Chapters (33)
- Acknowledgements
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Epilogue
- About the Author
Finally, her hunger won out and she held the bowl carefully and tipped it toward her mouth. It did not work. The porridge was far too thick. The only thing she accomplished was sliding the jam across the top and onto her own nose. Wiping her face, she poured a little bit of milk from the tiny creamer and stirred it in with her finger. She then licked the digit clean and tried her pouring system again. She was more successful this time and managed to get most of the porridge in her mouth and very little on her chin and only a few drops on her gown. Finally, after several minutes of very undignified eating, she wiped her face, washed her hands in the basin, and left her room to find her sister. Perhaps they could go visit Maria Lucas and walk into Meryton to buy some new ribbons.
Once downstairs, Lydia was met with the sound of Mary practicing the pianoforte in the back sitting room while Jane very painstakingly worked her way through basic scales in the music room. She stepped into the morning room where she found Elizabeth bent over a sketchbook, looking back and forth at a bowl on the table while a thin young man looked on. Searching for her sister Kitty, Lydia wandered back into the main hall where she was quickly met by Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, who immediately greeted her.
“Miss Lydia, your father has said it’s your time for your French lesson. The tutor’s waiting for you in the parlor.” She quickly ushered Lydia into the room and left, leaving her alone with a portly man about forty years old with a curling gray mustache.
In quick order, Lydia was sitting and repeating words the man told her to say and wondering why she was being forced to undergo such torture when she would so much rather be having fun.
She made it through the first lesson unscathed, but when she got to the music lesson, she refused to sing or play the scales the master instructed her in and stubbornly sat on the edge of the bench, her arms crossed and her lower lip jutting out. Altogether she looked like an angry little duck. Her father was quickly summoned and he sent her to her room, informing her she would miss another dinner and more besides, but she paid him no heed.