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Chapter Eleven

The meeting Elizabeth had both anticipated and feared was quickly over, leaving little but half-empty teacups to bear witness. For all her weeks of worrying over how to comport herself in Mr. Darcy’s company, the gentlemen stayed only a short time, as they were bound for London directly. Mr. Bingley explained, so much as Mrs. Bennet’s voluble lamentation would allow, that Mr. Darcy had arrived in advance of the wedding in order to accompany him to town for a few days. The gentlemen would see to the final wedding settlements with Mr. Bingley’s solicitor, and Mr. Darcy had additional business of his own to conduct, having been away from town this past month.

Mr. Darcy attended to the conversation politely, but as was his usual manner, he himself spoke little. During one close conference between Jane, Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Bennet on some matter of the upcoming ceremony, he drew near to Elizabeth and offered his teacup for refilling. She complied slowly, anxious that her hands should not tremble and Mr. Darcy be scalded for his efforts.

“Did you arrive just this morning, Mr. Darcy?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he said. “My sister traveled with me from Pemberley.”

“Indeed? I hope she is well.”

“Yes, thank you.” The business of tea-pouring concluded, there seemed little reason for him to continue looming over her. Perhaps cognizant of the same fact, Mr. Darcy proceeded to spoon an alarming amount of sugar into his cup, stirring slowly between each spoonful. Elizabeth was quite certain she had never seen him take sugar in any beverage before.

“Would I be too forward to ask a small favor of you, Miss Bennet?”

Elizabeth regarded him quizzically, but nodded slightly in encouragement.

“Might I ask you and your sister to call on Georgiana at Netherfield in my absence? I would prefer to introduce her to you myself, but she is most anxious to meet you both. If it pleases you, I believe Miss Bingley may be relied upon to make the necessary introductions.”

“Yes, and you may rely upon us to get along exceedingly well despite her.” Elizabeth’s arch smile was rewarded with an expression of warm gratitude. “It will be our pleasure to make Miss Darcy’s acquaintance.”

“Thank you.” He bowed politely and resumed his place by the window, setting his cup of tea on a nearby table, where it remained untouched until the gentlemen took their leave. Later, as Elizabeth stood at the same window and watched them depart, she picked up the tea and sipped it gingerly. It was, as she suspected, thick as syrup and completely undrinkable.

Jane and Elizabeth called on the ladies of Netherfield the following day. They were ushered into the salon, where Miss Bingley welcomed them with warmer spirit than usual and made a great show of introducing them to her dear friend, Miss Darcy. With her rather advanced height and slender build, the young lady resembled her brother more in bearing than in countenance. She was as fair as he was dark; her features naturally soft, where his might be called stern.

Elizabeth judged quickly that Mr. Darcy had not overestimated his sister’s tendency toward reserve. Demure greetings having been exchanged, she appeared perfectly content to assume the role of silent spectator.

Certainly, Miss Bingley spoke sufficiently for both, preempting every question posed to Miss Darcy with an ingratiating remark. Whatever affection existed between the two ladies appeared to be all on Miss Bingley’s side, however. While Miss Darcy tolerated an undue measure of physical closeness from Miss Bingley and made politely deferent replies when prompted, she regarded the lady with amused indifference.

Miss Bingley clearly had no wish to share her pet, but Jane and Elizabeth persisted in their attempts to draw Miss Darcy into conversation. Their efforts were rewarded by the young lady’s increasingly willing replies. Elizabeth was happy to make Miss Darcy’s acquaintance for its own merits, but observing Miss Bingley rankle at their quick rapport provided additional inducement.

“Did your companion not travel with you, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

Miss Darcy shook her head. “My brother gave Mrs. Annesley leave to visit her own relations while we are here in Hertfordshire.”

“As well he should,” Miss Bingley said, patting Miss Darcy’s hand superiorly. “You will suffer no lack of companionship at Netherfield.”

Elizabeth felt a great deal of pity for Miss Darcy, having experienced first-hand the stimulating society afforded by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst during her own stay at Netherfield. “Yes, Miss Darcy,” she said, “I believe you will find the neighborhood in general to offer many pleasant diversions, and you shall have many opportunities to form new acquaintances, if you wish. Our own youngest sisters are close to your age, as is one of our nearest neighbors, Miss Maria Lucas.”

“I should be very pleased to meet your sisters, Miss Elizabeth. My brother has spoken very warmly of your family.”

Miss Bingley snorted in disbelief. “Miss Darcy, do not allow Miss Eliza to raise your expectations excessively. You will find country society quite different from your circle in London.”

“One may hope,” Miss Darcy replied. She spoke sweetly enough, but her complacent smile strongly recalled her brother. It seemed the Darcys, by family rule, suffered flattery most unwillingly. Considering how her arch teasing and forthright opinions had so improbably engendered Mr. Darcy’s affection, Elizabeth supposed his sister might also respond favorably to a more informal approach. If only Miss Darcy could escape the confines of Netherfield and Miss Bingley’s cloying companionship!

Elizabeth invited the three ladies to visit Longbourn the next day, suggesting they walk to Meryton together so that Miss Darcy might become acquainted with the town. Miss Bingley looked less than pleased with this proposed outing, but had no method of polite refusal at her disposal, especially in the face of Miss Darcy’s marked enthusiasm. Plans made and hour appointed, the Misses Bennet took their leave. They spent the ride home discussing Miss Darcy in appreciative terms.

“She is a bit shy,” Elizabeth said to her sister. “But who would behave differently, given Miss Bingley and a paid companion for her closest confidantes? Her sense and good nature are evident; she wants only encouragement. I am sure Miss Darcy will prove perfectly delightful on further acquaintance.”

“Much like her brother?” Jane asked slyly. Elizabeth refused to oblige her with an answer.

The ladies of Longbourn waited patiently the following morning for the ladies of Netherfield to make their appearance. At length, the carriage that approached from the lane was not the familiar one of Mr. Bingley, but an even grander conveyance in both style and size. To Elizabeth and Jane’s great surprise, Miss Darcy alone descended from the carriage and approached the house. A servant showed her into the sitting room, and Jane introduced the impeccably attired young lady to Mrs. Bennet, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

“I am so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Miss Darcy said softly.

“But where are Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst?” Elizabeth asked once all were seated.

Miss Darcy’s cheeks flushed pink. “At breakfast, Miss Bingley complained of a headache, and Mrs. Hurst claimed to be quite fatigued. They wished to cancel our engagement.”

