by Kay Bea
The longer she lay awake in bed, the worse her imaginings became. From the hateful words of her mother and sister, her mind drifted to Darcy’s proposal and that night in Kent. Would that I had lost my ability to speak! Foolish, foolish vanity! And now I am ruined. He will not want me. Elizabeth felt the meal she had eaten earlier turn sour and only just found the chamber pot in time.
Having decided she could not possibly sleep and thinking the house quiet enough that everyone else must be in bed, Elizabeth decided to slip downstairs to the sitting room for her book. Perhaps if she read for a time, she would at last find sleep. She quickly lit a candle and crept quietly down the stairs. As she reached Colonel Forster’s office, Elizabeth heard a voice that caused her heart to beat rapidly within her chest.
He is here. He has come. The words repeated over and over in her head like the pounding of a drum, every beat bringing relief. She could not make out his words, but even from several paces away there was no mistaking the timbre of Darcy’s voice. She barely stopped herself opening the door and running into his arms. She knew, even without ever having been there, that in those arms she would find relief from all the turmoil, the guilt, the complete desolation of the past two days. She went to the door and placed her hand on the knob before she forced herself to stop. Her private and reserved Mr Darcy would not appreciate her creating such a scene. Determined not to embarrass either him or herself, she stood outside the door and sought comfort from the sound of his voice.
She was close enough to make out the words coming from inside. “Then she is ruined. She will destroy the hopes of all her sisters. I must leave at once. I cannot delay a moment longer.” Elizabeth’s heart stopped, and she pressed her fist to her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping. She heard the colonel ask, “What do you mean, you must leave at once?” before she turned and fled back to her room.
Elizabeth’s mind fought to discover some other meaning behind Darcy’s words. He could not have been referring to her. Yet in the worst of her dreams, Darcy would walk away because he could not bear the shame of her company. Now her nightmares were brought to life. It was finally too much. He could overlook her connexions, her previous refusal, her ridiculous sister, and even her vulgar mother, but not this. He could not look past her shame at the hands of his enemy. He must blame her. Surely, he could not risk Georgiana’s future. He would never connect his beloved sister to such a scandal. Darcy was right. Elizabeth was ruined, and Lydia had destroyed the hopes of all her sisters.
Elizabeth Bennet, how often have you misunderstood this man? You shall not despair because of one conversation. She went back down the stairs, hoping he was still in the house to confront him with what she had heard. She proceeded at a most unladylike pace and nearly fell in her rush to return to the study, but her efforts were to no avail. The room was already dark and the whole of the ground floor was silent. In desperation, she flung open the front door. The rain had finally relented, and moonlight broke through the clouds.
He was there, on the road in front of the cottage, looking out his carriage window. Their eyes met and for an instant she thought he would go. Moments later, she was in his arms and he was murmuring into her hair, “Elizabeth, my Elizabeth.”
She could not speak but clung tightly to his chest, basking in the comfort of his embrace. She felt his warm lips press to her forehead before he cupped her face in both hands and raised her face to meet his in a sweetly agonizing kiss. Their first kiss. When at last they parted, he used his thumbs to brush the dampness from her cheeks. Then with a final kiss to the top of her head, he whispered, “I regret this more than you can you know, but I must leave, Elizabeth.” Before she knew what he was about, he was once again in his carriage, looking at her through the glass. His hand pressed the window as if in farewell, and he was gone. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and did not move until the carriage was out of sight.
Feeling her heart might break, she fled to her room, confused and desperate to compose a letter. She would send it through Miss Darcy. She only hoped the poor girl would not be too scandalised by such an action. As for her own reputation, Elizabeth reasoned it could not suffer much more than it already had. She gathered her writing supplies and after several attempts, managed to compose her two letters. The first, to Georgiana, was short, and she hoped her friend would be forgiving and not see any offense where none was meant. Elizabeth could only hope Miss Darcy would accede to her wishes and deliver the second letter to her brother.
Penwood Cottage, Brighton
My darling Fitzwilliam,
Only now when I may have lost the right forever, do I find the courage to address you so. If I have lost that right, I can only beg your forgiveness for imposing on you in this manner and ask that you do me the honour of reading this letter before you consign it to the flames. I write because your words and deeds this night have left me bewildered. So much of our past has been plagued by misunderstanding and assumption. I thought it best to ask what you could have meant rather than believing the worst.
Tonight, you came to Brighton and called on Colonel Forster. The hour was so late I had already gone to bed. Yet, I found I was unable to rest. As I could not sleep, I made my way to the sitting room in search of a book. I heard your voice from the colonel’s study, and your words pierced my soul. ‘She is ruined. She will destroy the hopes of all her sisters. I must leave at once.’ I fled from those words and all they could mean before I heard anything more. Then my courage returned, and I came after you. You know what happened then.
Even as I write these words, I can still feel your hands upon my face and your mouth on mine. My lips burn from your kiss. You apologised and left, and now I do not know if your kiss was born of hope or of regret.
Please, I beg of you, please say that you were not leaving me, leaving us. If you were, then know that I will always treasure your love. Before you, I never truly understood the words of the Bard when he said, ‘Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better.’ I did not seek your love, but when I found it, it was a glorious thing. You hold my heart, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and you always shall.
