Lydia retains some hope that he will return to her, but it seems quite clear to me that we have seen the last of that man.
Lydia has been in very poor spirits since her arrival here. I have never seen her like this before. She hardly ever speaks to us; she barely eats, and only that when we remind her, and she sits by the fire all day doing nothing. My wife is doing her best to comfort her, but without success. You may wonder at my waiting for two days to contact you, but I have been reluctant to do so until we made a plan for Lydia’s future. Since Lydia’s flight is known in Meryton, she cannot return to Longbourn. I have a clerk, a young man of no wealth or family but of great ambition, and I have spoken with him regarding Lydia. He is willing to marry her in exchange for preference at the firm, plus her settlement of a thousand pounds. Although this is not the sort of match we would have considered for her in the past, it is likely the best we will find now. He is a hardworking lad who should be a steadying influence on Lydia, and he will not be able to mistreat her under my eye.
The difficulty, as my dear wife points out, will be in obtaining Lydia’s consent to the scheme, as she refuses, though without giving a reason. As I see it, she has little choice, but the final decision is likely to rest on your authority. If she believes this is her only option except the streets, I think her native self-interest will prevail. I shall send this by express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming to town again unless Lydia proves obstreperous; therefore, stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can, and be careful to write explicitly.Yours &c.,
Edw. Gardiner
“Indeed, Jane, she is alive,” Mr. Bennet said with heavy irony, “albeit ruined in reputation and prospects.
We must indeed be thankful.”
“At least she had the sense to seek out our uncle,” Jane offered.
“It does not seem she had any choice. And now I must rely on your uncle and his connexions to sort out her future, and be completely useless to my own daughter.”
“And have you answered the letter?” said Elizabeth.
“I accepted his terms. What other choice do I have?”
“Poor Lydia. She will not like being married to a clerk,” Jane said. “But perhaps she will learn to love him.”
Elizabeth said, “Not unless he has a red coat. I hope the poor man knows what he is getting himself into.
But she must marry him.”
“There is nothing else to be done. I wonder just how much preference your uncle is giving him,” said Mr.
Bennet.
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane. “May we take my uncle's letter to read to our mother?”
“Take whatever you like, and get away.”
Inside the house, they found that Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication would, therefore, do for all.
“Well, this is nothing new,” Mrs. Bennet announced. “Lydia is a healthy girl, so I always knew she was alive and well. But I am sure there is some sort of misunderstanding. Your uncle always fears the worst. Mr.
Wickham is a gentleman and must have left only on a matter of business, and when he returns, they will be married and we shall all celebrate.”
Elizabeth said, “I fear Mr. Wickham is not a man to be trusted. He has used our dear Lydia abominably, and the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can move forward.”
“Nonsense, Lizzy! You are just cross with him because you liked him too well yourself, and he chose Lydia.”
“Believe me, I wish nothing at all to do with Mr. Wickham.”
“Such nonsense! But I must dress and bring the news to my sister Philips that Lydia is found.”
Jane exclaimed, “No, mama! We must not tell anyone until we know the outcome.”
“Pish tosh. Kitty will help me get ready.”
Elizabeth hurried down to her father and informed him of her mother’s intentions. “She must not go. If we are to have any chance of preventing this from becoming public knowledge, we must keep our silence now.
Once the world knows for a fact that she has been with Mr. Wickham, it will not matter if our uncle finds a husband or employment for her. We must leave it a mystery until we know the outcome and can explain it accordingly.”
Mr. Bennet took off his glasses and set them on his desk. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he said, “If you know of some miraculous method to prevent your mother from talking, I beg of you to share it with me, for I have been seeking such a thing these last twenty years and more.”
“I pray you, be serious! This could impact us all.”
“Ah, Lizzy, do not lose your sense of humour! Only silly people will be frightened off by such nonsense.
Now go; I want my library to myself again.”
Elizabeth left, but not without resentment. Her father had not heeded her warnings about sending Lydia to Brighton, and she had taken that calmly. Now, knowing what she had personally lost from Lydia’s foolishness, it was harder to put it aside. She thought of Mr. Darcy walking by her side through the grounds of Pemberley, and of the intent look in his dark eyes as they spoke. It had taken her a long time, but she finally understood the truth of it. She was in love with him, just when it was too late.
***
The letter to Mr. Gardiner was duly sent, and the wait for a reply began. The questions in town became more pointed, but it seemed that somehow Mrs. Bennet had restrained herself from gossiping, since no one seemed aware that Lydia had been found. Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy called at Longbourn on more than one occasion, but the invitation to Netherfield Mr. Bingley had promised did not materialize, and no word came from Caroline Bingley, despite an invitation to tea being sent. Jane lamented, “If only I could ask him if Caroline is avoiding us! I would not like to think it of her, if nothing else but that it makes matters most difficult for Mr.
