Her mother merely wailed more loudly, and pulled at Elizabeth’s sleeve. “My Lydia! Poor, dear, Lydia! What will they be saying to her? She’s a good girl, it must have been those dreadful officers.”
“All right, Mama. If you’re not ready to get up just yet, let me go and dress, then I will come back.” Elizabeth left her mother’s chamber with a sigh of relief. Her mother would never change, and Elizabeth felt acutely alone.
Mary made her way along the landing. “I’m sorry this has happened, Lizzy. I cannot imagine Mama will ever get over it. And now Jane is gone, you must feel quite lonely.”
Elizabeth gazed at her sister in surprise. She’d never have imagined Mary would show such understanding. She sighed, resigned. “You’re right, Mary. But we will have to stay strong together until the worst is over.” She laughed hollowly. “At least we now know how Mrs. Long must have felt — and Faith.”
As she washed hastily, she acknowledged ruefully that Mary had been right. It was the loss of Jane that had hit her most acutely. As soon as Papa had ordered Lydia to don her coat and hat, and was waiting in the hall, his face implacable, she’d gone onto tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “Might I send to Jane? I think Mr. Bingley should take her to London.”
He’d nodded, his face more lined than she’d ever seen it. “Good idea, Lizzy. See to it.”
But Jane had arrived a few hours later, with Mr. Bingley. As her sister had hurried upstairs to console her mother, Elizabeth had spoken quietly to Mr. Bingley.
“You must take her away at once, Mr. Bingley. Take her to London, or on a summer tour. I would not have her share our disgrace.”
He’d looked at her very seriously. “Thank you for thinking of her before yourself, Miss Elizabeth. I know you will miss her as much as she will miss you.”
Elizabeth had turned away, blinking. “Take her soon, Mr. Bingley. I will wish you happiness always.”
But the last two days had made her wish very much that if this had to happen, if it could only have waited until the situation between herself and Mr. Darcy could have been resolved. He had not returned. He must have heard that Lydia’s trouble had become known.
She had been certain that his affections were stirred, but he had never said so.
Two days. Surely Papa would be home soon. How far away had he taken Lydia? He had to come home. He knew she was relying on it.
Then he was there. But he spent his days in his library, the door closed. At mealtimes, he ate in silence, and with Mama still upstairs, Elizabeth, Kitty and Mary followed his example.
* * *
Several days later still, Elizabeth sat in the sitting room with her sisters. After half an hour, she set down her needlework. If Papa was not going to do anything, then she must.
“Mary, Kitty, may we talk of the situation here?” Both the others looked up, surprised, and Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “I think it is up to us to try and change things now. Nothing we can do will bring things back to how they were before, but I think we can improve things somewhat.”
Mary got up and came to sit next to Elizabeth. “What do you think we should do? I will do everything I can.”
Kitty nodded eagerly. “I will, too. It is so very quiet.”
Elizabeth reached out and took their hands. “Thank you. The first thing is to know that we have done nothing wrong. We have nothing to feel shame about — it is society that wants us to feel shame.” She felt Mary squeeze her hand.
“The second thing is that I think Mama will not recover any equilibrium until we can entice her from her bedchamber. She must come downstairs and begin to get back into her old routine. Do you agree?”
Both her sisters nodded. “But how do we do that?” Mary objected. “I think Mama is enjoying the drama of having us all pay attention to her.”
“You’re right, Mary. I will need to talk to Papa and get his permission, but I think that we should not give Mama that satisfaction any more. We should not have more than a brief visit to her chamber each day, and merely say what we are doing downstairs, and what we are talking about.”
She smiled. “After a day of that, we must tell the servants that they must no longer provide her meals upstairs. Mama must join us for mealtimes. If Papa agrees, we must then try very hard to make things as easy for her as we can. We must make easy conversation and find things to gossip about, so that she can join in and we might return to as much of normality as we can.”
“It will be difficult to find things to gossip about.” Kitty’s brow was furrowed. “We hear nothing at the moment.”
