Wild Goose Chase

by Sophie Lynbrook

  In their inn, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley had endeared themselves with manners that were also nothing like Lady Catherine’s.

  Miss Bingley, however, might have won an award for her impression of the great lady. She had arrived at her hostelry in a fractious mood after another excessively trying day.

  First they had been told of an accident on the turnpike which had necessitated a diversion. Their route had taken them across country roads which seemed to grow progressively rougher and narrower.

  Exhausted by this interminable jolting and jostling, she had fallen asleep on the next stage and dozed through several more. Her companions had been in a similar state, and Mr. Hurst had handed over the necessary payment at each stop without paying much attention to anything else.

  In consequence, Miss Bingley woke up at the end of the day to find herself at some unknown place in Warwickshire instead of on the route to Hertfordshire.

  “It is not my fault ma’am,” one of the current postilions said. “At the last change you were already on route to Herefordshire. The mistake was made many miles ago. You should have said something sooner.”

  As this fact appeared to exonerate him from any blame, Miss Bingley had taken out her temper in sharp criticism of the accommodations instead.

  Out in the stables, the postilion said to his companion, “I wonder where we could send them tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Mr. Bingley was still travelling. He had reached St. Albans by the time the light began to fade. Wanting to deliver Miss Bennet’s comfort as soon as possible, he forged ahead, making the last of his journey by moonlight.

  An owl was hooting in the distance when he stopped in front of Longbourn House. It was long past a suitable hour for visiting, but certain that the Bennets would want to hear his news without delay, he knocked loudly upon the door.

  They were astonished to see him, but he was not unwelcome. Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows but made no complaint about the late hour. Mrs. Bennet welcomed him effusively. Miss Bennet smiled modestly, but he thought she looked very pleased to see him. From further back, her two sisters looked on with undisguised curiosity.

  “I have come to tell you that Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth have gone to Gretna Green,” he said directly.

  Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows achieved greater heights, which were matched by the pitch of his voice. “Gretna Green? Lizzy?”

  Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands delightedly. “That is excellent news,” she cried.

  Seeing her happy face, Mr. Bingley felt well rewarded for his travels. She must have been very worried about Miss Lydia, and he had brought her great relief.

  “I do not understand,” Miss Bennet said. “I know that Lizzy felt some sympathy toward Mr. Darcy, but I cannot believe that she changed her mind about him.”

  Mr. Bingley was uncertain what she meant by this. It was Mr. Darcy who had been sympathetic to the situation, not the other way around.

  “Sympathetic?” Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “Why should anybody feel sorry for Mr. Darcy?”

  That was a rather harsh thing to say about the man who was doing so much to help them.

  “The more important question is how Lizzy came to be in his company,” Mr. Bennet said.

  This was something Mr. Bingley could easily answer.

  “Miss Elizabeth was visiting at Pemberley,” he explained. “After receiving the news, she shared it with Darcy, who was eager to help her.” He looked at Jane. “I know you were hoping for her to come directly home, but she trusted me with a letter for you.” He produced it. “You must not worry. They were very hopeful of catching up to Miss Lydia.”

  “Lydia?”

  “It is too late to bring her back of course, but Darcy will make certain that Mr. Wickham does go through with marrying her.”

  “Make certain that Mr. Wickham marries whom?” Mrs. Bennet asked sharply.

  Mr. Bingley eyed her warily. “Miss Lydia, of course. I know that is not the best of news, but it cannot be avoided now. News of their elopement is certain to spread.”

  “Their elopement?” Mr. Bennet frowned. “Are you trying to say Lydia has eloped with Mr. Wickham?”

  Mr. Bingley looked at him with puzzlement. “Surely you know of this already.” He looked to Jane for clarification. “It was my understanding that you wrote to your sister telling her Miss Lydia had eloped from Brighton.”

  All eyes fastened upon Jane, except for Kitty’s. She started creeping away.

  “I did not write to Lizzy of an elopement,” Jane told the others. “I had no such information. If I did, I would certainly not keep it to myself.”

