by Wells, Linda
“Lydia has not said a word since she came home.” Mrs. Bennet sat down and pulled out her handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “I hardly know what to do. She has always been so bright and cheerful.”
“Well I suspect that it will be Jane who she will wish to talk with, she received the longest letter.” He glanced at the ceiling. “She is with her?”
“She just went up.” Mrs. Bennet wrung her hands. “Oh, Mr. Bennet. What have we done? None of our children love us!”
“We hardly showed them much care, Mrs. Bennet. I will be happy if they even like us.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Jane loves us. She is too good.”
Jane sat on the bed and looked up at Lydia. “Have you heard from Jessica?”
“Just this morning.” She walked over to her reticule and took out a letter, and handed it to Jane. “It is not what we dreamed about at all.”
Jane opened the letter written on a scrap of dirty paper and concentrated on the closely written lines, turning the page so that she could read the words crammed into every conceivable space, then finishing, closed her eyes and fighting back the emotion she was feeling welling up in her breast, forced herself to read it through again. At last she folded it up. “We need to send word to her family of her location.” She saw Lydia staring out at the garden. “Even if she cannot return home, they can save her from the life she has found. Her father has been searching for her?”
“Yes.” Lydia had tears rolling down her cheeks. “We thought that it was going to be such fun, and so romantic to run away. We did not care what anyone thought of us. We thought that everyone was boring and we were the ones who were right.” She looked at the letter then at Jane. “I thought that being with a man would be fun. They smile and whisper and tell you how pretty you are. I heard the girls at school talk about it. I saw pictures. It did not look terrible. I really wanted to do it! Mama told me to be pretty so that men would like me. So they would want me to marry them. I know that marriage means that a man would take me to his bed. Does Mr. Lucas do those things to you? Does it hurt?”
Jane clasped her hands and thought hard. “Mr. Lucas loves me, Lydia. He wished to make a life and family with me.” She paused and bit her lip. “Mr. Lucas and I … we love each other and when we … come together it is to share our feelings. He does not do things to me, he does not take, he gives. That is love. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“Do you understand what love is?” Jane said softly. Lydia shook her head. “It is a meaningless word to you.”
“I thought that Mama loved me because I was so pretty. She told me so. But then she changed and started telling me that everything that I did was bad and that I had to stop saying things about Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, but she always said mean things about them! Why was it wrong for me to do that? They never want to be around us! They never invite us to their houses; they never buy things, or take us places, or visit …”
“That is not true, Lydia. They do visit when they can, they bought you all of your clothes for school, and they paid for your school.” She closed her eyes. “Would you want to be around people who make terrible comments about you? Have you not felt that at school?” Lydia looked at her and she saw understanding. Jane nodded. “Mr. Darcy felt terrible headaches when he visited here. Why would he wish to come only to be left in pain?”
“Did I make him feel pain?”
“Yes. Terrible, blinding pain. Mama did as well. He tried to prepare for it, but there is only so much that he can do. Lizzy is reluctant to return, she does not want him to be upset again, she wants to keep him safe.”
“From us?” Her eyes grew wide. “But …”
“You called him hateful nearly to his face. Do you remember?”
“But Mama hated him! She was mad that Lizzy married him! Why? She wanted us to marry rich men!”
“She wanted that for me. She thought that I should have had the grand estate and rich husband, and I did, too. I thought that I had to marry very well for the sake of the family.” Jane drew a deep breath. “And that is when I became hateful.”
“You?” Lydia stared at her and sat on the bed. “What do you mean?”
“I was jealous and spiteful. I was angry that Mr. Darcy fell in love with Lizzy and never looked at me. I was the most beautiful daughter; Mama said so all of my life. I was supposed to capture the rich husband. I was supposed to sacrifice my life for the family, I was supposed to marry first, I was the one who was raised to do these things. And then Lizzy and Mr. Darcy met and he was absolutely in love with her, and I was jealous. A rich man offered to court me and it was exactly the match Mama always hoped that I would have, and I was angry and spiteful with him because he did not love me. I wanted what Lizzy had. I never gave Mr. Harwick a chance to fall in love with me. I never gave myself to him because I was mad that Lizzy had everything, love, a rich suitor, and happiness, everything that I wanted but was not allowed to have because Mama said that I had to marry for the family. I was so horrible to her, Lydia. I was so mean and angry. I said terrible things about Mr. Darcy. It was so wrong. I coveted the love that Lizzy had found and deserved so much. Mama always disliked her and treated her so badly. Do you remember?”
“Yes.” Lydia whispered. “Why?”
“Because she was not a boy.” Jane sighed. “Mama had her heart set on her second child being a boy. Then Papa took a liking to her and Mama hated her more.”
“She was mad that Lizzy did not marry Mr. Stewart. Was that Lizzy’s fault?”
“No Lydia, it was our family’s fault. We drove him away by our terrible behaviour.”
“You were not bad.” Lydia looked at her hands. “You are always perfect and good.”