“Quite.” Elizabeth’s head went up. “Will one of you walk into town with me this afternoon? I want to buy more thread at the milliners. Then I would like to ask Aunt Philips to call for tea — it will help Mama to think there is something to come downstairs for.” She hesitated. “Perhaps after a week or so, Mrs. Long might be invited to call.” She smiled sadly. “After all, we’re in the same boat now.”
Mary smiled. “That might be a step too far to think about just now, Lizzy. But I think your main idea is sound. Will you speak to Papa, and we can then arrange with Hill what Mama can, and cannot, have upstairs?”
Chapter 43
Darcy and Richard put together their plans in the coach during the return to London. Darcy was impatient to complete the matter.
Young Chamberlayne had agreed to marry Miss Lydia Bennet, and had been glad to do so. Colonel Forster’s first choice, Denny, had also been enthusiastic, until he was asked what his family might think about the matter, and had reluctantly decided to forgo the tempting settlement.
Chamberlayne had no family, and appeared to be of a similar temperament to his future bride. Forster had furnished him with a travel warrant to London, and the youth was to be ensconced in a local barracks until needed for the ceremony, following which Darcy would purchase the commission and make arrangements for his allowance.
Darcy was very satisfied with the arrangements thus far. But now he had to speak to Elizabeth’s father and he rather dreaded the embarrassment of the conversation he must have.
He sat at his desk in the library at Darcy House. Richard sat with his coffee in a comfortable armchair, distracting him with suggestions of certain sentences, until Darcy threw down his pen in disgust.
“How many times am I to rewrite this letter, Richard?” he complained.
“Until you are satisfied with it, Darcy.” His cousin remained composed. “We want Bennet to stir himself and leave Meryton, yet we do not wish to explain exactly why. It will take considerable talent to ensure it, as I do not know the character of the man, and you do not wish to cause him any offence.”
“Very well,” Darcy grumbled. “Let me make some notes first, and then I will write the letter again.”
“Good. Then we can dine at Matlock House. Georgiana will be pleased to see you, even if you do not wish her to come home just yet.”
* * *
Three days later, Darcy and Richard were waiting in the Red Bull Inn in Hertford. Bennet had agreed to travel as far as the county town, but had said that he was unable to travel to London at present.
Darcy and Richard had looked at each other. It seemed that perhaps Lydia’s shame might already have been broadcast around the country, and Darcy’s hope of preventing it entirely might have been in vain.
Darcy sighed. He wished Elizabeth had not had to go through it all.
“Courage, my cousin,” Richard glanced at him. “He is due shortly, and we must be persuasive.”
Darcy nodded despondently. He wanted to go to Hertfordshire, wanted to take Elizabeth and make her his wife as soon as he could.
He imagined what it would be like when they were wed. He would be able to hold her, feel the warmth of her body …
“Darcy!” warned Richard, and he heard voices in the hallway.
A knock on the door, and the landlord announced Mr. Bennet. The man seemed tired, and a great deal older to Darcy’s eyes, as he bowed perfunctorily.
“G
ood day, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said carefully. “I don’t believe you were introduced to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, at the Netherfield ball?”
Richard bowed at him. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Bennet dipped his head. “Colonel.” He took the seat indicated by Darcy, who studied him quietly.
“Your letter intrigued me, Mr. Darcy. But I have to tell you, I am not able to stay away from home very long.” The man looked up and met his eye. “I’m sure you know why; when you stopped calling on Lizzy, you must have known what was about to happen.”
“Has it happened yet?” Darcy asked as gently as he could.
“It has.” Bennet didn’t seem inclined to talk. There was a pause. Darcy wanted to ask how Bennet was dealing with it, but Richard glared at him, and he subsided.
Eventually, Bennet sighed. “I have sent her away. I didn’t want her ruin to affect my other daughters. Her mother has reacted in the way that you would expect. Lizzy asked Mr. Bingley to take Jane away, so they have gone to London.” He looked up.
