by Leenie Brown
The sounds of travel once again filled the space between the two men. Darcy considered the man across from him. There was much he had assumed about him, but the more time he spent with Mr. Bennet, the more he realized that not all of his assumptions were true. Again, he shook his head. How much more clearly he saw things since Elizabeth’s refusal had caused him to re-evaluate himself and all he knew.
“She did well with the first two, and to a point with Mary.” Mr. Bennet’s head was resting against the back of the carriage. “But she became overwhelmed when the fourth was another girl.” He looked toward Darcy for a moment. “She thought herself a failure, and no matter my assurance, she would not change from her position.” He leaned his head back again. “She was as beautiful as Jane and as lively as Lydia. She still is beautiful, but her liveliness has been misdirected, and I have been unsuccessful in redirecting it.” He drew a deep breath and released it. “That was my error, Mr. Darcy. I allowed myself to accept the failure. My distress is not so much about a poor decision in allowing Lydia to journey to Brighton, although it was unwise.” He shook his head. “No, my distress is from allowing myself to find comfort in solitude while my wife seeks comfort in promoting her daughters — in an unchecked fashion. And now, I must feel the full weight of that decision, knowing that it will bring sorrow to my wife and daughters.”
“Perhaps, we will overtake them.” Darcy knew it was unlikely and even if they did, the damage had already been done.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “She is with child, and even is she was not, her reputation is tarnished. She will have to marry the man.” Mr. Bennet leaned forward. “I would understand if you were to withdraw your offer. I cannot expect you to wish the connection.”
“Withdraw my offer?” The idea shocked Darcy. Not once in all of the events of the last two days had he considered such a thing. “I would rather be connected to ten men such as Wickham than to live without your daughter, sir.”
Mr. Bennet patted Darcy’s knee and then leaned his head against the back of the coach again as he prepared to get some rest. “If I have thought it, Lizzy will as well when she hears of what Lydia has done.”
“Then we shall have to take the carriage and your daughter to Scotland with us, and we will marry before a word of this situation is spoken to her.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I applaud your determination, but I dare say you’ll not get her to Gretna Green without her discovering the truth.”
Chapter 12
Derbyshire
“Darcy will not give you up,” said Lucy placing an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders, “and if you are even considering rejecting him, . . . again . . . I shall be quite cross with you.”
“But to be tied to Wickham!” cried Elizabeth. How could she ask him to be connected to such a person? It was not that she wished to give Darcy up, but she could not hold him to an agreement that would make him miserable.
“Wickham would be less of a burden for him to bear than losing you would be.” Lucy sighed and searched her mind for ways to convince Elizabeth of this truth. Finally, after listening for a few moments to Elizabeth’s soft sobs, she decided to share what she knew of Darcy’s letters.
“He was beyond despondent after you rejected him.” Her words were soft but drew Elizabeth’s attention. “Philip feared for him.”
“Feared?” Elizabeth sniffled and dried her eyes.
“Philip said Darcy sounded as if he was capable of doing himself harm, though he would not, for even in his distress he talked about those who were dependent on him.” Lucy saw the pain her words were causing Elizabeth and squeezed her close.
“I would not tell you this if I did not think it beneficial.” She gave Elizabeth a small smile. “He had not been so distraught over Georgiana’s ordeal with Wickham. He was unpleasant to be around, to be sure. He was angry and ashamed, as well as worried for his sister, but never beyond what a good hard ride or an afternoon of chopping wood could not work away.” She paused and then shook her head. “That is not entirely true. There was an air about him that was rather off-putting — a facade designed to keep everyone at a distance. His words could be quite cutting at times, but you know that.” She was relieved to see Elizabeth’s lips curve upwards just a bit at the comment.
“And then, he left for Hertfordshire to assist Bingley as planned, and his letters, which were at first very short, became longer, and his words became gentler. I remember in one that Philip read to me, he told of a lady who had a keen wit and was at the time of his writing, and much to his delight, engaging in a bit of debate about what one might consider an accomplished lady.”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open slightly, and her eyes grew wide. She remembered well that afternoon at Netherfield.
“He was quite taken with you,” Lucy continued, “so taken that he left Netherfield.” She withdrew her arm from around Elizabeth’s shoulders since it seemed as if Elizabeth had calmed for the moment.
“Even when he was in London, his letters still spoke of you. He could physically distance himself from you, but he could not separate you from his heart. That is how it is with love. Once it has laid claim to your heart, it cannot be easily removed, not even with well-thought out arguments concerning families or duties. Oh, the times I listened to Philip sigh and moan over the letters he wrote in return! He experienced such difficulty in counselling his friend that what one expects in a wife and what one finds are often quite different and that no matter what Darcy’s family might expect of station or breeding in his wife, what Darcy desired and needed was far greater.”
She took Elizabeth’s hand, for the next part was necessarily going to be unsettling for her. “Finally, in one joyous letter, he announced that he had resolved to act as his heart desired. The young lady had once again been placed in his path, and he was determined to offer for her. We anxiously awaited his announcement to call the banns, but the next letter was nearly a month in coming — although we did have one before that from Georgiana telling us of her brother’s state.”
