Redemption in the Time of the Wardrobe
Over the past four years, as I developed the tales about the Bennet Family and the forces which the Bennet Wardrobe has exerted upon, the enduring theme has been Redemption.
Exagoras Agapis
The Fifth Love—the love which redeems
I realize that my next will likely be seen as sacrilege by many adherents to the Lady’s words and themes.
But the truth is the truth. And my truth is that I found myself profoundly dissatisfied with the way Miss Austen treated Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and Mr. Bennet (and, for that matter, Mrs. Bennet). True, they were never intended to be anything more than dramatic foils to frame the characters of Lizzy and Darcy.
However, at times they seemed to be utterly two-dimensional, tropes held up before the reader to make a point.
Mary was the prosy prudish disapproving-of-everything scold. Mr. Bennet was the indolent father who cared little for his estate or the welfare of his family. Mrs. Bennet was the grasping tradesman’s daughter. Kitty was a non-entity, noticeable only because of her nervous cough.
And, Lydia was a living, breathing Hogarth cautionary portrait. Who better to fall prey to Wickham’s worst efforts? At least Elizabeth had the excuse that she was receptive to Wickham’s lies about Darcy because Darcy had insulted her and acted as if he were so far above the company around him.
Elizabeth and Darcy were surrounded by unredeemed souls. Now, I am not speaking in religious terms here, but rather I refer to my concept of the Fifth Love (building upon C.S. Lewis’ Four Loves) where Redemptive Love encourages persons to strive to become the best versions of themselves. None of the younger sisters, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (and for that matter Caroline Bingley), ever grow beyond Austen’s framing. Only Darcy, Lizzy, and Bingley overcome their weaknesses to find the path which leads to true happiness.
How could three daughters be so different from the older two? Was it all Mrs. Bennet’s fault? Should credit be wholly given to the Gardiners? This seemed simplistic.
Hence the Wardrobe…a device that allowed those of the Bennet bloodline to be shuttled to times and places where they could learn that which they needed to realize their potentials.
As we learned in The Avenger, the Wardrobe is not only the portal through which Bennet’s may pass from their current here/now to a future where/when, but it is also the worldly manifestation of The Old One. This entity has as its sole purpose the maintenance of equilibrium in a universe which is powered by the forces of the Six Loves: Lewis’ four plus my Fifth and Niebuhr’s ultimate (Sixth), the love which forgives.
The core question remains: can Lydia Bennet Wickham use the Fifth Love to create the best version of herself.
My response is a resounding Yes!
You see, I believe that the Lydia of the Wardrobe is the embodiment of all the great traits demonstrated individually by her sisters. She exhibits Jane’s uncommon sense of fairness, Elizabeth’s impetuous nature, Mary’s thoughtful dedication, and Kitty’s extraordinary leadership. I will not endeavor to explain the previous characterizations here.
While Austen holds Lydia up as a horrific cautionary tale, I subscribe to a slightly less stark version, that of the Prodigal Son. With Lydia, her selfish nature leads her into peril. She is forced to marry a despicable man (the examination of Wickham’s redemption must also wait). She is dispatched to the outer reaches of England, to the cold, miserable climes of Newcastle, there to discover just what it means to be the wife of a lowly lieutenant.
There is the true beginning of her path from the depths.
Kitty, as the Dowager Countess of Matlock (11th), returns from her life in 1932 to 1811 (see The Countess Visits Longbourn). While her overt purpose is to assist Mr. Bennet in the creation of the Bennet Family Trust and the implementation of the Founder’s Letters, the Wardrobe has a different scheme in mind. Kitty lifts the scales from Lydia’s eyes in a powerful meeting. She then goes on to foster Lydia’s “education” during Epiphany.
The Wardrobe later sends Lydia to Kitty to continue her learning, although this time in the dark days of World War II.
The Pilgrim uses Austen’s note about Lydia’s character—that anything in a red coat is to be pursued—as its structural basis. The Wardrobe needs to expand her education to enable her to become its working tool to realize its ultimate goal. Thus, the cabinet uses soldiers as the means through which she uncovers that which she will need to understand about humanity.
Structured as a triptych, The Pilgrim first continues the exploration of the Lydia/Wickham relationship through 1815. Here she learns about the soldier’s wife’s portion…that of enduring uncertainty followed by joy, fear culminating in crushing pain.