“Lizzy wanted to try and get her mother to begin to rebuild her life, but I think it is too soon, and it is my responsibility, in any event. So I have sent Lizzy to stay with her uncle and aunt in London. It will do her good; she may be able to see her sister, and I am also aware that it is not long ago that she was very ill.”
Darcy looked down. “That is very generous of you, sir.” He smiled faintly. “Although I am certain she feels that she ought to stay and assist you.”
Bennet also smiled. “I am very sorry that circumstances have decreed your detachment from my daughter, Mr. Darcy. I believe you would have made a very happy marriage.”
“But you do not blame him.” Richard sounded as if he was stating a fact, and Bennet turned to him.
“Not at all. If the same had happened in reverse, I could not have allowed Lizzy to ally herself with such a family, so I cannot fault Mr. Darcy for doing as I would have.”
“However,” Darcy interrupted, and Bennet turned to look at him. “However. I too believe that your daughter is someone I would wish to ask for your consent to marry.” He glanced at Richard for help.
His cousin leaned forward. “Mr. Bennet, perhaps I can explain things rather more quickly than Darcy might.” He thought for a moment. “Should your youngest daughter marry very soon, Darcy would be able to court Miss Elizabeth, which he wishes to do.”
Bennet stood up and turned away. “It is not possible. I am afraid there is not fortune enough to ensure it.”
“We know that, Mr. Bennet. And Wickham is already married. As you might suspect, he has been the cause of ruin of several young women.” Richard had Bennet’s attention now, his expression dark with anger.
“But we have been to Brighton, because we know that Miss Lydia enjoyed the company of the officers. With the help of Colonel Forster, we have identified a young officer who is without fortune, who is willing to marry Miss Lydia. He will be assisted with a commission in the regulars and a monthly allowance sufficient to keep a family.”
Bennet was looking suspiciously at Darcy. “If you do this, what will happen if Lizzy won’t have you?”
Darcy felt as if he had been struck. “Well, the settlement will have been made, and I will not undo it … but, do you think she might refuse me?” His world seemed to go dark.
Bennet sat back down. “I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “Before all this, I would have said she might well accept. Now?” He turned to him. “I think she has an inordinate innate pride. It sometimes does not serve her well. She might think it would seem that she was marrying out of gratitude, that you pity her; so she might be inclined to refuse on those grounds.”
Darcy bowed his head. Then he raised it. “Thank you for telling me. May I still court her?”
Bennet gave him a long, measured look. Then his shoulders slumped. “Of course. Take your time, Mr. Darcy. Not only has she had this happen, she is not long recovered from her illness.”
“Thank you,” Darcy murmured.
Richard sat forward. “I am aware your time is short, Mr. Bennet, so perhaps you will forgive me if we return to the marriage of Miss Lydia. As we have explained, we have a young militia officer known to Miss Lydia, who is willing to marry her. He will join the regulars — a regiment based in the North Country — and his allowance will allow them to live well enough but not have a fortune in hand that might be a temptation to them. His name is Chamberlayne. Do you know him?”
Bennet frowned. “I do. Does he acknowledge that he might be the father?”
Darcy shook his head. “No sir. That was never discussed.”
After a short silence, Richard spoke again. “Would you be willing to consent to the marriage, sir?”
This time the silence was longer. Then Bennet looked at him, his face even more deeply lined than Darcy had seen before. “I can never repay the cost.”
Darcy shook his head. “Repayment is not required or asked for, Mr. Bennet.”
“Then, as long as you are still agreeable, then, yes, I will give my consent. It is fortunate that she is now sixteen.” Bennet sounded tired.
“Thank you.” Darcy could feel only relief. “Is Miss Lydia in London?”
Bennet nodded. “Yes. She can stay there until the ceremony, and then I imagine they will travel to join his new regiment.”
“Yes. The sooner the better — if you agree, sir.”
