by Heather Moll
“I only…that is to say, I am fearful of bringing dishonor to my family should Lydia’s reputation not be preserved.”
“What other option do you see before you? You are engaged to Jane! To withdraw from an engagement would be shameful as well.”
“Our engagement is not known outside of Hertfordshire.” Darcy stared in mute astonishment. “The banns have not been read, and no settlement papers have been drawn up, let alone signed.”
“Your honor is engaged! After all that was done by me and your sisters to keep you from Jane, you would break it off? I am shocked that you are now considering how easy it might be to end your engagement.”
“I do love her! She is an angel to have accepted me after I left her last November with disappointed hopes. It is only that I now have reservations about Jane’s respectability. You cannot deny that Lydia’s actions call into question the virtue of all the Bennet girls.”
“Tread carefully, Bingley.” Darcy’s voice dropped low. “I am engaged to one of those girls, and I see no reason to question my choice of a wife. The Bennet girls will be my sisters, and I would thank you not to question their virtue within my hearing. I will not listen in silence while you allow the foibles of one to be applied to them all.”
“Forgive me—you are right.” He covered his eyes with his hands. “But society will think more as I do than you. Louisa made a fine catch marrying a gentleman like Hurst, and Caroline could do the same. They rebuked me enough for Jane’s low connections. I can only imagine what Caroline and Louisa would say should they learn the truth about Lydia’s departure from Brighton.”
“Then you ought not to tell them. I have every intention of recovering Lydia before it is known she is gone!” cried Darcy, and the two gentlemen did not speak until Bingley said good-bye when the carriage left him at the Hursts’ door. Darcy pushed Bingley’s inconstancy from his mind as he entered his own house.
With less politeness than he habitually used when addressing those in his employ, he told the housekeeper to speak to all the servants and determine who had the closest acquaintance with Mrs. Younge. He then stormed into his library with instructions not to be disturbed for any reason other than an answer to his inquiries.
How could Bingley question Jane’s respectability—indeed, all of the Bennet girls’ respectability—because of Lydia’s scandal? Lydia was thoughtless and idle, but she had genuinely thought that she was to be married in Scotland. If Bingley could question the respectability of “his angel,” then what hope did the Bennet daughters have should they not discover Lydia and persuade her to return to her friends?
There came a rap on his door, and Darcy turned from the window. His housekeeper entered and behind her followed a plain young girl of sixteen, her hands fidgeting with her apron. She was introduced as Nelly, the first kitchen maid, and at Darcy’s nod, the housekeeper departed, leaving the maid trembling with fright at being summoned by the master. Had Darcy not been so anxious for information, he might have pitied the girl.
“Do you know the whereabouts of Mrs. Younge?”
The maid opened her mouth to speak but only managed to nod. Darcy suppressed a sigh as he realized he needed to show more patience than was his wont. Elizabeth would be far better at this. She could put anyone at ease.
“The housekeeper has brought you to my attention because it is imperative that I locate Mrs. Younge with celerity.” Nelly narrowed her eyes as if she could not quite understand him. Suppressing his impatience, he sat behind his desk, hoping his height would be diminished and he might appear less imposing. “Nelly, you are not dismissed, I assure you. I need to find Mrs. Younge. Can you assist me?”
This helped because the maid finally whispered, “Yes, sir, I knew Mrs. Younge.” When he nodded, she continued in a slightly louder voice. “We were friendly while she was here, sir. I would look out meals for her if she missed the servants’ meal when she came with Miss Darcy. She wrote me once after she left and said she keeps lodgings in Edward Street.”
“Are you in contact with her?”
“No, sir! She left too quickly. We all know what that means. Mrs. Younge must’a done something dreadful.”
He dismissed her, and she nearly ran from the room. He would bring Bingley with him when he called on Mrs. Younge tomorrow. If his encounter with Nelly told Darcy anything, it was this: if Lydia was to be convinced to leave Wickham, the amiable Mr. Bingley must be the one to do it.