“They suggested that you come by yourself, unescorted?” Jane was incredulous.

“No,” Miss Darcy replied with a shy satisfaction. “It was my idea. I was so disappointed at the thought of breaking our appointment. As you see, my own family’s coach and horses are also at Netherfield. I simply spoke to the footman to request they be readied, and then I came by myself.” Upon viewing the Bennet ladies’ disbelieving expressions, Miss Darcy’s blush deepened. “Have I acted wrongly? Please do not tell my brother. He might find my impulsive behavior reason for reproach.”

Elizabeth moved closer to reassure the young lady, who upon arrival had been bursting with pleasure and now seemed close to tears. “Miss Darcy, we are delighted to have you join us this morning. Please do not concern yourself. It is but three miles of country road, not the dark alleys of London – and here you have arrived, completely unharmed. As for your brother, I imagine he would credit your commitment to honoring our engagement. He wishes only your happiness – of this, I am certain -- and we may best oblige him by enjoying our outing to the fullest.”

Miss Darcy’s smile was all relief and gratitude. In truth, Elizabeth was not at all certain that Mr. Darcy would approve of his sister’s actions, or her own words of reassurance. However, no harm had come to Miss Darcy, and the gentleman need never hear of the particular circumstances of his sister’s visit. To be sure, Miss Bingley would not own to letting Miss Darcy slip unnoticed from Netherfield. Jane wisely suggested, however, that Miss Darcy’s coach be sent back to Netherfield with a note for Miss Bingley informing her of Miss Darcy’s visit. Someone from Longbourn would see her back later in the day, so she would not once again travel unescorted.

The note and coach having been dispatched, the ladies thus began the pleasant walk to Meryton. They stopped briefly by Lucas Lodge, where they were joined by Maria Lucas. Maria, Lydia, and Kitty led their procession to town, closely followed by Mary, who was as usual relegated to the fringes of their conversation. Jane and Elizabeth, on either side of Miss Darcy, brought up the rear. They kept up a polite discourse for the duration of the journey, but Elizabeth thought she noticed Miss Darcy envying the younger group’s merry laughter. When they reached town, she encouraged Kitty and Lydia to personally acquaint Miss Darcy with their favorite shops.

“Will you attend the Lucases’ ball, Miss Darcy?” Kitty asked, threading her arm through Miss Darcy’s and steering her toward the millinery.

“I am not aware of any such invitation.”

“Oh, but you must come!” Lydia grasped Miss Darcy’s free hand. “It is a farewell for the officers of the ______shire Regiment. They have been stationed here for many months, but now they are bound for Brighton,” she said glumly.

“Please do join us, Miss Darcy,” chimed Maria Lucas. “I know my father has invited Mr. Bingley and all his guests to attend. You will be most welcome.”

Miss Darcy looked a bit overwhelmed at the center of this persuasive trio, but also pleased. “It sounds delightful, thank you. But I do not think my brother would allow me to attend. I am not yet out in society.”

Lydia dismissed her objections with a snort. “I am glad we do not have brothers, if they would be as stern as yours. I am younger than you, and I would not sit at home for a dozen fine carriages!”

“Lydia!” Jane reprimanded, pulling her sister from Miss Darcy’s side. Elizabeth gently intervened.

“It is but a small country assembly, Miss Darcy – a far cry from London society. If you wish to come, Jane could ask Mr. Bingley to speak with Mr. Darcy. Perhaps he will allow you to attend, so long as you do not dance.”

Miss Darcy looked doubtful. “I would be much obliged to Miss Bennet, but I dare not expect any concession from my brother. He is very protective.”

“As would be any guardian so devoted to his charge. If he refuses to allow it, of course everyone will understand. But there can be no harm in asking.” It did not escape Elizabeth’s attention that Miss Darcy’s presence at the Lucases’ ball would necessitate her brother’s. She was therefore a bit puzzled by her own determination to press the issue. The two balls Mr. Darcy had previously attended had proved distressingly awkward affairs. Reason argued she would enjoy this event far better in his absence, but some irrational part of her would not be convinced.

The ladies left the shop and, upon entering the street, met immediately with a pair of red-coated officers – none other than the Bennet family favorites, Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham.

“Misses Bennet, Miss Lucas! What a delightful coincidence.” Mr. Denny bowed gallantly.

“Can it be?” asked his friend. “Miss Georgiana Darcy, here in Meryton?”

Elizabeth watched Miss Darcy’s reaction closely as she encountered Mr. Wickham. Whatever acrimony existed between her brother and the man, she did not appear party to it. Their greeting was warm and familiar, and it seemed Mr. Wickham had not exaggerated when he claimed an intimate connection with the Darcy family.

Lydia quickly sidled up to Mr. Wickham and brazenly presented her hand for a kiss. He complied, though less eagerly than was his wont.

“Good day, Miss Lydia. I was not aware that you claimed Miss Darcy among your acquaintances.”

“Oh, but we have only been introduced today! But you know one another already, I forgot. To think, if not for her brother, you would not be here in Meryton with the regiment -- Lord, what a laugh!”

Miss Darcy looked puzzled; Wickham, ill at ease. Lydia’s oblivious twittering masked all discomfiture, however, and Mr. Wickham deftly changed the topic of conversation.

“Pray, ladies, what is our errand today? Bonnets? Handkerchiefs?” He flashed his charming smile in Jane’s direction. “Perhaps Miss Bennet seeks items to complete her trousseau.”

Lydia answered for her sister. “Oh Lord, no! Jane has had all her things from London shops.”

“To be sure,” Wickham replied smoothly. “Of course, the future Mrs. Bingley requires a finer selection than Meryton can offer.”

“Meryton goods would be perfectly sufficient to my needs,” Jane assured him, “but my dear aunt was kind enough to take me shopping in town.”

“I do hope your aunt took you to Bond Street,” Miss Darcy said. “All my favorite shops are there –Bond Street merchants carry only the finest wares.”

“I am sure they do,” Jane said, “But we confined ourselves to the shopping district nearer to my aunt and uncle’s home, in Cheapside.”

Miss Darcy blushed and fell silent, obviously concerned that she had given Jane offense with her presumption. Jane, of course, felt nothing of the kind and continued gently, “Perhaps, Miss Darcy, when next we are both in London, you might be so kind as to acquaint me with your favorite shops there.”

“Oh, I would like that very much.”

It took but an hour for the party to complete their survey of Meryton. The ladies having made all necessary purchases and several others besides, Elizabeth suggested that they must take their leave of the officers and return to Longbourn.