Bennet nodded. “I will have to make arrangements … go and tell her what has been decided. Then I will convey her to whatever church you tell me at the right time.” He rose to his feet. “I have been long enough away. Please excuse me, gentlemen, and thank you.” He turned for the door, hesitated and turned back. “I will not tell the family until it is all accomplished.” He bowed, and was gone.
Darcy looked at Richard, and sighed. “And she might yet refuse me.”
Chapter 44
Elizabeth was so relieved to be staying at her aunt and uncle’s home in Cheapside that for the first few mornings she slept long past dawn, unusual for her.
Life there was as she had always known it, quiet, serene, and without the usual dramas of home. As the days passed, she felt tension leave her, and her headaches no longer returned.
But she knew she would never see Mr. Darcy again, and it was hard to raise her spirits.
That morning, she sat quietly in the drawing room with her aunt, and wrote a little note to Mary, as she did nearly every day. She still didn’t agree with Papa’s decision to send her here; asking Mary to look after Mama was not easy for Mary, and Elizabeth reminded her in the note that she ought to take time to practice, as the music would take her mind to happier times.
Yesterday, Jane had called again, and Elizabeth was happy that staying here had the advantage that she could at least see her sister often.
Aunt Gardiner lifted her head as they heard the knock on the door, and they looked at each other, wondering who it might be.
A footman announced their guest. “Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth felt her heart lurch. She’d never expected to see him again.
Aunt Gardiner looked puzzled, but curtsied. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I will order tea,” and she nodded at the footman.
Elizabeth knew her face was hot, and she smiled uncertainly at him. His expression was as impassive as always, but his gaze, as he looked at her, was intense.
As she took her seat, Aunt Gardiner looked at her speculatively, and Elizabeth wished she had apprised her aunt of his involvement in all that had happened.
There was a short silence, before Aunt Gardiner drew breath. “It is an honour to meet you again, Mr. Darcy. It seems a long time since Jane’s wedding. But I do not imagine your call is about Pemberley.” She looked enquiringly at him.
He looked a little embarrassed, and Elizabeth broke in. “With the unfolding events, Aunt Gardiner, I did not mention Mr. Darcy’s name when I told you what had happened at home, because I did not wish to cause him embarrassment. But it was Mr. Da
rcy who saved Lydia from the river, and assisted me, too.”
Aunt Gardiner looked at her in shock, then at Mr. Darcy. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, Mr. Darcy, or I would have been much more welcoming.” She smiled warmly at him, “I am very grateful to you. I have heard the story, without your name being said, and I know enough to acknowledge that you risked your life without hesitation to save my nieces.” She extended her hand. “Thank you.”
Mr. Darcy rose and bowed over her hand. He smiled slightly. “I am certain that it sounded much more dangerous in the retelling than it was in reality, Mrs. Gardiner.” His eyes sought out Elizabeth. “I could not have borne it if things had not gone well.”
Aunt Gardiner looked from him to Elizabeth with a dawning wonder in her eyes. “The tea will be here very shortly, Mr. Darcy. But I hope you will excuse me, I have a pressing amount of correspondence to attend to.” She rose from her chair, went to her writing desk in the far corner of the room, and picked up her pen.
Elizabeth’s heart was hammering so much, she was sure he must be able to hear it. He drew his chair a little closer, and sat forward. His voice was quiet.
“Miss Elizabeth, I hope you are not displeased that I have called?”
She looked up, startled. “Not at all, Mr. Darcy.” She smiled nervously. “But I was not expecting it.”
He chuckled quietly. “I know. I, too, am expected not to call again.” He sighed. “But I could not bear to think of you feeling anxious and alone.”
She looked at him, puzzled. Then she took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, and I hope you will not be offended, but I know that you have acknowledged within you a lack of social ability, and thus I am surprised that you seem to know so well how I might be feeling.” She held her breath. Would he recognise the quote from his very first note in her writing chest?
He was very still for a moment. Then he rubbed his forehead. “I did not know it was you at first, but I began to suspect after a few weeks. I hope you were not offended.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and drew out a folded sheet of paper. Smiling ruefully, he gave it to her.
A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10) Page 18