How could she? The stark truth hit her now. Lydia was alone in London with a man whose immorality was now well known around Meryton. What incentive did he have to marry Lydia, who was poor as a church mouse?
“I don’t understand it,” Lizzy muttered. “She must have known the trouble she was getting herself into. Why would she have agreed to go to London, knowing it would mean certain ruin for her?”
Her aunt sighed and shook her head. “My dear Lizzy, I do not know of a kind way to say this. Lydia has never been blessed with great insight. For all her charms, we must assume she simply got carried away by the novelty of it all and never stopped to think of the consequences.”
Lizzy groaned. How could her sister have been so stupid? She set her jaw. “There must be a way. There simply must be. She shall be disgraced otherwise. She is a foolish girl, but she is my sister. I cannot stand the thought of her living in poverty because of a silly mistake. If I could only find them…”
Her aunt considered this. “No,” she said firmly. “You cannot ruin yourself by searching for her.”
“I would not be ruined. Think of it, my dear aunt. Now we can be two search parties, where before we were one.”
“No, Lizzy,” her father groaned. “Think of how badly it would reflect on your uncle if he were to escort Mrs. Gardiner to such places. Or if I was to bring you! My goodness, it pains me to think of it.”
But Lizzy was resolved. “Then my aunt and I shall go together.” She glanced at Mrs. Gardiner, ashamed at even suggesting such a thing, but it was the only way. “We can take a servant or two. I am sorry to even ask such a thing of you, Aunt.”
“It is out of the question, Lizzy!” Mr. Bennet cried.
To Lizzy’s surprise, Mrs. Gardiner stood and held her hand out. “Wait, Thomas. It is true what she says. We would benefit from having two search parties instead of one. Think of it! We could cover twice the distance in the same time.”
“I don’t think you realise the terrible shame of it, my dearest,” Mr. Gardiner said quietly.
Mrs. Gardiner appeared to have steeled herself just like her niece had. She stood proud and it was clear from her expression that her mind would not be changed on this matter.
“I realise the shame more than you think, dear husband,” she whispered, eyes watery. “Only a lady could understand the true horror of such a fate as the one Lydia faces. I am willing to have odd looks cast in my direction if it means I can spare my five nieces this terrible future.”
“But it is not a matter of odd looks,” Mr. Gardiner pleaded, anxious now. “Those places are hellholes. They are infested by thieves and terrible fellows. I could not countenance you entering into such places.”
Mrs. Gardiner crossed the room and took his arm. “It is the only way, darling. And I have thought of a ruse. I know of some pious ladies who think nothing of venturing into such places to give aid to the poor. That shall be our ruse if we encounter anyone we know. I do not think we shall, but if we do? We are simply two Christian ladies carrying out good acts for the poor.”
“I cannot allow this,” Mr. Bennet said, shaking his head. “Not on my account.”
“Please father,” Lizzy pleaded. “At least let me fight for the last vestige of respectability that my family has left.”
He did not respond.
Mrs. Gardiner cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was noticeably higher than usual. “Well I will not allow anything else. Upon my honour, I shall leave this house and never return if you refuse to entertain my niece’s noble offer to help.”
Mr. Bennet did not say anything, but his brother-in-law threw his hands up in despair. “For goodness sake! If I ever meet this Wickham fellow, you had better pray that I do not have my shotgun to hand.” He turned to his wife. “You shall take two footmen with you. No, three. The biggest, strongest fellows I can find.”
Chapter 7
Darcy grew more and more disillusioned by the day. His attempts at mediation had been ignored and he found himself stomping through Clerkenwell on a hunt for the greedy fool who had attempted to defraud Bingley. It made him even more irritated when he reflected that by now he should have been back at Pemberley listening to dear Georgiana playing on the new instrument he had had custom made for her at great expense.
