‘Do not be afraid.’
How could she bear his caring voice, his kind attention, when the mystery of Lydia and her father hung over her family? Her throat was so constricted she could not speak as she raised her eyes to his.
‘Elizabeth,’ he whispered, stepping closer to her before wiping a thumb gently across her cheek as a tear fell. ‘I would do anything for you. Though I am prepared to sacrifice my own happiness for others, I will not sacrifice yours if it is in my power to do so.’
Before anything more could be said, however, there was a disturbance from the service entrance by the staircase. Mr Darcy released Elizabeth's hand as they both stepped back from each other; two footmen came hurriedly through the door and crossed the hall to swing wide the double doors, and there, coming up the steps to the entrance, still in his travelling cloak, his hat in his hand, was Mr Bennet.
Chapter Seventy
‘I will arrange for you to speak to your father in private.’ Darcy spoke quietly, then turned and walked across the hall to greet Mr Bennet as he stepped inside, a footman relieving him of his cloak and hat.
‘Mr Darcy. It is good to see you again.’
Darcy studied the gentleman’s weary face. ‘I trust you were able to resolve your business to your satisfaction, sir.’
Mr Bennet’s eyes flew to where his daughter remained across the hall; then, he met Darcy’s gaze solemnly.
‘Unfortunately not on this occasion, sir.’ He turned then to look over at Elizabeth again and, for a moment, Darcy wondered if she would be able to greet her father with some semblance of normality, but then she walked over and Mr Bennet took her hand and dropped a kiss upon her head.
‘And are you quite well, my Lizzy? I have missed you.’ His gaze raked her countenance, and he frowned. ‘You look... uneasy.’
‘No, Papa.’ Elizabeth shook her head, summoning a smile. ‘I was merely surprised to see you, that is all. Let me fetch Jane.’
‘I will take your father to my study, Miss Elizabeth. You will be able to talk to each other more easily there.’ Darcy hailed one of the footmen as they passed. ‘Please could you arrange for some tea to be brought?’
He sent Elizabeth an encouraging look, and she turned to walk towards the drawing room.
‘Come, sir. You must wish for refreshment after your journey.’
He led Mr Bennet along the hallway to the door at its end, ushering him into the room.
‘It is kind of you to be so accommodating, Mr Darcy, but I will not trespass long on your time. I am come to take Jane and Lizzy home.’
He had known it would be the outcome of Mr Bennet’s return, but Darcy was taken aback by how unprepared he felt. He had become accustomed to seeing Elizabeth every day, sharing the breakfast or supper table with her, always hoping for a chance moment alone. Two miles may be little distance, but it was two miles too far!
‘Once your daughters have joined you, I will seek out my sister and ask her to arrange for their belongings to be packed.’
There was a light tap on the door then, and Darcy turned around to open it to admit both Jane and Elizabeth.
‘Papa!’
Jane hurried forward into her father’s embrace, and Darcy looked to Elizabeth again as he closed the door. Her countenance was inscrutable, and he longed to reassure her but what was there to say? There was a difficult conversation to be had.
‘Where have you been, Papa?’ Jane stepped back. ‘We have been so worried.’
‘Nowhere to concern you, my dear.’ Mr Bennet patted Jane gently on the shoulder.
Conscious that, the sooner Elizabeth and her sister were able to speak openly to their father the better, Darcy bowed. ‘I will leave you now.’
‘No! Please, do not go, Mr Darcy.’ Elizabeth turned to her father, who was looking with surprise from Darcy to his daughter; then she drew in a shallow breath.
'Papa; we have found out the truth about Lydia!'
Mr Bennet’s eyes widened in shock, and his face paled as he looked from Elizabeth to Jane.
'She is here in Derbyshire. We have seen her.'
For a moment, Mr Bennet simply stared at them; then, his legs went from under him, and he sank into the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands. 'Thank the Lord. I have been fearing so for her safety.'
Darcy blinked. So Mr Bennet knew his daughter had left where he had placed her! He turned towards the sideboard, his mind racing with questions as he poured a tot of brandy, then walked over to stand before the gentleman.
‘Sir?’ Mr Bennet raised stricken eyes to him. ‘Drink this. It will aid you.’
