by Elaine Owen
Elizabeth took some comfort in these observations, not only in what the colonel was saying but in the easy confidence with which he spoke. He was right, of course. She herself had seen that Lady Catherine held no real influence over her nephew; and her strategy, based as it was on mistaken assumptions about Elizabeth’s character, had no basis in reality.
“I had the privilege of meeting your uncle, Mr. Gardiner, in town once, not long before coming here,” the colonel added casually, while Elizabeth continued with her own thoughts. “You bear a strong resemblance to him, you know.”
“You have met my uncle?” Elizabeth said, amazed.
“Yes. Darcy introduced us when I met with him to discuss this business. He is a fine gentleman.”
“I knew that Mr. Darcy was invited to dinner at my uncle’s, but I was unaware of any further acquaintance between them. My uncle was at Darcy House?”
“Oh yes! They appear to be on very easy terms. I gather that Darcy has come to enjoy Mr. Gardiner’s company.”
“I would not have imagined such an outcome just six months ago,” Elizabeth said with equal parts pleasure and pride. Her husband had become friends with a man who was in trade—all for her sake.
“Nor I. Love has a way of overturning our expectations, does it not? One can never be sure where it may lead.”
Elizabeth smiled reflectively. The colonel had unknowingly voiced a thought in her own head.
“Do you know,” he went on humorously after a moment, “that you and Darcy have one remarkable trait in common?”
“Besides being married to each other?”
The colonel smiled. “You are the only two people I know who have ever stood up to Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
The unexpected observation drew a laugh from Elizabeth just as Georgiana triumphantly returned from her errand, book in hand, and so the conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam ended on a happy note.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Late in the morning of the fourth day Elizabeth felt her heart pound hard when, looking down from an upper window, she saw an approaching rider making his way up the lane to Pemberley. By the distant outline of the form on the horse, she could see at once that It was not Darcy. After a few more seconds she could also see that it was not the groom she had commissioned with her letter, but a response from her husband might well be carried by another messenger. She could barely contain her impatience as she went down the stairs to the front entry, where Mrs. Reynolds was paying the carrier, and took the envelope eagerly into her hand.
Her name was written in Jane’s careful writing. The letter was not from Darcy.
Despite the disappointment that swept over her, a letter from Jane could never be a cause for regret. Elizabeth took the letter to the parlor and called for tea, then prepared to sit and read at her leisure. She noted the dates on each page as she removed them from the envelope, for apparently the letter had been written over a period of several days. There were half a dozen pages or so, written quite through, and the envelope was also full. Elizabeth therefore found the earliest date and began her reading there.
My dearest sister,
I fear that I may have written to you too quickly last time and given you information that led to an inaccurate portrayal of Mr. Bingley and his intentions. Either our information was wrong, or we were greatly deceived. Mr. Bingley is not leaving Netherfield!
We discovered this news in the following manner: yesterday afternoon Mama received word when she stopped at the butcher’s that Mr. Bingley had sent orders for Netherfield to be opened up again. He was planning to return to Meryton no later than today; and the housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls, was directed to recall what furniture she could from storage and put at least the master’s chamber in readiness, since he would have need of it right away. Poor Mrs. Nicholls was nearly distracted by her master’s sudden change of heart, trying to arrange the house, bring back the other servants, and have everything prepared as it should be in time for his arrival.
For very different reasons our mother is also nearly distracted. I must admit that it is rather embarrassing to hear her proclaim to everyone in the house, including the servants’ listening ears, how she believes Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield for the sole purpose of making an offer to me, and how she thinks I could not be, as she says, so beautiful for nothing. She keeps on in this loud manner no matter how many times I ask her to lower her voice. Her greatest fear, she says, is that, with Papa gone, she has no way of calling on Mr. Bingley in order to invite him to call on us.
She need not concern herself; it is by no means certain that he has come for my sake at all. The lease is not yet up, and a gentleman might have many reasons for visiting a property still in his possession. My only fear is that such unseemly speculation may be heard by Mr. Bingley if he does choose to call.
Dearest, most deserving Jane, Elizabeth thought with a rush of pleasure as she came to the end of the page. The mystery of why Bingley would not be coming to Pemberley any time soon was solved, and it looked likely to be solved in the most agreeable manner possible. Little wonder Darcy had sent word that there would be no dinner party for Bingley after all. It could not be a coincidence that Bingley had decided to return from town to Netherfield not long after Darcy had gone to town himself; his sudden removal to Meryton hinted strongly at her husband’s involvement.
She turned the page in her hand and saw that Jane had continued on the opposite side. It was dated from Longbourn the succeeding afternoon.
Lizzy, Mr. Bingley came this morning! Just one day after arriving at Netherfield, he came riding up our driveway, straight to the house, which made Mama call for Hill to help her find the vapors. I was reading in the garden, or rather hiding, hoping I might be overlooked, but Mama discovered me and nearly dragged me into the parlor, where Mr. Bingley had already been admitted. I had barely a chance to straighten my dress before being pushed into his presence. Mary and Kitty were already sitting with him, and when Mama and I entered he rose politely and asked after my health, to which I responded in the usual manner. We then sat down. He earnestly extended his regrets on the death of our father, which I accepted, and he very courteously asked after you and Lydia. The whole time he was speaking Kitty giggled while Mary looked down at her own hands and refused to say a word. Oh Lizzy! You have no idea how exceedingly awkward it was!
