by Elaine Owen
Beside her, Georgiana had gone stiff, pulling her hands away from Elizabeth’s and clenching them together in her own lap. Elizabeth, caught in her own anguish, scarcely noticed.
“I do not understand,” the colonel said, pulling up a chair to sit across from her, and looking at her with a face of utter sympathy. “I thought your family was from Hertfordshire.”
“And so they are, but Lydia went to visit friends in Brighton right after Mr. Wickham’s regiment removed there a few weeks ago.”
“She went there to follow the regiment?”
“Yes.” Shame stained Elizabeth’s cheeks.
The colonel looked shocked. “And your mother permitted this? Was she not with her daughter?”
“No,” she answered, as her cheeks flushed even deeper. “My sister went by herself.”
The colonel shook his head disapprovingly. “That was not well done, I am afraid. Was she not aware of the danger? She allowed your sister, only sixteen years old, to follow the army when it moved away, and without the supervision of family?”
“She permitted it—she encouraged it,” Elizabeth answered, staring down at her hands while tears pooled in her eyes. “She could not see the impropriety in such behavior.”
The colonel’s lips tightened, but he made no response. Elizabeth continued, “Lydia left a note saying that she was running off to get married, but we have since discovered that Mr. Wickham had no plans for matrimony. Jane writes that she hopes he can be prevailed upon to marry her now, but I can see no hope of it.”
“But she does have some dowry, thanks to my cousin,” the colonel pointed out. “He ought to be able to see the advantages of marrying your sister.”
Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to shake her head. “It is as my mother said—if he had wanted to marry Lydia, why would he not have done so already? He certainly had the opportunity. They did not go to Scotland—they were last seen on the London road. She is lost to us—she is ruined forever.”
There was a stony silence for response.
“It is hard to think,” Elizabeth went on, “that my own sister could be so lost to every notion of decent behavior, to believe she would be so careless with her reputation. But it is so. Jane wants me to come home, to help support her in this crisis, and of course I must go. But there is nothing that can be done. I know very well that nothing can be done!”
“Though it pains me to say it, I have to agree with you,” the colonel answered, his voice low and angry. “But I would not blame your sister too much. Now that I think on it, I doubt that Wickham’s motive in this case had anything to do with money. He has a much lower motive.”
There was an odd intensity in the colonel’s voice that made Elizabeth quickly look up at him. His eyes were flashing with an unexpected anger, his lips clenched tightly together.
“Then what—?” she asked, and was surprised to see him glance at Georgiana, who stood abruptly and walked across the room.
“This is about me,” Georgiana said unexpectedly, her voice containing a note of bitterness that Elizabeth had never heard in her young sister before. The girl stood with her back to Elizabeth, hands clasped behind her, staring out the window at the grounds of Pemberley in a pose reminiscent of her brother. “Mr. Wickham is taking revenge on our family by working through yours.”
Elizabeth stared. “I do not understand. You believe Mr. Wickham is taking his revenge on your brother for denying him the living?”
The colonel glanced quickly, questioningly at Elizabeth, then rose and went to Georgiana’s side. He placed a gentle hand on one arm. “Georgie,” he said, using a diminutive Elizabeth had never heard before, “You do not have to speak of this if you do not want to.”
“No!” Georgiana contradicted him. “It is important for Elizabeth to understand what is happening. She knows what happened to me last summer, but she does not know this part. I never thought to tell her. Elizabeth,” she said, turning to face her sister once again, “Mr. Wickham is the man who—” she paused painfully for a moment, “who tried to convince me to run away with him last year.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say. It was her turn to stare, dumbstruck, as the words hit home.
“Wickham used his previous friendship with Darcy to worm himself into Georgiana’s affections,” the colonel said, his words clipped and angry, “and prevailed on her to think herself in love. She consented to an elopement, and if Darcy had not returned a day early from his trip they would have run off together the next day.”
“If not for my brother, I would have been tied forever to a man who only wanted my fortune.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, tears of sympathy welling in her eyes, as she silently contemplated what such a future would have been like for the young girl. The thought was nearly unbearable.
“So you see, you mustn’t be too hard on poor Lydia. She is only doing what any other girl might have done.” With those words Georgiana’s face crumpled, and her voice ended in a sob. “Will that man never stop intruding into our lives?” she cried. The colonel pulled her into the circle of his arms as she wept freely while Elizabeth watched silently, tears on her own cheeks.
There was nothing she could do here—no comfort she could offer, no soothing words. Her very presence was a painful reminder to Georgiana and the colonel of what they most wanted to forget. “If you will excuse me, I must prepare to leave Pemberley,” she said quietly, and rose to her feet. Neither of the other two attempted to stop her as she silently left the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Elizabeth walked slowly to her room, her feet leaden—her heart numb. When she reached her chamber she threw herself full length on the bed and wept until she had no more tears. Then she stood resolutely and looked slowly around the room.