Chapter 17
Darcy rode in a hired hackney the short drive to Grosvenor Street, all the while hoping that the tension between him and Bingley had dissipated. Bingley could not truly doubt Jane’s character; he was only suffering from depressed spirits over what they needed to accomplish. Darcy was shown to the breakfast room where Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were seated at the table, their heads together in private gossip. Mr. Hurst said nothing at all and did not look up from his breakfast.
Darcy grudgingly greeted the party and declined their invitation to join them. The less he said, the sooner he and Bingley could leave to settle this unfortunate affair. Let Elizabeth call him unsocial and taciturn, but he did not have the patience for Miss Bingley this morning!
“We were sorry to leave Bath, but it is such a pleasure to see you,” Miss Bingley fawned. “I had thought you and Charles remained in Hertfordshire. We were only staying in town a few days before we traveled to Netherfield to join you. And Jane, of course.” Her tone showed she expected little pleasure in it.
“Yes, I wrote to Caroline to tell her of my engagement, and she insisted on coming to keep house for me. Did you not, Caroline?”
His sister feigned her liking for the idea.
“Tell us, Mr. Darcy, what think you of Charles’s choice of a wife?” Mrs. Hurst asked.
“Miss Bennet is lovely, and her sense and gentle nature will be a credit to Bingley.” How many more minutes of idle chatter would be necessary?
“We were just speaking of dear Jane, were we not?” Miss Bingley never removed her eyes from Darcy although she addressed her sister. “Would you not agree that she has done well to receive an offer from Charles, given the Bennets’ poor connections?”
To this speech, Bingley gave no answer and looked remarkably uncomfortable. Darcy simply stated that it was, in his opinion, a beneficial match for both sides.
“Oh indeed, beneficial for our friend Jane—I had often despaired of her being well settled. It is a shame her other sisters will not be so fortunate.”
For the life of him, Darcy could not imagine that Bingley had been foolish enough to mention Lydia! However, his friend looked just as amazed as he felt. Miss Bingley went on, unabated. “I of course mean Miss Eliza in particular for, with her lack of fashion and dreadful country manners, it is unlikely that she might marry.” After a pause, she added, “No matter how handsome some gentlemen might find her.”
While Mrs. Hurst nodded in agreement, her brother’s jaw dropped, and Darcy stared at Miss Bingley in undisguised revulsion. He could not fathom that her intentions towards him were by no means over. Before he could scold Miss Bingley, Darcy’s attention was caught by the look of contemplation on Bingley’s face.
Darcy tried to rein in his annoyance. “Bingley,” he said, “did you not write to your sisters that I—”
“Good gracious,” Bingley stammered, “I do not think I did! My ideas flow so rapidly when I write that I often do not adequately express them.” Bingley looked at Darcy, then looked at his younger sister, and then let out a hearty laugh that even drew the attention of Mr. Hurst. Darcy stared at Bingley in angry silence as Miss Bingley asked, in a higher and higher pitched voice, what exactly it was Bingley had neglected to mention. Soon enough, even Darcy could not deny the humor of the situation and smiled.
“Miss Bingley, I must tell you that nothing you say against the Bennet family could elevate your hopes of influenc
ing my felicity. Bingley, I shall meet you at the carriage.” When the footman opened the front door for him, Darcy was sure that he heard a shriek and the sound of a cup and saucer crashing to the ground.
***
“Lydia is not the kind of girl to do such a thing as this! And now here’s Darcy and Bingley gone away, and I know Darcy would fight Wickham, and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? Who will take care of us when your father passes if not Darcy?”
“Do not give way to useless alarm!” Elizabeth tried to dissuade her mother against such outrageous ideas. Mrs. Bennet was kept to her room, where she blamed everybody but the two people whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must principally owe. “No one knows Lydia has eloped. Darcy and Bingley may recover her, and she need not marry Mr. Wickham.”
