Where The Heart Belongs

by Tilly Davis

‘Come now, Lydia,’ Sir William said kindly, ‘you are in no trouble, but your father is not well, and he has simply asked us to come here and see to it that his youngest daughter is to be found safe, surely you do not wish to cause him upset.’

  Lydia agreed that she did not and so Sir William led her to another room in the apartment, imploring her at least to write a letter there and then informing her parents of her safety, the probability of them arriving in London very soon to collect her a definite possibility.

  This now left Mr. Darcy alone with Mr. Wickham, Sir William remaining unconvinced that their assignation would not now lead to blows.

  ‘And so history repeats itself,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  ‘I have no idea what you mean,’ Mr. Wickham replied.

  ‘First Georgiana, and now Lydia, each time it is the younger sister who suffers the fate.’

  ‘And what fate would that be? I should have honoured Georgiana by asking her to marry me.’

  ‘The circumstances would not permit it, sir, and well you know that,’ Mr. Darcy said, his voice now raised, ‘and what are your intentions now, surely her father has a right to know?’

  ‘And what business is it of yours, sir, I can understand Sir William’s involvement, he and his wife are old friends of the Bennets, but what of you? What interest could you have in the youngest child’s honour?’

  ‘My business is my own, sir, but I am willing to come to a settlement,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  ‘What sort of settlement?’ Mr. Wickham said, looking bemused.

  ‘That you will marry Lydia and make an honest match, for heaven only knows what your intentions really are.’

  ‘And what incentive should I have for doing so? Lydia and I are quite comfortable here, marriage may not suit us.’

  ‘It will suit you, sir, if you are not to be court-martialled for your offence.’

  At this Mr. Wickham paused, knowing Mr. Darcy’s words to be true. If truth be told he really had not given thought as to his or Lydia’s future, simply that in their correspondence perhaps he had become rather carried away. Lydia was certainly a silly little girl, but she was also charming in her own way. The prospect of marriage to her had crossed his mind but the means by which to accomplish it were far beyond his reach.

  ‘And if you avoid that fate, which by my own connections you can, a sum of money from my estates, paid each year until you establish your own independence, will surely see you both right.’ At this Mr. Darcy paused.

  ‘But it comes with two conditions, firstly that the marriage take place immediately, and secondly that word of my own involvement is not breathed to anyone, least of all the Bennets themselves, Now, do you accept my offer or do you not?’

  Mr. Wickham thought for a moment, he was not a bad man, simply a boisterous one who enjoyed the company of women and the thrill of the chase. Nevertheless, the imminent prospect of a court-martial and the possibility of disgracing a young lady whom he rather liked was not one he relished and so, extending his hand, he accepted.

  ‘Your terms are most generous, sir,’ he said, ‘most generous indeed, certainly they are ones I can assent to, given your word as a gentleman.’

  ‘That word you have,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘and you will write immediately to Mr. Bennet informing him that a misunderstanding has arisen, and that you and Lydia had always intended to be married, the elopement the result of childhood fancies on her part, rather than a perceived kidnapping on yours, am I understood?’

  ‘Very clearly. Lydia?’ he called, ‘you and I are to be married, it seems.’

  Lydia and Sir William appeared at the door of the room, both looking somewhat surprised.

  ‘But you said that we should not be married for want of finance,’ she said, ‘it was not important, you said.’

  ‘Not a word more now,’ Mr. Wickham said, appearing embarrassed as his true colours were revealed, ‘not a word more, perhaps we shall buy you a new bonnet this afternoon. Well, gentlemen, I believe our audience is over, we shall make the necessary arrangements, shall we not?’ And he looked at Mr. Darcy.

  ‘We shall indeed,’ the gentleman replied, as he, and a slightly bemused Sir William, carrying with him a letter from Lydia whose contents already now were out of date, left the apartment. As they descended the stairs, the sounds of an excitable Lydia echoing behind them, the elder gentleman turned to Mr. Darcy and asked:

  ‘Whatever did you agree to?’