The second book explores her time at Deauville with her sister, now an elderly, ailing woman in her seventies. Lydia’s insertion into a wartime household in Occupied France offers her a first-hand perspective on the realities of war: no balls or parties, just the grinding cruelty of those who would be masters. In the midst of it, though, she discovers the ambiguities of “sides.” Long had she been taught that the enemy was craven and bloodthirsty. Yet, in the figure of Hans Richter, she finds a noble heart devoted to duty and selfless sacrifice. That he wore feldgrau and not scarlet was immaterial.
Once Lydia returns to her own timeframe, she spends years on the periphery of the Darcy-Fitzwilliam clan, gradually finding an old warrior, one whose sacrifice was that he survived. She and General Sir Richard Fitzwilliam move along together in the current that is the Wardrobe’s Universe. Yet, it is her own sacrifice, that final payment, that completes her remolding into the tool needed by the Wardrobe.
It is difficult to compose a blog exploring the complexities of a 151,000-word novel without spoiling the reading. I do hope that this gives you some insight into how Lydia Bennet fits into the Wardrobe’s greater scheme.
Please enjoy this excerpt from The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion. I look forward to replying to your comments.
Excerpt
Chapter VIII
After Sergeant Wilson’s cricket ball made an unexpected appearance at breakfast the day after the three soldiers returned from Spain, t’was decided to take full advantage of the break in the heat that had beset Hertfordshire. A cricket match serves at the background for this next scene between Lydia and George.
Exultant cheers and raucous jeers rose up into the turquoise, cotton-dappled hemisphere that arched above Longbourn’s grounds. T’was the sound of boys at play. Mrs. Bennet sarcastically reminded herself to be certain that Tom Coachman’s bottle of horse liniment made its way to Mr. Bennet’s chamber before the dinner gong.
All men are convinced that they are but eight-and-ten even when their looking glass tells them otherwise. They will deny any infirmity of age until they are hunched over like a gnarled pilgrim groaning because of their foolhardiness.
The population at Longbourn Manor had swelled as both Bennets had sent flash messages to their circle—Fanny to the ladies and Thomas to the gentlemen. The result of this draft was now displayed in the grassy reaches behind Bennet manse. Three distinct groups, two of roughly equal size and one a bare twosome, were arrayed as their disposition was so inclined.
The players had divided themselves into two sides. Bennet captained John Lucas, Charlie Tomkins, and James Footman. Campbell, for his part, had proven his contrition by selecting Henry Wilson, Walter Goulding, and the youngest, in part to offset the Sergeant’s obvious advantages, Sammy Lucas. Stripped to shirtsleeves, the men gamboled about belying the decades in their knees and snow in their hair—at least on the part of Bennet and Sir William. The elder Goulding had determined not to join in and had relegated himself to the spectator seats as he again was suffering from gout. Thus, Sir William stood as sole umpire, although he chased around the grounds equally cheering on his sons.
The pitch was laid out on the sward that stretched from the veranda on the back of the house. The far boundary was the front edge of Mrs. Bennet’s pride-and-joy, her rose beds.
The Lucas men had, upon Mr. Bennet’s entreaties, emptied their closets of bats and wickets, deposited there as the boys were forced into more solitary pursuits in a neighborhood uniquely bereft of young males. As many a local matron had lamented, there must have been something about Meryton’s water that led to the birthing of a regiment of young ladies during the final decade of the last century.
The ladies, matrons and misses alike, had clustered on the flagstone piazza, shaded now by Longbourn’s bulk from the afternoon sun which had earlier passed over the roof. There they sipped from pitchers of Mrs. Hill’s delicious lemonade and nibbled on small cakes and sandwiches. Mrs. Bennet flinched from time-to-time as one batsman or another would send the ball looping above the verdant lawn stretching from the veranda out toward her rose beds which dominated the bulk of what once had been referred to as a pretty little wilderness. Her protestations fell unacknowledged on the ears of the players. Lady Lucas discreetly supported her sons while her daughter, Maria, devoured a letter from her betrothed, the young Commander Will Rochet, delivered to her hands by Laura Wilson. The Sergeant had received it directly from Rochet when the Sprite raised Portsmouth.
Two of Longbourn’s denizens neither sat on the veranda nor bowled. The duo had found privacy in plain sight: a small stone bench tucked beneath overhanging oaks, richly shaded by a leafy canopy. There they rested; he looked not at the lady but rather into an indeterminant middle distance. She, however, focused entirely on his ruggedly handsome chiseled features. His blue eyes, sparkling chips of azure deeply set above distinctive cheekbones, stared unseeing out at the players chasing around before him.
