by Emma Crawley
“I will not. I did nothing wrong. I will not start our life together, pandering to his rudeness and not speaking my mind for fear of his reaction. If that is what he expects of me, I will welcome him throwing me over.”
For all my brave words, my heart clenched at the idea of Darcy ending our betrothal. Much as I raged at him, the thought of never seeing him again, of having no future with him, left me feeling ill. Unreasonable though it was, I could not avoid the fear he would decide he could not endure his connection to my family after all. If he ended the betrothal in a way that would allow him to keep his honour, I could not blame him if he took it. His reservations about my family were enough to send him running away from me before lest he made an unfortunate alliance. When he proposed to me in Kent, my family were far away and perhaps time had softened the memory. He might have convinced himself he exaggerated their foolishness while having me there before him aroused his feelings and this time they won out. But now he was in a situation where my family’s behaviour was before him again. Would his feelings for me be enough to win him over this time?
My mother threw herself back in her chair and dabbed her forehead with her handkerchief as she lamented her great ill-usage.
“I should have known it was too good to be true! You always ruin things. First, you reject Mr Collins when you could have saved us all. Then, you finally get engaged to a wealthy man - something you deserved far less than the rest of your sisters - and you spoil it all. On the verge of marriage and you chase him away. What is to become of us all now?”
I could not listen to another word.
“Where are my sisters? Why is the house so quiet?”
“You sisters?” my mother blinked as though she had never heard of such people. “Oh, I do not know.” She twirled her hand around vaguely. “Mary is at the Lucases looking over those dreadful music sheets Maria brought back from London. Jane is with your aunt, and Kitty and Lydia said something about going to Meryton. Though there is little point in them going to see the soldiers. They will leave soon, and all chances of them marrying one of them will be lost forever.” My mother whimpered and buried her nose in her handkerchief. I excused myself and left the room.
A tramp through the woods had always been my greatest healer. Once in nature, I felt as though nothing was as bad as it seemed. It was hard to take one’s problems seriously when one looks at a thousand-year-old oak that has sheltered people lost in the recesses of time and know it would be there long after one has departed the world and taken all their petty concerns with them.
But it was hard to convince myself that my fears with Darcy were unfounded. There was every chance that being among my family had caused him to regret his decision to marry me. I was not sure if his passion for me could withstand the nonsense of my mother and sisters.
Well, if it could not, it was of little value to me. If he could be chased away by some folly, especially a folly that would be at a distance for most of our marriage and he would rather give me up, so be it. He would be no loss.
But though I told myself that very sternly and with great spirit, I could not feel it. Perhaps the idea that I lost nothing from such a puny love might make me recover faster, but right then, it made my stomach coil painfully. I was certain Darcy might go ahead with the marriage anyway, but would my family’s foolishness and his shame in it cause his love for me to lessen over the years? I could not bear the thought of my husband looking at me with regret. I could not endure it if he considered me the biggest mistake of his life. Perhaps his pride had not been tempered by his love for me, after all.
The shadows had lengthened under the trees by the time I turned and walked back toward home. The first lights were already in the windows as I came across the park toward the house.
As I passed the shrubbery, I saw Kitty walking about there, looking pensive. I called her name, and she looked up at me with a start.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
I laughed. “I live here, do I not? What are you doing here? You rarely walk alone through the shrubbery. Is something troubling you?”
“Of course not. You are not the only one who likes to walk alone, you know.”
I raised my eyebrows at her tart words. Kitty was often plaintive and a little whiny, but she was rarely so direct. She saw my look and relented.
“I am sorry, Lizzy.”
“What is the matter?”
“Nothing. Sometimes I like to walk alone. Come, shall we go back to the house? Where is Mr Darcy? I thought he would be here.”
I was surprised our mother had not told her the whole sorry story already. I was sure she had treated half of Meryton to her laments and cries of ill-usage. She must really feel terrible if she were not indulging in her favourite past-time.
“He had to prepare for his sister’s arrival. She will be here in a few days,” I replied.
I expected Kitty to ask some questions about her, but she did not. She nodded and wrapped herself up in her own affairs once again.
“Is it the militia’s departure?” I guessed. Judging by the guilty start, I had struck true.
“It shall not be the same when they are gone, will it? So much quieter. And then you and — and Mr Darcy will leave. I shall be lonesome without you.”
I looked at Kitty in astonishment. We had never been particularly close, and I should have thought it an exaggeration to say we should miss one another personally. But marriage did bring a significant change to a family, assuming my marriage went ahead. If one of my sisters were to marry and move far away, perhaps I might have felt the same.
“I am afraid we are at an age where these changes are to be expected,” I said gently. I took her hand in mine as we walked across the lawn. “This separation was always coming. It was just a matter of when. But in a few years, we shall all be married and settled into new homes with families of our own. That will be our normal then. And we shall have Christmas and Easter and other holidays at home to look forward to where we shall all be together again. Perhaps having our own families will make us grow closer?”