He took the glass, and Darcy was concerned to see the shaking of his hand as he raised it slowly to his lips.
He looked over at Elizabeth, then to Jane, who remained by her father’s side.
‘I think it best if I permit you some privacy. You have much to discuss.’
‘Thank you, Mr Darcy.’ Jane smiled tremulously at him before turning back to her father.
Mr Bennet stared dazedly between his daughters. Then, he looked over to where Darcy now stood near the door.
‘I thank you for your patience, sir, and the use of your study.’
‘Not at all. I will be at your disposal should you need me and will await you in the library.’
Barely had the door closed upon his back, however, when a maid entered with a tray of tea things which she placed on the desk before leaving, and Jane busied herself pouring cups for them all.
Elizabeth’s mind was all confusion, and she eyed her father warily from across the room. Some colour had returned to his face since he had taken the brandy, and she walked towards him.
'Then you knew Lydia had left her present home, Papa?'
Jane had gone to kneel beside her father, taking one of his hands in hers.
Raising his head, the strain upon Mr Bennet was obvious for all to see. 'It is where I have been—Northumbria. My mind has been in turmoil, imagining the worst possible scenarios of what may have befallen her; that I would never find her. It was all too reminiscent of my search for her after she eloped.’ He looked from Jane to Elizabeth. ‘Where is she? Is she well?’
Both girls exchanged a look. ‘She is under the care of the Reverend Wentworth over at Kympton, Papa.’
Mr Bennet blew out a breath. ‘How many people know of her being here?’ He looked up quickly. ‘Mr Darcy knows, does he not?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Yes, Papa; Mr Darcy was the first to come across Lydia, and has done much to ensure her well-being since yesterday.’
‘And you have seen her; spoken to her?’
‘We have.’
He leaned back in his seat, his gaze moving from Jane to Elizabeth, who now stood before him. 'Then you must know it all.’
Indignation rose in Elizabeth’s breast, taking her by surprise with its intensity. ‘Yes! And you lied to us, Papa! You lied when you told us Lydia was dead! You even made a pretence of grieving for her.’ She drew in a short breath. ‘How could you?’
Mr Bennet leapt to his feet. ‘No! I did not lie, and my grief at first was as genuine as yours. I believed her as dead to me then as she was to you; I knew nothing of her being alive until almost a week after we had buried her—or rather, the young woman whom we thought was her.’
Elizabeth gasped. ‘So there is someone else interred in Longbourn churchyard?’
Turning on his heel, Mr Bennet paced across the room, his shoulders rising and falling as he clearly battled emotion. Then, he turned an angry face to her. ‘Did you think the grave empty, that I faked the burial of my own daughter? What sort of man do you take me for, Lizzy?’
‘Forgive me, Papa.’ Elizabeth put a hand to her head. How was she to understand all of this? ‘It is—it is difficult to comprehend, when we have been told so little.’ She turned troubled eyes upon her father. ‘Beyond what we believed when we left Hertfordshire, we only know what Lydia has told us thus far.’
Mr Bennet held her gaze for a moment; then, th
e fight seemed to drain from him as rapidly as it had come.
‘Come, Papa, sit down.’ Jane got to her feet and led him back to his chair before resuming her place on the floor beside him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Then, he opened them and sat up straighter. ‘I see I must go back to the beginning. You must forgive me for speaking of times we had all rather forget.
Recalling Mr Darcy’s advice to her of the previous day, Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt as she walked over to fetch her father’s cup from the desk and handed it to him.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ He looked up at her, raking her countenance as though he would comprehend her thoughts, and Elizabeth sighed. She loved her father, but how could she condone his concealing the truth from them?
‘You will recall well the events of the summer of the year twelve. Though you were absent at first with your aunt and uncle, Lizzy, Jane soon apprised you of the Express I received from Colonel Forster informing me of Lydia’s elopement with Wickham. Keen though I was for your uncle’s return to aid me, I set off for London directly and began a futile search for them with what limited information there was at hand.’ His eyes clouded as he became embroiled in memories. ‘It was a terrible time. There were few leads and the city is vast. I knew of no connections to Wickham which might lead us to Lydia, and thus I discovered nothing of what had become of either of them. When your uncle finally joined me, we doubled our efforts, but to no avail. I sent what little intelligence I had back to Longbourn by letter, but there was truly nothing to report.’
