“Papa, it was not like that,” Lydia protested.
Mr. Bennet shook off her objections. “We are both aware that in your imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. You saw it with the creative eye of fancy; the streets of that gay bathing place covered with officers and you the object of attention to scores of them. You dreamed of the pleasures of so benevolent a scheme. However, we can revisit these fancies, or we can determine what might best serve you in your marriage.” His matter-of-fact attitude said that he did not expect a response. “What was begun as a matter of prudence soon grew into a matter of choice. You have made your bed, Lydia, and you must learn to lie comfortably in it. Marriage is forever.” He glanced at the woman who had once fascinated him, but who now vexed his hard-earned peace of mind.
“I have tried, Papa,” his daughter said softly.
“Then you will try again.” He nodded to his wife. “If Lieutenant Wickham has truly returned to Carlisle without you, your mother will escort you home after Kitty’s wedding. I have already promised Mr. Darcy to see to Lizzy and Bennet. The great man intends an extended business journey in the North. If Mrs. Bennet will agree, you may use my coach.”
“Certainly, I shall agree,” his wife assured.
“Shall I be allowed to attend my sister’s nuptials?” Lydia asked contritely.
Mr. Bennet held her steady gaze. “I will speak to Lizzy’s husband, but only if you promise no words of this incident nor of past grievances will be spoken by you during the festivities. Nothing is to dampen Kitty’s memory of her wedding.” He reached for Lydia’s hand and patted the back of it. “I suspect it is best that you remain here tonight. At least, until we determine if Lieutenant Wickham intends to return. Under no circumstances will Lizzy or Mr. Darcy accept your husband at Pemberley.”
“Would you prefer that I remain with you this evening?” Mrs. Bennet offered.
Lydia said childlike, “Would you, Mama? I have missed everyone so.”
Mrs. Bennet tightened her hold on the girl. “No more than your absence has clouded our time at Longbourn.”
“It is beautiful,” Mary Joseph said as she and Elizabeth strolled armin-arm across the abbey’s ground.
“It is one of my favorite places in Derbyshire,” Elizabeth said wistfully. “Do not tell Mr. Darcy’s Uncle Matlock, but I prefer this ancient woodland, with its fine beech and oak trees, to the Earl’s combed lawns at Matley Manor.”
Mary nodded her agreement. “Do you come here often?”
“The first time I saw the abbey, Mr. Darcy’s sister arranged our trip.” They leisurely traversed the well-worn path. “It was shortly after I had lost the first of our children, and Mr. Darcy had been called away for a business appointment. Up to that point in our marriage, we had never been separated for more than a few hours, and I was taking it quite hard. That is until Georgiana insisted that I accompany her on a day trip to these exquisite ruins, and here I found peace. Miss Darcy understood me better than I did myself.” They walked in silence for several minutes. “Did you know an appearance of the Virgin Mary to a Derby baker inspired Deepedale? She counseled the man to live in solitude and prayer.”
Mary said nothing for several minutes, but then she began to giggle. Her mirth grew and soon both women laughed openly. Happy tears streamed from their eyes, and they clung to one another. Although she did notice her husband’s hesitation at interrupting their exchange, Darcy’s approach could not smother their jollity. She wondered if he considered her earlier snit. She had no excuse other than the emotional swings of her pregnancy. She certainly did not consider Rose Winkler a threat to her marriage. “What brings two lovely ladies such joy?” he asked with a smile.
Elizabeth wiped at her weepy eyes and attempted to remove the smile from her face. “Just the tale of a hermit carving out a home and a chapel in a sandstone cliff,” she rasped between softening breaths.
Although not recognizing the source of their mirth, Darcy chuckled. “Women. How are men to understand them?”
“You are not to know the depths of our reasoning,” Elizabeth said pertly.
He smiled lovingly at his wife. “Yet, what a magnificent way to be driven insane.” He bowed courtly to the women. “And now, my ladies, I have been summoned to fetch you. Our carriages await.”
“Must we?” Elizabeth protested weakly.