  “No, you would not,” Mr. Bennet agreed. “You I trust. Come back here, Kitty. What do you know of this?”

  “I did not know Lydia had eloped,” she gasped. “I only knew that she was hoping to receive an offer from Mr. Wickham.”

  “I do not understand how you do not know of their elopement,” Mr. Bingley said. “I am certain Mr. Darcy said that Miss Elizabeth learned of it from a letter sent by Miss Bennet.”

  “There must have been some confusion,” Jane said. “I did write to Lizzy, but my letter was about our doings at home and our recent engagements. Perhaps she received it and another one at the same time.”

  “But why would anybody have written to her rather than us?” Mr. Bennet said. “Or known where to send the letter? This makes no sense.” He looked at Mr. Bingley. “You say that Lizzy has gone to Gretna Green in search of them?”

  “Yes. She and Mr. Darcy both had some doubts about Mr. Wickham, you see, so they wanted to make certain that a marriage would take place.”

  “So Lizzy and Mr. Darcy are not getting married,” Mrs. Bennet said disappointedly.

  “No, of course not. Darcy would never elope. Nor Miss Elizabeth, I am certain.”

  “No, she would not,” Mr. Bennet agreed.

  “They have only gone to Gretna Green in pursuit of Miss Lydia as I said.”

  “A pity,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “I forgot to mention that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have also gone with them,” Mr. Bingley now clarified. “There is nothing untoward in their travelling together.”

  Mrs. Bennet now brightened up with a sudden thought. “It will be better for them to be married in Longbourn church anyway.”

  “I did not mean to give the impression that there is any understanding between them,” Mr. Bingley said. “Mr. Darcy only wanted to help because of his connection to Mr. Wickham.”

  Paying no heed to this statement, Mrs. Bennet cried with enthusiasm, “They could have a joint wedding with Lydia and Mr. Wickham.”

  Mr. Bingley nearly shuddered. He had come here prepared to tolerate a great deal, but the suggestion of his friend sharing a wedding day with a couple under disgrace was too much.

  “You forget, Mrs. Bennet,” her husband said, “that Lydia has already eloped.”

  “And that Mr. Darcy and Lizzy are not engaged,” Jane added. “He is doing us a great favour, Mama. You must not read anything else into it.”

  “He must like Lizzy very much to be so helpful,” Mrs. Bennet insisted.

  “He feels responsible for Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Bingley reiterated.

  “For which I am grateful,” Mr. Bennet said, giving his wife a quelling gaze. “I am still utterly confused, however. I think that I shall go to Brighton in the morning and get some firm information.” He glanced at Kitty, whose face still had a guilty look. “Perhaps very early in the morning.”

  “Take my curricle,” Mr. Bingley urged him. “Well, Darcy’s curricle actually, but I am sure he would want you to use it.”

  The generous offer of Mr. Darcy’s property was accepted, as was the offer of a bedchamber which Mrs. Bennet made to Mr. Bingley. In coming along so late, he had forgotten to consider that there would be nothing ready for him at Netherfield. His only thoughts had been of getting to Miss Bennet.

  CHAPTER 21

  Mr. Bennet left Longbourn at dawn the next morning. It was still quit
e early when he stopped at Clapham to change horses. While that was done, he partook of some breakfast. As he exited the inn, a chaise drew up very close to the door, and a giggling couple climbed out.

  Being rather absorbed with each other, they did not notice him. He stood watching in astonishment as Lydia made her intentions quite plain by snuggling up to Mr. Wickham.

  “Is it a very long way to Gretna Green?” she asked him.

  “A very long way,” he said. “In fact, I have formed a better idea. We should go to London instead.”

  “Oh, I have always longed to go to London!”

  “Then it is a great pity for you that I shall never let you go there,” Mr. Bennet said, stepping forward and taking his daughter’s arm.

  “What are you doing here?” she cried in shock and disappointment.

  “Stopping you from making a disgrace of yourself and your family.”