Bingley. I am glad to see him, but how can anything possibly happen in face of such familial disapproval?”
“It depends on whose opinion he values most, his sister’s or yours,” said Elizabeth. “From what I see, your views carry a great deal of weight.” But Jane refused to get her hopes up.
One morning Kitty set out to visit Mariah Lucas, as was their regular habit, but on this occasion she returned in less than an hour just as the family was taking their afternoon meal, her eyes swollen and tear-tracks running down her cheeks. Mrs. Bennet looked up at her irritably. “Whatever is the matter, Kitty? Have you no consideration for my poor nerves?”
“Oh, mamma,” Kitty said, her voice shaking, “I am sorry. I will retire now.”
Elizabeth frowned at this uncharacteristic behaviour. Jane laid her napkin carefully on the table and came around to stand with her arm around Kitty. “What is the matter? Has something happened to Mariah?”
Kitty shook her head. “No, I do not think so, but I did not see her.” She gave a hiccoughing sob and buried her face in Jane’s shoulder.
“What is it, then?” Jane prompted gently.
“There is no need to make such a fuss!” Mrs. Bennet declared. “Kitty, how you try my nerves!”
Kitty whispered something in Jane’s ear which caused Jane to stiffen and to look at her in disbelief. “She did not, did she?”
“She did. She told me not to return.”
Jane put both arms around her weeping sister and turned her head toward her father. “It seems Lady Lucas told Kitty that Mariah was not at home, and was unlikely to ever be home at such a time as Kitty might call.”
Mrs. Bennet cried, “Lady Lucas? That is nonsense. You must have misunderstood her, Kitty. She would never exclude us. It is impossible.”
Kitty’s voice was barely audible. “She said that since Lydia is unmarried, it is not appropriate for M
ariah to visit with me.”
“Has she heard the news somehow, then?” Elizabeth asked sharply.
“Apparently,” Jane said, biting her lip.
Mrs. Bennet picked fretfully at the tablecloth. “I did not tell anyone except my sister Phillips, and I swore her to secrecy. I would not do anything to endanger Jane’s chance to secure Mr. Bingley.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed. “Then how is it discovered?”
“Perhaps the servants…” Elizabeth said with deep dismay. This was a disaster.
“Hill is the only one aware of the truth, and I sincerely doubt she would jeopardize her position by speaking out of turn,” said Mr. Bennet. “I will talk to her this afternoon. Perhaps she can shed some light on this.”
Kitty said miserably, “It was not Hill. It was me.”
“You?” Elizabeth said in disbelief. She set down her fork, her appetite vanished.
“I only told Mariah, and she solemnly swore she would never tell another soul!”
A shocked silence met this remark, then Mr. Bennet pushed back his chair, leaving a full plate of food in front of him. “I will be in my library.” He walked out with a weary stride.
Scarcely was the door closed behind him than Mrs. Bennet began a tirade about Kitty’s indifference to her nerves and to her family’s future, Lady Lucas’ treachery, and their future once they were thrown into the hedgerows by Mr. Collins. “I hope you shall be proud of yourself then, Kitty!”
Jane appeared near tears. Mary began a moral platitude, but before she could get half-way through it, Elizabeth interrupted to beg to be excused. Without waiting for permission, she left the table and took Jane by the arm, tugging her toward the door. Jane followed without struggle, though she glanced over her shoulder at the still-sobbing Kitty.
Once they were safely in their rooms, Elizabeth closed the door behind her and leaned back on hit, closing her eyes. “This is most unfortunate,” she said. Oddly, the thought that crossed her mind was that she wished she had said a proper goodbye to Mr. Darcy when they met for the last time.
Jane sniffled, and Elizabeth opened her eyes to the expected site of her sister sitting on the bed, her face in her hands. “If Lady Lucas will not receive us, then no one will,” she said despairingly. “We will be pariahs. Our reputations are destroyed.”
Elizabeth sat on the bed beside her and took her hand in both her own. Jane’s fingers were ice-cold. She only wished she had some words of comfort to offer. But if it was known that Lydia was found and unmarried, it would not matter. It would be too late. The only thing to do was to start looking toward a new future. “I am thinking that perhaps we should go to London for a time. Some of this may blow over after a few months.”
“Do you think so?”
Elizabeth in fact rather strongly doubted it, but there was always the chance that some far worse scandal would take the attention of the Meryton gossips and they might be readmitted to society, albeit with a lowered status. Her greater hope was that in the new environment of London where Lydia’s disgrace was not public knowledge, Jane’s beauty might attract a new suitor. “I think there is always hope,” she said stoutly. “And if not, you will simply have to suffer my company for the rest of your life, which could be considered tragic, but I prefer to think of it as comedy.”