Wickham’s jaw was set, not in anger, but in response to the inchoate thoughts tumbling through his mind. He sat near-motionless, although Lydia, close as she was to his side, could see the slightest movement beneath the light shadow of whiskers bristling his cheek as hidden muscles reacted to micro-twitches triggered by the intensity of his thoughts.
Lydia gently gripped her husband’s thigh, still firm despite five weeks in a sick-bed, and softly spoke to him, “George…George.”
“Hmmm?”
“George, where are you? You surely are not here with me.
“No, please do not think I am some selfish wench, concerned only about ribbons, bonnets, and the next compliment I will be paid” she continued, “That girl is long dead.
“No, George, I know that you are reliving something. And, dearest, if you must do that alone, I can understand.
“I know.
“Marty Smithvale told me how disturbed and depleted Billy was when the First Battalion returned to Newcastle after you replaced them in Portugal. It took him months to recover. Even then, he rarely slept through the night.
“So, I do know even if I have not seen that which troubles you. And, if you need to talk and neither the Sergeant nor Tomkins are around, I always will be.”
Wickham’s hand crept up and covered hers where it rested on his leg.
He inhaled a deep and ragged breath.
Even the Guide has not helped. Try as I might, I can never reach out to earn that inner comfort I feel when with him. Maybe my mind is not enough at peace to allow him to join me.
Not shifting his gaze, he replied, “Lydie, my Titania must not be burdened with my doleful reveries.* ‘Tis a soldier’s portion to be sorely tested both on the field and off.”
The adolescent matron nodded at the truth of this assertion, but resolutely replied, “And, my Oberon forgets that ‘tis a wife’s portion to shoulder the same burden, to allow her king surcease from darkling dreams that try his soul.”
Her resounding declaration of support shook Wickham from his brown study. He turned to her and regarded her as if seeing his wife for the first time.
He recalled the vision in rose that had glided into his arms that remarkable night in the Year Twelve. T’was nearly two months before he learned that the beauty hidden beneath the bauta and tricorn hat was none other than his lady wife. Yet, across intervening fortnights, he had severely tasked himself, Darcy-like he wryly grinned to himself, for his unaccountable attraction to the unknown tigress who strode across Madras House’s great parquet floor. Her first touch after Harlequin had declared her Queen, the great frisson that shook Wickham’s core, was an unforgettable and blessed memory that colored his life during all his lonely months on the Peninsula.
Lust, passion, the mutual joy we shared in each other’s arms: those were the start of it. We both began our change at the hands of the Countess, to be sure. Even then, the dear girl still could easily be overset by the sight of a milliner’s shop. Now, young Lydia Wickham has, with a single sentence, shown me that she is nothing like the fluff-brained Bennet child who threw herself at anything wearing the King’s red coat.
If she has been so altered since last March, how must she see me?
His hand captured hers as he ardently drilled into the depths of those emerald green pools. Then he slowly lifted it to caress her knuckles with his lips, cracked and chapped from constant licking as he sought to moisten them first in the xeric Iberian air and then, later, as the salt spray was thrown up from Sprite’s mustaches misted his face.
Lydia’s eyes widened at his tenderness, not necessarily unexpected, but rather something she had long been missing. The bands that had held her heart in check while her husband was with the Army were loosed in one fell swoop. But, this version of Mrs. Wickham would not engage in an untoward public display of affection. The most she allowed herself was to carefully plant a kiss on the shoulder seam of his tunic.
Lifting her chin, Lydia regarded her husband with a dewiness of eye that promised much, but only within the bounds of propriety. George could see that he was once again in her garden and would be subject to her rule. Lydia would be the one to transport him to other realms of bliss, but not until she was sure of his recovery.
He vowed to pay close attention to her prescriptions knowing that his reward would surely follow.
* See the Madras House Twelfth Night Ball in The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn.
The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier's Portion
by Don Jacobson
Blurb:
“My life has been very much like an unfinished painting. The artist comes to the portrait day-after-day to splash daubs of color onto bare canvas, filling in the blanks of my story. Thus grows the likeness, imperfect as it may be, which you see today.”
Does it matter how a man fills out his regimentals? Miss Austen never considered that query. Yet, this question marks the beginning of an education…and the longest life…in the Bennet Wardrobe saga.
Lydia Bennet, Longbourn’s most wayward daughter, embarks on her quest in The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion. This biography reveals how the Wardrobe helps young Mrs. Wickham learn that honor and bravery grow not from the color of the uniform—or the gender of its wearer—but rather from the contents of the heart.
In the process, she realizes that she must be broken and repaired, as if by a kintsugi master potter, to become the most useful player in the Bennet Wardrobe’s great drama.