Kitty nodded, but she still looked unhappy. “I suppose you are right. But the intervening years will take some getting used to. I shall have to resign myself to having a strange few months ahead of me.”
“So shall we all. Marriage is a happy occasion most of the time, but we forget it also leads to separations. It is perfectly fine to feel sad for a while until you grow accustomed to it.”
Kitty squeezed my hand.
“Thank you, Lizzy. I suppose you are right.”
She released my hand and hurried ahead to the house. I looked after her and shook my head. Who would have thought my empty-headed sister would have such worthy feelings? I should have thought she would barely notice my actions. Perhaps if my wedding to Darcy went ahead, I might invite her to stay with us. Out from under Lydia’s influence, we might encourage her to be a thoughtful young lady after all. One could only hope.
I could not face the thought of seeing my mother again and enduring her disappointment, so I hurried up the stairs to my bedchamber and remained there for the rest of the night.
29
It was with some trepidation I came downstairs the following morning. There would be no way to avoid my mother now, and if Darcy did not come to me, they would hear her anguish throughout the estate. It might even surpass my own.
The scene before me was not what I expected. My family stood about the breakfast room in a state of high agitation. My mother was lying in her chair, sobbing as Jane sat beside her holding her hand. Mary sat at the table, her face pinched with that pious look it so often wore. My father stood over Kitty with an expression of anger I had never seen on him before.
“I ask you again. What did you know?” he demanded.
I stared about at them all in amazement.
“What is the matter?”
“Oh, Lizzy,” my mother cried. She reached out a trembling hand to me. I crossed the room to take it. “We are all ruined
. Ruined! Oh, if only you had married Mr Darcy before this had happened. Now we have lost everything!”
My heart went cold within me.
“Everything?” I asked. My throat felt so tight the words hardly came out. The wedding was off. Darcy must have come and told them he could not marry me. He left without seeing me. I could not believe it. It was worse than I had imagined.
“Lydia,” said Jane quietly. For the first time, I realised what had felt different when I first entered the room, though I was too confused by the scene before me to recognise what it was. Lydia was not there. If there were excitement or drama to be had, Lydia would be in the thick of it, relishing every moment. Where was she?
“Is she ill? Should Mr Jones come and see her?”
“She is not ill!” wailed Mama. “Though it would have been better if she were. Oh, my poor, sweet Lydia. My heart is broken. It is shattered to a million pieces. I shall never recover.”
I looked at Jane for a sensible translation. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“She has not had an accident?” I said with growing horror.
“No, not at all. Be assured, Lydia is well as far as we can tell.”
“What is it then?”
“Your sister has run away,” said Father grimly. “She has disappeared with the most worthless young man in existence. And it seemed Kitty knew of it but told us nothing.”
I blinked at him in astonishment, but he said nothing else. He threw Kitty another disgusted look then walked away, running his hands through his greying hair. I turned back to Jane.
“She has run away with Mr Wickham,” she said.
“Wickham! No, surely not! Kitty, what do you know?”
Kitty was sobbing silently into a handkerchief. Her eyes flickered toward a letter on the table, something I had not noticed until now. My sense of dread increased. Would letters always be the bringers of difficult events?
I took it up and read it.
“My dear Kitty,
We are going to do it! Can you believe it? What once seemed like sport is now really happening! My dearest Wickham has had enough of soldiering and wishes to leave to start a new life. I told him I could not live without him, so he said he will take me with him, and we shall be married. It is too exciting! Tell none of the family. How shocked they shall all be when I write to them in a few days and sign my name ‘Lydia Wickham’. And I shall be married before Lizzy! What a joke! I can hardly breathe for laughing.”
The letter went on some more with warnings about what she might do if she returned to find Kitty had worn any of her gowns. I threw it down in disgust.
“Foolish girl. How could she marry such a man? Wickham will never make her happy. He will not support her. He can hardly support himself! He owes money to everyone.”
My mother wailed louder. Jane looked miserable.
“But it proves Lydia intends to marry him. It is not the most honourable start to a marriage, perhaps, but people will soon forget all about that. I fear instead for Lydia’s happiness. I do not think he is a man who would make a good husband.”
“I do not think so either, but I do not believe he will be her husband at all. I believe Wickham will settle for nothing less than an heiress. Another Mary King if he can find one. He will not throw himself away on Lydia.”
My mother wailed louder. My father left the room in a few strides. I followed him to see him calling for his coat and hat. It was odd to see my father striding about with such purpose. I half expected him to return to his library and shut the door against us all until the situation had somehow resolved itself without him having to lift a finger.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To the camp. Someone must know something. I want to know what time they left, how, in what direction. Whatever I can find. I shall not be long.”
