Lydia continued to be trouble. By the end of the third day, she had taken every meal in her room, all porridge, and while this did create some small improvement for the times she was downstairs, it was short-lived. Mr. Bennet was forced to admit what he had ignored for so long: his youngest child was a spoiled little beast. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and told himself to go ahead and do what needed to be done—putting it off would get him nowhere and might even sabotage the work he’d already put in. Mr. Bennet was not in the habit of putting large amounts of effort into anything, and he had no desire to see what he had already established fall away. Summoning all his reserves of energy and a good bit of stubbornness, he called Hill and informed him of the changes he wanted implemented.

He sent Lydia on a walk around the grounds with her sisters—she really had grown quite plump—and set to work. Lydia’s things were removed from her room and taken to the nursery the next floor up. It was accessed by a staircase at the end of the hall and the remainder of the floor was used for the servants’ quarters. When each of the girls turned sixteen, she had moved out of the nursery and into her own chamber. When it was time for Kitty to come down last year, Lydia had wailed about being left all alone upstairs and had convinced her mother to allow her to move into the second guest chamber across the hall from her sister’s. In the end, Mr. Bennet had allowed it, not wanting to argue with his wife or his very vocal fourteen-year-old daughter. Now he saw that he had done her no favors and that he was reaping the sour fruit of his nonexistent efforts.

So it was that by the time Lydia came back from her walk, hungry, tired, and complaining of poor treatment, she found her room locked up and all her things being put away in the old nursery, which had been closed and under sheets just that morning. A great wail was heard through Longbourn the likes of which had never been heard before. Lydia railed on about the injustice of it all, and Mr. Bennet did find himself sorely tempted to hide away in his bookroom, but when his youngest daughter looked at him red-faced and angry and, in the heat of the moment, cried out that he was an unfair and mean old man, his resolve instantly hardened. How had he let her get so far out of hand? True, she did look shocked at her own outburst and backed away slightly, but there was no excuse for such disrespect.