlemen callers that Elizabeth could not understand why she was allowing Lydia to drive this one away. “Mamma,” Elizabeth pressed, “Surely Lydia is not ready to be in company. She really ought to go upstairs.”

“I shall not!” Lydia cried, springing to her feet. Her face had gone quite red. “Jane is only jealous because Mr. Danvers will now see her for what she truly is—a dull, prudish thing who cannot bear that I shall soon be out in society as well and draw all her admirers to me!” She stamped her foot, causing the tea things to rattle. “You like me a good deal better than Jane, do you not, Mr. Danvers?”

Mr. Danvers rose hastily from his chair, his expression a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Had he looked at Jane, he would have seen her utter dismay at Lydia’s behaviour, but he did not. “I . . . perhaps I ought to take my leave.”

“Oh, pray do not go!” Mamma exclaimed, finally understanding that Mr. Danvers was leaving but not sparing a single thought to ask why.

Mr. Danvers, however, was already backing toward the door, nearly stumbling over an ottoman in his haste. “I thank you for your hospitality, madam, but I find I have an urgent appointment in Meryton.” He managed a swift bow and fairly fled the room.

“Well,” Mamma said with a huff, “what an impetuous gentleman. You are better off without him, Jane. With your beauty, you shall have many other admirers.”

“Though not,” Lydia crowed, “as many as me.”

Two days later as they sat to breakfast, Mamma, who was startlingly oblivious to Lydia’s poor behaviour, sighed loudly over breakfast. “I had thought that Mr. Danvers might have had some particular interest in you, Jane,” she lamented. “But no! He is to depart for London within the week, and I daresay we shall not see him again.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said tartly, “if your youngest daughter had minded her tongue, Mr. Danvers would not have felt the need to make such a hasty retreat.”

Her father snorted but remained hidden behind his newspaper.

“What?” Mamma asked. She truly did have a selective way of hearing only what she wished.

“Oh, never mind him!” Lydia declared, helping herself to another slice of bread. “He was far too serious for Jane. I shall find her a much better suitor when I come out. Someone who knows how to laugh and dance properly.”

Jane quietly excused herself from the table. A moment later, Kitty followed, leaving her breakfast barely touched.

Elizabeth watched them depart, her heart heavy. When she later returned upstairs herself, she heard Kitty ask Jane if she was quite well.

“Yes,” Jane replied, though her voice was not quite steady. “It is of no consequence.”

But Elizabeth knew better. Mr. Danvers’ departure would not go unremarked, for her mother would lament his defection and never once reflect upon who had caused it. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that with Lydia determined to draw every gentleman’s eye and favour—whether through flattery or sabotage—they might all find it rather difficult to secure suitable matches. The reality of five sisters competing for eligible gentlemen had always been daunting; with Lydia’s premature entry into society, it seemed impossible that any of them would escape unscathed.

Read all the scenes in Prelude to Pemberley here!