For a minute or two there was an uncomfortable silence while we all looked at each other and at Mr. Bingley, and Mama simpered in the corner. Finally Mr. Bingley stood and asked if he might have our mother’s permission to walk to Oakham Mount with me, if I was agreeable to such a plan. Mama fairly leaped at the suggestion and assigned Kitty to accompany us, though she disappeared from sight almost as soon as we left the house.
You cannot imagine the state I was in, Lizzy. My heart was beating so that I thought even Mr. Bingley might hear it. I could not bear to look at his handsome face as we walked down the lane together, nor could I bear to look entirely away, so I settled on staring at the buttons on his coat, and then he began to speak. He begged my forgiveness for leaving so suddenly last winter without sending word, saying that he had foolishly asked someone else a question that only I could answer. Naturally I could not withhold pardon under the circumstances; and after I had given it, Mr. Bingley asked if I could ever learn to think well of him again and if I might possibly be able to feel affection for him one day. Lizzy, I could not breathe or make any sensible response, not until he had knelt in front of me and forced me to meet his eyes. Then he said that he had loved me almost since the first time we met, and asked if I would do him the honor of agreeing to be his wife.
Lizzy, I accepted him. When he spoke so touchingly of his feelings for me, and begged for the chance to redeem himself, what else could I do? Please do not tease me by asking for more of the particulars of the scene. Let it be enough to read that the lane to Oakham Mount heard many declarations of our sentiments toward each other, and that he expressed himself as well as any man violently
in love can be supposed to do.
So, dearest Lizzy, we have arrived at an understanding. We have already decided that we are to be the happiest couple in England, if having this title awarded to us will not be the means of diminishing the happiness of others. Charles will speak with Mama tomorrow, and what joy my family will then experience! I can scarcely imagine it. I wanted to write to you first, you who have been first in my affections until now, knowing that you will rejoice with us more than anyone else.
Such happiness is too much for me—I can scarcely contain it! What bliss is mine, to know that my affection was returned through all these long, hard months! I wish Papa were here to see this happy and unexpected ending! Surely he is looking down from heaven tonight, smiling on his oldest daughter, and laughing that all of Mama’s predictions came true in the end.
The only possible source of any regret I may feel now is the awareness that you, my dearest sister, are not as happily united with your husband as I will be with mine. Oh Lizzy! If there is any possible chance of finding love with your Mr. Darcy, I beg you to not throw away the opportunity. Do anything rather than remain in a union solely because of duty. If you can find a way to set aside the very natural resentment at the circumstances of your marriage, I hope that you will one day find the same unlimited joy in your new situation in life that I do, and in the companionship of your dear husband.
Adieu. I must close this letter, as I am writing to my uncle tonight to let him know of Charles’s intentions. When everything is settled and we are able to agree on a date, I will write to you again. Until then I am
Your loving sister
Jane
It was just like Jane to pause even in the moment of her greatest delight to consider the feelings of those around her. To think that the uncertainty, the anxiety, and the misery that had shadowed Jane for much of a year was now over! How neatly Jane’s arrival at happiness had paralleled Elizabeth’s change in feelings toward her own husband! Fervently she hoped that her own letter describing this momentous change would be in Jane’s hands very soon, thus removing this last barrier to her total felicity.
Taking up the next page in happy anticipation, she saw that it was dated two days after the first. Elizabeth unfolded it eagerly, expecting it to contain details of her mother’s acceptance of the match and, perhaps, the setting of the date for the ceremony. Instead, the very first paragraph caused her to sit forward in her chair, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Dearest Lizzy,
I must take up the pen again to write ill tidings that came not long after closing my previous communication to you. To save the time and expense of two letters, I will put all these pages into the same envelope, so that they will reach you as quickly as possible. I trust that this will not prove troublesome for you.
There is no easy way to break this unhappy truth. Be at ease—we are all well. But Lydia is missing from Brighton, and we have reason to believe that she has run away. To own the truth, we believe she may have run away with Mr. Wickham!
“Merciful God!” exclaimed Elizabeth aloud.
It was past eleven o’clock last evening when we received a post from Captain Forster in Brighton asking if we had any knowledge of Lydia’s whereabouts. She had been missed at breakfast, and when inquiries were made, it was discovered that she had been seen getting into a hired coach with an unknown gentleman. From Wickham’s sudden absence from his regiment and a note left in Lydia’s room it was soon obvious that they left together. They have eloped!
Dear Lizzy, can you imagine a more imprudent match? She so young, and he so unsettled in the world! But as bad a match as it might be, we are now forced to imagine something worse: that they may not be married at all!
After Colonel Forster had determined that the two runaways left together, he was approached by Wickham’s friend Denny, who told him that Wickham had said something about not going to Scotland at all, but rather to London! It was Denny’s dismal conclusion that Wickham therefore had no plan to marry Lydia, now or ever. The colonel instantly took alarm and followed their trail, stopping in every inn along the way to make inquiries. The fugitives made it as far as Clapham before changing horses, and then the colonel lost their trail. All we know for sure is that they were last seen on the London road; they are certainly not gone to Scotland.
