Elizabeth's distress on reading this was great, and she scarce knew what to say or how to look. Lydia and Wickham! She grieved for her lost sister, she feared for the well-being of her family - the humiliation, the misery, she was bringing on them all. Lydia was ruined, her entire life and future destroyed; she knew enough of Wickham not to doubt that he had never had any intention of marrying her sister. Mary and Kitty would be left in hardly better condition; no man would ever offer for them after this disgrace.
She herself could only be horrified by the prospect of Darcy's response to this news. The mortification would be nigh unbearable, and such proof of the weakness of her family must make him regret their alliance; and how were they to explain what could not be hidden to Georgiana? This would crush her. She was only now beginning to recover from Wickham's predations; how would she survive watching Elizabeth's family ruined by the same man, and he still running free to continue to devastate innocent lives? Yet it was inevitable that she would have to know. They could not hide the whole Bennet family from her forever. Darcy would not be able to protect his sister from this blow, nor could he himself be protected.
She knew almost at once that she could not do it, could not wreak this level of destruction on two people whom she loved. With an excess of care she refolded the letters and quietly retreated to her room after informing a footman that she would like to see Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner immediately upon their return from Lambton. Once alone her tears began to flow both for Lydia and for herself, and it was some time before she could regain sufficient composure as to recall herself to what must be done.
She went to the door, intending to seek out Mr. Darcy, but after a moment realized she could not face him, that if she had to see him, she would lose her resolve. Going to the desk, she took out paper and pen and uncapped the inkwell. She struggled for a minute over the salutation, torn between intimacy and formality, and in the end decided to have none.
Pray forgive my cowardice, sir, in writing you rather than speaking this directly. The news which I received today from Longbourn was not good. There is no easy way to say that which must be said: it appears that my youngest sister has eloped with none other than Mr. Wickham - they are now somewhere in London, and apparently Mr. Wickham expressed to a friend that he had no intention of marrying Lydia. You know him too well to doubt the rest. It is obvious to me that an event of this magnitude will have many ramifications for my family, and I believe it is only prudent to consider what its effects might be on yours as well. As I cannot see any outcome, even the best, of this matter that would not cause substantial damage to you and more particularly to Georgiana given your connection to me, I think it appropriate to reconsider the arrangements we have made. I recall that you at one point extracted from me a promise that I would not break our engagement, to which I agreed unless you should change your mind, but we had no way to foresee a crisis of this magnitude at that time. Had I not made such a promise, it would be clear what my action should be at this juncture; as it is, I can only offer to make this as simple as possible for you. I shall assume unless I should hear otherwise from you that you agree that wisdom must come ahead of wishes at this time. You may, of course, explain this to Georgiana in whatever way you see fit. I will be speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to arrange our removal from Pemberley as soon as possible. For my own sake, I ask that we not meet again before I depart.
Tears overcame Elizabeth once more, and she had to pause for some time before she found the strength to continue.
Please be assured that I regret this outcome more than I can possibly say, and that you will be ever in my thoughts and prayers.
E. Bennet
She pushed the missive away with shaking hands and buried her face in her handkerchief. She could not tell how long she sat weeping; at one point, a maid came to tell her that Mr. Darcy was looking for her, and she managed to express a wish that Mr. Darcy be informed that she was suffering from a headache and wished to rest. Finally, she reached a point of numbness where all she could do was await the arrival of her aunt and uncle, and hope that it would be soon enough that they could depart that very day.
When a maid finally announced the Gardiners, Elizabeth took up the letter she had written and placed in it the ring Darcy had given her. Folding the paper carefully around it, she instructed the maid to give it directly to Mr. Darcy. It is done, she thought. It is over.
Mrs. Gardiner, seeing the evidence of tears on her niece's face, immediately put her arms around her, inquiring as to the cause of her distress. Unable to speak, Elizabeth directed their attention to Jane's letters, which they read with some alarm. Though Lydia had never been a favorite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply affected. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner readily promised every assistance in his power. Elizabeth thanked him with tears of gratitude while she wondered desperately how Darcy was reacting to her letter. She could only hope that it was with understanding and forgiveness rather than condemnation and relief at his narrow escape from disgrace.
As they began to consider how to settle matters relating to their journey, Mrs. Gardiner asked, “What says Mr. Darcy to this?” She was somewhat surprised that he would leave Elizabeth to herself in a time of such distress, but could only assume that there must be some explanation.
“I have informed him of our urgent need to depart,” said Elizabeth, her voice showing a slight quaver. “I have no doubt that he understands the necessity.”