“Do walk with us and stay for tea,” Kitty implored Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham. Her invitation was rapidly seconded by Lydia, and Elizabeth and Jane exchanged looks of concern. When Mr. Darcy asked her to make his sister’s acquaintance, Elizabeth was certain he did not intend giddy flirtation with officers to be a suitable amusement, especially when one of them was a man he plainly held in contempt. There seemed no way to rescind the invitation, however. Lydia was already clinging to Mr. Wickham’s left arm as he offered Miss Darcy the right, and the whole party seemed set on returning to Longbourn together.

“Look, Jane!” Kitty cried, standing on tiptoe to peer above the crowd. “Is that not your Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy with him?”

The ladies craned their necks to see for themselves, but soon the crowd parted of its own accord as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy approached on horseback, followed by a driver and team at the helm of a handsome, sparkling-new barouche. It was as fine a carriage as Elizabeth had ever seen, and for perfect elegance, it appeared to lack nothing, save passengers.

Mr. Wickham cleared his throat and began to extricate his arm from Lydia’s grasp. “Forgive me, ladies, but I have just remembered that Mr. Denny and I have a previous engagement this afternoon. We must beg your leave.” He bowed quickly and disappeared into the crowd, but none of the ladies gave a moment’s further thought to him. All their attention was occupied by the gentlemen and barouche approaching in grand fashion.

Mr. Bingley dismounted and greeted his intended as affectionately as he might in a public street. “Does it meet with your approval?” he asked, indicating the barouche.

“Oh, it is beautiful! The finest carriage to ever pass down Meryton’s streets, I am sure!”

“It is our wedding gift from Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said as his friend dismounted and bowed slightly. “Although, perhaps I should call it your gift. Mr. Darcy made perfectly clear that the carriage is particularly intended for the future Mrs. Bingley’s use, that she might not catch her death of cold from traversing the countryside on horseback.”

“How very thoughtful of him,” Jane laughed. She turned to Mr. Darcy and curtsied. “You are too kind, sir.”

A slight nod was Mr. Darcy’s only reply, and Miss Darcy went to greet her brother quietly.

“Are you returning to Longbourn?” Mr. Bingley asked. “Allow me to drive you there. I will send my man on to Netherfield with my horse.” He handed Jane up onto the driver’s box, thus ensuring their opportunity for some private discourse during the short journey. He then turned to assist the other ladies, but here was a quandary -- for the barouche seated only four, and they were six. At length, it was decided that Kitty, Lydia, Mary, and Miss Darcy should ride, while Maria Lucas, who had a shorter distance to travel, and Elizabeth, for whom walking was no penalty, would return on foot.

Elizabeth’s gaze followed the barouche as the party gaily departed for Longbourn, and Mr. Darcy’s sudden presence at her side took her by surprise.

“Miss Bennet, might I have the honor of escorting you and Miss Lucas home?”

Elizabeth murmured her assent, and Mr. Darcy joined them as they followed the lane out of town. The majority of their walk to Lucas Lodge was passed in silence. Maria, ever-awed by Mr. Darcy’s intimidating presence, found little to say, and Elizabeth was lost to contemplation. Had Mr. Darcy seen the ladies consorting with Mr. Wickham? Although she did not fully understand the origin or depth of his animosity toward the lieutenant, she felt certain that the sight of his sister on Mr. Wickham’s arm would give Mr. Darcy no joy. To what extent he would fault Elizabeth for this occurrence, she would rather not imagine.

Where the lane forked to Lucas Lodge, Maria gratefully took her leave of them and hurried on toward home. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy walked on together in silence. Eventually, the weight of uncertainty grew too heavy for Elizabeth to bear, and she felt she must speak.

“Your gift to my sister and Mr. Bingley was exceedingly generous,” she said, affecting a light tone. “I am only sorry to miss my mother’s reaction when they arrive at Longbourn in such grand state.”

“A carriage is poor compensation for four months of unhappiness,” he replied solemnly. “It is I who remain in their debt.”

Elizabeth ignored his serious tone and continued blithely, “What a surprise it was for Jane, and for us all, to witness your arrival in Meryton! We had just been acquainting Miss Darcy with the town.”

“Yes, so it appeared. Tell me, was Mr. Wickham of great assistance in that endeavor?”

Elizabeth cringed. So he had seen. “We met Mr. Wickham and his friend in the street quite unexpectedly, only shortly before you arrived. Miss Darcy did not seem displeased to encounter him.”

“My sister has no reason to view him with displeasure.”

“But clearly, sir, you do.” Elizabeth was growing impatient with Mr. Darcy’s stubborn silence on this subject. When Wickham had first spun his tale of misfortune at Mr. Darcy’s hand, Elizabeth had not credited it for a moment. Callously denying his father’s favorite the living bequeathed him – she could not believe Mr. Darcy capable of such mean behavior. But, she admitted to herself, neither had she thought him capable of deceiving his close friend. Perhaps she had judged too hastily when she acquitted Mr. Darcy of any cruelty to Mr. Wickham.

As though he heard her thoughts, Mr. Darcy slowed his pace and turned to her. “Mr. Wickham was the son of my father’s steward. My father was exceedingly fond of him and paid for his education. It was my father’s hope that he would take orders in the Church, and to that end, he bequeathed him a living on our estate.”

Elizabeth nodded. Thus far, the details did not vary from Mr. Wickham’s own story.

Mr. Darcy returned his gaze to the path and continued. “My excellent father died five years ago, and it was only months later that Mr. Wickham wrote to me. He declared his intent to study law rather than take orders, and he requested a sum of money outright in place of the intended living. Being close in age with Mr. Wickham, I had long observed his propensity toward licentious behavior. He was always careful to hide his true character from my father, but I knew he should not be a clergyman. I therefore agreed to give him three thousand pounds in exchange for his forfeiting all claim to the living.”

Here was information that squared with Elizabeth’s initial impressions of Mr. Wickham, and she had no doubt of its truth. It appeared that the worst was yet be revealed, however, as Mr. Darcy continued his account.

“Mr. Wickham proceeded to squander this sum at an alarming rate. He then racked up debts with every shopkeeper from Lambton to London. Worse, he used his connection to my family to gain entrance to several gentlemen’s clubs in town, where he incurred even greater debts of honor. When the living he had forfeited became available some three years later, he again wrote to me. His situation, he claimed, was exceedingly dire – of this, I have no doubt. He prevailed upon me to honor my father’s original intentions and grant him the living despite his previous disavowal of it. I refused, repeatedly when necessary, and he expressed his resentment quite violently to me and to anyone who would hear him. I was surprised, and unpleasantly so, to encounter him here in Hertfordshire, but his continued assaults on my character come as no surprise whatsoever.”