  ‘Only that if he wished to avoid his inevitable court-martial he should assent to marry the girl at once.’

  ‘And he agreed to this?’

  ‘With a little persuasion he did, yes,’ Mr. Darcy replied, as the two climbed into their carriage and made their way back to Boodle’s, Sir William still perplexed as to how Mr. Darcy had finally persuaded the scoundrel to assent to an honourable path.

  At lunch that day, which consisted of a particularly fine piece of venison, its haunch stuffed with chestnuts and forcemeat, the two gentlemen sat and pondered over what had transpired that morning at Ellingdon Crescent. But talk soon turned to the Bennets and their affairs in matters of the heart.

  ‘No doubt they will be married quickly?’ Sir William said.

  ‘I think most swiftly, then one imagines they shall return to Longbourn, Lydia will no doubt be eager to present her credentials as both the youngest and first married of the sisters.’

  ‘A funny turn of events, they are an unlucky family, I am glad I have only one daughter to marry off, though she herself is ageing a little, I fear perhaps she more interested in her flower pressing than in matters of the heart.’

  ‘Not all women are so inclined to marriage as men might think,’ Mr. Darcy said.

  ‘And your own engagement,’ Sir William continued, ‘you feel a sense of sorrow at its dissolution?’

  ‘I recognised that the good lady and I were incompatible upon many levels,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘and for good or ill it was necessary to break off the promise.’

  By now news of Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley’s broken engagement had spread across society, like a fire engulfing dry wood. But despite it being a talking point in places such as Boodle’s, what was also evident, from the number of men there present having lunch away from their wives, was that many marriages were not born out of love at all, but merely from a sense of duty. Perhaps it was that both Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had come to reject the norms of the society in which they found themselves. For duty rarely leads to happiness.

  ‘You know,’ Sir William said, as a slab of steamed pudding was placed in front of him, and another glass of claret poured, ‘Elizabeth only wished to marry Mr. Collins out of duty to Longbourn.’

  ‘That was an impression which I received myself,’ Mr. Darcy said, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘The poor girl felt it was the only way to save the house, her father doesn’t have long to live, she’s the only one who really recognises that,’ Sir William continued, ‘my daughter Charlotte is her closest friend, she confided it all in her, and one hears titbits from time to time, there was no love lost between her and the clergyman, for no love was there. But she is in deep sorrow now, Mr. Darcy, deep sorrow indeed.’

  ‘And you think I can affect a change in her disposition?’ Mr. Darcy asked.

  ‘Of that I have no doubt,’ Sir William said, ‘and if I have done one favour for the Bennets this day then I have done another by telling you that in such direct terms, sir.’

  ‘And I am grateful to you for it,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘I am rarely a man of immediate conviction, often my actions take some time to come into effect.’

  ‘In this case, I believe swift action to be necessary,’ Sir William said, ‘or you may find that she has slipped away from you again.’

  ‘And what would you advise?’

  ‘It is not for me to say,’ Sir William said, ‘but today you have clearly saved her sister from a most tragic end, and if it were to be known at Longbourn that you have saved Lydia from dishonour then I am
sure you would receive a warm welcome in that place, not least from Elizabeth Bennet who believes herself to have shamed her family somewhat, though of course the greater shame would have been if she had married Collins in the first place.’

  It seemed then that Mr. Darcy had little choice, if he were indeed to seek Elizabeth’s favour, than to go at once to Longbourn. He spent the afternoon in the city and made arrangements with his various business interests for a sum of £800 to be paid annually to Mr. George Wickham, who would no longer reside at Ellingdon Crescent, but be housed in far more suitable accommodation owned by the Darcy estate, close to the Palace of Westminster. He also paid a visit to his friend Major General Hatherington, stationed across the river at Greenwich, imploring the old soldier to arrange for Mr. Wickham to be honourably discharged from the regiment at Meryton, an act which the gentleman in question was only too happy to oblige to, Mr. Darcy having done him several favours over the years in relation to scandal of his own.

  It was late that evening that Mr. Darcy returned to Boodle’s to find Sir William Lucas asleep by the fire in the smoking room.