The Gardiners exchanged puzzled glances. There was clearly more here than they were being told, but they saw nothing to justify further inquiry. Mr. Gardiner began to opine that it would make the most sense to start the journey in the morning when they would all be fresh, when Darcy himself appeared in the doorway, his face pale and his lips tight, clearly in the grip of some powerful emotion. Without so much as acknowledging the presence of the Gardiners, he strode over to Elizabeth, who averted her eyes, unable to tolerate the sight of his pain and anger. He held up his hand, holding her letter, now crumpled into a ball, and said fiercely, “No. I do not release you, now or ever.” He took her hand and somewhat roughly pushed the ring back on her finger. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “And this,” he said, kissing her deliberately - more in anger, it seemed, than in passion - “is to ensure that, should you be tempted to break your word, your aunt and uncle will be aware that you are already too compromised to do anything but marry me. Do I make myself clear, madam?”
Elizabeth, too numb at this juncture to know whether she was more relieved or distressed by his uncompromising insistence, could only nod dumbly. Darcy released a long breath, and some of the tension escaped from his body. “Now,” he said, a little more mildly, and including the Gardiners in his address, “tell me what you know of this matter. What has been done, what has been attempted, to recover Lydia?”
“Perhaps you would prefer to read for yourself,” Mr. Gardiner said coolly, holding out Jane's letters. “And, Mr. Darcy...” he paused for a moment, “I do not believe that Lizzy is in a state to deal with your anger at present.”
Darcy halted in his attention to the letters, and turned his gaze toward Elizabeth. “No, perhaps not,” he said more gently, taking her by the hand. She closed her eyes, desperately wanting his forgiveness and affection, and barely able to keep from sobbing. Darcy began reading once more, his expression indicating his displeasure with the contents of the second letter in particular. “Well,” he said with distaste, “it is clear what must be done. I will travel to London in the morning and take care of the matter.”
Distraught, Elizabeth said, “Take care of the matter? How? Nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”
“Elizabeth, there is nothing easier in the world than working on Wickham. All it takes is money. If I
know Wickham, he will not be hiding so much as waiting to be discovered so that he can make his demands. You know that I have dealt with him before, and I can do so again.”
She looked at him with eyes filled with pain. “I cannot ask it of you. You cannot take on the mortification of this; it is a matter for my family.”
Mr. Gardiner broke in at this point. “Lizzy, your concern for Mr. Darcy is admirable, but I must point out that we are not in a position to turn away any assistance in this matter. Mr. Darcy, if you have information that may be helpful in locating him, I myself would be most appreciative of your sharing it.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to bring herself to some sort of composure that would permit her to participate reasonably in this discussion. “Uncle, there are connections between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham of which you are unaware, and this has nothing to do with him.”
“This has everything to do with me, Elizabeth!” Darcy exclaimed irritably. “Why do you suppose this happened? Wickham must have heard of our engagement - this is just what he tried last summer, but now he is trying to strike at me through you. Your sister has nothing to offer him; she is but a pawn in this game, and he is after either money, or revenge, or most likely both. If you break off our engagement, you will be giving him exactly what he wants - the ability to take away from me that which is most dear!”
She stared at him in horror. She had not thought so ill, even of Wickham, as to think that his hatred would extend so far. Darcy, misinterpreting the look on her face, said with bitter regret, “You cannot know how sorry I am to have brought this upon you; I hope that someday you will be able to forgive me.”
“You have done nothing to cause this,” she said fiercely, astonished that he could think that she blamed him for these events. “You are not responsible for Wickham's behaviour, nor for Lydia's, and I will not have you fault yourself for it!”
Her unexpected defense of him was the first positive indication Darcy had seen that she cared for him still, and he took her into his arms gratefully, heedless of the presence of her aunt and uncle.
Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. “I am beginning to feel like an actor who is onstage without having read the script. There is clearly more to this story than I know, and I wonder if there is not someplace more appropriate than Lizzy's bedchamber to be having this discussion.”
Darcy released Elizabeth with reluctance. “You are correct, sir, it is time that we pool our knowledge. Perhaps we could discuss this further in my study; it is a conversation I would prefer to have behind closed doors, for reasons which will become clear.”
Elizabeth was feeling such relief that she found it difficult to focus on the question of Lydia; all she wanted was to return to Darcy's arms and stay there forever. That could not be, though. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had no intention of leaving Darcy alone with her in her bedchamber for even a minute. “I will join you shortly,” she said.
Darcy, who was not at all ready to let her out of his sight, looked at her with concern. She smiled wanly at him, and said reassuringly, “I require a moment to make myself presentable, sir; that is all.”
His countenance cleared somewhat. “I will expect you in five minutes, no more,” he said, his tone clearly communicating to her his need to have her by his side.
Mrs. Gardiner shooed her husband along with Darcy. “I will stay with Lizzy; you go ahead and talk about whatever it is that men talk about.”
Once they had left, she turned to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, my dear, that looked quite worrisome. You look very ill.”
