For a moment, an assessing look crossed her face, and she summoned an ingratiating smile, horribly reminiscent of Caroline Bingley’s. 'You may call me whatever pleases you, sir.'
Darcy's gaze narrowed. 'You would do well not to try and play me, madam.'
The smile faded as quickly as it had come. 'No indeed. Then perhaps ‘madam’ will have to suffice!'
‘Whatever name you give yourself these days, you were once a Miss Lydia Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. You have four sisters and a father, and—’
At this, Lydia got to her feet, glaring at Darcy. ‘He has the gall to call himself a father?’
Darcy rose to his not inconsiderable height, and she took a step backwards, sitting down with a thump on the mound of hay. Then, the flash of anger drained from her, and she slumped back against the wall, shivering.
‘No father should cast a daughter off; yet he claimed he had no choice,’ Lydia whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the distance for a moment, then turned eyes wet with unshed tears up to Darcy. ‘He never cared for me; he never cared for Mama. We were his biggest regret, even before… before it all happened.’
Darcy took out his handkerchief and stepped forward to offer it to her, and after a momentary hesitation she took it, blowing her nose noisily into the starched white cotton.
'I wish to help you, Miss Be...' Her look stopped him. 'If you will not give me a name, I shall continue to address you by the one I know you for. The choice is yours.'
Lydia drew in a breath. 'Very well; it is Sarah. I go by the name of Sarah Hawes.' She hesitated. ‘Mrs Sarah Hawes.’
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Darcy frowned, and Lydia Bennet huffed. ‘I can hardly pass myself off as a ‘miss’. Thus I have been obliged to play the role of a young widow, though I was never so much as wed.’ She sighed. ‘How Mama wished for me to marry.’
Ignoring this, Darcy flexed his shoulders slightly to ease the tension in them. Then he said in a gentler tone: ‘I was sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.’
Lydia’s brow rose. ‘Truly? I would have thought it troubled you little.’
‘Whatever you may think of me, Miss—Mrs Hawes, I do not have a heart of stone. I lost my own mother when I was of similar age to you. You have my deepest sympathy.’
For a moment, Lydia had the grace to look abashed. ‘I suppose I should thank you.’ She frowned, turning to look over at the reverend. ‘And what is he doing here? Do you fear for your reputation, Mr Darcy?’
‘No; it is your reputation I seek to protect as best I can.’
‘Hah!’ Lydia laughed but without humour. ‘It is a little too late for that. You would do better to save your breath.’
Darcy studied her thoughtfully as he sat down again. What was he to do with this girl? He could not take her back to Pemberley, certainly not with the Latimers still in residence, but something must be done.
'Why did you ask to see me?’
Lydia shrugged. ‘There is something I require, and I believe you will get it for me.'
‘And what might that be?’
‘I am in need of funds.’
Darcy cursed himself for not anticipating this. ‘You ask on Wickham’s behalf?'
Lydia frowned. 'Wickham? What of him?'
'Where is he?'
'I neither know nor care.' Lydia threw Darcy a curious look. 'What is it to you?'
'I have my reasons for wishing to establish his present whereabouts.'
With a further shrug, she leaned back against the wall. 'I have not seen him in a twelve-month and hope never to do so again. He played me for a fool, and I fell for it willingly.'
Once more, Darcy felt his culpability. He had opened Elizabeth's eyes to Wickham's perfidious nature, yet had given her no leave to do the same service for those around her. This was, ultimately, as much his fault as any other's, and he had a moral obligation—nay, a duty—to do all in his limited power to improve things.
Darcy got to his feet again, running a hand through his hair. Damn his moral duty! He would leave no avenue unexplored in striving to make things as right as he could, and for one reason alone: his abiding love for Elizabeth Bennet. That she might be comforted by anything he could do to improve her sister's plight was his only true consideration.
He turned to address the girl. 'Miss Bennet...' She glared at him again. 'I beg your pardon. Mrs Hawes. Will you place your trust in me? I wish to aid you.'