“Poor Lydia!” Elizabeth cried out. “Poor, stupid Lydia!”
I have sent messages to my uncle Gardiner in town to ask for his assistance, and I am hopeful that, with Colonel Forster’s help, the fugitives will be found quickly.
Colonel Forster seems determined to think the worst, but I cannot agree. I cannot believe that Wickham, who himself has known such hardship and deprivation, would have such a base scheme in mind as seduction without the promise of matrimony. Even if he does, our uncle will soon convince him otherwise. Lydia is not friendless, nor unprotected in the world. Her youth and liveliness, combined with the funds settled on her by your husband, should be inducement enough to marry under the circumstances. I expect to hear at any moment that they are living in town as husband and wife.
Elizabeth shook her head, tears beginning to well in her eyes.
Shall I own that I long for your presence, Lizzy? The house is in a state of wild disarray. Mama has taken to her bed and weeps nearly all day, insisting that if Wickham were going to marry Lydia, he would have done so already, and lamenting that there is nobody to fight for Lydia’s honor. Mary and Kitty, rather than walking to Meryton, stay inside for fear of what neighbors might say; and Mr. Bingley has only called once since the dreadful news was made known in the neighborhood. I had to send him away, as it is not seemly for him to continue calling under the circumstances. There is not a servant in the house, or perhaps in the entire neighborhood, who does not know the whole story.
If Mr. Darcy can spare your presence for a few weeks, until the present crisis is past, we would be deeply indebted to him. However, do not raise the subject if you have reason to think he will not be amenable to such a request from you. If that should be the case I ask only that you acknowledge the receipt of this communication, but I hope to hear instead that you are on your way to us. I am your loving sister
Jane
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Oh, where is Colonel Fitzwilliam? I must speak to him immediately!” Elizabeth cried, darting from her seat, and was surprised to see Georgiana and the colonel himself coming through the doorway just as she said the words.
“Elizabeth! Whatever is the matter?” Georgiana exclaimed, coming to an abrupt stop when she saw Elizabeth’s face.
“Good God, Mrs. Darcy, what has happened?” the colonel exclaimed from behind, not as formally as his cousin.
Elizabeth could not fault him for his response. She was gasping for air, and she knew she must have a wild, desperate look about her. She had to grip a chair for support before she could begin to form any words. “I beg your pardon, but I must leave Pemberley as soon as it can be arranged. I have not a moment to lose.”
“For what purpose?” the colonel cried. “Where are you going?”
“I must return to Longbourn at once,” Elizabeth answered, and burst into tears as she did so.
There were exclamations of wonder and dismay. Georgiana stepped forward and embraced her sister while the colonel stood helplessly by, observing in wretched silence. At length Georgiana stepped back to look at her and said, urgently, “Elizabeth, you must tell us what has happened. Has there been some news from home? Is your family well?”
Elizabeth tried to catch her breath, gasping before speaking again. “I will tell you all that I can, but first, I must call my maid to start packing my things. If you would be so good as to ring the bell for Mrs. Reynolds, I would be obliged.”
“We will do no such thing,” the colonel answered firmly, coming forward to take her elbow, and leading her to a chair. “We will not delay you, of course, but you are not well. Sit down for a moment, and let us discuss what has disturbed you so. A few minut
es to organize your thoughts will not harm your purpose.”
“Perhaps—a glass of wine?” Georgiana offered, trying to be consoling.
“You are kind, so very kind,” Elizabeth said, with a brave if tearful smile, “but wine will not help me. I have received dreadful news from Longbourn. My youngest sister has disappeared—she has run away from home.” Her lips trembled as she said these words, and she could not hold back another choked sob.
“My dear sister!” Georgiana exclaimed. She sat down next to her, taking her hand in one of her own. “Is this Lydia you are speaking of?”
“It is.”
“I believe you said she is younger than I am.”
“She is just sixteen—the youngest and most foolish of my family.”
“This is a tragedy!” the colonel cried. “But if she is so young, and alone, she cannot have gone far. Has anyone any notion of where she might be?”
“We have too much idea,” Elizabeth responded, dreading what she must say next. “She did not run away on her own.”
“Then with whom?” Georgiana asked, her eyes widening.
“She has run off—eloped—with someone you know well. She has thrown herself into the power of George Wickham. We believe they are in London.”
Georgiana and the colonel were speechless, staring at her. “When I think,” she continued, speaking passionately, “how I knew what he was and did nothing to stop him! I could have told my family weeks ago of his true nature! But it is too late now.”
“Are you certain?” the colonel cried, recovering his powers of speech. “Are you certain it was the George Wickham we know, and no other?”
“There can be no other. We met him last autumn, when his regiment was stationed nearby, though I was not aware of his true character until recently. Mr. Darcy disclosed his history with the man just before he left for town, but I did not tell my family of what I knew until just a few days ago, after Lydia was already in Brighton. Wretched, wretched mistake!”