“Please, I cannot bear to hear it,” Elizabeth said through fresh tears.
“But you must,” Lucy spoke as gently as she could, though her tone was firm. She would not allow Elizabeth to cause the same pain to Darcy again. He was a friend, but beyond that she owed him so much for the help he provided her in dealing with her uncle. “His despair when we finally saw him was shocking. No amount of riding or chopping wood could dislodge it. It faded, but it was never gone. Even now, before he left for town, he was despondent at the thought of leaving — fearful that he would lose you. He loves you completely. You mean more to him than an unfavourable connection. You must believe me.”
Elizabeth stood and walked toward the tree that the Abbot boys loved to play under. Bits and pieces of Lucy’s words replayed themselves in her mind. She leant against the tree and allowed her tears to fall without restraint. She knew she had injured Darcy with the words of her refusal — she had intended them to sting — but she had never imagined him to be so shaken by them. And now, she must either cause him the same unbearable pain or a slightly lesser one of being related to Wickham. How could she decide such a thing? If they did marry, would he grow to resent her because of her sister? As much as she could not bear the thought of not being his, the idea of being his and despised was equally as painful.
The sound of voices drew her from her contemplation, and she turned to look at the house, just as Jane, accompanied by Captain Harris and Mr. Dobney, entered the garden. She took a deep breath and, drying her eyes as best she could, returned to Lucy.
“We thought it best to join you,” said Jane, leaving the gentlemen near Lucy and walking a small distance away with her sister.
“How do things stand with Lydia?” asked Elizabeth.
“She is determined that she shall not marry Mr. Wickham.” Jane sighed. “She says she has gone to great lengths to protect herself from such a thing happening, but it is Lydia, and though her plan is no doubt a clever one, it is not
without fault. Uncle is still attempting to work on her.”
“And what of Wickham?” Elizabeth asked.
“He had no part in the scheme beyond that which he was forced to take, and he does not seem willing to be wed to Lydia any more than she wishes to be tied to him. I do not know what can be done unless the matter can be silenced. Uncle will write to Papa tonight, and then, I suppose, we shall wait for his reply.”
“And if Wickham leaves before Papa’s answer arrives?”
Jane sighed. “That is a sticking point at present; however, Mr. Philip Dobney has gone to call for Mr. Williams, the constable, as he might have some sway.”
“It is a fine mess,” muttered Elizabeth.
“It is,” admitted Jane. She glanced over her shoulder to where Lucy talked with her cousin and brother. “Are you well?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know until I know how Mr. Darcy will respond. Do Captain Harris and Mr. Dobney know what has happened?”
Jane sighed again. “Not the full tale, but enough. I believe any hope I had of capturing the captain may be at an end.” She linked arms with Elizabeth and walked a bit further.
“And Mr. Dobney?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.
“He has yet to pay me any particular attention beyond the expected civilities,” Jane said with a laugh. “I do not think our wayward sister shall inspire him to fall at my feet. Besides,” she added softly, “what hope have I when you, who have ensnared a man’s heart as completely as you have Mr. Darcy’s, fear losing his regard?”
“But there are different circumstances, a different relationship between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham, you know there are.”
“Perhaps,” said Jane, “but Mr. Dobney and Captain Harris also have a relation who was ill-treated by the man.”
“We are beyond hope, then?” asked Elizabeth.
“Never beyond hope,” said Jane. “There must always be hope that happiness is not beyond our reach.” She looked up toward the clouds that shifted back and forth in the sky above. “Even when the hope is very small.”
~*~*~
Elizabeth rose from her bed as the sun stretched its arms across the fields stirring the birds to sing and the night to flee. It had been a long night of little sleep. Her mind would not be quiet. It continually weighed Lucy’s words about Darcy with the fears she had about bringing shame to him through her sister’s actions. She had wished to toss and turn in bed and considered rising and pacing the room, but Jane had fallen asleep with some difficulty, and Elizabeth had been loath to disturb her. So, she had waited, dozing briefly, disturbed in sleep by dreams and in waking moments by thought, until finally concluding in the end that it might be best to break with propriety and write a letter to Darcy, leaving the decision entirely with him. So, quietly, she slipped from the room, wrapping her robe tightly about herself, and headed to the sitting room where she knew she would find writing supplies and a window that faced the early morning sun.
“Good morning,” Mr. Abbot, who was bouncing Aiden on his knee, greeted her. “It is a rather early start to the day after the night we endured.” He smiled at Aiden and poked out his tongue. “I would still be in bed if it were not for this early riser. He was insistent that he see his mama but graciously agreed to spend time with his papa instead. I did not wish to disturb Cecily so early.” He placed Aiden on the floor.
Aiden immediately pulled himself up next to his father’s leg and stood, swaying slightly from side to side, lifting one foot and then the other before plopping down and beginning the process again.
“He is determined to be on his way,” chuckled Mr. Abbot.
“He is,” agreed Elizabeth. “I had hoped to write a letter before the day began.” Elizabeth looked toward the writing desk.