In one corner of the room stood her wardrobe, filled with dresses and other finery Darcy had provided for her. In another corner her brush and small hand mirror, engraved with her initials, sat primly in their place on the dresser. They too had been provided by her husband, along with a book he had thought she would like, now lying face down next to them. On one wall hung the watercolor that Georgiana had painted and then had hung in her room after Elizabeth’s admiring comments. Everywhere she looked the evidence of the love and care offered to her as Elizabeth Darcy looked back at her, mocking her. None of it could be hers now, thanks to the machinations of George Wickham and Lady Catherine.
If they had planned this assault together, their victory would not have been more assured. Their separate attacks had united at the worst time, in awful harmony.
Lady Catherine had based her criticisms of Elizabeth on her family’s lack of fortune, connections, and decorum. The first two items could not be denied, but Elizabeth had rather hoped that on the third point, her family, unimportant and remote, would escape criticism. But this—this lamentable behavior on Lydia’s part and the permissive behavior that led to it—this would provide all the ammunition Lady Catherine needed to double the family pressure on Darcy. Her triumph was sure. It had all played out in front of the colonel; he was privy to her mother’s failings and her sister’s folly. Why, oh why had she not held her tongue in his presence? He was not vicious; he would not go out of his way to cast aspersions on her character, but if he were asked now there was no hope for it. He would have to answer, truthfully, that Elizabeth’s family was seriously lacking in decency and decorum.
And Wickham! If he had planned on seducing Lydia and then leaving her, unmarried, as an attack against Darcy, his revenge would be complete indeed. Unmarried, the shame would be great. Lydia’s name would not be spoken again in polite society, and her family would not be allowed into the circles they had long occupied. The disgrace of one would become the disgrace of all. Her sisters’ marriage prospects would be materially damaged as a result of Lydia’s infamy, perhaps even affecting Jane’s engagement to Bingley. It was too soon to speculate how far the damage would go, but whatever the result, it was certain to be felt for years
to come.
If Lydia married Wickham, the situation could hardly be any better. Whatever affection Darcy felt for Elizabeth would be sorely tested in the face of becoming Wickham’s brother. How much more unacceptable would Elizabeth be to Lady Catherine as Wickham’s sister? If any members of Darcy’s family had been wavering in their support of him, they would not back him now. Georgiana, too, would be forced into an alliance with the very man who had wounded her so deeply! No, it was too much. She would not bring such distress on the two people she loved so dearly—Darcy and Georgiana.
The only solution was to leave. She must cut the ties between her and Darcy, and she must do so quickly, irretrievably, like a surgeon severing a poisoned limb. If Darcy returned from town while she was yet preparing, she might lose her nerve. When Darcy heard the news about Lydia he would feel conflicted, torn between his duty to his wife and his responsibility for his sister. There might be a long, protracted scene while he tried to convince Elizabeth to stay, but she could not allow him to make such a sacrifice for her. She must make the decision for him, saving him and Georgiana from the taint of a connection with the Bennets of Hertfordshire. Duty demanded it of her.
It was important that neither the colonel nor Georgiana suspect her true intent, which was to leave Pemberley and never return. A painful scene of separation would follow—and this she must avoid at all costs.
Fortunately, she saw no need to remove most of the belongings she had accumulated in her short time at Pemberley. She had left many of her things behind her at Longbourn when she married Darcy, knowing they would not fit into her new life just as surely as she knew her new wardrobe would not fit into her old one. She would leave all but two or three of the plainest dresses behind, along with the costly mirror and brush and various other notions. Perhaps Georgiana would like to have them. Above all, she wanted no painful reminder of the life she had so briefly tasted when she had experienced Darcy’s love.
She rang the bell for Cora and directed her to pack the items she pointed out, and then made her way to the stables, where she directed the head groom to prepare the carriage for travel to Hertfordshire the next day. It was too late to make a start now.
On her way out of the stables she nearly collided with the boy who had carried her letter to Darcy in town, apparently just returning from his errand, and they stopped short as each recognized the other. The boy was the first to speak.
“I got your letter to Mr. Darcy like you said, ma’am,” he said, weary but eager for her approval.
Elizabeth smiled sadly. It hardly mattered now. “How did my husband look? Was he well?”
“I couldn’t say, ma’am. He seemed the same as always to me.”
“Did he send any answering message for me?”
“No, ma’am. I waited like you said, but he finally told me to get a bite to eat in the kitchens, and that I might go back to Pemberley the next day.”
“He had nothing else to say?”
“No, ma’am. He just frowned and sent me away.”
Perhaps Darcy would not be as conflicted as she had thought. “I thank you for the information, and I will echo my husband’s advice. It is a long trip to town and back. Go to the kitchens for a good meal before you return to your duties, and I will see that you receive your extra coins right away.”
The boy straightened up, brightening, and Elizabeth returned to her room, walking slowly through the silent halls of Pemberley. Other than the servants, it was empty as a tomb. Neither Georgiana nor the colonel was seen anywhere. She was glad, for it made her next task easier to perform.
In her room, she sat wearily at her desk and took up pen and paper for what she knew would be her final communication to her husband. Tears blurred her vision; it would be a miracle if the final product were legible enough to serve its purpose.