“Oh, she is likely ruined just as your father says! You must write to Darcy and tell him to find Wickham and make them marry. But keep him from fighting. Your father does nothing, but we cannot allow Darcy to fight Wickham and be killed!”
Elizabeth’s mother continued in this vein until Jane returned with her mother’s tea, and Elizabeth was free to seek out her father. Mr. Bennet had made no mention of the business that had called his future sons away. Although he might provoke her by insulting Fitzwilliam, she hoped to convince her father to be appreciative and gracious to him when he returned with Lydia. Even if he felt Lydia’s case a hopeless one, Fitzwilliam did not, and her father ought to show him gratitude for helping his family avert a scandal.
“Lizzy, it will do you no good to speak to me about your wedding clothes. Your mother has spoken to me on the subject, and I shall not be dissuaded. You will receive no such mark of affection from me.”
Elizabeth attempted to mind her temper. He knows very well that I am not worried down by wedding clothes. “I came here to speak of other subjects.”
“Have you come to revel in your prudence and foresight? Your advice to me in May, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind. Perhaps you do have something of cleverness, your attachment to Mr. Darcy notwithstanding.”
“Papa, why do you continue to be severe upon me?”
“You do not know the character of this man who has suddenly captured your fancy. You are blinded by his wealth and connections.”
“And do you know enough of him to do justice to his worth? Have you taken any pains to know Darcy at all?”
Her father pressed his lips together for a long moment before deciding on a different attack. “I am surprised that this affair with Lydia does not have him begging you to release him from his promise.”
“He would be insulted to hear you speak disdainfully of his honor and his attachment to me! He is gone to London in your place to protect Lydia. I have had the pleasure of Darcy’s acquaintance for months, and although I may not have admired him in the beginning, I have no reservations about his character.” After her last conversation with Fitzwilliam, she would never again doubt his commitment to her.
“You will be happy then,” he retorted drily. “How fortunate for you.”
Unwavering loyalty to her father no longer came as easily as it once did. “I am sorry for the unhappiness you have endured in your marriage, but I have confidence in my choice of husband. You ought not to be jealous of the happiness you know I shall share with Darcy. I will marry him, whether or not you read those settlement papers he left. Should you not wish to suffer an estrangement from me, you will sign them and thank Darcy for his efforts when he returns with Lydia.”
Elizabeth turned on her heel and stormed from the library.
***
Their hackney passed Cavendish Square and stopped at a large house in Edward Street where Darcy and Bingley alighted. Given the curious glances they received from passersby, Darcy was relieved he hired a carriage instead of arriving in his own with the Darcy crest and livery for all to see. Murmured voices carried down the hall after he gave his card although he could only discern their tone; the maid’s voice was steady, but Mrs. Younge’s voice was at first alarmed then angry.
The maid returned to say that Mrs. Younge was not at home. Darcy exhaled his frustration and, ignoring Bingley’s entreaties to be patient, pushed past her, strode down the hall, and threw open the parlor door. The woman inside leapt to her feet upon seeing him and gave a little cry—whether from fear or anger, Darcy could not tell. She recovered, however, and the worry in her features was replaced with a veneer of refinement that Darcy knew by now not to trust.
“Mr. Darcy, you must be eager to speak with me since you were not invited in. But as you and your friend are here now, please join me.” Mrs. Younge spoke evenly, but her eyes flitted towards the open door. She dismissed the maid, who shut the door with barely a curtsey.
“I am looking for Mr. Wickham.”
“I cannot help you. I have not seen Wickham since last summer. Why ever would you search for him here?” She spoke with grace and ease, and Darcy knew he would have to unnerve her in order to convince her to tell all she knew.
“Mr. Wickham is the sort of man to keep women to fall back on when his gambling funds run out. I am well aware that you have made yourself available to him in the past, and I am confident he has…visited you recently.”
“Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed in shock. Mrs. Younge’s face reddened, but Darcy knew it was from anger and not from shame. He was rude, yes, but this woman was his only means of finding Wickham in a timely manner, and he would exploit every advantage.