Elizabeth was all astonishment at this portrait of Mr. Wickham. She had always believed him to be a smooth, cunning sort of character, but the true extent of his malice exceeded her wildest imagination. She dared not own to her shock, however, for fear of seeming to disbelieve Mr. Darcy.

“And Miss Darcy – she is unaware of this history between you?”

“Completely, and I would wish it to remain so.” Mr. Darcy paused, and when he spoke again, it was with a softer tone. “She was quite young when our father died. Her memories of him are few. What remains strongest in her mind is a general impression of family happiness – and Mr. Wickham is unfortunately an inextricable part of that impression. He was always kind to her in her childhood, and she recalls our father’s partiality toward him. I would not taint her pleasant memories with such disturbing revelations.”

“Of course not. You may be assured of my secrecy.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth considered that Mr. Wickham, for all his treachery, could be credited with one kindness – this intimation of his black history had conveniently allayed the more complicated questions that remained between her and Mr. Darcy. The diversion was short-lived, however, for they soon neared the stretch of lane where Mr. Darcy had delivered his letter at daybreak a month earlier. The recognition of this familiar territory forced them back into uncomfortable silence.

The words of that letter had taken up permanent residence in Elizabeth’s memory some weeks ago. By now, she felt each elegantly penned phrase to be inscribed upon on her heart. The line that now occupied her thoughts concerned his desires for a meeting such as this: I would not wish you to be ill at ease, or fear any renewal of undesirable attentions from my quarter.

Ill at ease – how could she feel otherwise? As they walked along this path, leaving a trail of unspoken thoughts that grew longer with each step, a quiet desperation began to build within her. Whatever his misdeeds where Jane and Mr. Bingley were concerned, Mr. Darcy seemed sincerely regretful and determined to make amends. As the happy couple approached their wedding day with no trace of resentment, Elizabeth knew that to persist in her own censure of Mr. Darcy was both ridiculous and petty. But to release her rancor against him meant embracing an uncomfortable truth -- that her current distress originated not in any fear of Mr. Darcy renewing his addresses, but rather in the hope that he would.

To harbor such a hope seemed patently foolish, when she had offered him no reason to persevere in his suit, or even in his admiration. In the six weeks since their disastrous interview at Hunsford, Mr. Darcy had acted to secure her sister’s happiness, visited her home, offered his written apologies, and confided in her such delicate information as he would not share with even his closest relations. In return, Elizabeth had – what, exactly? Poured him tea? Introduced the well-bred Miss Darcy to the company of her silly sisters and that dastardly Mr. Wickham?

A distressing thought leapt to the forefront of her mind, and Elizabeth spoke without thinking.

“Oh, but the Lucases’ ball!”

Mr. Darcy seemed startled by the intensity of her exclamation, as well as its complete disconnection to any of his own thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”

“Forgive me – it is only that Sir William is hosting a ball a few days hence. ‘Ball’ is perhaps too grand a term. It is a gathering of sorts intended as a farewell to the officers of the regiment. I fear my sisters and Miss Lucas were quite enthusiastic in encouraging Miss Darcy to attend.”

“But my sister is not yet out.”

“Yes, I know.” Elizabeth bit her lip, regretting her earlier encouragement. “But Miss Darcy may have been persuaded to hope for your permission, as it is but a small country affair. We did not consider, of course, the factor of Mr. Wickham’s likely presence at the event.”

“I see.”

“Although, now that Mr. Wickham is aware of your presence in town, he may very well stay away entirely. He only dared attend the ball at Netherfield because he was ignorant of your being a guest there – so much was clear to me that evening.”

Mr. Darcy seemed less concerned with the question of Mr. Wickham’s attendance than with the prospect of Miss Darcy’s. “My sister – she expressed some interest in attending this … gathering?”

“Oh, certainly. ‘It sounds delightful’ – I believe those were her words.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Darcy sounded pleasantly surprised. “You have formed a fast acquaintance with her then, in these two days.”

“I believe so. She is a lovely young lady, and I can tell that my sisters are quite fond of her already. I only hope they have not thoroughly shocked her with their familiarity by the time Mr. Bingley’s barouche arrives at Longbourn.” Elizabeth noted with relief Mr. Darcy’s favorable response to her teasing tone. His stiff posture relaxed a bit, and his expression softened considerably. “Of course, whatever offense to Miss Darcy’s sensibilities my younger sisters left undone will have been handily accomplished by my mother by the time we arrive.”

“I am certain their society can only be to her benefit,” he replied. “She was but an infant when our own mother died, and I have often regretted that Georgiana has no sister of her own to confide in.”

“Well, Longbourn has sisters enough to spare, should Miss Darcy wish to take one for her own.”

Elizabeth spoke in jest, not realizing the deeper implications of her statement until Mr. Darcy’s silence alerted her to her mistake. She was thoroughly embarrassed at having made such a slip, and even more mortified to imagine his suspicions of her intent. The gate of Longbourn was a welcome sight, indeed. She wished nothing more than to escape quickly inside the house, but Mr. Darcy addressed her again.

“Do Mr. and Mrs. Collins plan to attend the wedding?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied slowly, quite puzzled by his interest in the matter. “They will arrive Wednesday next and stay at Lucas Lodge.”

“Ah. So your cousin and his wife will not arrive in time to attend Sir William’s ball.”

“I suppose not.” They approached the door of Longbourn, and Elizabeth waited for Mr. Darcy to open it. He hesitated, however, to pose a final question.

“Then, on this occasion, I trust Mr. Collins cannot have preceded me in engaging your hand for the first set?” He opened the door with one hand and offered the other to assist her in crossing the threshold. She accepted his support with a grateful smile.

“For once, Mr. Darcy, your assumptions are correct.”

Posted on Wednesday, 26 July 2006

Chapter Twelve

Spirits were running high at Lucas Lodge when the Bennet family made their arrival. The sounds of merry laughter and lively music overflowed the house, as did the officers of the ____shire Regiment. A goodly proportion of the officers seemed half in their cups already, and the other half were fully so.