  “This is not what it looks like,” Mr. Wickham said, giving a very false-sounding laugh. “Miss Lydia had a toothache yesterday, and having some business of my own in London, I offered to convey her to her uncle’s house.”

  “Her aunt and uncle are away at the moment, as Lydia ought to have known.”

  “Oh, I forgot all about that,” Lydia said airily.

  It would not surprise Mr. Bennet if she had, considering how little attention Lydia paid to the doings of others. However, he would not have believed a word about a toothache even if he had not just heard then declare their true intentions.

  “Then it is a very good thing that we happened to come across you,” Mr. Wickham said in the manner of somebody who was used to dissembling. “I can consign Lydia to your care with a clear conscience.”

  Mr. Bennet thought it might have been a long time since Mr. Wickham could have genuinely laid claim to a clear conscience. The man was already edging away.

  “You will be back in Brighton soon, I hope,” Lydia cried.

  “Oh, I expect so,” he said, but his vagueness made Mr. Bennet think otherwise.

  “I shall be waiting eagerly for your return,” she said. Her father guessed how desperately she wanted to say more, but she was impeded by their pretence.

  Mr. Wickham grabbed his luggage and deserted her without a backward glance. Mr. Bennet retrieved his daughter’s bag and returned to the curricle with a firm hold upon her arm. She kept looking back at Mr. Wickham, but in a moment, he got into a hackney, which drove off toward London.

  Dejected, Lydia slouched down in the seat. Fortunately, she made no attempt to run away, which would have been pointless.

  “We must get you to the dentist, then,” Mr. Bennet said, grasping the reins.

  “Actually, my toothache has completely gone away. I do not think it will be necessary to see a dentist after all.”

  Feeling that she ought to suffer some punishment, he considered insisting upon it, but the waste of time did not appeal to him. “Then to Longbourn it is,” he said, fearing that he was letting her get off lightly.

  “Longbourn!” she cried. “I am to spend another month in Brighton.”

  “That was before you took it into your head to elope,” he said severely. “I will certainly not be trusting you in Brighton again. Or anywhere without a suitable chaperone.”

  “I was not eloping,” she protested.

  “No, you were about to do even worse. Apparently, you were quite content to stay in London with Mr. Wickham without being married. I did overhear what the two of you had planned, and I am heartily ashamed of you.”

  Lydia wept, but he had no doubt that it was the double loss of a holiday and a husband which had her so distressed. Not the shame which she ought to be feeling.

  “On second thoughts” he said, “I believe I shall go on to Brighton.”

  She looked up joyfully.

  “The Forsters will be wondering what has happened to you.”

  “I left a letter,” Lydia said as though that made everything all right.

  “I would only be right to settle their minds, and hopefully they can be persuaded to keep quiet.”

  It also occurred to him that his daughter being seen to leave Brighton with him would help to dispel any rumours.

  “They will not say anything,” Lydia assured him. “And I will behave perfectly for the rest of my holiday.”

  “I am not so foolish as to think that possible.”

  She appeared not to hear him. “Now I shall not miss the ball tonight,” she said, apparently forgetting Mr. Wickham as easily as he had given her up. “I can keep my engagement to dance with Mr. Pratt after all. He would have been disappointed not to see me.”

  “He will have to be disappointed,” Mr. Bennet said firmly. “We are going to Brighton only to speak with the Forsters and collect the rest of your luggage. You will not be dancing at any ball tonight. Or for a very long time if I have my way.”

  Lydia resumed weeping again, and she cried all the way to Brighton, arriving with red, swollen eyes and a blotchy face.

  Mr. Bennet did his best to ignore the noise.

  In Brighton he met with a stroke of luck. Colonel Forster had breakfasted and gone out, apparently without realizing that his guest was anywhere other than her chamber. His wife was still abed, and Lydia’s letter was still sitting on the sideboard where she had left it. Mr. Bennet pocketed this then he instructed her to go and pack her things at once.

  This brought on an increase of sobbing, in the midst of which Mrs. Forster came into the room. She startled at seeing Mr. Bennet and then ran to her friend’s side, asking what the matter was.