I will return to Netherfield as soon as may be. If there is anything left to be said between us, please find a way to write me there. Until then, I remain
Faithfully yours,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth sanded and sealed her letters, enclosing one inside the other and writing the direction ‘Darcy House,’ and then took the packet down to be sent with the morning post. Returning to her room, she fell into a fitful sleep.
The Bingleys arrived the following day and were met outside by Elizabeth and Colonel Forster; Mrs Forster kept to her rooms with a headache. Hardly waiting for Jane to step down from the carriage, Elizabeth threw herself into her sister’s waiting arms.
“Hush now. All will be well. I am here.” Jane spoke soothing words to her sister, stroking Elizabeth’s hair, and the gentlemen decided to let them be.
Colonel Forster invited Bingley to his study and his housekeeper promptly brought tea.
“I fear I have bad news.” The colonel then relayed the tale of Miss Lydia and Wickham’s flight.
“I would not be surprised to learn my mother Bennet assisted them. From what I know, Miss Lydia has always been her favourite. My concern must be for Elizabeth, but I will send an express to her father.”
“I had hoped to intercept them on the road. They could not have been too far from here when their absence was discovered. Unfortunately, the roads did not allow for easy pursuit, and by this morning, it seemed all trace of them was gone. We have had no success either on the London road or on roads north. Whatever Miss Lydia believed, it is unlikely the lieutenant had the same intentions. In addition to his debts of honour, I have learned he owed nearly every shopkeeper in Brighton. No one has reported a missing coach, but neither are they known to have hired a private carriage, nor to have taken the post. It is most disconcerting.”
“Is it possible they walked to a nearby villag
e?” Bingley asked.
“Anything seems possible. I had not thought Miss Lydia one for walking miles in the rain but given her demeanour these last days… Who knows? Perhaps she thought it an adventure.”
They spoke for a while longer before the colonel asked, “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”
“Thank you for your hospitality but we will press on towards London and then Longbourn. Mr Bennet is anxious to see his daughter.”
“And she is in need of her family at such a time as this.”
“I find I must agree. Thank you,” Bingley said as he rose.
The gentlemen moved to the parlour where they thought to find Jane and her sister. Seeing his wife looking wan and standing alone near a large window, Bingley went immediately to her, and Colonel Forster suddenly recalled a matter of some urgency that required his attention in his study.
“Jane?” When she did not reply, he stood behind his wife and wrapped her in a comforting embrace. His chin rested on her head, and she leaned into him.
“I do not know how to comfort her. Never have I hated anyone. But I despise them, Charles. I hate Wickham and even Lydia for what they have done to Elizabeth, and I do not like the feeling. The fear of being forced to marry Wickham and the terrible things Lydia said have wounded my sister, and I do not know how to help her. I do not know how I shall bear travelling to London with Lydia. I am so angry.”
It was not until Jane finished speaking that he realised she, and therefore Elizabeth, did not know of Lydia’s escape. Bingley pulled back a little and guided his wife to a nearby settee and sat beside her. “Dearest, there is more. I thought Lizzy would have told you, but she must not know.”
“Must not know what?”
“Lydia and Wickham have run off. They were discovered missing last night.”
“No, that is impossible. It cannot be. There must be some mistake. She had no money, and I cannot think he has funds for such a venture.”
Bingley took her hands in his and waited until she looked up at him. “It is probable they received assistance from your mother. When Lydia’s room was searched, they found a letter from Mrs Bennet among her things.”
“I should be shocked, but I am not. Mama sent Elizabeth a vile missive. Evidently she had heard from Lydia.” Jane handed the note to her husband as she spoke. “She must have sent her note to Lydia at the same time. Lord, what can be done? I know Mama too well. She will delight in telling her story to all of Meryton. She will not hesitate to defend Lydia and shame Elizabeth. When she has finished, she will have convinced everyone who hears of Elizabeth’s ruin and Lydia’s innocence!”
His wife’s voice was filled with panic, but Bingley remained calm. “We will ask your father to intervene before your mother has the opportunity to do so. I already intended to send an express informing him of Lydia’s elopement. I will enclose this,” he waved the offending letter, “and the note found in Lydia’s things and suggest he remind your mother that it will not only be Elizabeth who is ruined by gossip, but her younger sisters as well.”
Jane rested her head on his shoulder and said, “I hope you are correct, for all our sake.”
Bingley kissed the top of her head and excused himself to write his letters. He returned a quarter of an hour later. “That business is done. We may depart as soon as…” His stopped speaking as Elizabeth entered the room. “Lizzy, I am glad—no. That is…” Not since his first meeting Jane at Gracechurch Street had his vocabulary seemed so inadequate to the occasion.
Elizabeth saved him further embarrassment and stepped towards him with her hands outstretched and, as he took them in his own with a gentle squeeze, said, “I am glad you are come, Charles. Thank you.”
“I am pleased to be of service. I was saying we shall depart as soon as may be. We will go as far as London, and soon you shall be home,” Bingley said.