While a generous-sized home, Lucas Lodge could not boast the hosting capacity of an estate such as Netherfield. The small hall was cleared for dancing with a few musicians crushed into one corner, but guests spilled into every available space – the salon, the drawing room, the dining room, and even Sir William’s study.

The Bennets were still greeting their hosts when the Netherfield party arrived. Mr. and Miss Bingley and the Hursts alighted from the first carriage, and Mr. Darcy handed down his sister from the second. The sight of Miss Darcy provoked squeals of delight from Maria, Kitty, and Lydia, and they flocked to her side immediately. From the center of this giggling throng, Mr. Darcy’s gaze sought Elizabeth’s, and he greeted her with a slight nod and amused smile.

Maria Lucas took great pleasure in presenting Miss Darcy to her mother. All were ushered into the Lodge, only to be immediately dispersed. Jane and Mr. Bingley occupied each other’s full attention. Sir William begged the company of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. Mrs. Bennet and Mary attended Aunt Phillips, and Kitty and Lydia quickly departed in search of their favorite officers. Elizabeth took it upon herself to see Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst settled in a quiet corner of the drawing room. As they passed through the crowded assembly of officers and guests, merriment crushing in on them from every direction, Miss Darcy grew quite wide-eyed and pale. Elizabeth pressed her hand reassuringly, and the young lady sank into a high-backed chair with a relieved sigh.

“So many people!”

“Believe me, Miss Darcy, the number of guests is not so great. It is only our close quarters that give such an appearance.” Elizabeth left Miss Darcy’s side just long enough to bring her a glass of lemonade.

“It is a shame, Miss Darcy, that an assembly of this nature should form your first impression of society,” Miss Bingley was saying when she returned. “The balls and dinners you will attend in town in no way resemble this affair, let me assure you. The richness of decoration, the excellent music…” She looked askance at Elizabeth and whispered confidentially, “the superior quality of the personages in attendance. The country can offer nothing to approach a London ball for elegance – and you may believe that Mr. Darcy will ensure the ball held in your honor is unequalled for splendor anywhere.”

“But this is my greatest fear, Miss Bingley! To observe such a grand affair from the perimeter is wonderful, I am sure, but to be at its center – I dread being the object of such attention.”

Mrs. Hurst interjected with unusual spirit, “Exactly why your brother should marry!” She looked toward a group of gentlemen in the hall, and the other ladies followed her glance to where Mr. Darcy stood in converse with Sir William and others. “If he would but take a wife, your distress might be lessened considerably. What a comfort you would find in having a sister from the highest circles of society to guide you – one to introduce you to the best people and protect you from … others.” By the disdainful look she cast about the room, it was clear that the guests of Lucas Lodge fell solidly into the latter category.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hurst, but I have complete trust in my brother’s own guidance and protection.” Miss Darcy gazed at her brother with admiration, and Elizabeth could not help but join her.

Mr. Darcy looked remarkably well this evening, she thought. He was, as usual, impeccably dressed, and conveniently stood several inches taller than any other of the group, affording a clear view of his fine profile. Indeed, Elizabeth thought she had not seen him look so handsome since the Meryton assembly when they had first been introduced. What was it about a simple country dance that enhanced his already attractive features?

She observed the solid, defiant set of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the heightened color of his complexion. His lips were slightly parted, as on the point of quick reply; his eyes, intently alert and piercing. Taken as a whole, it was the countenance of a man engaged in constant inquiry and intelligent appraisal, carefully composed to betray nothing beyond casual indifference. Another observer might call it a smug, even haughty expression; Elizabeth understood it differently. In the midst of this boisterous gathering, Mr. Darcy remained alert to everything and responsive to nothing – in short, he was exceedingly, endearingly ill at ease.

How foolish she had been, to persist so long in her resentment of him! What absurdity, to hate the best man she had ever known simply because he was revealed to be exactly that – a man, imperfect as any other. How could she have ever preferred the Mr. Darcy of that idealized Pemberley portrait, solemnly staring down posterity, to its flesh-and-blood inspiration?

“My brother is quite handsome, is he not?” Miss Darcy’s whispered question reminded Elizabeth that she was staring, and she quickly averted her gaze. She dared not answer such an inquiry aloud, but flashed Miss Darcy a guilty smile. They shared a brief, conspiratorial glance that quickly erupted into merry laughter.

“Excuse me, Georgiana.” Mr. Darcy was suddenly at Elizabeth’s side, offering his hand. “Miss Bennet, I believe it is many months now that you have owed me the pleasure of a reel.”

Elizabeth smiled and accepted his hand, taking great delight in viewing Miss Darcy’s pleased smile and Miss Bingley’s icy glare as Mr. Darcy led her past them to the dance floor.

It was not the first time Elizabeth had danced with Mr. Darcy, but this experience could not have been more different from their dance at Netherfield. The hall was jammed with couples, and between the lively step and the general din, no conversation was possible. Most fortunately, there was no Mr. Wickham to darken the mood – Elizabeth had looked for him in vain since their arrival. Thus safe from the past and prevented from speaking at present, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy danced with true enjoyment, exchanging only warm smiles and glances full of the future.

As the dance ended, both were flushed with exertion and emotion. Mr. Darcy quietly suggested that they take some air outside, and Elizabeth followed him into the garden, accepting his arm as they ambled towards a small arbor.

“I forget, Mr. Darcy, that you are not accustomed to assemblies such as this, so crowded with guests that little space remains to admit propriety. I fear you find our country manners rather shocking.” Her tone was light and teasing, and his reply equally so.

“No indeed. Sir William’s hospitality is most generous, and I find nothing lacking in present company, I assure you.” He turned to her and confided softly, “In suggesting we take some air, I merely hoped that doing so would afford us some opportunity to speak privately. I regret that our discourse the other day was chiefly occupied with such unpleasant matters.”

Elizabeth’s mind raced. If Mr. Darcy awaited only her encouragement, as Jane suggested, this moment was her opening. Only the decision of whether she wished to pursue it remained. She searched her heart for any lingering trace of resentment or uncertainty, and, finding none, answered quietly, “It does seem a shame to dwell on the unhappy past when there is so much present cause for celebration. I have not properly thanked you for your part in reuniting my sister and Mr. Bingley.”

Mr. Darcy began to object, but she continued quickly. “I thank you also for your letter. You were under no obligation to explain your actions to me, but -- I am grateful that you did.”

“If it caused you to think better of me, then I am glad to have written it. Since delivering it to your hand, I have often doubted the wisdom of writing such a letter. I fear I committed some pledges to paper that I would rather now deny.”