Mr. Darcy,
Upon further reflection, I have reconsidered my previous response to the offer of separation you made in your letter, and I have now decided to accept it. I am returning to Longbourn with the full expectation that any connection between us will be severed as soon as the legalities can be worked out. I neither expect nor desire any financial consideration as compensation—simply a return to the former status I enjoyed as Elizabeth Bennet of Meryton. I appreciate every instance of your past kindness to me and extend my gratitude for your generosity in offering to allow me to continue to live at Pemberley; however, please consider that offer definitely declined. Your solicitors should communicate with Mr. Gardiner in town as you take action to dissolve our union.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Bennet
CHAPTER TWENTY-NIINE
“Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am leaving this morning for home,” Elizabeth announced without preamble as she entered the breakfast room the next morning. She had been relieved to find the two of them together, making her painful task of separation easier to carry out. Today would be difficult enough without having to repeat her arguments to each of them.
Georgiana’s hand with its burden of toast, halfway between plate and mouth, stopped in midair. “You mustn’t leave,” she said, her voice tremulous.
The colonel shook his head emphatically no. “I believe you ought to stay here at Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy. There is nothing you can do for your family at home.”
“I can comfort them in their time of distress and support my sister Jane, which is all that matters,” Elizabeth answered as firmly as she could. “I have already spoken to the driver and made arrangements for the journey, and I hope to be off in half an hour.”
“But that is so soon!” Georgiana said, beginning to rise from her seat in alarm. She remembered the toast in her hand and placed it on the plate in front of her before standing awkwardly before Elizabeth. “You cannot possibly have made arrangements so quickly! Who will go with you? Where will you stay on the way to Hertfordshire? Is it not several days’ journey?”
“If all goes well, two days,” Elizabeth said, trying not to think too much about the trip ahead. “The driver assured me he knows the best stops along the way, and my maid Cora will go with me. I will neither be alone nor unprotected. You need have no worry for me.”
“But Hertfordshire! Fitzwilliam is in town, and now you will be in Hertfordshire, and I don’t know when I will see either of you again.”
“You have your cousin here, and your brother will return as soon as he can, I am sure,” Elizabeth said, evading the implied question about her own plans. She would prefer to leave Pemberley without the sin of deceit on her conscience. “My company is not needed.”
Georgiana looked imploringly at her cousin. “Richard, please don’t let her go.”
The colonel put down his napkin and stood to his feet as well. “Georgiana is right. There is no time to prepare for a journey of this sort properly. At the very least we ought to send word ahead to the inns Darcy normally patronizes to prepare for your arrival, and I should speak to the driver and make sure the carriage is in good repair. Darcy would not thank me if I did any less.”
“Mr. Furness informed me yesterday that the carriage is ready, and my things are already packed. There is no need to go to any trouble for my sake.”
The colonel tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. “What are your travel plans? Will you go to London first, to speak to Darcy?”
“I have written him a letter which I would like to entrust to your care. I prefer not to slow my journey by stopping anywhere else.” She placed the envelope into his hand, and he took it reluctantly, studying her face as if measuring her words. “Will you see that Mr. Darcy receives it?”
His eyes flashed for a moment. “It would be better if you delivered it yourself.”
“Believe me, it will be better this way,” Elizabeth persisted, holding back the emotion in her voice only with supreme effort.
The colonel frowned at her for a moment, his scowl deepening, and then spun on one heel and marched out of the room, her letter in hand.
Elizabeth watched his re
treating back helplessly. “I did not mean to cause any trouble for Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said, more to herself than to her companion.
“He is not angry with you,” Georgiana answered in a low voice. “This is my fault.”
Elizabeth looked at her questioningly. “How could you possibly be responsible for such foolish behavior on the part of others?”
“I neglected to tell you Mr. Wickham’s name when I told you about my failing last summer. If I had not been so reticent, you would have known to warn your family about him, and none of this would be happening.”
“Georgiana, I do not believe the colonel would agree with you on that. Did he actually tell you that you are to blame?”
“No, but it is logical to conclude.” Her eyes were pools of misery. “You have to leave us because of what I did wrong.”
“None of this is your fault, Georgiana,” Elizabeth answered sadly. How little the girl really understood of the situations all around her! “If you must blame anyone, blame me for not telling my sisters what I learned as soon as I knew of it. My place now is at their side.”
“But you will return, won’t you?” Georgiana asked plaintively.
What a question! “When all of this is resolved,” she said evasively, hoping the girl would not press for details. In time, she would come to understand.
Georgiana looked away, and for a minute Elizabeth thought she might begin to weep again. Instead, she said, “If you must leave, please at least allow me to have Mrs. Reynolds make up a basket for your journey. It will be a long ride to your first stop.”
Elizabeth was touched by the thoughtful gesture. “I would like that,” she answered, and Georgiana left the room to speak with the housekeeper. Elizabeth picked half-heartedly at the fruit on the sideboard for a few minutes while she waited, her emotions too stirred for an appetite, until the colonel came back without warning.
“You will not be able to leave today,” he announced with a note of triumph in his voice. Elizabeth thought she saw a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “The carriage is not fit to use.”