A flicker of her old spirit showed in Lydia’s eyes. “You would allow that?”
“That would be a great advantage of accepting his suit,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed.
Lydia said shakily, “I will consider it.”
***
Two days later Darcy took Thomas Wickham to Gracechurch Street in a new, well-fitted red coat, shaved and dressed by Darcy’s own valet, and carrying a bouquet of flowers.
“I feel like an actor,” the captain complained.
“A well-paid actor,” Darcy said pointedly, but in truth he was more relaxed with the man than he had expected to be. Although his manner and appearance still reminded him unsettlingly of George Wickham, Thomas seemed to have matured into a decent man, jovial where George had been overly charming and manipulative. It was a strange day, Darcy decided, when he felt that a man who could be bribed into marrying a fallen woman was a relatively honest fellow. “I hope you will treat her well.”
Darcy rapped sharply on the door and performed the introductions. The captain produced the bouquet and offered it to Lydia with a flourish. He said admiringly, “Darcy, you should have told me how lovely she is.”
Darcy gritted his teeth but kept a smile on his face. This was for Elizabeth. He could tolerate anything for her sake.
***
Elizabeth longed to be anywhere but Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was still keeping to her rooms except for those times when she emerged to berate Jane for failing to secure Mr. Bingley or to blame Elizabeth for their present predicament by not marrying Mr. Collins. Jane put a brave face on during the day, but at night Elizabeth could hear her crying into her pillow. Mary had more than enough to moralize over in Lydia’s dilemma, predicting dire outcomes for all of them. Kitty, who had come through the earlier parts of the ordeal unscathed, had sunk into a deep loss of spirits after being turned away from Lucas Lodge and left only to the company of her sisters. Mr. Bennet had begun to take his meals in the library, saying sour faces ruined his digestion. The cook, who had been with the Bennets since Elizabeth was a child, left to seek employment in a respectable household, though Elizabeth suspected the scandal might well have been just an excuse. Cook had complained often about Mrs. Bennet’s constant demands upon her.
If only Lydia were not at the Gardiners’ house in London, Elizabeth would have begged to go there simply to escape the prison-like atmosphere at Longbourn. Visiting anyone but close family was out of the question.
She knew Mr. Collins would not permit her to visit Charlotte under the current circumstances. Even walking to Meryton was a bitter experience; every time she showed her face there, the one person she could be certain of seeing was Mr. White, the butcher. He had lost no time in making his intentions clear, and that Miss Elizabeth Bennet could not now hope for any better than him. Nothing she said could discourage him.
Letters continued to arrive for Mr. Bennet from Mr. Gardiner, but all he would tell Elizabeth was that nothing had changed. Then one day he invited Elizabeth and Jane into his library and handed them a letter.
Jane read it aloud.
My Dear Brother,
There has been a startling new development in the matter of Lydia. Last Saturday we received a quite unexpected visitor in the form of Mr. George Wickham’s elder brother. He is a captain in the regulars, and through various channels he learned of Lydia’s plight. He came to offer what support he might to compensate for his brother’s shameless behaviour. I did not know at the time the precise nature of the remediation he planned to offer, but he seemed a pleasant and respectable fellow. He has not had much to do with his brother for some years now, owing to a parting of the ways over the younger Mr. Wickham’s profligate habits, but he retains a certain fondness for him. He spent quite some time with Lydia discussing her options and warning her of the dangers of hoping for her lover’s return, and as she seemed more inclined to take his counsel than that of ours, I allowed him the privilege, if it can be called such. It was quite a shock to both my wife and me when two days later, Mr. Thomas Wickham (for so he is named) announced that Lydia had done him the honour of accepting his hand in marriage. The particulars I reserve till we meet, but you can imagine our shock.
“Could such a thing be?” Jane asked, her eyes wide. “That she should be married, and to Mr. Wickham’s brother? Why would he agree to such a thing?”
“Read on, and you shall discover the answer,” said her father.
All that is required of you is to assure to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand pounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your life, one hundred pounds per annum and a discharging of his brother’s debts which would otherwise fall upon him, thought to equal no more than a thousand pounds. These are conditions which, considering every thing, I had no hesitation in complying with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. We have judged it best that my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope you will approve. A license has been obtained, and we hope to perform the ceremony next week. Yours, &c.