It was a fine August day, not that it registered with Darcy beyond him having to remove his overcoat as he stormed through the narrow, filthy streets. He had intended to travel by carriage, of course, but an overturned cart and the ensuing brawl had made the street impassable. Worried he was going to be delayed even more, he had jumped out and told his man to return later, when the mess was likely to have been cleared.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy walking, but walking through the lush green grass at Pemberley was a world away from the streets of London. It was different in Mayfair, where there were lush green parks to stroll in. Here it was a chaotic scene of traders, beggars, pickpockets, harlots and goodness only knew what else. God alone knew why the man had chosen to abscond to this particular locale. Actually, Darcy had a fair idea why Mr. Highcombe had chosen such an area of ill repute. He had probably thought that Darcy would no sooner enter this area of the city than he would the seven circles of hell.
Highcombe had calculated wrong when it came to Fitzwilliam Darcy, of course. Darcy suspected that Bingley was only one of the victims of Highcombe’s fraud, and he could not bear to think of that scoundrel escaping unpunished with his ill-gotten gains. His attempts at mediation had been unsuccessful so far: Darcy had vowed to try once more. If Highcombe did not admit his guilt and return the money, Darcy would have no qualms about having the man dragged in front of a magistrate.
Darcy looked around. This place was nothing like the smart well-kept street where he kept his townhouse. The doors were shabby and warped; the paint chipping off all but a small minority. Window panes were cracked for the most part—it wasn’t unusual for the windows to be boarded up. The noise was unbelievable: it seemed every being in the vicinity was screaming to be heard. Even the animals were noisy and restless. The stench was unbearable. He dipped his head and tried his best to inhale through his mouth instead of his nose. He wished he had some wintergreen oil to rub under his nose to blot out the smell. It was ghastly; it was hellish. He could not…
“Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed.
He had been so focussed on blocking his senses to the stench of the place that he had not been watching where he was going. A young woman lay on the ground in front of him. Another woman—who must have been her companion—fell to the ground and bent over her.
“I apologise,” he said gruffly. He crouched to get a closer look and in doing so, he had the most curious sensation feeling. There was something familiar about her. Her face was covered by her hair, which had come undone as she fell. Still, it felt like he knew her from somewhere, which was also odd: no woman of his acquaintance would ever deign to walk in such an area, even with a companion. But she was a lady: he could tell from the way she was dressed and from the bearing of her companion, who looked up at him now with a mixture of anxiety and loathing.
“Is she hurt, Ma’am? What shall I do with this fellow?”
A broad young man in uniform had shuffled forward and now glowered at Darcy, who realised with a jolt that they thought he was a thief. That, of course, was not an outlandish assumption to make of a man in this part of the city. He stood abruptly.
“I apologise,” he said again. “Fitzwilliam Darcy.” He grunted. “It was my fault entirely. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Allow me to fetch an apothecary.”
The companion nodded. “Yes, if you don’t mind. I knew I should never have agreed to come to this area of town, but she was so adamant…” she trailed off. “Your name sounds familiar. What is it you do? Perhaps you know my husband, Ed… never mind, I assume not.”
He shook his head, curious as to why she had not chosen to identify herself. “Perhaps,” he said, thinking that the most important thing to do was attend to the y
oung lady.
He assumed she had fainted—or worse—for she lay quite still. Up until that moment, that is. Now she sat forward abruptly, causing both Darcy and the other woman to gasp in fright.
“My goodness, Lizzy!” the other woman exclaimed.
In that moment, her hair fell away from her face and he saw who it was. He had no chance to respond before she spoke. Her face lit up.
“Ah, Mr. Darcy. Fancy meeting you here. And what an astonishing thing to hear you apologise. I daresay I might have stumbled had I not already been laid out of the ground.”
He stared at her in disbelief. An array of thoughts raced through his head.
Has it really sunk to this? Have they sent one daughter out to look for the other?
How is it possible that she could tease me just moments after being knocked to the ground?
Is it really her? I thought I might never see her again.