Lydia eyed him warily. 'I have found little to trust in the men of my acquaintance in the past. They have done me no favour.'
'I appreciate that.' Darcy hesitated. He could give no real assurances at this moment. 'If it will help you in coming to a decision on such a commitment, then I must tell you, your sister Miss Elizabeth Bennet has lately placed her trust in me.'
Lydia smirked, and despite her wasted features, Darcy was reminded sharply of the young lady she used to be. ‘It is no surprise to me you asked it of her.'
Darcy frowned. 'How so?'
'I saw you; outside the church at Kympton but a few weeks ago. If there is one thing I do comprehend, sir, it is how to interpret the look in a man's eye when it is transfixed upon a lady in admiration.'
A little discomfited, Darcy cast a quick glance in Wentworth’s direction, but he had assumed a noncommittal expression.
Clearing his throat again, Darcy pressed on. 'Though you have eschewed the name of Bennet, I hope you still wish to acknowledge your own kin, however discreetly it must be done?'
For a moment, she looked away, and Darcy thought she was going to rail against her father again, but then she turned back. There was wetness to her lashes once more, and her voice trembled as she spoke.
'Do you know what it is to have a sister, Mr Darcy?’
‘I do.’
‘Then perhaps you will understand what drew me here. It was a compelling need to look upon the faces of my sisters once more, to hopefully hear their voices.' She sighed. ‘Though I do not know where Mary and Kitty are, seeing Jane and Lizzy has been sufficient to keep me here, despite the appalling conditions under which I am living. It is far preferable to being cut off from them, many miles distant, with not even correspondence to lighten my heart. I had thought it would be sufficient to see them; to know they are well and happy. But it was not so. I felt unable to leave; even yesterday, after I had been seen.’ Then, she lowered her head, almost talking to herself. ‘Not that it would signify; without funds, how can I travel?’
Compassion rose in Darcy's breast, taking him by surprise, and he turned away. He could not imagine the pain of being kept away from his sister, his cousin, every single person of familiarity to him, and his home too. To anticipate never having sight of them ever again, or even word, was beyond his comprehension, and he began to understand how it might make one desperate.
Turning back, Darcy took a step closer to where Lydia sat huddled into her cloak. 'Then I ask again, Mrs Hawes. Will you put your trust in me?'
She peered up at him. 'I have nothing to lose, have I? What is it you wish from me?
‘If I am to be of any assistance to you, I need you tell me what happened after you went away with Wickham.’
Lydia glanced towards Wentworth and bit her lip.
‘Mr Wentworth is entirely to be trusted.’
She looked from the reverend back to Darcy, then nodded.
‘Wickham soon tired of me once we reached Town. He found us lodgings with an old friend, a Mrs Younge, but even she would not tolerate his failure to pay a fair rent. We ended up in this inn located in a very poor part of Town, and within a few weeks, Wickham grew impatient with his circumstances, blaming me for our situation. His eye had begun to wander, settling on a serving wench; I came across them both in our room. We argued—not for the first time—and he threw me out with only the clothes I stood up in. Everything I owned was left behind.’
‘Did you know there was a fire at the inn?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘Not at f
irst. I had thrown myself on the mercy of Mrs Younge. I suspect I was not the first of Wickham’s cast-offs to do so.’ She stirred restlessly on her seat of hay bales, her air and countenance indicative of her discomfort in recalling such a time. ‘She was not of a charitable disposition, however, and insisted the next day I return to claim my possessions, repay her in kind.’ She drew in an unsteady breath. ‘When I got there, the inn was destroyed, lying in smoking ruins all about. I know nothing of what happened to Wickham, but I hope he is dead.’
Knowing he was not, Darcy turned away and walked a few paces across the barn. That was something he would have to deal with later. For now, he needed to do all he could to salvage this situation.
Turning back, he walked slowly over to where Lydia remained. She had begun to shiver again.
‘Do you wish to continue?’
Lydia looked up at Darcy, then tilted her head to one side. ‘You are not what I anticipated.’ Then, she shrugged. ‘I have little choice, but my throat is dry. May I have something to drink?’