Elizabeth stopped and withdrew her arm from his hastily.

“Of course, sir – I understand you completely. Circumstances and sentiments alter with time.” Mortified beyond comprehension, she turned back toward the house, but Mr. Darcy caught her arm gently.

“Miss Bennet, please – you mistake my meaning.”

She turned back to face him and encountered a gaze that was determined, ardent, and blessedly familiar from an evening some weeks past, at Hunsford. His grasp on her arm loosened, and his hand trailed downward to capture hers. Elizabeth allowed him to lead her to a bench beneath the arbor, where they sat engulfed in the heady perfume of roses.

“Forgive me,” he began, “but I must speak plainly. We have misunderstood one another so frequently over the course of our acquaintance, and often to disastrous effect. I assure you, my affections and wishes have not changed since April. The past weeks have done nothing to alter them in the slightest; quite the contrary. In my letter, I assured you I would not renew any expression of those sentiments – it is only this promise that I now regret.”

Elizabeth could not meet his eyes, but kept her gaze focused on their hands loosely intertwined on the bench between them. Mr. Darcy seemed suddenly conscious of prolonging such a liberty and began to withdraw his hand, but Elizabeth’s fingers tightened over his instinctively. She gasped slightly at her own forwardness. If she could not bear to look him earlier, to do so now was impossible. Neither could she find words to speak – but hardly knowing what she did, she drew her thumb across the back of his hand with gentle deliberation.

“Do you recall telling me in Kent that you would embrace your family in Hertfordshire all the more eagerly for having been parted from them?” he asked softly. “It was your observation that distance has the effect of increasing one’s affection.”

A slight nod was the only reply Elizabeth could manage.

“The past month has shown me the proof of your theorem, Miss Bennet. Never before did I appreciate what great distance separates Pemberley from Longbourn.”

He moved to close the gap between them, as if the few inches that remained of that distance were still an expanse too wide to tolerate. He turned her hand in his to expose her palm, and Elizabeth watched his fingertips trace the long, slow journey from the base of her wrist to the hollow of her arm. It was the lightest of caresses, barely grazing her skin – but utterly piercing in its tenderness. At last, she found the courage to lift her face to his.

“Sir, you must not begin to repeat the things I said to you in Kent. Your excellent recollection in this instance is unpardonable. I said so many things that I would wish you to forget.”

“And what did you say to me that I did not deserve? My behavior to you at the time merited the severest reproof. I shall not allow you to regret your reproaches.”

“But you must!” Mr. Darcy blinked, surprised at the vehemence of her exclamation. Elizabeth softened her tone and began again. “Let us not quarrel for the greater share of blame, for we neither behaved with civility that evening. For your mistakes, you have tendered both explanations and apologies, but my own misapprehensions remain unconfessed. I now beg your leave to speak plainly. You must allow me to tell you…”

“Shhhh.” He gently laid a finger against her mouth to silence her. His gaze was dark and searching, and for an instant, she believed he intended to replace his finger with his lips. Instead, Mr. Darcy rose from the bench abruptly and stood in the center of the path, leaving Elizabeth breathless and bewildered in the shadow of the arbor.

“Darcy! Is that you, man?” Mr. Bingley approached from the house.

“What is it, Bingley?”

“It is Caroline. She is complaining of a headache and insists on being returned to Netherfield. I would send her with Hurst, but you know he was half-drunk before we even departed – and I would take her myself, but…”

“But you are to be married in less than a week and wish to spend every possible moment with your intended. Say no more. Order the carriage and tell your sister I shall be there presently.”

“You have my unbounded gratitude, Darcy!” Mr. Bingley’s voice faded as he quickly returned to the house, eager to resume his place at Jane’s side.

Once he was safely gone, Mr. Darcy dropped back to the bench and cast Elizabeth an apologetic smile. “It seems I must be going. Forgive me. I will see Miss Bingley safely deposited at Netherfield and return as quickly as possible.”

“Please do not apologize. Mr. Bingley’s interruption may have been for the best. We have tarried here too long already, and we would soon be missed.”

“Miss Bennet, would it be too forward of me – that is, might we continue this conversation at another time and place, where we can be assured of having no interruption? Is it still your habit to walk out in the mornings?”

She nodded. “You may find me in the lane within an hour of daybreak.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He rose and bowed. “I must inform my sister that I am leaving. May I ask you to look after her in my absence?”

“It will be my pleasure, sir.”

When Mr. Darcy had gone and Elizabeth had sufficiently settled her spirits, she returned to the house in time to heed the call to supper. She invited Miss Darcy to join their family table, and the young lady happily complied. Toward the end of the meal, Maria Lucas opened the pianoforte, and Mary, as usual, hastened to perform. Sir William approached their table and addressed Elizabeth.

“Miss Eliza, I hope you will also delight us with a song this evening.”

“If you insist, Sir William.”

“Capital! I have not had the pleasure of hearing you play since we were both at Rosings.” He turned to Miss Darcy. “And you, Miss Darcy – my daughter tells me you are exceedingly accomplished in all pursuits musical. I trust that we may depend upon you for a delightful performance.”

Miss Darcy merely smiled and nodded slightly, but she grabbed Elizabeth’s arm in desperation the moment Sir William turned his back. “Oh, Miss Bennet! Please tell me I shall not be forced to play before all these people!”

“Of course not, if you do not wish it.”

Mary, having at last learned the virtue of brevity in such performances, finished her song and rose to cede her place at the instrument. Sir William looked expectantly at Elizabeth and motioned for her to take her sister’s place.

“Kitty!” Elizabeth addressed her younger sister in a tone that would brook no refusal. “Be so good as to take Miss Darcy for a turn in the garden. The air inside is very close – is it not, Miss Darcy?”

“Indeed,” Miss Darcy replied gratefully. “A stroll in the fresh evening air would be most welcome.”

Kitty dutifully linked arms with Miss Darcy and led her into the gardens, and Elizabeth seated herself at the pianoforte. She chose to sing an ancient folk ballad that told a stirring tale of love, loss, and redemption. It was a simple tune that found a warm reception in any such assembly, and Elizabeth performed with her usual engaging spirit. As she struck the final chord, the guests rewarded her efforts with hearty applause, and Elizabeth looked up to spy Mr. Darcy standing in the far doorway.