Edw. Gardiner.
“So the man is mercenary, it seems,” Elizabeth said.
“Perhaps there are good reasons,” Jane said. “After all, he is responsible enough to wish to help Lydia.
Perhaps he fell in love with her, but knows he could not support her without help.”
Elizabeth shook her head with a smile. “You will always think the best of everyone! But whatever his reasons, their marriage would be a godsend for Lydia. Even the name - she will be Mrs. Wickham. It will help quell the rumours.”
Her father said, “Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there are two things that I want very much to know:—one is, how much money your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how I am ever to pay him.”
“Money! my uncle!” cried Jane, “what do you mean, Sir?”
“I mean that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a temptation as one hundred a year.”
“That is very true,” said Elizabeth, “though it had not occurred to me before. Oh! it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man; I am afraid he has distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.”
“No,” said her father, “The man is a fool, if he takes her with a farthing less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill of him in the very beginning of our relationship.”
Elizabeth fought back a smile. “Well, our uncle thinks well of him, and that is a good sign. Come, let us tell our mother the news.”
***
Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As soon as Jane told her of Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon married, her joy burst forth. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. That she was marrying a complete stranger was of no matter.
“My dear, dear Lydia!” she cried: “This is delightful indeed! She will be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage every thing. How I long to see her! and to meet her Mr. Wickham too! But the clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment.
My dear, dear Lydia!—How merry we shall be together when we meet! Oh! here comes Hill. My dear Hill, have you heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding.”
Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom.
> Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had need to be thankful.
She felt it so; and though, in looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had gained.
CHAPTER 14
Darcy blinked at his sister’s pleading expression. This was not what he had expected when Georgiana had timidly said she would like to ask a favour of him. “You wish to have a cat? I thought you wanted one of Lycisce’s puppies.”
“They are very sweet, but I would prefer a cat, one who would be a pet, who would stay with me. It would be good company. I would keep it out of trouble.”
He had never been able to deny Georgiana anything her heart desired. It was fortunate that her desires tended to be quite modest. “If you would like a cat, I see no harm in it. But you have never mentioned a fondness for cats before.”
“I had never thought much about them, but there was a cat at Longbourn who was so very sweet. He particularly loved Elizabeth and was forever twining around her ankles. Twice he sat on my lap, and I found it soothing. I cannot explain it better.”
Darcy could picture it - Elizabeth laughing over the antics of a small cat. The image gave him a warm feeling. There was nothing like Elizabeth when she was filled with delight over something. It was almost as if she shone with liveliness and intelligence. He felt a sudden longing for her presence, but that was useless. She wanted nothing to do with him. He felt a sudden fierce jealousy of the unknown cat who had the extraordinary privilege of twining around a pair of graceful ankles that had caused him more sleepless nights than he cared to admit. “I see no problem with a well-behaved cat, if you wish it.”
Georgiana still looked anxious, so Darcy said, “Is something the matter?”
“I have been wondering… when I was at Netherfield, Miss Bingley said you would not approve of my associating with Miss Elizabeth Bennet under the circumstances. I thought you would not mind, but lately I have not been so sure. I did not mean to do anything you would disapprove of.” She gave him a pleading look.
“Disapprove? No, not in the least. I am glad you would not abandon a friend just because she faced difficulties.”
She released a pent-up breath. “Oh, good. I have been so worried. You frown every time I mention her name, and I thought perhaps you were angry with me.”
“I frown? That is ridiculous,” Darcy said.
Georgiana gave a little giggle. “You are frowning right now.”
With embarrassment he realized she was right. He was not about to tell a sister ten years his junior that whenever he thought of Elizabeth, he felt a piercing pain that nothing could remedy, and fierce shame over his own failings. “It is nothing against Miss Elizabeth. I am worried for her situation, that is all.”
“Oh, of course.” She brightened immediately. “I should have realized. I do wish there were something we could do to help. I understand her sister’s position so well. I never told her about my own connection with Mr.
Wickham, of course.”
“Elizabeth already knows.” The words slipped out before he had time to think through the implications. “I warned her against him when she was at Pemberley. Wickham made a great many friends in Meryton. I should have made my warnings more general when I was there.”
