Page 12 of What Change Entails

Kitty sat up. “So do I.”

“No, you do not. You dislike being left behind.”

Kitty looked hurt. “That is managing of a sort.”

Lydia waved this aside. “Lizzy speaks as if I am a child who must be locked away from enjoyment. She thinks if she says ‘imprudence’ and ‘reputation’ often enough, everyone must bow down before her wisdom.”

“She did look very serious.” Kitty sounded uncertain again.

“She loves looking serious. It makes people think she is clever.”

“Lizzy is clever,” Kitty said, then seemed to realize this bordered upon disloyalty. “But perhaps too clever.”

“Far too clever.” Lydia moved from the window. “Cleverness ruins everything when people use it against their sisters.”

Kitty nodded solemnly.

A better thought came then, bright and wicked enough to chase away some of the humiliation.

“I shall have revenge,” Lydia said.

Kitty’s eyes widened. “What sort?”

“I do not know yet.”

“Oh.”

“But it shall be very good when I think of it.”

Lydia resumed pacing, this time with purpose. A proper revenge required imagination. It could not be something ordinary, such as refusing to speak to Lizzy, though she intended to do that as well whenever she remembered. It must make Lizzy regret every word she had spoken.

“I might write to Mrs. Forster,” Lydia said.

Kitty sat forward. “And tell her what?”

“That I am being held against my will.”

“Are you?”

“Morally.”

Kitty considered this. “Would Mrs. Forster come and rescue you?”

“She ought to.”

“But Papa would not let you go.”

“Then perhaps she might write a very severe letter.”

“Mrs. Forster does not write severe letters.”

“No,” Lydia admitted. “She writes amusing ones.”

They both sighed.

Lydia paced again.

“I might behave so dreadfully in Derbyshire that Aunt Gardiner sends me home in despair.”