  ‘Oh, Darcy, it’s you, have you not set out for Longbourn yet?’

  ‘I intend to travel first thing tomorrow morning,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘I merely wished to thank you for your assistance and ask that you do not mention my involvement to the Bennets.'

  ‘Well, why ever not?’ Sir William said, ‘I can hardly take the credit for your actions in rescuing Lydia from the jaws of death.’

  ‘You must take every credit, if it is known that I assisted Lydia then Elizabeth will merely think I am trying to buy her favour. That is not the case, George Wickham almost destroyed the happiness of my own sister and I was determined not to allow him to do the same to any other girl, whether she be a Bennet or not.’

  ‘An honourable stance, sir,’ Sir William said, ‘very well, you shall have my silence, though you do my own honour no credit in lying to Lydia’s father.’

  ‘There is no need to lie, if you had not shown me the letter and engaged my help then the young lady should still be at risk, your own thinking saved that day, think of it in those terms, will you not?’

  Sir William agreed that he would do so, thanking Mr. Darcy once again, and assuring him how pleasant it had been to make his acquaintance, the two now parted company. Mr. Darcy went up to his bed, instructing the steward to rise him early, and Sir William returning to his chair and smoke.

  Mr. Darcy rose early and breakfasted on kedgeree and devilled kidneys, the steward commenting on his hearty appetite.

  ‘Are you to ride out today, sir?’

  ‘Indeed I am, to Hertfordshire.’

  ‘A long ride then, sir, and will we see you at Boodle’s again soon?’

  ‘I have no doubt you will, though I have some considerable business to attend to first.’

  And, after finishing his breakfast Mr. Darcy settled his account and took his horse from the stables at the back of the club, it having been already saddled and brushed for the journey.

  The streets of London were still quiet as he rode past the silent houses and quiet parklands of the city, reaching the road north to Hertfordshire around nine o’clock in the morning. The weather was pleasant, and the ride out from the city into the countryside a most enjoyable one as he contemplated that which was to come.

  Despite departing at an early hour Mr. Darcy was acutely aware that he did not wish to arrive into the district of Meryton until evening was drawing in. Should he be seen in the village or in the surrounding countryside, such a face would no doubt be relayed quickly to the Bingleys, and he had no doubt that Caroline would dispatch her brother to him immediately in order to seek an audience, a meeting he wished to avoid at all costs.

  As the sun climbed high into the sky and the day became pleasantly warm, Mr. Darcy crossed over the river south of Broxbourne, and paused for refreshment at the inn close to the bridge.

  The Kings Arms was a pleasant hostelry run by a rotund and jolly woman who introduced herself as Miss Gatesby, landlady and proprietress of the inn, her husband having been invalided in India with yellow fever, she inheriting his estate.

  Mr. Darcy was not particularly interested in these details but the large slice of pork pie and refreshing glass of ale which she served to him in the front room of the inn was most welcome, despite the substantial breakfast he had enjoyed at Boodle’s just a few hours previously.

  As he sat at his meal, the landlady making the occasional interjection into his thoughts, he pondered as to what he would say to Elizabeth that evening when, all being well, he was granted an audience a Longbourn. Would he speak directly to her of the events which had transpired? He would have to feign his lack of knowledge over the circumstances surrounding Lydia’s disappearance, but would he mention that he had met Sir William? Or was it better simply to say that he was desirous to see her and that he absolutely had to come at once. Would she know of the break in engagement between he and Caroline Bingley?

  It was all these questions which vexed his mind that afternoon as he sat in the parlour of the Kings Arms at Broxbourne, before continuing his journey towards Longbourn, his nerves at what was to come increasing by the mile.

  4

  An Unexpected Visitor

  ‘Father, there is a letter here with a London postmark, see, but the writing is not Lydia’s,’ Jane called to Mr. Bennet, the delivery boy having just brought it from Meryton.

  ‘Aha,’ the gentleman said, emerging from his study, ‘it is though I hope some word from a benefactor of hers.’