Jane giggled through her tears. “Hardly tragic, dearest Lizzy. But you are right, one door closes and another may open. It is just…” Her voice caught and she fell silent.
“Just what?” Elizabeth asked gently, though she suspected she knew the answer.
“Just that it will be a future without Mr. Bingley in it. I know there never was any real hope once Lydia ran off, but he has been so attentive.”
“It gave us all hope, and I am sure his friendship will not be among those we will lose. But friendship is hardly a consolation, is it?”
Mrs. Bennet’s voice, now raised to a shriek, penetrated the upstairs and their door. Jane sat up a little straighter. “Poor Kitty. I really should go to her rescue. She meant no ill.”
“No, she simply kept Lydia’s secret when she should not have, and now has not kept our secret when she should have. I have not the least sympathy for her, I fear.”
“Oh, to think how happy we were just a year ago! How could things come to such a pass?”
Elizabeth recalled the harsh words Mr. Darcy had used regarding her family when he offered for her in Hunsford. His words about her connections being a degradation and the unfortunate behaviour of some of her family sounded almost prophetic now. Did the man have to prove himself correct in every instance? The conceit almost made her smile, but then she thought of how she would never have a chance to tell him so, and her heart ached.
CHAPTER 11
For two days the Bennet ladies stayed at home with no callers or word from the outside world. Mr. Bennet stayed in his library, while Mrs. Bennet had taken to her rooms with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, the treacherousness of Lady Lucas, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage; blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judged indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point of going to Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor dear child!”
Elizabeth’s tolerance for these outbursts was less than Jane’s, and her natural impatience with remaining indoors was making a calm composure difficult to maintain. When she found herself snapping at Mary over an unimportant attribution, she decided it was time to take action. She was usually the first of the family to wake in the morning, so the next day when she arose, she put on her bonnet and gloves and set off to Meryton with a basket over her arm.
The cool, fresh air on her cheeks was invigorating, and for the duration of her walk with no one but the singing birds for company, it was almost possible to forget the heavy atmosphere at Longbourn, her mother’s fits of nerves, Mary’s moralistic platitudes and Kitty’s tears. With a lightened heart, she reached High Street, already full of people and lined with shops she had known all her life.
There were no signs that anything was amiss when she stopped at the grocer for fruit. He greeted her as pleasantly as always and picked out the best peaches for her. The butcher’s boy nodded in response to her greeting. But Mr. White, the plump, balding butcher, seemed uncomfortably friendly, almost flirtatious with her.
He had admired her for years, but surely he could not think she would have lowered her sights so far as to consider a suit from him! She was relieved to escape his shop, and decided to leave that particular shopping errand to Hill in the future.
Most of the townsfolk seemed to have no particular interest in her, and she began to think they might have assumed matters were worse than they were in reality. With a little extra spring in her step, she continued on.
Outside the stationer’s shop she encountered Mary King and greeted her pleasantly. Mary started to speak in return, then the hand of the gentleman beside her grasped her shoulder. Elizabeth saw it was Mary’s uncle. He neither acknowledged her nor touched his hat, instead drawing Mary past her and away. Elizabeth kept her cheerful smile fixed to her face, even when she felt Mary surreptitiously press her hand as she passed by. Mary was not the sort to cut an acquaintance, but it was clear that had been her instructions.
A sick feeling formed in the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach, but she would not allow herself to be intimidated, even as other acquaintances failed to meet her eyes. She made a point of traversing the full length of the town before turning back, her head held high. She had almost reached the edge of town when she heard a girl call her
name. She turned to see Miss Darcy alighting from an open carriage which also included Miss Bingley.
Georgiana hurried over to her with a hesitant smile. “It is a pleasant day for an outing, is it not?” she asked shyly.
Elizabeth felt a rush of affection for the girl. “Very pleasant indeed.”
“Miss Bingley wanted to go to the silversmith, and I decided to come along. Now I am glad I did.”
Elizabeth wondered how much Georgiana knew of what had happened. If Miss Bingley had any say in the matter, she was sure Georgiana had been informed of every horrible detail as well as a few that never happened. She wondered how painful it might be for the girl, given her own history. The frown on Miss Bingley’s face in the carriage showed clearer than words her opinion of Elizabeth.
“It is a pleasure to see you, too. May I hope everyone at Netherfield is well?”
“Oh, yes, quite well, thank you.” Georgiana faltered. No doubt she wished to avoid the minefield of asking about the Bennets.
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