Elizabeth sank onto the nearest chair. She remembered well that difficult time, the stress and anxiety upon them all, but especially so on their mother, who had taken to her bed, her attacks of nerves becoming more frequent than ever.
Her father was staring ahead, but Elizabeth doubted he saw anything of the room around him. ‘Your uncle tried to persuade me to go home, said he would continue the search alone, but before I left some intelligence finally came—of the worst sort. There had been a fire in a poor part of Town, with several fatalities, one of whom was believed to be your sister.’
The hand holding his cup began to shake again, and Elizabeth reached forward and took it from him, placing it on a small table.
‘Your uncle came with me.’ Mr Bennet stopped and swallowed convulsively. ‘Forgive me for what I must say; it is not pleasant for you to hear. The medical man in attendance confirmed the body to be a young girl of around sixteen years of age, but the face...’ He lowered his gaze. ‘The face—in fact much of the body—was unrecognisable as anything. Beyond the fire and smoke, you see, the roof had collapsed.’ He raised anguished eyes to Elizabeth. ‘Your uncle was as convinced as I. We had no reason to doubt what we believed we saw. What remained of the singed hair held the same hue as Lydia’s; the tattered clothing, badly soiled by the smoke, was of a pattern I recognised easily as your sister’s. Lydia’s possessions, damaged beyond use though they were, lay all about. When we were told these were the remains of the girl sharing Wickham’s room what else could we think?’
‘Lydia says she was thrown out by Wickham; that he had already found a replacement in a young serving girl.’
‘Yes, so she told me when I eventually saw her. It had happened the day before the fire.’ Mr Bennet sighed. ‘That poor girl—I know not who she was, but at least she rests in hallowed ground.’ He shook his head. ‘So far as I—or any of us—knew at the time, it was Lydia who had perished in that fire. Your uncle took on the arrangements, for I was in no fit state. He wrote to your aunt at Longbourn with the news, and the body was brought back to Gracechurch Street and then onward to Hertfordshire. You know the rest, including its effect upon your mother, who fell into a stupor for some days.’
He passed a weary hand across his forehead. ‘My grief was genuine; I truly believed your sister dead, and I felt my own culpability.’ He raised anguished eyes to Elizabeth. ‘How your words have haunted me, Lizzy; your plea not to let Lydia travel to Brighton. You were wise to caution me so, and I only wish I had acted differently.’
The sting of tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes. There was so much to regret, and she dashed a hand across her lashes before reaching for her father’s hand.
‘You can perhaps imagine the shock when, about a week after the funeral, I received a letter from Lydia. The hand confirmed it to be hers—there was no denying it—as did the content. She asked for funds to settle her debts with a Mrs Younge with whom she had taken up lodgings and either an allowance to continue in Town—she hinted at still hoping to secure a husband before coming home—or alternatively, for me to fetch her, bring her back to Longbourn. What was I to do?’
‘But to maintain she was dead, Papa? Was it the only choice?’
Mr Bennet held Elizabeth’s gaze for a moment, then squeezed her hand before releasing it. ‘It seemed so at the time, my dear. Loath though I am to credit our cousin Collins with any expression of sense, he had the right of it—Lydia’s supposed death did bring a modicum of relief to when she had been considered nothing but another fallen woman bringing disgrace upon her family. However shallow it may seem, the sympathy surrounding our family once news of Lydia’s demise reached Meryton was a little more forthcoming than it had been. A little of the stigma of her disgrace seemed to have fallen away.’
‘You mean when people stopped turning away as we passed them in the street?’ Elizabeth raised a brow. ‘Yes, that was a great improvement.’
‘However you perceive it, Lizzy, there was some alteration in how we were both received and treated, and it would have eased further with time.’
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and he nodded. ‘I know; we were still hardly welcome in local society, but at least the Lucases and the Longs had resumed their acquaintance with us.’ He paused. ‘And sadly, their interminable calls at Longbourn.’