I watched as he hurried down the steps and disappeared. With slow steps, I returned to the remainder of my family.
“How did you find the letter?” I asked. “Surely you did not hand it to them, Kitty?”
“I found it,” said Mary. “I went into Kitty’s room to retrieve a book Lydia said she wished to read because it was some soldier’s favourite. She had it for weeks but never gave it back. I knew she would never read it. When I went in, the letter was lying on the table.”
“You should not have read it,” Kitty cried through tears.
Mary shrugged. “I thought it might be a note from Maria Lucas. I wanted to see if she had mentioned anything else about receiving new music sheets she had ordered from London. I did not expect what I found.”
Kitty shook her head and burst into fresh sobbing.
“I only left the room for a moment,” she cried. “If I had known you would be there…”
“That is not the point, Kitty,” I said tiredly. “Did you know Lydia planned to run away with Wickham?”
Kitty sank in a chair and burst into fresh sobs. Until she subsided, I would not get a word of sense out of her. I waited for her to finish, trying to curb my impatience.
“I thought… I thought they might,” she said. “Lydia mentioned it before, but I did not take her seriously. Then, when we went to Meryton yesterday, she wished to speak with Wickham alone. They spoke so long, I grew bored and returned home. None of the other soldiers would speak to Wickham. They were unfriendly toward him. I went home to wait for Lydia, but I suspected she might return and tell us she was engaged. It was why I was so unhappy. Losing two sisters to marriage while I had no one made me feel rather lonely…” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed again, her shoulders shaking.
“What can Father do?” said Jane. “If he finds out where they went, will he bring them back?”
My mother stopped crying at once. “He will not! Lydia must be married. Why should he prevent her from making a match?”
Jane and I declined to respond. We sat in silence until Father returned. He was gone for less time than I expected. He threw himself into a chair as we gathered around him, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“Well, he is not a popular fellow with his campmates,” he said finally. “He owes quite a bit of money. A heavy drinker as well by all accounts. Trust Lydia to run away with such a worthless man.”
“Where did they go?” I asked.
Father rubbed his tired face.
“London. I spoke to a coachman at the inn, and he said that is the direction they left.”
“London. Can they be married from London? Lydia is not yet sixteen.”
“No, they cannot.”
“Well, what then? Shall they travel there first before going to Scotland? I would have thought they would travel to Gretna Green.”
Father shook his head. “None of his friends - or former friends, I should say - believe they will marry at all. It seems Wickham’s desire to marry an heiress is well known. What is also well known is his penchant for finding foolish young women willing to throw over their family and friends to travel with him before he abandons them. He has done this before. There are Lydias up and down the country.”
“Oh, my poor, sweet girl,” cried my mother. “Oh, my precious Lydia! Oh, what will become of us all?”
“How are we to find her?” I demanded. “Perhaps if we can locate her quickly we can avert this. It might not be too late.”
“I will go to London and enlist the aid of your Uncle Gardiner to help me search for her. But I am afraid I do not hold out much hope for it. I fear the next time we see Lydia, she will have either a high belly or a little one in her arms.”
My mother’s answering wail was so loud I winced. My father threw her a look then heaved himself from the chair.
“I suppose I should make some arrangements,” he said heavily.
30
As he moved toward the door, it opened, and Darcy came in. He opened his mouth to greet us but stopped in astonishment when he saw all our distressed faces.
“Good God, what has happened?” he demanded. “Is someone ill? Surely there has
not been an accident?”
“I will leave it to Lizzy to tell you,” said Father. “I have other things to do right now.”
He left the room. Darcy turned to me, his face concerned. I took a deep breath and nodded for him to join me outside the room.
We walked down into the garden in silence. My mind was so filled with Lydia, and where she might be or what desperate situation she might find herself in, I could hardly think straight. My stupid, foolish little sister. What was she thinking?
That was the problem. She did not think. Lydia never thought beyond the present moment, never considered anything that might not be fun. And now her lack of thinking might have cost us all.
And not just us. Her life was ruined if my father did not find her soon. Foolish she might be, but she was young, and she did not understand what pain was ahead of her by putting her faith in a man like Wickham. For all my rage, my heart ached with love and terror for that idiotic little girl.
I realised Darcy was trying to get a fuller look at my face. His eyes were worried as he looked at me.
“What is the matter?” he asked gently. “Come, you must tell me. I imagine many terrible things.”
I gestured toward a stone bench.
“Perhaps we should sit down,” I said quietly. My heart was heavy. Though I feared for Lydia, a more selfish part of me shrank from telling Darcy something that would more than validate his belief that a connection to my family was not in his interest. I sat down, and he took the seat beside me. He took my hand in his and wrapped his warm fingers around it.
“Come, speak to me,” he said gently.
With a deep breath, I plunged into my explanation, the words spilling from me haphazardly as I still struggled myself to make sense of what had happened.