“Where is Lydia? Will she not return with us?”
Jane glanced at him and answered, “Lydia ran away last night—with him. I regret adding to your troubles. I did not know of it myself until after Charles spoke with Colonel Forster.”
“Stupid, foolish girl! Would that I could pity her choices, but I cannot. But what of our other sisters? What will become of them?”
“It is too soon to know, Lizzy. Charles has sent an express to Papa. We are hopeful he can stem the gossip.”
“Colonel Forster has been searching for them to the North. They may yet be discovered,” Bingley added.
As if by arrangement, the housekeeper appeared at that moment with Colonel Forster behind her.
Bingley spoke for the entire party: “Thank you, Colonel. On behalf of all our family, allow me to thank you for the care you have given Elizabeth these past days.”
“Your gratitude is undeserved, but welcome, nonetheless. I wish you a safe journey.”
Colonel Forster moved to shake Bingley’s hand, but Elizabeth stepped forward. “It is not undeserved, sir. You found me last night on the beach, and you continue to look for my foolish sister. For that I shall always be grateful.”
He answered with the authority of an elder brother. “It was a risk well worth the taking, Miss Bennet. Remember that.”
“I shall endeavour to try, Colonel.” Elizabeth gave him the barest of smiles and turned to the housekeeper. “And I feel that I must both apologise and thank you, Mrs Brooks. You have demonstrated unexampled patience, even in the face of my stubborn rejection of such overtures. Your kindness shall not be soon forgot.”
“Yer a good lass, dearie. As good as they come.”
Once they were off, they talked again of Lydia and Wickham. “He will not marry her. He cannot afford a wife, especially not one as spoilt as Lydia, even if he should wish to have one,” Elizabeth said with conviction.
Bingley nodded. “Colonel Forster agrees with you, as do I. Whatever else he is thinking, Wickham does not mean to marry your sister. If they are found, it will be best if she is sent away. We had thought to send her to live with my aunt in Northumbria, but, under the circumstances, I think it would be better to ask for my aunt’s assistance in locating a tenant who might be persuaded to marry a fallen gentlewoman.”
The subject of Lydia’s options and the potential consequences to the family was canvassed for some time before the trio lapsed into silence. Bingley was glad to see it was not long before the motion of the carriage, likely combined with the warmth of the day, caused his new sister to doze.
True to his newfound convictions, Mr Bennet had not retreated to the safety of his book room. The Bennet patriarch had taken to spending several hours each day in company with Mary and Kitty. Feeling the guilt of his previous neglect, he wondered how he had not recognised what treasures resided under his own roof. He was sitting for a sketch by Kitty and listening to Mary practise her new music when Bingley’s express arrived.
“What is it?” Mary came swiftly to his side with Kitty not far behind.
“What news, Papa?”
“Before I share it with you, I must speak with your mother.”
Mr Bennet went to his wife who had yet to emerge from her bedchamber. “Mrs Bennet? Pray open the door.”
“I will not.”
Mr Bennet was not inclined to argue through closed doors, and, without further comment, he unlocked the door and admitted himself to his wife’s chambers. Her complaints of ill-usage began almost at once.
Mr Bennet ignored his wife and glanced about the room. It was in complete chaos. It appeared as though the window had been left open during a great storm. There were articles of clothing strewn about, the dressing table was in disarray, the writing desk was covered in wax drippings, and the remains of a tea tray sat discarded in one corner. His wife looked scarcely better than her surroundings. Her gown was wrinkled, her hair stringy, and she was possessed of a sour odour. “Mrs Bennet, I have received an express from Brighton.”
“What has happened to my Lydia? You must tell me, Mr Bennet!”
“I will be happy
to discuss this with you in my book room. Kindly refresh yourself and join me there in a quarter of an hour.”
This set off a fresh round of complaints that concluded with, “Oh, Mr Bennet!” She wailed. “You are too cruel! You cannot leave me in such distress!”
Mr Bennet looked at his wife. “I have no wish to cause you distress. However, you are the mistress of this estate and mother to five daughters. I would have you behave as such. Please join me downstairs and we will discuss my letter.”
Half an hour later, Mr Bennet eyed his wife carefully from where he sat and thought it was good there would be a desk between them. “Sit down, Mrs Bennet. This will not be a brief conversation, and I will not have you collapsing from a fit of nerves.”
Mrs Bennet complied instantly.
“Have you had occasion to write to your daughters recently?” Mr Bennet asked in a deceptively calm voice.
“May I not write my own child?” Mrs Bennet asked defensively.
“I will take that as confirmation.” He sat back in apparent thought before continuing. “And what had you to say to your children?”
Mrs Bennet fidgeted in her chair and clutched her handkerchief tightly before answering. “I do not recall. I spoke of generalities and the trivial news of the neighbourhood. I am certain I spoke of Mrs Long’s nieces and their new gowns and everything that occurred at last week’s assembly, nothing of consequence to be certain.”
“Nothing of consequence, you say?”
“Nothing at all,” Mrs Bennet said defiantly.
“So, you did not help one daughter elope while calling the other wanton before disowning her?”