  Lydia, in the throes of her tantrum, was unable to say anything, to her father’s satisfaction. If her voice had not failed her, she would undoubtedly have used it to disgrace herself by explaining all the details of her discontent.

  “I have been the unfortunate bearer of bad news,” he said, while Lydia gasped and gulped in an effort to stop crying. “Nothing too dreadful, fortunately. All of Lydia’s family are quite well, but as you can see, she has been rather affected. I shall be taking her home, but her things will need to be packed first.”

  Lydia glared at him, but she had been out manoeuvred. Mrs. Forster was immediately sympathetic, and she helpfully insisted upon packing. In short time, the trunk was secured to the curricle and Lydia was compelled to say farewell to her friend and the delights of Brighton.

  Colonel Forster turned up in time to see them leave, and he was accompanied by two officers. It was exactly what Mr. Bennet had desired. He repeated his story for their benefit and then thanked the colonel for having Lydia, which she had failed to do. He could not blame the man for her attempted elopement. That behaviour was more his own fault than anybody else’s.

  “You will not believe the news,” he heard the colonel say to his wife as the curricle began moving away. “Mr. Wickham has run off.”

  Lydia burst into a fresh bout of tears, and Mr. Bennet was glad to quickly disappear around a corner.

  Back at Longbourn, the express letter had just arrived. Jane shared it first with Mr. Bingley, who expressed his outrage with his sisters, and then quickly apologized for using such dreadful language. Then he apologized for the sorrow and trouble that his family has caused hers.

  She was at great pains to assure him that nobody could blame him. She certainly did not. Indeed, she sympathized with his distress. In no time at all, this mutual concern and understanding led to a proposal.

  “If you will have me after what my sisters have done,” he said humbly.

  Jane, however, could have tolerated any number of sisters and their evil deeds. She accepted very happily.

  Without saying anything of the sisters’ duplicity, she assured her mother that there was no cause to worry about Lydia.

  “It would appear that Lizzy was mistakenly given a letter belonging to somebody else,” she offered as explanation.

  Mrs. Bennet accepted this without question. “I knew it was all a mistake,” she said. “Lydia would not elope. She would want to have
her wedding here. Your father should not have gone off in such a hurry. He has wasted his time on a wild goose chase.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Having already travelled as far as Carlisle, Colonel Fitzwilliam decided to join the convoy to Gretna Green.

  “I might be of use in dealing with Wickham,” he said to Mr. Darcy. “You are on your own with Lady Catherine, however.”

  “It will not be so hard to manage her once she comprehends that I am not eloping with Miss Bennet. Indeed, I rather look forward to informing her that she has jumped to an absurd conclusion.”

  “Is it so absurd?” the colonel asked. “I do not mean eloping, of course, but the two of you getting married. There appears to be a great friendliness between the two of you. I have never seen you so much at ease with any lady.”

  “My feelings for Miss Bennet are as great as anything you might imagine,” Mr. Darcy admitted. “My mind is perfectly made up to marry her if she will have me, but that remains to be seen. At present, there is no understanding between us.”

  “I only hope that our aunt can be persuaded of that.”

  Mr. Darcy also hoped that she would not take much convincing. It was inevitable that she would be angry with Miss Bennet, which would not help his own cause. He did not look forward to explaining the reason for their journey either. It was going to be an awkward moment. Concealment would only serve to confirm her suspicions that he had been eloping, but the truth would do as much harm as good. She was bound to think very ill of the Bennets.

  In the morning, he and his cousin went downstairs ahead of the others, looking out for Annabelle’s uncle, or any gentleman who might be Clara’s stepfather. Fortunately, the inn was devoid of such people, but they did come across a young man in distress.

  “How can the coach have gone already?” he was asking the innkeeper with great agitation. “It was not due to leave for another half an hour.”

  Excuses were muttered, but these were of no use to the gentleman. “I need to get to Gretna Green today!” he cried. “Is there a carriage which I might hire?”