All of these thoughts conspired to render Fitzwilliam Darcy speechless.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth blinked up at the man in amusement. She could never have imagined herself sitting on a filthy street in such an insalubrious area of London. If she had, she might have pictured herself in distress—not laughing and not with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of all people. For a moment she wondered if she had indeed fainted—or worse—and this was actually some odd fantasy taking place solely within her injured brain.
Just thinking about it made her aware of the intense throbbing in her head. She winced as her fingers made contact with the back of her head. It was already starting to swell.
“You’re hurt,” Darcy said, leaning forward and peering down at her.
Lizzy’s first thought was to look around and see how other people had reacted to her fall. To her surprise, nobody appeared to have batted an eyelid. It made her heart sink to think that Lydia had been living in this awful place. She could only imagine her mother’s reaction if she could see it.
Without any warning, Darcy leant over her and lifted her up from the ground. She tried to protest as he moved swiftly towards the side of the street, but she was too shocked to speak.
“Whatever do you think you’re doing?” she gasped. By now he had put her on her feet, though his arm still hovered around her shoulders. “What on earth—”
He cleared his throat and looked away. “I apologise, Miss Elizabeth. I noticed they had cleared away that upturned cart and it concerned me greatly that you were sitting in the middle of the thoroughfare.”
As if to illustrate his point, a carriage rumbled past just a moment later, blinkered black horses sending up clumps of dirt as they rushed forward. Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. If it hadn’t been for Darcy, she would have been directly in their path. Her aunt seemed to realise it as well. She dug her fingers into Lizzy’s arm.
“My goodness, Lizzy. My goodness. What if…”
Lizzy turned in horror to see her usually calm aunt descend into tears. Then, with no warning, Mrs. Gardiner’s knees buckled and she fainted right there on the spot.
Elizabeth’s eyelids fluttered open. She frowned as the ceiling came into focus. It looked different.
That’s not right, she thought woozily.
It wasn’t just the colour of the ceiling, it was the size. This room was much bigger than her room in Gracechurch-street. Not only that, it was bigger than any of the rooms in her uncle’s home.
She moved her hands to her hips and began to push herself into a seated position. She gasped. Pain seared through her shoulders at the precise moment she tried to support her weight. What on earth? She had been tired after the drive to London, but not like this. She had never felt such discomfort.
And then she remembered; saw a glimpse in her mind’s eye of a very worried-looking Mr. Darcy.
Lizzy’s eyes widened and she felt a rush of blood to her head that made it feel as if she might faint at any moment. She closed her eyes until the sensation passed and then looked around, wondering what was going on. The last thing she could remember was her aunt fainting on the street and then… nothing. What had happened? Had some scoundrel brought them to an establishment of ill repute? Surely not: her aunt’s footman would never have allowed it. She looked around at the room more closely. No, this was a fine place. The sheets and pillows were sumptuous and thickly-woven, cool to the touch. The walls were lined with silk brocade paper, which looked as if it had only been applied the day before.
She looked to her right and saw a little bell sitting on the bedside table along with a candle and a small wash basin. She reached for it, giving up several times before she finally bit her lip and thrust her arm out, ignoring the pain. She lay back against the pillows and shook her wrist as hard as she could to ring the bell without tiring her aching shoulder.
An efficient-looking woman bustled in not a minute later.
“Hello,” Elizabeth said, wondering how she had come to be in this place. “Can you please tell me where I am? I remember an accident.”
Perhaps Mr. Darcy had felt guilty and insisted on taking them to a guesthouse. She froze in horror. How much would a place like this cost? There was no way her father could afford such a place, especially not if they succeeded in tracking down Wickham and negotiating a settlement.
“Indeed,” the woman smiled. “Well I am glad you remember that much. Mr. Darcy told me you took a blow to the head.”
“Do you work here? What is this place?”