“Multifaceted and nuanced, The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion, speaks to the verities of life. Once again, Don Jacobson has combined the essence of Pride and Prejudice with an esoteric story line and the universal themes of redemption and forgiveness in this well-crafted narrative.” ~ Mirta Ines Trupp, author of The Meyersons of Meryton
by Don Jacobson
Blurb:
“My life has been very much like an unfinished painting. The artist comes to the portrait day-after-day to splash daubs of color onto bare canvas, filling in the blanks of my story. Thus grows the likeness, imperfect as it may be, which you see today.”
Lydia Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, letter to her sister
Elizabeth Bennet Darcy, March 14, 1831.
Does it matter how a man fills out his regimentals? Miss Austen never considered that query. Yet, this question marks the beginning of an education…and the longest life…in the Bennet Wardrobe saga.
Lydia Bennet, Longbourn’s most wayward daughter, embarks on her quest in The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion. This biography reveals how the Wardrobe helps young Mrs. Wickham learn that honor and bravery grow not from the color of the uniform—or the gender of its wearer—but rather from the contents of the heart.
In the process, she realizes that she must be broken and repaired, as if by a kintsugi master potter, to become the most useful player in the Bennet Wardrobe’s great drama.
“Multifaceted and nuanced, The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion, speaks to the verities of life. Once again, Don Jacobson has combined the essence of Pride and Prejudice with an esoteric story line and the universal themes of redemption and forgiveness in this well-crafted narrative.” ~ Mirta Ines Trupp, author of The Meyersons of Meryton
Buy: Amazon US • Amazon UK
Add to Goodreads
FTC Disclaimer: Link to Amazon. I am an Amazon Associate. Should you purchase a copy of the book through the link provided, I will receive a small commission. Thanks!
About the Author
Don Jacobson has written professionally for forty years. His output has ranged from news and features to advertising, television and radio. His work has been nominated for Emmys and other awards. He has previously published five books, all non-fiction. In 2016, he began publishing The Bennet Wardrobe Series—The Keeper: Mary Bennet’s Extraordinary Journey (2016)
Henry Fitzwilliam’s War (2016)
The Exile: Kitty Bennet and the Belle Époque (2017)
Lizzy Bennet Meets the Countess (2017)
The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn (2018)
The Avenger: Thomas Bennet and a Father’s Lament (2018)
The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier’s Portion (2019)
Jacobson is also part of the collective effort behind the publication of the upcoming North and South anthology, Falling for Mr. Thornton: Tales of North and South due out in the Fall of 2019.
Other Austenesque Variations include the paired books “Of Fortune’s Reversal” (2016) and “The Maid and The Footman.” (2016) Lessers and Betters offers readers the paired novellas in one volume to allow a better appreciation of the “Upstairs-Downstairs” mentality that drives the stories.
Jacobson holds an advanced degree in History with a specialty in American Foreign Relations. As a college instructor, Don teaches United States History, World History, the History of Western Civilization and Research Writing.
He is a member of JASNA. Likewise, Don is a member of the Austen Authors collective (see the internet, Facebook and Twitter).
He lives in the Las Vegas, Nevada area with his wife and co-author, Pam, a woman Ms. Austen would have been hard-pressed to categorize, and their rather assertive four-and-twenty pound cat, Bear. Besides thoroughly immersing himself in the JAFF world, Don also enjoys cooking; dining out, fine wine and well-aged scotch whiskey.
His other passion is cycling. Most days from April through October will find him “putting in the miles” around the Seattle area (yes there are hills). He has ridden several “centuries” (100 mile days). Don is especially proud that he successfully completed the AIDS Ride—Midwest (500 miles from Minneapolis to Chicago) and the Make-A-Wish Miracle Ride (300 miles from Traverse City, MI to Brooklyn, MI).
Connect with Don Jacobson
Blog Tour Schedule
9/26 So Little Time…
* * * GIVEAWAY * * *
It's giveaway time! As part of this tour, Don is giving away 4 eBooks of The Pilgrim: Lydia Bennet and a Soldier's Portion. Enter through the Rafflecopter below!
Many thanks to Don Jacobson for visiting us today! I enjoyed hearing his thoughts on the Bennet family and his stories sound so fascinating!
Also, a big thanks to Janet Taylor @ More Agreeably Engaged for organizing and including me in this blog tour!
Wow! What a huge change in both Lydia and Wickham! What are your thoughts? We'd love to hear! And please feel free to leave Don any questions!