“And boring.” Jane smiled a little when Lydia looked up at her. “Lizzy’s friendship with Mr. Stewart was over so quickly that I did not become terrible with her then. I wonder sometimes if I would have been as cruel if she had been courted by him. He was not a rich man, so I might have continued on thinking that I would have to find the rich man to save the family. You know that is one of the reasons he abandoned his suit. He felt that we were so terrible that nobody would ever wish to marry us, not with our small dowries and bad behaviour, and that he could not afford to support us all and whatever children he and Lizzy might have.”
“He thought that nobody would want us?”
“Yes.” Jane sighed. “And Mr. Harwick decided that he did not want me, he saw how unbearable I had become to Lizzy and although he never said it, I know that he did not want me to raise his daughters. It was a very crushing realization.”
“Why did you not marry Mr. Bingley?” Lydia asked. “Mama had hopes for that.”
“I liked him, but by then I had seen the joy that Lizzy and Mr. Darcy feel with each other, and their marriage has given all the rest of us the freedom to choose however we wish. They would care for Mama if Papa died. Mr. Bingley is just not ready to marry, and I wanted love, and was offered that from Robert. And he wants what I want. What more can I ask for?” She smiled and squeezed Lydia’s hand. “Do you see? I was so wrong, I was so hateful, I believed all of the things that were drilled in my head. I might have been pretty on the outside, but it took having the dreams that I believed were mine to fail before I realized how ugly I really was. I have apologized time and again to Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. It took a long time, but she and I are close again. But now that we both are married, we will never be as close as we once were. Her love is for her husband and baby.”
“You were hateful.” Lydia whispered. “And you are beautiful.”
“I changed, and I am better for the experience. I am very happy now. You are so young, you can be happy, too.”
“Should I hate Mama and Papa now?” She looked up at her. “Is it their fault for making me like this?”
“No Lydia, hating others makes you ugly inside. They hurt us by their neglect. They did nothing to educate or correct us. They left us to fend for ourselves, but they are trying now. Lizzy and I have married
wonderful men. Mary will likely be married to another wonderful man. That leaves you and Kitty.”
“I have been so mean to her.” Lydia whispered. “I treated her like Jessica treated me. I hated it.”
“But you remained Jessica’s friend. Why?”
“Because I did not have anyone else.” She said quietly. “All the other girls laughed at us and said we were stupid.”
“You have a great deal of apologizing to do. Kitty has tried very hard to be your friend.”
“Now she is Georgiana Darcy’s friend.”
“Yes, because they take care of each other.”
“Is that what love is?”
“It is.” Jane hugged her. “Are you well?”
“No.” She sniffed and picked up Jessica’s letter. “Will she be well?”
“I do not know.” Jane took the letter from her. “I will go and give this to Papa, he can write to her father. Will you come downstairs?” Lydia shook her head. “Very well then. If you wish to talk again, you know where you may find me.” Hearing nothing she stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. She stood outside and listened, then walked downstairs to the bookroom. There Lucas sat with her parents. She handed her father the letter and then sat beside her husband and started to cry. He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her gently.
“Good Lord.” Mr. Bennet whispered when he read the letter. “I must tell Mr. Simkins where to find her. I hope that Lydia knows where they live.”
“What became of her?” Lucas asked.
Mr. Bennet saw that Jane would not speak and closed his eyes. “This Tike took her to an inn and had his way, but she said it was desired, she let him. She welcomed it, and thought it was good fun. He had promised a trip to Gretna Green and she was all for it, they were to leave the next day. She woke up and he was gone from the room, and she heard noises next door. She thought she recognized his voice and opened the door to see him with some other woman. She threw a tantrum, and he said that was how it was going to be, and if she did not like it, then they would not marry. It was up to her. Well she screamed and yelled and he said that he did not need her noise, threw some coins at her and left the inn. She went to the tavern and ate, and some man asked her what her troubles were and said he was going to London, and asked if she wanted a ride in his carriage. She thought that was a fine idea and he offered her a place to stay at his boarding house. After a few days, he said she could remain there if she helped pay for the room. She of course had nothing, so he said if she …” He looked at Lucas, who closed his eyes. “Well from there he said he would feed her if she took care of some friends of his, too.” He looked over to Mrs. Bennet whose eyes were wide. “Then the woman that ran the boarding house screamed bloody murder when she realized that her rooms were being used as a bordello. The man liked his bed, so he kicked Jessica out of it.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Where did she go?”
“At last this girl realized what she had done. She walked for miles and finally found her way to her family’s townhouse, but was too ashamed to knock. After a few nights alone on the streets and watching other girls her age doing the same, she copied them and took up selling oranges. One day when she was picking up her daily basket, the man that imported the oranges happened to come around. He liked the look of her, realized she was educated and said his wife was having a baby and did not want just any maid looking after the child. He offered her bed and board.”
“Any other favours?” Lucas said quietly.
“It does not say, but if his wife is …” Mr. Bennet looked down and Lucas kissed Jane. “Well, she wrote this as soon as she arrived at the house. She said the lady of the house is horrible, but after so much time sleeping outside and alone, she was grateful for the circumstances. She said she was in Russell Square, not too far from her family’s home. Robinson is the man’s name.”