He did not applaud, but appreciation was writ plainly on his face. His lips curved in a slight, secret smile, and he fixed her with a look of unadorned affection, entirely free of design or disguise. No elegant letter or passionate declaration could have expressed his love more eloquently, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled with the blissful certainty of loving in return.

She would have gone to him then, but Mrs. Hurst approached the pianoforte and pressed Elizabeth into the service of turning pages. The piece of Mrs. Hurst’s choosing was a lengthy concerto, and it was some time before Elizabeth was at liberty to seek him out. When her eyes went to the doorway, however, Mr. Darcy was no longer there.

Elizabeth started to quit the room in search of him, but Mrs. Bennet accosted her in a flutter of furious fanning, demanding her immediate attention.

“Oh, Lizzy! Whatever shall we do? Lady Lucas tells me that there is no champagne to be had in all of England – some blockade or embargo or other rubbish! We simply cannot have a wedding breakfast without champagne!”

“The casualties of war are great indeed, Mama, but I expect we shall survive the deprivation.”

“Oh, it is not to be borne! The regiment is leaving us, and now there is no proper wine to be had anywhere!”

If only the Crown would appoint her mother as emissary to France, Elizabeth thought, Napoleon might be persuaded to forfeit his interest in England altogether. Kitty flounced by on the arm of Lieutenant Denny, and Elizabeth stopped her short.

“Wherever is Miss Darcy?”

Kitty giggled and exchanged a coy glance with Denny. “Oh! I think she is with Miss Bingley.”

“With Miss Bingley? But Miss Bingley is already …” Thoroughly irritated with her fool of a sister, she left Kitty to her flirtation and embarked on an increasingly anxious search for Miss Darcy. She was not to be found in the hall, nor in the dining room or the salon. Elizabeth rounded the corner into the drawing room with mounting alarm -- only to find Miss Darcy ensconced in the same chair as earlier.

“Miss Darcy! Please forgive me for neglecting you so long.”

“Oh no, Miss Bennet – thank you for preserving me from Sir William!”

“Sir William?” Mr. Darcy approached them with an amused expression. “Georgiana, it has not escaped my notice that you are growing into an exceptional young lady, and I fully expect that I shall one day be forced to call a man out in your defense. But I must say, I would not have guessed it to be Sir William!”

Elizabeth laughed. “Sir William would prevail on her to play the pianoforte,” she explained, “But with Kitty’s assistance, we were able to spare her the pain of refusing him.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said softly. Elizabeth met his tender gaze and felt her cheeks flush instantly. She quickly returned her attention to his sister, for the first time noting Miss Darcy’s own rather pale complexion.

“Georgiana, are you well?” Mr. Darcy knelt before his sister with true concern. The young lady’s breath was quick and shallow, and even as she verbally assured her brother that she felt very well indeed, her distracted manner suggested otherwise.

Mr. Darcy drew Elizabeth slightly away from his sister’s hearing. “It seems my sister has had sufficient stimulation for one evening,” he said.

“Yes, she appears quite fatigued. You would do well to return her to Netherfield, I think.” She smiled ruefully at this second ill-timed interruption, but Mr. Darcy’s reply removed any disappointment.

“A shortened evening will do me no harm. I have an early morning engagement of the highest importance.” He took her hand and kissed it quickly before gathering up Miss Darcy. Brother and sister bid Elizabeth farewell and went to pay their compliments to the Lucases.

Elizabeth made her way to the hall, where the dancing was once again in full swing. Mr. Bingley asked for her hand in the next, and she gladly accepted. Elizabeth felt that her heart might burst from unexpressed joy, and the unbridled merriment of the dance came as welcome relief. Her bliss was tempered, however, when the dance ended and she sought out her sisters – only to find them in most unwelcome company.

“Mr. Wickham,” she greeted him coolly. “I was unaware we had the pleasure of your company this evening.”

“I arrived rather late, I am afraid. I have been settling my accounts in Meryton before we decamp tomorrow.”

Lydia, as ever, clung to the lieutenant’s arm shamelessly, and Kitty and Maria clearly envied her daring. Even Mrs. Forster took little pains to hide her own infatuation with the man, being scarcely older and no more sensible than the other three. Mr. Wickham took his leave of the ladies, and Elizabeth observed the colonel’s wife follow him with a gaze that combined smug possession with permissiveness, as though he were on loan to the young ladies of Meryton for one final evening.

“What a pity that you cannot come to Brighton with me, Miss Lydia! There will be dinners and balls every night!” Mrs. Forster’s expressed disappointment rang false to Elizabeth’s ears, but Lydia’s plaintive reply was sincerely obnoxious.

“Oh, I shall be positively desolate without you! Without the regiment, Meryton is the most boring town in all of England, I am sure. If only Jane and her Mr. Bingley had been married a week earlier, I might have gone.” Lydia looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was of half a mind to come along anyway, Papa’s permission or no – Lord, what a laugh that would be! But I suppose Colonel Forster would never allow it.”

Exasperated by the foolishness concentrated in this corner, Elizabeth left the young ladies to their twittering. Neither Lydia nor Kitty had spoken a word of sense since the militia’s installment in the neighborhood. The regiment could not be drummed out of Meryton fast enough for her liking.

But there was another, far more agreeable reason that tomorrow could not come too soon, and Elizabeth thrilled to recall it. Here was a happy thought that even Mr. Wickham could not remove, and by the end of the evening her cheeks positively ached from smiling.

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth had not expected to sleep at all that night. How surprising then, to awaken from a sound, dreamless slumber to find the sun already warming the windowpane. She washed and dressed quickly, twisted her hair into a simple knot, and paused at the mirror only long enough to confirm that her features had suffered no radical rearrangement overnight.

She left the house soundlessly and set a direct course for the appointed stretch of lane. Her pace was neither rushed nor dawdling, but perfectly deliberate and natural. No observer would have guessed her to have any pressing errand or special destination, but it was precisely this unexceptional air and quiet confidence that filled Elizabeth with joy. She walked out not only to greet this morning, but every morning of her life thereafter – and she did so of her own volition, unencumbered by any sense of duty or obligation. It was a singular sensation, to feel the enormity of her future curled neatly in her palm, and to know it was hers alone to possess, to give, to share as she desired.

She had not walked far from Longbourn’s gate when she saw him. Mr. Darcy stood to the side of the road, his horse stamping impatiently nearby. Elizabeth quickened her pace and strode toward him, smiling. As she approached, however, she noted his own expression to be dark and gravely troubled.