“Goodness,” the woman laughed, throwing her head back. “You must not be alarmed. I am the housekeeper here. You’re at Mr. Darcy’s London residence. Your aunt is in another room just down the hall.”
Lizzy frowned. “How did I get here? I don’t remember.”
The woman fussed at the dresser and poured a glass of water from a large jug. “Well, according to Mr. Darcy, your aunt fainted and he managed to catch her in time. Then just as he thought all was well, you fainted too. You ought to have seen his face when he returned here with the two of you and asked me to tend to you. The poor man was rattled half to death. He managed to dispatch your footman to find a carriage while he kept an eye on the two of you. Said he wasn’t risking asking anyone else for help in Clerkenwell.” The woman’s features pinched. “It’s none of my business, of course, but you know that area of town is no place for a lady. Not even with a strong servant to protect you. You’re lucky you weren’t robbed or…” she trailed off and shook her head.
Lizzy winced and a fresh stab of pain shot through her.
“Here, let me fetch the draught the apothecary left.”
“The apothecary has called already? How long was I asleep?”
“Not long. Mr. Darcy sent for him immediately. He was worried about the lump on the back of your head.”
Elizabeth reached around, ignoring the pain in her shoulders as she did so. Sure enough, there was a lump the size of an egg on the back of her head.
“The apothecary will be back later. He said he couldn’t check on you properly when you were out cold like that. Darcy told him to come back and check on you once an hour if that was what was needed.”
Lizzy felt a curious rush of gratitude followed by confusion. Darcy was here. What had compelled him to go to such trouble on her account? She had not seen him since the previous winter. And he had disappeared without even calling to say goodbye.
That does not matter, she told herself. He’s a gentleman. He felt guilty because he was the cause of my accident. He seemed greatly affected when that carriage came past just a moment after he carried me out of the way.
Remembering that incident set off a strange reaction in Elizabeth. She had never before been lifted up and carried by a young man—of course she hadn’t.
She closed her eyes. The life or death circumstances had rendered his behaviour acceptable, but she wasn’t dwelling on the morality of his actions. No, she could remember only the moment; how it had felt to be scooped up in his arms. Indeed, she found she could not stop replaying those moments in her mind.
/>
“Are you alright, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling. “There is a little pain in my shoulders, but I am otherwise well. Could you please let me know when my aunt wakes? We shall leave as soon as she is well: I do not wish to trouble you any more than we already have.”
Chapter 9
“How are the ladies?” Darcy asked. He had asked Mrs. Hudson to his study for some pretext or other—he couldn’t even remember now. He realised too late that there was no sense in pretending: she had known him since he was a boy and he could tell from her expression that she was rather amused by his new-found role as saviour of women in distress.
“Miss Bennet is a very nice young lady,” Mrs. Hudson said, tilting her head to one side. “Good hearted. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to inconvenience you in any way.”
She didn’t need to say it—nor would he ever have expected her to—but it wasn’t just a compliment to Elizabeth Bennet. It was also a disparagement of another of Darcy’s recent houseguests.
“Indeed,” Darcy said, shuffling some of the papers on his desk.
“Quite lovely,” Mrs. Hudson said.
Darcy felt his cheeks heat up. The old woman had never been so effusive in her praise of one of his guests before and he could tell her meaning easily enough. He cleared his throat, suddenly at a loss for words. That seemed to happen rather a lot when he was in the vicinity of Miss Elizabeth.
The old woman’s smile turned into a frown. “I worry, though. She is a quite a headstrong young thing. She has it in mind that she must leave as soon as her aunt is well. I told her not to consider such a thing. She is clearly in pain.”
Darcy sighed and shook his head. “Your assessment is correct, Mrs. Hudson. Certainly I have seen the same thing. Is it possible you have misunderstood her intention to leave? No one in their right mind would wish to travel so soon after an accident.”
Mr Darcy to the Rescue: A Pride and Prejudice Regency Variation Page 3