Darcy offered an arm to each woman. “If we do not, your sister may lose a future husband. Kitty is feeling quite neglected because Mr. Winkler and Mr. Joseph have engaged in a thoroughly theological debate for nearly an hour. I have proposed that our party stop at the Dove and Dale in Derby for refreshments before our return to Pemberley. I have also suggested to my future brother in marriage that if he requires an equality in his joining, that he should soothe your sister’s peevishness with an extra dose of his attentions.”
Elizabeth smiled widely at him. “As you have learned, Mr. Darcy?” she teased.
He edged her closer to his side with a flex of his forearm. “Why learn a valuable lesson if one cannot pass on the knowledge?” he countered.
“I shall remind Mr. Joseph of those obligations,” Mary said. “My husband grieves for the opportunity to discuss his readings with other knowledgeable followers of God’s word, but Matthew can sometimes lose sight of everyday situations.”
Elizabeth tightened her fingers about Darcy’s arm. “I was telling Mrs. Joseph of my first visit to the abbey. It seems odd to be among these structures without Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”
“I pray my sister is happy with her new life, but I admit to experiencing a void in mine.”
“How many be there?” The house’s master asked as his mother joined him on the turret.
“Four, not countin’ the woman we brought in,” she said as she scanned the open fields leading to the family’s main property. It was a former Scottish keep that had been repaired and added to over the years. The style was a mix of former barbarism and contemporary elegance. The woman closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The mist rolled across the Scottish moors, and the woman beside him rose on tiptoes as if to embrace the land.
The man intoned harshly, “Be we not countin’ the woman?”
“I be thinkin’. Aulay will soon be needin’ a wife.”
Domhnall protested, “Surely, the lady has a man. She not be needin’ another to warm her bed.”
His mother shook her head in denial. “The lady say he be dead, and there be more. She be with child.”
He roughly grabbed her arm and turned her to him. “How came ye to this knowledge?”
“As you instructed, I brought the gel a warmer gown. Wanted to see her meself. See if’n she be worthy of Aulay. She be thin as we say before, but her waist shows signs of the growth below the lady’s bosom.”
“You would thrust another man’s child on Aulay? My brother is barely capable of tending to his own needs. How might he protect a bairn when he remains so childlike himself?”
She returned her gaze to the rolling hills and woodlands. “Aulay will never earn another’s affection,” she said without rancor. “And the gel will need someone to save her reputation. Her accent say she be English. You shud know better than I how priggish be the English regarding their womenfolk. Besides, she comes from money. The child will inherit a fortune. If Aulay takes the gel to wife, we control both the woman and the bairn, and her family can do nothin’ more than turn over the funds. We could leave this madness behind.”
“But you designed the madness,” he observed. They remained silent for several minutes as he contemplated what she suggested. “And you are certain of the lady’s fortune?”
“I sent Blane to ask about the area where she be found. I be having no doubts.”
His eyes narrowed in arrogance. Her smile announced how pleased she was at having bested his plans for the woman. He could not permit the girl to walk away, but not for the reasons his mother suspected. She thought only of the possible profit. He thought of the possibil
ity of losing a woman he had yet to meet properly. “I be considering your words,” he warned menacingly. He would have to discover another way of diverting the danger in which his mother had embroiled them, but for now, he would play the hand she had dealt him.
She thought of her family’s letter. The news had sent her racing across the moor. Foolishly trying to outrun the pain. As she considered it now, she realized the Countess had written in haste. Without all the facts. If Edward were truly dead, she would have known immediately. Her heart would have split in halves. She would have felt the emptiness—the dark void of losing the man she dearly loved.
“Into such a conundrum you have gotten yourself,” she moaned. The cot’s edge cut into her side as she turned herself to lie flat on her back. “Think, Georgiana,” she chastised herself. “You must think your way clear of this.” The darkness filled the room, and she accepted her need to sleep. “A few hours. Dream of Edward and of Fitzwilliam and of Elizabeth. Dream of your family.”
Mr. Bennet had waited patiently for the return of Pemberley’s guests. A light knock on his sitting room door signaled his daughter’s concern. “Come in, Lizzy,” he called.
The door opened immediately, and she slipped into the room. “How did you know it was I?” she asked as she joined him before the empty hearth.
“Who else would call on an old man besides a beloved daughter?” He reached for the glass of brandy on the side table.