  ‘Is it news of Lydia?’ Mrs. Bennet asked, emerging in a fluster from the parlour.

  ‘Let us all go into the parlour and I shall open it there, reading it aloud and thus ensuring everyone is privy to its contents,’ Mr. Bennet said, appearing a little exasperated as the whole family now gathered in the hallway.

  Growing expectantly quiet the Bennet sisters and their mother followed their father into the parlour where he seated himself in front of the fire, the rest gathering expectantly around him.

  ‘It is from Sir William Lucas, I took the trouble to write to him, knowing he to be in town, and asking him to look in on Lydia at her lodgings.’

  ‘Mr. Bennet, you are a wise man and make no mistake, a wise man indeed, isn’t he girls, now if only …’

  ‘My dear Mrs. Bennet, my wisdom or not shall be confirmed once the contents of this letter are ascertained so please now permit me to read it to you.’

  The room fell silent as Mr. Bennet opened the letter, sealed with the Boodle’s wax stamp and proceeded to read.

  My dear sir,

  I am grateful to you for your correspondence regarding your youngest daughter, I should not have hesitated to do the same should Charlotte have been in a similar situation.

  Your letter found me at my club as directed and upon receiving it I was able to take a carriage over to the address which you gave me, it is in a poor part of town though not the worst.

  After some enquiries, I ascertained that Lydia and Mr. Wickham were indeed resident in the tenement buildings of 24 Ellingdon Crescent, though it took some time to rouse them.

  At first Mr. Wickham was hostile but eventually granted me an interview, during which I discovered that Lydia is in no danger and in good spirits, though clearly she has been somewhat taken in by this gentleman’s charms, though where they lie eludes me.

  I can report to you that Mr. Wickham’s fortunes have unexpectedly changed ensuring that he and Lydia are to be married forthwith and that he had income enough to provide for her suitably, he intending to pursue independent means.

  With these facts established I persuaded Lydia also to write to you and describe her own situation, which will no doubt tally with your own.

  Having been satisfied that your daughter’s circumstances, though not ideal, are satisfactory I returned to the club from whence I dispatched this correspondence.

  I shall call upon you upon my return to Longbourn on Saturday.<
br />
  I remain yours truly and sincerely,

  William Lucas, Esq.

  The letter also included that of Lydia which, as Sir William suggested, contained much the same sentiments, neither of course making mention of Mr. Darcy.

  ‘Another wedding,’ Mrs. Bennet cried, ‘yet it sounds as though it is to take place quickly, does she not wish her own mother and father to be present?’

  ‘I think Lydia still has much explaining to do, Mother,’ Mary said, a fact to which the other sisters agreed.

  Kitty had been most miserable without her sister, the attraction of walking to Meryton each day now having lost much of its appeal. Jane and Elizabeth were simply grateful that they had had news of their sister, as was Mr. Bennet of hearing that his daughter was at least not in a state entirely disreputable, though hardly ideal.

  Mrs. Bennet had already lost out on one marriage, two if you counted her dreams for Jane, and it saddened her that once again her newly purchased bonnet would go unused.

  ‘Well, now, Mr. Bennet,’ she said, ‘how good it is to know that at least one of our daughters will now be married and that she has an income to provide for her.’

  ‘And where has that income derived itself from,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘Mr. Wickham is a mere officer in the guards, a court-martialled one no doubt, how will he support her?’

  ‘Well, Sir William would not have written as such if it were not true,’ his wife said, satisfying herself with her own reasoning, for the question had also crossed her mind too.

  That day the worry over Lydia had at least settled a little and Jane and Elizabeth took a walk up onto the ridge and looked down onto Netherfield, it picturesque setting appearing particularly fine in the afternoon sun.

  ‘Do you suppose Mr. Bingley will buy Netherfield?’ Elizabeth asked her sister.

  ‘Well, he clearly took to it,’ Jane said, ‘he should be an adequate neighbour,’ and both girls laughed.

  ‘Adequate apart from his sister, though of course she will be at Pemberley soon enough,’ Elizabeth replied.