Don is sharing an excerpt and talking about home and a homecoming. Welcome Don. I am thrilled to have you visit.
*****
Lydia’s
Homecoming
The word pilgrimage
is freighted with more significance than the much simpler journey or trek.
There is a depth of semantic loading in the word which is redolent of
self-discovery. And, the pilgrimage is a theme which is deep in European
tradition. The Way or the Camino de Santiago de Compostela is one
of the most famous.
At the far end of the journey, once all has been
discovered, is Home for is it not the
pilgrim’s final goal to apply that which has been uncovered to alter the life
yet to be lived?
The concept of Home
and Homecoming is another
constant (along with learning, growth, change, and love) that runs through the
Wardrobe.
The three daughters, Thomas, and Fanny are all, in
their own ways, looking to find their way to the Home that sustains them.
The
Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion is the story of multiple
homecomings. Some returns are for those who are meaningful in the Fifth
Daughter’s life. Others are reserved for Lydia herself.
An essential framework must first be an
understanding of the word itself. We often consider homecoming to embody a journey followed by a welcome to our
childhood manse. This is, of course, the most basic Earl Hamner (Spencer’s Mountain, The Waltons)
formulation; the soil from which we sprang still clings to us. The climes in which
we prospered first as children and then, later, as departing young adults. That
Home shapes our first iteration as
persons.
Jane Austen offered us in either detail (Elizabeth
and Jane) of in sketch (Mary, Kitty, Thomas, Fanny, and Lydia) that first order
of personality in Pride and Prejudice.
The Wardrobe books consider the forces that come to play upon the characters
after the Canonical close of the original book.
The next expression of homecoming and home rises
from the old saw, Home is where the heart
is. This does not necessarily mean love for another person.
For Fitzwilliam Darcy, the common theme was that Pemberley was Home. Even after he and
Elizabeth fell in love, one of her roles was to become Mistress of Pemberley. We can infer, in Elizabeth’s case, that this
would necessarily also mean Mistress of
Darcy’s Heart. However, we learned from his romantic struggles that abiding
love (at least at the outset of the book) was not a requirement for the lady of
the house. His heart was Pemberley which defined him.
In the Canon, Mrs. Bennet only saw Longbourn as a
house, a place that was not the hedgerows. However, in the Wardrobe’s universe,
Mrs. Bennet did see Longbourn as her Home,
her refuge. Mr. Bennet further amplified that sentiment when he opined that
Longbourn’s ancient sedimentary loams served as a source of some mystical
powers including Jane’s peace-making and Lizzy’s sense of direction. The
parents mutually rediscovered the power of Longbourn as Home in The Avenger: Thomas
Bennet and a Father’s Lament.
Yet, adult perspectives and land aside, what does Home translate to for a woman who is not
exactly following the sound of the drum, but close to it?
Her heart is packed up every morning as camp is
broken and revitalized when the tents are raised. In Lydia’s case, though, as a
young gentlewoman, whether she is at Longbourn, Deauville, or Pemberley, so is
forced to wait for her soldier’s homecoming.
The idea of
homecoming liberally seasons The
Pilgrim. In each of the books, departures and returns are layered to build
the narrative.
Consider Lydia’s arrival in Deauville in the
opening pages of Book 2. While it is clearly an appearance, I see it as a homecoming for it is at the Beach House
where her heart rests in the form of her sister, the Dowager Countess, Lady
Kate. Yet, when the residence is no longer Lydia’s
Home at the end of the action in Book Two, she leaves it behind much as she
had previously done with her cottage in Newcastle and Longbourn Manor.
She necessarily had to continue her pilgrimage, her steps in the dusty roads
that made up her camino.
The Wardrobe is a harsh taskmaster and demands
much of its Bennet subjects. Lydia, like Mary and Kitty before her, had to
travel great distances around the universal circle to return to the point where
they were the best versions of themselves. Lydia’s story is difficult, to be
sure. Her path is arduous and fraught with more than her measure of pain. However,
Lydia, I believe, also reveled in the completion of the painting which had been
begun by Jane Austen all those years ago.
Please
enjoy this excerpt from “The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion.”