Elizabeth sat quietly and waited for him to finish his drink. “Did you have your evening meal?”
“Mrs. Oliver sent up a tray.” He paused before adding, “I spent some time in the nursery with my grandchildren. They grow so quickly; I wanted to capture a few moments to add to my memories.” His smile turned up his mouth’s corners. “Your Bennet will give Jackson a rough way to go—very much as you did with Jane. You always ruled the Bennet nursery.”
“One cannot forget Mr. Darcy’s propensity to organize his world,” Elizabeth said with her own smile of amusement. They sat in silent companionship for several minutes. “Did Lydia and Lieutenant Wickham stay at the cottage?”
He marked his place in his book with what she recognized as a poor piece of embroidery with which she had presented him when she was twelve. It pleased Elizabeth that he had kept the stiffened material as a memento of her affection for him. “Lydia has remained. Your mother has agreed to stay with your sister.”
Elizabeth’s tone betrayed her surprise. “Has Lieutenant Wickham departed?”
His mouth tightened into a firm line. “Mrs. Bennet and I walked in on Lieutenant Wickham’s angry response to his eviction from Pemberley.”
“What do you mean by angry response?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Your imagination is not required,” he cautioned.
Elizabeth sat forward in agitation. “Lieutenant Wickham struck Lydia?”
“I do not expect it to have been the first time,” he said softly. “Your sister’s husband berated her with words of his many conquests.” He expelled a deep sigh. “What future have I encouraged for my child?” he whispered.
“Oh, Papa.” Elizabeth slumped heavily into the chair’s cushions. “It was not your fault. You did what you thought necessary to protect Lydia and the family. We all required the rescue of Lydia’s reputation, but none of us would ever have wished such a fate on any woman, especially not on someone as emotionally naïve as Lydia.”
“I cannot lay the blame of this matter at your feet, Lizzy,” he said vehemently. “You warned me of the folly of permitting Lydia to accompany the Forsters to Brighton, but I ignored your concerns. Neither is Mr. Darcy at fault for her consciousness of misery. He attempted to convince Lydia to return to the family fold, but your mother and I had permitted your sister too much freedom. Mr. Darcy’s intervention saved Lydia’s reputation and permitted the rest of my daughters to make good matches. I despise the situation in which Lydia finds herself, but as much as I bemoan the Fates for setting her situation in motion, her life is the result of your sister’s impetuous nature. From the time she set her sights on Lieutenant Wickham, Lydia accepted the man’s control over her. I simply wish she had more of Mary’s deliberate nature. I think she might have an easier road of it.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily. “What shall we do, Papa?”
“Your mother will escort Lydia to Carlisle. I have promised Mr. Darcy I will remain at Pemberley with you and Bennet in your husband’s absence. Besides, Lydia must learn to run a household with more economy. Your mother can assist with that transition better than I.” He stared at the empty fireplace. “I am sore to deny Mrs. Bennet the pleasure of seeing the last of her daughters married by sending her on with Lydia. Yet, Mrs. Bennet grieves greatly because of the situation in which Lydia has found herself. Both of their foolish dreams of dashing men in red coats have burst. Therefore, would you ask Mr. Darcy to accept Lydia’s presence at Pemberley for Kitty’s sake? I have secured your sister’s promise to guard her words. If it is a worry to your husband, I do not expect Lieutenant Wickham will return for her. In case I have erred in that assumption, and the gentleman chooses to seek his wife’s forgiveness, I have left the carriage at the cottage for Mrs. Bennet’s use.”
“I shall consult with Mr. Darcy immediately.”
The following morning the questions began. “Will Mother Bennet break her fast with us?” Bingley asked as he filled his plate.
Her father shot a quick glance to where Darcy sat at the table’s head, and Elizabeth surmised that the two men in her life had come to an agreement. “I imagine Mrs. Bennet still dotes over our youngest. Lydia arrived unexpectedly on Pemberley’s doorstep, possibly an hour or so before everyone’s return from Derby last evening.”