Darcy looked to Wentworth, who rose and walked over to where a tray bearing an empty bowl and a metal cup lay. ‘I will fill this from the water trough and return directly.’
Lydia’s eyes followed Wentworth as he left the barn; then, she peered up at Darcy. ‘Would you do something for me, sir?’
Darcy spoke cautiously. ‘If it is within my power.’
For the first time, Lydia smiled properly. ‘All I wish for is that you resume your seat. I am gaining quite the crick in my neck from looking up at you.’
Walking back, Darcy resumed his seat on the hay bale.
‘That is better. Thank you.’ Lydia turned to accept the filled cup from Wentworth, who also retook his seat as she drank thirstily.
‘May I ask what happened to you after the fire; where you have been this past year?’
Lydia cradled the empty cup in her lap, then nodded. ‘I stayed with Mrs Younge for a while. I assured her my family would reimburse her for any costs. I wrote to my father...’ she pulled a face, but said nothing more about the gentleman. ‘And he came, but he would not let me come home. I had damaged my sisters' reputations, they were tainted by my actions and so were their prospects. I felt he must exaggerate, surely he was just punishing me and would relent, but to my dismay, he insisted. I was placed with a lady—a Mrs Wood—in a village quite northwards. She had set up an establishment to provide a home for... widowed young ladies.’
‘And you have been there all this time?’
‘In exile, Mr Darcy. Dead to anyone who ever knew me.’
‘And how came you to be in Derbyshire?’
‘I had a little money. Papa sends funds regularly, and as I had little use for them, I saved them. I knew not for what purpose, but then I stumbled upon a letter from him to Mrs Wood.’ She looked at Darcy, then to Wentworth. ‘I knew they had left Longbourn, but Papa never told me their destination. Finally, I had an address, and the temptation took hold, became too much. I was able to travel as far as the coach would take me for the money I had saved. I walked the last few miles, but without further funds, I had no way to fend for myself.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I hid in the woodland around The Grange, sometimes venturing as far as the church at Kympton. I realised I could watch Jane and Lizzy with perfect ease from my hiding places.’ She almost smiled. ‘I saw Lizzy in the garden one day. I know she knew someone hid there, but I could not reveal myself or speak to her. I had already damaged my sisters' reputations beyond repair. How could I come to life again when it would risk destroying those I have come to realise I truly love?'
It was a strangely noble sentiment in the circumstances, and once again, Darcy found his compassion roused.
‘And what of Pemberley? I know you have been in the grounds.’
‘There was a storm one night. I needed shelter, so I forced my way into a tower in the woods. It served its purpose, and once I realised Jane and Lizzy were no longer at The Grange but staying at Pemberley, it felt the most fitting place to be.’
'How long have you been here in Derbyshire?'
Lydia shrugged. 'I have lost track of the days. Perhaps ten?' She frowned. ‘What day is it?’
‘Wednesday.’
‘I have tarried too long. ’ She sighed wearily. ‘There is no future for me here. I am cold and tired, yet I do not see that anything can be done other than a return whence I came, if you will aid me by supplying the funds to get me there.'
'It is not quite as simple as that.'
For a moment, fear filled Lydia’s countenance. 'You will not have me locked up? Do you intend to inform the local magistrate of my stealing from the estate?'
‘I have just asked you to place your trust in me, Miss Be-, Mrs Hawes! How could you think so?’
‘Forgive me; I am being nonsensical.’ She lowered her head, and Darcy regretted his impatience.
‘Not at all. Surely you do not wish to leave here without at least speaking to your sisters?’
‘They must hate me.’ Lydia hung her head even lower, her tone despondent. ‘You spoke of my acknowledging my kin.’ She raised anguished eyes to Darcy. ‘My fear is my sisters will not wish to own an acquaintance with me. When one is left in such circumstances, one has too much time for reflection, for regret. Hindsight is a bitter pill, is it nor, sir?' She drew in a shaking breath, but whatever she was about to add was never uttered.