Kympton Vicarage, August
21-26, 1819
Lydia and her sister Mary
were injured in Manchester at the Peterloo Massacre on August 19, 1819. They
were removed to the Vicarage where the Benton family lived. Both women had been
in comas since their injuries. Here we see General Fitzwilliam wrestling with
his feelings for the Widow Wickham…and Lydia, after she awakens, encountering
life-altering news.
vvv
If their concern about Lydia’s condition
had not been so acute, Lizzy and Jane would have collapsed in gales of matronly
giggles at General Fitzwilliam’s distress. Even Darcy, normally stone-faced as
two of his sisters lay insensible in their beds at Kympton Vicarage, could not
avoid a snort and a snicker when his cousin burst from Mrs. Wickham’s chambers
to throw himself into the armchair placed in the hallway especially for this
purpose.
…
On this day, Wellington’s right arm was
sweating through his fine lawn shirt having just been shooed from Mrs.
Wickham’s side while the ladies tended to Lydia’s personal hygiene. Despite
himself, he imagined how the Bennet girls, at first just Lizzy and Jane, but
later Mary and Lydia, would have rolled their eyes at him acting like their
late mother amidst a bout of her famous
nerves.
[Richard’s
mother] had been summoned by Darcy who feared that questions of compromise
would be engendered by Richard’s hovering above the widow’s bed. Lady Eleanor
had arrived posthaste—on August 24th—, less concerned by her son’s
behavior and more by the implications of fixing his attentions upon a woman
most recently involved in violent anti-monarchical demonstrations.
The little bantam of a woman bustled up to
the soldier as he slumped in the chair [outside
of Lydia’s chamber]. A slippered foot nudged him out of his reverie.
“Richard George Edward Fitzwilliam,” using
all his names when opening her barrage never presaged anything good, mused the
General, “Just who do you think you are to be consorting with a rebel?”
His mother had stolen a march on him and
had the advantage of taking the high ground, to fire downslope into his
position.
Looking up at the lady who had given him
life and was currently helping raise his daughter, Fitzwilliam tried to make
the best of a bad rhetorical situation figuring a defensive volley might still
strike home. The adjustments for the rising nature of the rhetorical slug would
have to be precise.
“Mother, how wonderful to see you.
“By rebel, do you mean Mrs. Wickham or Mrs.
Benton? Both were on the field last week when those idiots of the Yeomanry charged
thousands of defenseless people waiting to hear Hunt speak.
“Or, perhaps, you are speaking of my
father’s sister, whose name I will no longer deign to mention, who was killed
by an infernal machine…one, I suspect, that was made at her behest? She carried
her malevolent disgust with this island’s citizens to the extreme. And, I
wonder how much she paid to spring that maniac of a former parson from Bedlam,
you know, the one who violated little children.
“Oh, lest you take umbrage, Mother, you do know that it was that
cretin who shot Mrs. Benton. I have no doubt that once my boys in Jermyn Street
have untangled this mess, we will find that these two gentle ladies will be
counted as innocent victims. Mrs. Wickham and Mrs. Benton were luckier than another
dozen who perished because rich men feared giving working men a voice in their
own affairs.”
Her shocked countenance told him that he
had hit his mark. While the Countess of Matlock was not an arrogant woman, she
was comfortable in her estimation of the general correctness of her class
notions about the social contract. There were those who led and those who
obeyed as dictated by God. For her son to offer painfully clear arguments to
the contrary shook her world.
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
Damn, Fitzwilliam thought, I have made her cry.
He struggled to his feet, war-wounded
muscles stiff from sitting while awaiting word from Lydia’s chamber. Then
General Fitzwilliam enveloped his mother in his arms as he whispered comforting
sounds into her expertly coifed hair. Her arms snaked around his waist.
Eventually, her gentle sobbing subsided,
and she pushed away from her son’s embrace.
Fitzwilliam penitentially said, “I am
sorry, Máman, you did not deserve
that. I have been overwrought worrying about Ly…Mrs. Wickham.”
Lady Eleanor smiled and shook her head
saying beneath her breath, “What is it about Bennet women and Fitzwilliam men?
“No, Richard, you were right to speak to me
in this manner. I may not be like your dear Anne’s late mother—see how carefully
I navigated that shoal—but I fear that I have held many of her prejudices.
“T’was wrong for me to have impugned Mrs.
Wickham’s character without knowing her side of the story. I attacked her when
she was unable to defend herself.
“I will offer my apologies to her when she
wakes.
“I also will have to make amends for I do
believe that I will often be in her company in the coming years.
“Darcy sent up a rocket this morning so
concerned was he with your behavior toward the lady in question.