“Alone?” Bingley questioned, and after receiving a nod of affirmation from Mr. Bennet, he observed, “It was very gracious of Lieutenant Wickham to permit Lydia’s attendance at Kitty’s nuptials. Mrs. Wickham was unable to attend her other sisters’ joinings.”
When her husband had agreed to meet with her father regarding Lydia’s situation, Elizabeth had wondered whether the Bingleys would also be consulted as to the story the Darcy household would tell the world of her youngest sister’s untimely appearance. Evidently, her father and husband had chosen to limit those in the know. Darcy’s refusal to meet her gaze said that her husband was not pleased with the outcome, but that he would tolerate Lydia’s presence over the upcoming days. Elizabeth made a mental note to keep both her mother and Lydia as far from Darcy as possible. Her husband’s honor and his love for her never ceased to amaze her, and she would reward his actions by circumventing Lydia’s foolishness. In Elizabeth’s estimation, the man who sat at the table’s other end was absolutely incomparable. He had once again risen above the expected censure.
Kitty added, “Having Lydia in attendance shall make my day complete.”
Having witnessed the pain displayed on Kitty’s face during the previous day’s confrontation with the Wickhams, Elizabeth also directed part of her admiration toward Kitty. “The five Bennet sisters under one roof,” she said weakly. “It has been too long.”
“It is generous of you and Mr. Darcy to open your doors to our family,” Jane observed.
Elizabeth expected Darcy to respond graciously, but her husband continued to bury his nose in the morning papers. “My husband’s benevolence is renowned,” she said. “And I am blessed by it,” she added to let him know that she understood his reticence.
Her tone must have penetrated his efforts to ignore the conversation because he lowered the paper just a bit. Unexpectedly, he winked at her, and Elizabeth breathed easier. He would not turn from her. They would survive yet another of their familial catastrophes.
“Our afternoon guests should arrive by one of the clock. I have asked Mrs. Oliver for a picnic served on the lawn at two.” She stood to take her leave. “I shall check on the preparations.”
“May I offer my assistance?” Kitty asked tentatively.
Elizabeth paused by Ki
tty’s chair. “You, my dear, are assigned the arduous task of being radiantly happy.” She bent to kiss the top of Kitty’s head. “Create wonderful memories of these days to tell your children.”
Lydia had fought against her natural propensity to seek the attention of all the gentlemen in the room; she constantly reminded herself that she would abide by her father’s edict. Often, of late, she had prayed for a way to regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed. At least, I am finally at Pemberley, she thought. I can experience the splendor of Lizzy’s life first hand, rather than in finely scripted letters describing the lovely gowns of Pemberley’s guests from Kitty, or in a litany of Jane’s and Mary’s accomplishments from Mama, she added silently as she looked over the room. Jane had her wealthy Mr. Bingley, Lizzy her even wealthier Mr. Darcy, Mary her highly respected Mr. Grange, and now Kitty had landed the son of a baronet. The disparity between her station in life and those of her sisters was not lost on her. Everyone content except me, she thought.
Kitty’s approach brought her musings to a close. “There you are,” Kitty said as she handed Lydia a small, colorfully wrapped package. “A little something to say that I am pleased to have you join us for the wedding. It would not be the same without you, Lyddie.”
Lydia’s heart lurched in happiness. Kitty had not forsaken her. “How very kind,” she mumbled awkwardly.
“Open it,” Kitty instructed. Lydia wondered when her sister had learned such a cultured accent. She suddenly realized Kitty’s voice sounded more like the polished tones often practiced by Jane and Lizzy when they were all living under the same roof. At the time, she and Kitty had made light of their older sisters’ ways, but she could not escape the fact that each of the Bennet sisters, except her, had found a man of wealth or of an honored position. Was there a connection between pursuing one’s studies and finding a respectable husband? It was all so confusing. Until this journey, Lydia had never analyzed her choices—had always assumed she had acted wisely—had accepted Mr. Wickham’s temper as part of the marriage bargain. Now, she was not so certain. Her parents never openly expressed affection, and more than once she knew that her mother had caused her father great embarrassment, but never had he raised his hand to her, nor to his children. She had assumed she would have a husband who treated her as her father had treated her mother, but her foolish dash to the altar had denied her girlish dreams.
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery Page 8