Elizabeth studied her father thoughtfully. She could not deny the truth of the matter; yet it did not sit well with her to think of all Lydia had suffered, even though she had brought much of it on herself.
‘Do not think I care for such things; an acquaintance with my books is all I saw as necessary—but I learned the hard way how much I loved my daughters, that by my exertions alone could I improve things for them.’
Elizabeth frowned. ‘And what about Mama?’
Her father drew in a deep breath. ‘Your mother… your mother and I, as you must have seen for yourself, were not well matched. I fell victim to a pretty face and the charms of youth and with all the passion and determination of youth, for I was but a twelve-month beyond my own majority when we were wed.’ He was staring blankly ahead once more. ‘We lived separate lives once you girls were born. I convinced myself it was best for us both if I distanced myself. Her silliness became a source of derision for me; where I should have attempted to curb her absurdities, her vulgarities, if you will, I chose to sit back and enjoy her effect upon others.‘
Having oft been witness to this, Elizabeth bit her lip as her father’s head dropped into his hands again and silence consumed the room. Then, he raised eyes pained with remorse to look between Jane and Elizabeth.
‘I am no longer blind to my failings as a parent. I have felt it keenly this past year and have deserved every moment of regret. I have tried to put right the few things I could. I felt I had provided the best I could for Lydia in the circumstances; I sent Mary and Kitty to be educated, and I brought you,’ he looked from Elizabeth to Jane and back again, ‘my two eldest, to somewhere quite removed from the stigma we left behind. You are both such deserving daughters, and you have much to offer. I hoped above all for each of you to secure a good match, to be happy in the way your mother and I were not.’
‘Oh Papa!’ Jane stared up at him. ‘But what did Mama say when you told her of Lydia’s being alive?’
‘I did not. I knew she would demand your sister be brought home.’ Mr Bennet stirred in his seat. ‘I went to Town to see Lydia and make the necessary arrange
ments. She sulked and protested, but—‘ he looked from Jane to Elizabeth. ‘Again, forgive my frankness. There was no certainty she was not with child. She was uncertain herself when I first saw her.’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘And so you placed her with someone who looks after... girls like that?’
‘Yes. I did not wish to involve your uncle in this. The fewer people who knew of Lydia’s being alive, the better, so I contacted a clergyman in Town, and he was able to put me in touch with the right people, and thus I gained the introduction to Mrs Wood, who agreed to take her. It so happened she had come to London to collect another young lady in awkward circumstances, and was able to accompany Lydia, or else I would have had to go with her. I handed over ample funds to replenish your sister's lost wardrobe and other possessions, and I have continued to send small regular payments since, as well as what I pay to Mrs Wood herself.’
‘And you know of her new identity—as Mrs Sarah Hawes?’
‘Yes. Your sister protested that too, at the time, but Mrs Wood insisted on its being beneficial.’ He passed a hand across his eyes wearily again. ‘Lydia did not make things easy, as I am sure you can imagine. I am not proud of the reasons behind my sending you both, along with Mary and Kitty, to your Aunt Gardiner’s at that time. At first, it was because I did not trust her attempting to write to one or even all of you at Longbourn to proclaim herself alive. But then a second reason arose.’ He stopped, tried to clear his throat.
‘Here, Papa, take a little liquid.’ Elizabeth pressed his cup upon him again, and he sipped the cooling liquid, then grimaced. ‘I much prefer Mr Darcy’s offerings, I will own.’
Elizabeth almost smiled. ‘And what was the other reason?’
‘I came into the library the day after my return to find your mother had risen from her sick bed for the first time since taking to it. She was almost hysterical, waving Lydia’s letter, which she had found whilst rummaging through my desk drawers. I closed the door and tried my best to calm her. When I told her where I had recently been and what the outcome was, she collapsed. The servants carried her back to her room and I called the apothecary. He came back the following day; she had not stirred, and he confirmed on further examination what I suspected: her heart had sustained too many shocks, too much strain, in recent weeks. She would not survive beyond a few days. She did rally a few times, however, became almost lucid, and in those moments, she claimed she would tell everyone of Lydia’s being alive. That is why I chose to nurse her myself for those final days, and why I permitted no visitors, not even her sister.’
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