Mr. Abbot made a small waving motion. “Do not let us keep you from your pleasure.”
Elizabeth thanked him and seated herself at the desk.
“Gardiner wrote a letter to your father last night, and I added my observations. It is not sealed yet. We wished to wait until morning — in case some thought for a solution would come after a few hours of rest. You may include yours with ours before we seal it.”
Elizabeth held her pen still, hovering above the name she had just written. “I am not writing to Papa,” she admitted softly.
“You are not?”
Elizabeth understood the surprise in Mr. Abbot’s tone. To whom else would she be writing? Her mother was not to know of Lydia’s tale until Mr. Bennet had been notified, and both Jane and Mrs. Gardiner were at Willow Hall. She looked up from her paper. “I am writing to Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Abbot’s smile was understanding. “Do not let us disturb you,” was his only reply. Aiden’s response was not so accommodating. After trying to stand and take a step for what must have been the tenth time, he had dropped once again onto the floor. The situation did not please him, and he made his opinion about it known in a loud cry.
“We will go see if Cook has a biscuit, and then it might be time for a visit to Mama.” Mr. Abbot scooped up his son. The child’s wails softened as he snuggled his head into his father’s shoulder, his chubby arms clinging tightly to his papa.
Elizabeth turned back to her letter and began the task of telling Darcy about her sister’s arrival with Wickham. She was just blowing her nose for the third time in only twice as many lines when her solitude was once again interrupted.
Mrs. Gardiner hurried into the room, stopped short, and looked very disconcerted to see Elizabeth.
“Is something the matter?” asked Elizabeth. Aunt Gardiner was typically unflappable. Even when Mama would take a spell of nerves, Aunt Gardiner could be counted on to tend to them with a smile and a soft voice. She was much like Jane in that way. But this morning, she looked very much like she could use a dose of Mama’s salts.
Mrs. Gardiner sighed and dropped into a chair. “I had hoped when I heard someone in this room that it might be Lydia.” She shook her head. “Unless she has taken herself out to the barn — which is an unlikely option — she is gone.”
“Gone?” Elizabeth’s heart leapt to her throat.
“Gone.” Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes filled with tears. “Her bed has not been slept in, and her travelling bag is missing with her.”
Elizabeth rose and moved to look out the window and down the driveway to the lane beyond. “Where could she have gone? She knows no one, and her sense of direction is paltry at best.” Her hand ran nervously from her elbow to her shoulder and back. There was one thing that would be worse than having Lydia married to Wickham, and that would be to have her lost forever.
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in response. “I do not know.”
“Mr. Wickham left with Mr. Williams, did he not?” Elizabeth asked, her letter forgotten.
“He did.”
“And he would not return?”
“He holds no fondness for your sister,” said her aunt.
“She is not in the barn or the stables,” said Mr. Gardiner coming into the room. “No horses have been taken, and there are no fresh marks on the driveway, nor has anyone heard anything unusual. I have come to get a cup of tea, and then we will begin a search of the estate.”
And so they did. After a cup of tea and a few fortifying bites of toast, as many of the party at Willow Hall as could be taken from their duties were gathered and a thorough search of the estate was conducted. No sign of Lydia, save a few footprints near the gate, could be found. And so, it was determined that Lydia had more than likely thought to follow the path of the road she had travelled to reach Willow Hall.
“I do not know what she is thinking,” said Jane as she and Elizabeth travelled along the road toward Kympton.
“She was quite adamant that she not be forced to marry Mr. Wickham,” said Aunt Gardiner. “My guess is that she is bound for Longbourn and her mother. We have only to check at Mr. Williams’ to be certain that she has not gone there to beg Mr. Wickham to accompany her, and then we shall continue on to the coaching i
nn.” She patted Jane’s knee reassuringly. “The matter should be all settled before long.”
Elizabeth did not miss the uncertainty in her aunt’s countenance as Aunt Gardiner attempted to smile at her. With Lydia, nothing was ever settled easily. The logical path never seemed to be one that her sister ventured down. And then, if they were successful and found Lydia or discovered in which direction she had fled, there was still the issue of what to be done about her travelling with Wickham.
The gentlemen had taken horses so their travel to Mr. Williams’ home was quicker than the carriage. So, before the ladies could reach where they would turn from the main road, Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Abbot had discovered what they needed to know and had turned back to find the carriage and direct it on to the coaching inn.
There, Mr. Abbot and Mr. Gardiner made inquiries, but to no avail. Lydia had not been seen by anyone, and with heavy hearts and at a slower pace than they had travelled previously, the party began their return to Willow Hall.
Chapter 13
Darcy paced the sitting room at Willow Hall while Mr. Bennet took a place at the window, watching for the return of his daughters. It had been Darcy’s plan to stop only at Pemberley to refresh horses before continuing on to Scotland, but when Mr. Bennet had suggested stopping at Willow Hall to speak to Gardiner, Darcy had been happy to oblige as it meant he would have an opportunity to see Elizabeth. Upon arrival at Willow Hall, however, their plans had changed.