Elizabeth poured water from the ewer into a basin and began to rinse her eyes. “I am well enough, aunt. I am afraid that when Mr. Darcy and I disagree, we tend to do so with a certain ferocity that cannot be pleasant to observe, and both of us have been known to say some quite hurtful things in the heat of the moment. Fortunately, we are also both quite forgiving of the other.”
“I do not understand. I take it that you told him that you wanted to end the engagement - that suggests more than a mere disagreement, Lizzy, and he was very angry,” Mrs. Gardiner said gently.
Elizabeth sighed. “It was because of Lydia; I did not want to taint him with the disgrace we face.”
“Oh, Lizzy. And he is so attached to you - I cannot say that I think that was wisely done, my dear.”
“I do not want his reputation to suffer because of me!”
“And you do not trust him sufficiently to speak to him about your fears.”
Her aunt's insightful comment cut closer than Elizabeth cared to consider at the moment. She dried her face. “I did promise to be down in five minutes, and I suspect that I had best be prompt. Shall we join the gentlemen, then?”
“If you are ready, we certainly may,” answered Mrs. Gardiner. She had noted her niece's discomfort, and hoped that she would think further on what she had said.
Darcy and Mr. Gardiner were already ensconced in the study when the ladies arrived. Darcy opened the discussion by detailing his connection with Wickham, including the events of Ramsgate. Although Elizabeth had already given them to understand that Wickham was not to be trusted, the extent of his dissipation came as a surprise to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.
“I have some connections still which may assist me in locating Wickham,” Darcy said. “Once I reach London, I will begin to explore the possibilities. Obviously, I will need to consult with Mr. Bennet. Where would I be most likely to find him?”
“I do not doubt that he is staying at our house on Gracechurch Street,” said Mr. Gardiner, “and I am inclined to think that I should accompany you, as I am familiar with London in a way that Mr. Bennet is not, and possibly more able to negotiate with Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy shook his head decisively. “I shall handle the dealings with Wickham. Your assistance, however, in working with Mr. Bennet might be very helpful; he has felt little reason to trust me in the past, and I doubt these events will have improved the situation.”
“Would it be possible, then, for Mrs. Gardiner and me to proceed directly to Longbourn? Jane, I believe, must be in need of our support with my mother,” said Elizabeth.
Darcy turned an enigmatic gaze on her. “I would prefer to have you in London, Elizabeth.”
“In London? I cannot see what that would accomplish.”
“I may need your assistance in handling Lydia. I doubt that she would be inclined to listen to me,” he said. “And I would appreciate your presence. Jane is not without resources; Bingley is there with her.”
Elizabeth's concern about Jane did not abate, but as she opened her mouth to object once more, she saw the beseeching look in Darcy's eyes. Thinking of her aunt's earlier words about trusting him, she agreed to the plan with uncharacteristic meekness.
Plans were soon set; Darcy offered to send servants with Mrs. Gardiner to Longbourn, while Mr. Gardiner and Elizabeth would travel to London in Darcy's carriage.
As the conversation drew to a close, Darcy felt himself becoming unaccountably nervous, not so much regarding the trip to London, but rather about the inevitable tête-à-tête with Elizabeth. His initial anger with her had dissipated, but he feared what her response would be to his harsh words, and his own sense of injury that she would have even contemplated that he would wish to end their engagement was vivid. Did she still have so little idea of what she meant to him? Did he mean so little to her? He knew that he could not expect reassurance from her given her own level of distress over her sister, yet it would be difficult, if not impossible, for him to disguise his own feelings.
Mrs. Gardiner was not unaware of the tension between the two, and at the earliest opportunity, she extracted her husband from the room, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone. Mr. Gardiner departed only after a hard look at Darcy which carried a distinct warning of how he would view any further behaviour that distressed his niece.
Silence fell between the two. Elizabeth fixed her eyes on her folded hands as if seeking to deny any involvement in this unhappy affair. Darcy's dark
gaze was on her, the pain he felt evident in his look, but also mingled with sympathy. He could recognize her silence and averted eyes from past times when she had felt ashamed of her behaviour toward him.
“Elizabeth,” he attempted, “I should not have said what I did earlier, at least not in the way I did. My disposition is such that when I lose my equanimity I am prone to speaking before I think; I have tried, with some success, to moderate this, or at least to prevent it from happening in the first place. I apologize that I was unable to do so today.”
She looked up at him tentatively, relieved that he did not seem inclined to berate her. “I did not intend to anger you,” she said, wishing that she could say more, but unsure how even to begin.
“Do you regret my refusal to release you from your promise?” he said abruptly. He had not meant to ask it, and certainly not so harshly, but the words came out despite his intent.
“No,” she responded in a heartfelt manner to his great relief. “My action represented my concern for you, not a lack of feeling. Please do not think that it signifies any second thoughts on my part.”
A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) Page 10