“My nephew worried that some would question
the propriety of a man of your stature dashing in—and out—of her room like a
colt seeing a bridle in the hands of his groom for the first time.
“I think you have caught the disease for
which there is, Richard, but one cure. You must know that. Or am I mistaken in
my belief that you plan to offer for her?”
“Only if she will have me. Only if she will
have me,” the General gruffly replied.
vvv
Now, two days later, Elaine Fitzwilliam had
eschewed her modiste-cut gowns for one of Mary Benton’s more serviceable
summer-weight muslins. Akin to Mesdames Darcy and Bingley, she had wrapped
herself in an apron. Her hair was tied back in a serviceable chignon. Even so, her regal bearing told
anyone transiting Kympton’s halls that she was a woman of quality.
The three ladies carefully lifted Lydia,
removing her stained undergarments and night rail. Warm water gently washed
away any residue. The large bandage covering the lower half of her left arm
complicated their efforts. All three were nervous about further injuring the
young woman. Once they stripped off the dirty linens, they remade the bed,
rolling Lydia first to one side then the other
Heaving a sigh of relief, the Countess
looked at the other two, “I do not know about you, but I could do with a large
glass of Mrs. Reynold’s lemonade into which a healthy dose of Prince Lieven’s
favorite potage has been added.”
A voice croaked from the bed, “Lose the
lemons…be like Papa…chilled with a touch of vermouth, shaken not stirred.”
vvv
‘Tis Elizabeth’s duty to
break the news.
The dreamworld cobwebs cleared, and Lydia
sought to begin the proceedings, of such consequence, she guessed, that her
normally imperturbable sister could not find the words, “I learned much in the
time I was away after George, Lizzy.”
Lydia continued, “I encountered a great
lady who repeated words that I am sure you will find familiar in their flavor.
They reminded me of nothing less than what our Papa counseled us to do when we
were faced with a particularly unpleasant task.
“T’will
taste no better tomorrow than today, child. Best to swallow it quickly, make a
face, and get on with the rest of your day.
“So, I say to you, Lizzy, please just tell
me what you will. Do not spare me.”
At the mention of their beloved father,
Lizzy’s deep chocolate-brown eyes softened, and diamonds appeared on her lashes
as she blinked furiously.
Calming, Lizzy said, “Dearest, I must talk
with you about something which happened in Manchester.”
A long pause ensued as she wrestled with
her own rising demons. Pushing them back into their dungeon, Lizzy realized
that Lydia had so recently risen from her stupor that nobody knew just how much
she remembered—or had forgotten—of the events that had laid her low.
She interrogated, “How much do you recall
of what led up to you being injured?”
Lydia sorted through the cards that made up
her memory’s hoard.
Then she gasped, “We were all there on St.
Peter’s Field. The cavalry came onto the field and Richard herded us into a…a
square like the infantry used to do under Wellington.
“They charged us. There were thousands on
the grounds. None were looking behind them. They were all looking forward. Oh, the humanity.[i]
“I think I saw Mary fall? T’was so
confusing as the horses raced toward us. Was she wounded? Is that what has you
upset? Is it worse than that?
“Oh…Please tell me. You must!”
Lydia’s agitation about Mary allowed
Lizzy’s stomach to unclench. She permitted herself a tiny upward twitch of her
lips. A bit of sugar before the salt would not be amiss.
“Yes, we have been worried about Mary. She
was injured. How that came about is a subject for another day.
“If my husband reported his actions
accurately, Doctor Campbell smiled when he examined her earlier. You know
Campbell. His natural expression is as if he had bitten a lemon. If that man
did something besides glower it can only mean that Mary, like you, is on the
mend.
“Mary’s recovery is not the reason I am
concerned. There were others of our little family who fared poorly.”
Memory slowly lit Mrs. Wickham’s features
and tears began to flow. When she tried to lift her left arm to cuff them away,
Lizzy prevented that violated limb from moving.
Through her tears, Lydia cried, “Oh no…not
Richard. I saw him go down right in front of me. No, the General cannot be
dead!”
Elizabeth Darcy summoned all her years as
the Mistress of Pemberley as she delivered her next devastating salvo.
“No, Lydia, not Richard, he is well.
Uninjured, in fact.
“T’was you,” she said barely above a
whisper, “You dove between the blade and Richard. They could not save your
hand.”
Realization dawned, and Lydia Wickham
replied in a small voice, “Oh.”