“Well then I suggest that we write to both Robinson and Simkins and stop this before the girl is with child herself. At least we know where the Robinsons are.” Lucas said angrily and calming, caressed Jane’s hair. “How is Lydia?”
“Very quiet and confused.” Jane looked up at him. “She had thought of this as an adventure.”
“Thank God she did not take it herself.” Lucas kissed her forehead and looked to Mr. Bennet, who closed his eyes.
DARCY HELD ELIZABETH’S HAND as they walked down the hallway for the family bedchambers. She entwined her fingers with his and they squeezed tightly when she felt him stiffen as they passed one door. He had done so every time since they had arrived. “Are you well, dear?”
“Of course.” He lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss. “It is entirely different to visit this house with my ladies by my side.” Darcy smiled at the drowsy baby in his grasp. “I failed to realize how that would change everything.”
Elizabeth stopped and he stopped with her. Without a sound, she turned them around and approached the door. “What is in here?”
“Dearest … Please, there is no need …” She caressed his cheek and smiled, then opened the door. It was an empty bedchamber, the window was open, and a breeze fluttered the curtains. It was bright and beautiful. Elizabeth looked up to see that his gaze was fixed on the bed, and then felt his hand let go of hers and move around her waist. Their embrace tightened and she listened to him swallow and fight his emotions. “Anne died in that bed.”
“I thought so.” Elizabeth hugged him. “This is the mistress’s chambers?”
“Yes.” He said softly. “Anne demanded that she take them, when she was waiting for me to come home.” He sighed and kissed her head. “It is all coming back, oh Lizzy, please, let us go.”
“She cannot hurt you, Will.” She felt his clutch. “What frightens you about this place?”
“It is not fear, I suppose that it represents how a foolish decision would have irrevocably changed my life.” Rosalie sighed and sang some nonsense, and nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. His eyes were bright. “I would have neither of you.”
“But you do.” She kissed his cheek and he looked down at her. “Let it go. Dwelling on what might have been is not good, whether it is a happy thought or sad.” She moved and they walked to the window, and looked out at the gardens. Elizabeth looked towards the parsonage. “If you care to dwell on terrible possibilities, let us assume that you did marry Anne.”
“Lizzy …”
“I, of course, would not have married you. Mr. Stewart would have been long gone, so I would likely have still been at Longbourn.” She turned to him, and tilted her head. “You would have remained at Pemberley, and Lady Catherine would be here.”
“Yes.” He said sadly. “And?”
“And Mr. Collins would have been the vicar at Hunsford.”
Darcy furrowed his brow, following her reasoning. “And?”
“As the horrible ugly daughter, who do you think would have married Mr. Collins?” She saw his eyes widen. “And who might you have met some Easter Sunday while visiting your motherin-law and wife-in-name-only at the church? Me, the parson’s silent wife, demure in my mob cap, and pale from submitting to my husband’s nightly demands and delivering …” Darcy stopped her with the sudden and fervent application of his mouth to her lips.
“Stop it!” He growled.
“Can you imagine us meeting then?” She whispered.
“Elizabeth I command you to stop this fanciful thinking!” He said angrily. “How can you imagine such heartbreak? How can you say it with such glee in your voice?” Darcy paced away, clutching Rosalie to his chest protectively, as if the mere speculation could somehow make her vanish. “Stop it, I say!” He turned to see her standing still, simply looking at him, the breeze now lifting her curls and blowing them across her face. He sighed and stepped forward to tenderly move the strands from her cheeks, and kissed her. “Must you make your points in such pointed ways?”
“They are effective, are they not?” She smiled and stood on her toes to suckle his lower lip. Darcy groa
ned and leaned down, slipping his free arm around her and sighing as she traced over his lips and began to suckle his tongue. They kissed deeply until she drew away to gaze at his darkened eyes. “You know, we really do need to stop having passionate conversations while one of us is holding Rosa.”
Darcy chuckled at their daughter whose eyes had finally closed. “She can sleep through anything.”
Elizabeth looked around the room, and spotting a door, opened it and cried out in triumph. Curious, Darcy walked over to see a nursery, long abandoned, but containing a small bed. Elizabeth pulled off the dust cover and Darcy lay the baby down. When he straightened, he laughed and scooped Elizabeth up and carried her back to the bedchamber. “How much time do we have?”
“Not nearly as much as we would like.” She laughed when he set her down on the edge of the bed and placing his hands on either side of her, leaned down to kiss her while she held his face. Darcy kept leaning until she was on her back, and her legs dangled over the edge. He opened his breeches and lifted her skirt. “Ohhhh.” He slid inside of her and they kissed and rocked, steadily and quietly. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. They felt their pleasure rising and the tendrils of warmth and deeply desired release building and spreading, his thrusts came faster and deeper, the bed creaked, their breathing and kisses grew frenzied and …
“Papa!”
“What!” Darcy startled and gasped, feeling a hand touch his leg and then clutch at him as Rosalie pulled up to stand, hanging onto his boot. “Good Lord!” He choked and stared at Elizabeth, whose eyes were wide with surprise.
“Rosalie?” She gasped.