Georgiana paled. “Do her sisters know as well? They never acted as if they were aware of it.”
“Not as far as I know, unless Miss Elizabeth told them, and I trust in her ability to keep a confidence.”
“Oh.” Georgiana nodded slowly, and he could see a look dawning over her face. He suspected it meant she was putting together a number of puzzling things and coming up with an all-too-accurate solution. She was becoming a woman more quickly than he expected.
“I must be going,” he said abruptly.
“Perhaps I will see you later, then.” She put her hand on his arm timidly. “I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam.”
He knew she was not speaking of her behaviour.
***
Elizabeth ran a brush through Jane’s long silky hair as they sat on her bed. “Jane, would you think me terribly selfish if I asked to go to London for a time?”
“Selfish? Of course not. You are never selfish.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That is correct. Thank you for the reminder that I am absolutely perfect.”
Jane swatted at her. “You know what I mean. Why do you want to go?”
“The Gardiners are taking on a great deal of work on Lydia’s behalf. Perhaps I could assist them with the children to lessen the burden on them.”
“That is a very kind idea, and not in the least bit selfish.”
“The selfish part is that I would be happy to escape our current situation. I need a place where I do not see Lydia’s shame in every face. But that would leave you here on your own.”
“That matters not. I can be content anywhere, as you know.” She sounded wistful, as if she had forgotten what it meant to be content. “I would rather be here.”
Elizabeth took several more strokes through Jane’s hair, then handed her the brush and turned her own back. “But would it worsen the gossip if I went there, since Lydia is there?”
“I would not think so. No one would know, in any case, since no one will acknowledge us. Once it is known that Lydia is to marry, we can always say that you went to help with the wedding. There is nothing shameful in that.”
“I suppose not. I will ask our father tomorrow.”
***
The London post coach was crowded and rocked precariously on the rutted road. Elizabeth was glad to be on the side rather than squeezed in the middle of the bench, and even happier that no one she knew from Meryton was on board. For the first time since she had left Derbyshire, she felt free of the miasma of shame and hopelessness. Even the strong odor of onions from the heavyset gentleman opposite her could not dampen her spirits.
She decided to enjoy her freedom. Soon enough she would have to deal with Lydia, and from her uncle’s communications, her sister had turned into someone she no longer knew.
The difficult part would be to keep her own pain private. Lydia had taken so much from her that could never be replaced. She leaned her head against the side of the coach and closed her eyes, recalling Mr. Darcy and that half-smile she had so often observed on his face when he looked at her. If only she had known sooner that it was admiration rather than critical, how different things might have been! If only she had not listened to Wickham’s lies. She had been a fool to believe a tale of woe so easily spun to a near-stranger.
She could no longer deny harboring tender feelings toward Mr. Darcy. She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was a union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance. But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was. A union of a different tendency, and precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their family.
What a triumph for him, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal, there must be a triumph.
She should be grateful in the knowledge that he would not now completely scorn her, at least if his sister was to be believed, and she thought his honour would demand as much. But it could be nothing more. He could not but shrink from such a connection. All his initial objections still applied, and in addition, hers was a family now allied with the man he had so justly scorned.
M
r. Gardiner’s manservant met the coach in London and escorted Elizabeth via hackney coach to Gracechurch Street. It seemed quite unchanged since her last visit there in May. It was she who had changed.
She felt as if she had aged years in the last few months.
No sooner was she in the door than her nieces and nephews came tumbling down the stairs to meet her, each with their own news which must be delivered instantly to their dear cousin Elizabeth. Once she had heard all the details of the frogs in the yard, the new schoolbooks, the critical question of precisely when one should graduate from the nursery to the schoolroom, and other matters of great important, Mrs. Gardiner came to greet her with a warm embrace.
“I am glad you are come, Lizzy,” her aunt said. “I am greatly in need of sensible company.”
“I can only imagine. But now I am here to spare you any excess dealings with young ladies of a less sensible nature!”
Her aunt took her arm and said in a quiet voice, “I am worried about Lydia. She is not at all herself. When she first arrived, she looked so wild I barely recognized her. I actually feared for a while that she might do herself some harm.”