The door to the barn suddenly opened, and as they all turned towards it, Darcy caught his breath. Standing on the threshold was Jane Bennet, Elizabeth by her side.
A gasp came from Lydia’s corner, but Darcy’s gaze was fixed upon her sisters. Jane had raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief, but Elizabeth stepped forward quickly, a tremulous smile touching her lips.
‘Oh, Lydia,’ she said softly, her voice breaking as she held out her arms, and Darcy could detect wetness on her lashes. With a muffled sob, there was a rush of air as Lydia flew past him straight into her sister’s embrace.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Once the emotional reunion between the sisters was over, it was agreed Lydia should be taken into the rectory to enable Jane and Elizabeth to attend to her immediate needs, and with Wentworth leading the way to make the necessary arrangements, Darcy took himself off into the garden. His mind was full of Elizabeth and how she would feel once her sister had revealed all that had happened to her. He had been but ten minutes, however, pacing up and down on the path beneath some climbing roses when he perceived the reverend’s approach, and he stopped to await him.
‘Is all well?’
‘Indeed. My housekeeper, Mrs Coleman, is the soul of discretion and thus entirely to be trusted and, to be fair, she knows nothing of the truth of the situation or Miss Bennet’s real identity or that she has been in the woods all this time. I explained to her the lady is a widowed young woman who had fallen on hard times and had taken shelter in the barn overnight.’ He hesitated. ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet added she was a distant relative and had been trying to find the Bennet family in Derbyshire. I suspect she wanted to account for the attention she and her sister were paying the lady and their obvious attachment to her.’
Trust Elizabeth to think on her feet! ‘And you truly are confident in Mrs Coleman?’
‘Most indubitably. She has seen enough of this world’s needy to appreciate there is more to the tale, but she will not question what she is told.’
Darcy frowned and turned to resume his pacing. ‘But what of the other servants?’
Wentworth smiled as he fell into step beside Darcy. ‘I keep a small household, sir. My housekeeper is the only one resident; the kitchen maid and my man, Cartwright, come but for a few hours each morning.’
Darcy eyed the incumbent of Kympton keenly as they walked. His curiosity must be at its height, and though he had no reason to think Wentworth would indulge in wild speculation, he wished to make clear his former connection with the Bennets.
�
��You will be aware, as is the local populace since my return to Derbyshire, the Bennet family is an old acquaintance of mine.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Until I returned to the neighbourhood but a few weeks ago, I had no notion of what had befallen the youngest sister. The last I had seen of any of the family was when I had the pleasure of seeing Miss Elizabeth Bennet, in Kent in the spring of the year twelve.’ Darcy slowed to a halt and turned to face Wentworth. ‘As you can perhaps imagine, I was shocked and saddened to hear of Miss Lydia Bennet casting off her friends and family and throwing herself into the power of someone I have long known to have a propensity for unpleasantness; a practised womaniser and deceiver.’
‘This would be the man, Wickham, she mentioned? I am familiar with the name. There was a family so named hereabouts, was there not?’
‘Yes; that of my father’s steward. This man is his son, and it is not the first time I have known him attempt to ruin a young lady.’ Darcy held Wentworth’s compassionate gaze for a moment. ‘I do, of course, trust to your keeping this to yourself.’
‘You are right to put your faith in me, sir.’
Smiling faintly, Darcy shook the man’s hand, but then Wentworth looked over his shoulder.
‘Ah, here comes Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’
Darcy turned about; Elizabeth was crossing the lawn towards them, and his heart swelled as watched her. No matter what the outcome of all this, he was desperate not to let anything separate them a second time. As she came closer, he could see she had shed some tears, but Elizabeth was smiling as she joined them.
‘Mr Darcy, Mr Wentworth; I do not have words to express our gratitude for all you have done for us. Thank you so much,’ she turned to Darcy. ‘Thank you, dear sir, for all your efforts to bring our sister back to us.’
Darcy smiled faintly. ‘In all honesty, Miss Elizabeth, one could say she brought herself back.’ He gestured towards Wentworth. ‘All we have done is facilitate a reunion.’
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