“I will not allow myself to be insulted by you!”
“Come now, we both know you are the first person Mr. Wickham would turn to when he needs money or a warm bed. If he is not still here, where can I find him?”
“Why should I help you?” Her attempts at dignity were gone.
“Because I shall double any amount Mr. Wickham has promised you.”
Mrs. Young rose and paced, idly touching the furnishings as she walked. At first glance, it was a well-appointed parlor, but upon closer examination, Darcy could see its wear. The wall coverings had begun to peel near the window, the carpet’s edge was frayed under frequent use, and Darcy noticed the overstuffed sofa had faded in the sunlight. Mrs. Younge’s gown was fashionable, but he could see the silk had lost its soft luster. Her consequence in the world had fallen since she was dismissed from his employ.
“I am certain I do not know what you mean.” Mrs. Younge recovered some of her poise. “You may show yourself out.”
Darcy remained standing before the door. “Mr. Wickham owes you money, does he not? We both know he will gamble away everything he has before he pays you. It is expensive to keep a house this large in Edward Street. As I said, I shall pay you twice what he owes you if you tell me where I can find him and the woman with him.”
“So it is about her, is it? I had not thought a foolish girl would be the sort to attract him, let alone you.”
Darcy smirked. She sat rigidly back into her chair, avoiding his eye. Mrs. Younge held an unrequited love for a profligate gamester who would never marry her. Darcy almost pitied her for her disappointed hopes. “We both know your funds hold more importance than your loyalty to an unfaithful gamester. Where are they?”
“George arrived on Friday with the girl, looking for lodgings while he conducted business. It is quiet since the Little Season has yet to begin, so I gave them a room for which she paid for the week.”
“They are here!” Bingley interrupted.
“She thought herself on an adventure and kept talking about being for Scotland and being the first of her sisters to marry.” She gave a derisive laugh. “As if George would marry her. At least Georgi—” Darcy gave her a glare, and Mrs. Younge stopped, perhaps realizing that her purse would benefit only if she did not to mention her former charge.
“Where is he now?”
�
�George left the morning after they arrived. I know not what he told her, but she has kept to her room since he left. He told me he would not return for some time, but that has always been his way. I never know where he goes or when he intends to return.”
“And the girl with him—what did he intend for her?”
Mrs. Younge looked at him expectantly, and Darcy reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his coin purse. He withdrew several gold guineas and tossed them on the chipped side table nearest to her. Mrs. Younge clutched her hands in her lap rather than immediately scooping up the coins and made no attempt to hide her triumph.
“At the end of the week, in return for what he would pay me when I next saw him, I was to pack her belongings and turn her out on the street near Covent Garden at nightfall.”
Bingley gasped, and Darcy set his jaw as he bit back his anger. A woman wandering the streets at night would be assumed to be a prostitute. She was liable to be robbed, raped, or killed, and any who heard of her sufferings would say she deserved what happened to her. Mrs. Younge held her head high as Darcy quelled his disgust at being forced to contend with such a rapacious woman.
“Call her down.”
“I might remind you that I am well aware of your young lady’s name.”
Bingley looked anxious, but Darcy held her gaze. He was not about to pay this woman a shilling more.
“And allow me to remind you, madam, that I might tell any of your lodgers about your dissolute ways and ensure that no one will let from you again. You would no longer be able to keep up appearances in this wealthy neighborhood. One word from me and it will be you who are forced to earn her keep outside Covent Garden.”
Mrs. Younge, unable to cling to any remaining dignity, rang for the maid to bring down “Wickham’s girl” and to pack her belongings. “I want her gone! She is of no use to me now.” After snatching the guineas from the table, she stomped from the room.
They did not wait long before Lydia Bennet appeared in the doorway, her high spirits and self-assurance undiminished. She bounded into the room, threw herself into the nearest chair, and asked why they had come to call. Bingley was too shocked by her display to be master enough to speak, but Darcy was not about to spend another moment longer in this house.