[i] Herbert Morrison, Transcription of WLS, Chicago, radio broadcast describing the Hindenburg disaster, May 6, 1937.
So what do you think of the excerpt? That last bit of news had to be a bit of a shock for Lydia. What about Lydia and Richard? Interesting, huh! I loved Lady Eleanor's comment, "What is it about Bennet women and Fitzwilliam men?" Isn't that delightful! It makes me smile.
I hope you enjoyed today's post. If you have missed any of the stops, the schedule with links is below. Be sure to enter the giveaway, too. We would love to hear from you. Tell us your thoughts on the excerpt. If you have read the book, what did you think? What is home to you? When you hear the word "home" or "homecoming", do either bring anything besides where you live or lived to mind? I liked Don's thoughts on Darcy, Pemberley, and Elizabeth. What about you?
Thank you again, Don. Best wishes with Lydia's story. Now I'm eagerly waiting for the last book in The Bennet Wardrobe.
If you haven't yet started this wonderful series, below are the titles of the books and the order in which to read them.
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Truly excited to explore the ideas of home and homecoming here today! Look forward to your comments.
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting today, Don. I'm always glad to have you stop by.
DeleteI admit I don't care for Lydia and Richard stories. For me the only lady in the P&P world he should marry is Mary. As Darcy and Elizabeth complement each other so do Mary and the Colonel
ReplyDeleteIn Don's books about Mary and Lydia, the pairings with the men in their lives worked really well. I think you might enjoy reading about them, Vesper.
DeleteOK...I will grant you that. But, Mary could not be who she becomes in the Wardrobe's Universe without Edward Benton. As you have seen through the six previous excerpts, Lydia arrives at the General once she has learned that a soldier's wife has her portion, too. T'is only after Wickham and Richter that she can become the instrument the Wardrobe needs.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the excerpt and am intrigued about Lydia's relationship with Richard.
ReplyDeleteAs we saw in The Keeper, Lydia does find love with Richard Fitzwilliam. How she arrives at that destination is the story in The Pilgrim.
DeleteI enjoyed reading how she arrived at the destination. :)
DeleteGreat excerpt! And I love Don’s comments on exploring the various homecomings. That’s a subject that touches everyone in one way or another. I’ve never imagined pairing Lydia with Fitzwilliam, but in the author’s capable hands, I can believe it. I do believe the Wardrobe series is the most original and ambitious idea conceived in our Austen-inspired world. Bravo, Don Jacobson!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. I admire your work as it sets the standard for all of us. Lydia's road to Richard was long indeed.
DeleteThanks for stopping by, Jan. I enjoyed reading your share!
DeleteThank you for sharing this intriguing excerpt; it seems very different from any other JAFF story I have read.
ReplyDeleteThe arc of the Wardrobe Series offers, I hope, a different literary experience in the #Austenesque world. The best reading experience begins with "Keeper" followed in order by "Henry Fitzwilliam," "Exile: Belle Epoque," "Lizzy B," Exile: Countess," Avenger," and then "Pilgrim." Good luck on the give-away.
DeleteKelly, I hope you get to read the books someday. Don is brilliant and the stories encompass other characters from other books as well as many real people. It is an amazing story that gives life and depth to each Austen character. I think you would enjoy reading the books.
DeleteDon't feel badly, Janet. I sobbed during the darker part of Kitty's story. :)
ReplyDeleteGood point about how Lydia, a soldier's wife would have perceived home, Don. Enjoyed the guest post.
I did cry in that one, too, Sophia, both of her books. Seems Don's stories have a way of touching in my heart. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
DeleteHey there, Thank you for your kind note. I look forward to selling you tissues in Lydia. There were many spots where I cried...and cried.
ReplyDeleteRemember, "If the are no tears in the writing, there will be none in the reading." I do not seek gratuitous emotion. It needs to be authentic...and that isjust what Lydia experiences and learns as she follows her path.
If you felt so strongly when you were writing, no wonder I felt the same when reading. It touched my soul.
DeleteA super interesting series! I hope I get lucky so I can get to read this last book in the series soon! Thanks for the giveaway!
ReplyDeleteThis latest release is such a good depiction of Lydia. I hope you get it read it soon too.
DeleteAllow this humble writer to alter one word in your post. This is not the "last," but rather the "Next-to-Last" (unless I discover a novella in between) book in the series. I am hoping you will enjoy Lydia's passage through the Wardrobe! Look forward to your review/rating.
ReplyDelete