“Elizabeth, thank God you are here. I could not have delayed much longer.” He was pale and agitated, and Elizabeth observed his distress with alarm and heartfelt concern.

“Goodness, what is the matter?” she asked, with more feeling than politeness. “Truly, you look very ill!”

“Spare no concern for me; I am well. It is my sister. Georgiana has eloped … with Wickham.”

“Miss Darcy -- eloped with Wickham! I cannot believe it! Perhaps there is some misunderstanding. Is it certain – absolutely certain that such is the case?”

Mr. Darcy pulled a neatly folded letter from his breast pocket. “I found this pushed under my door this morning. They are bound for Gretna Green.” He swallowed hard and yanked sharply on his horse’s reins. “When I think that I might have prevented this! I knew his true character. Had I explained to her but a part of our dealings, she would never have thrown herself into his power.”

“But what would possess her to do such a thing?”

“Mr. Wickham can be very persuasive when he wishes. His chief inducement is no doubt her dowry of 30,000 pounds.” He mounted his horse in one swift, fluid motion. “As to her reasons – you may read them for yourself.” He extended the letter toward her.

“Forgive me, I must leave you now. I have not an instant to lose.”

“Of course – I will not detain you a minute. Only …” She reached up with both hands, taking the letter from him and tightening her fingers around his own.

“Yes,” he whispered – whether in question or in answer, it was impossible to tell.

“Please, sir – take care that no harm should come to you,” she said quietly, her voice catching in her throat. She released his hand, and with one serious, parting look, Mr. Darcy turned his horse and rode away. Elizabeth watched him depart toward Meryton, and once again she found herself standing in the lane, alone and astonished, mysterious letter in hand. She opened the unsealed paper and read,

My dear brother,

You will be grieved when you read this letter, but it grieves me more to imagine your distress when I am missed tomorrow morning. I beg you not to suffer any anxiety on my account. I am bound for Gretna Green -- and though I have promised absolute secrecy to my betrothed, I know you will easily guess with whom I have eloped, you are so wise.

Please do not fault Mrs. Annesley for the pitiable decline in penmanship this letter displays. I can all too well picture the terrible expression on your face at this moment, and my fingers tremble so fiercely they will not master the quill. You will be shocked that I did not seek your counsel before entering into an engagement and, I fear, angered at this abrupt elopement. But as my dear intended reminds me, I am no longer a child. Surely you have always known that one day I must dare to trust my own heart above even your estimable wisdom.

Aside from you, dearest brother, there is but one man in the world I love. I believe him to be an angel, sent from Heaven by our dear father, who loved him almost as his own. Our attachment may appear sudden, but I assure you nothing could be further from the truth. I have loved him my entire life, I am certain of it. By now you surely have guessed his name, and I can no longer deny myself the pleasure of seeing it written here – soon I shall be Mrs. George Wickham. Do you not remember our childhood game, Fitzwilliam? How George would make it his charge to coax a smile from me, no matter how dark my mood? To this day, he has never failed. I am grinning most madly even as I write.

I should never be happy without him, nor he without me. Therefore, I see only wisdom in his desire to be married immediately. We are called to battle, each of us in our own way. George must away with the regiment to defend the Crown, and I am to face the lions of the London ton – a prospect no less terrifying to me than marching out to meet the armies of France. To be parted at this moment, not knowing when or how or if we should ever meet again – neither of us can bear the thought. Once we are married, we shall face everything together, united in the strength of our love. As dear George says with usual charm, that which is joined by God, Napoleon himself shall not put asunder. And as Mrs. George Wickham, I believe I may suffer presentation at court with some measure of self-possession, where Miss Georgiana Darcy would surely wither and faint.

Perhaps he is not the husband you would choose for me, brother. He has no title, no connections, no fortune. But I trust that you will understand my decision to value love above all such worldly considerations. I suspect you have prepared your own arguments to just this end. As fearsome as your reaction to this letter may be, I imagine it will pale in comparison to the wrath of Aunt Catherine when she learns you are to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Do not deny it, Fitzwilliam – your attachment to the lady is obvious, and her admiration of you equally so. I am delighted for you beyond expression.

My dear brother, I have learned from your excellent example all my life. Your principles are always above reproach; your good opinion sought by all, but earned by few. If ever your behavior spoke a truer lesson to my heart, I cannot recall the instance. To see how insufficient are all the pretensions of pride and wealth to sway your affections from a woman truly worthy of your love – it has taught me to hope that you might greet my own love match with joy and not censure. Before long, you shall call George brother, and I shall call Miss Elizabeth sister, and in years to come we will all take tea on the veranda at Pemberley and watch our children playing and laughing together on the green. What happy times are before us!

I am heartily sorry for one thing, and that is that I shall miss the wedding of Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet. Please convey to them my apologies and my sincere wishes for their felicity. Dear George wishes us to honeymoon by the sea, but I promise we shall return to town soon.

When next I write, I will sign a different name –but rest assured, dear brother, that I forever remain

Your devoted sister,
Georgiana

The shock that Elizabeth felt upon finishing this letter was quickly eclipsed by the weight of her own culpability in this dreadful turn of events. What had she done? She had endorsed Miss Darcy’s impulsive behavior on the day of their walk to Meryton and then allowed her to consort with this worst of scoundrels. When Mr. Darcy trusted his sister to her keeping last night, she had failed him utterly –for Elizabeth’s neglect must have afforded Wickham the opportunity to lure Miss Darcy to this ruinous assignation. Most perversely of all, to see her poorly concealed admiration of Mr. Darcy held up as an example, a justification of the whole sordid business!

Why had she not discerned the depths of Wickham’s malice toward Mr. Darcy from the moment of their introduction at Netherfield? Why, upon receiving confirmation of her suspicions, did she not decry his character to all of her acquaintance? Oh, and if only she had simply pressed Miss Darcy to play the pianoforte! She had let slip so many chances to thwart this wretched man and his scheme.

Perhaps chance would still play a role in Miss Darcy’s salvation, for it was fortunate indeed that she had written this letter, and furthermore that her brother had risen early to find it. With the regiment slated to depart this very morning, it might have been some time before anyone connected the two disappearances. As the situation stood now, the couple had only a few hours’ of coach travel to their advantage. Mr. Darcy would surely overtake them before they reached Stilton. As much as Elizabeth prayed such would be the case, the thought of Mr. Darcy confronting his sister’s would-be seducer chilled her. Wickham was desperate and dishonest – when trapped, she felt a cold certainty he could be dangerous as well.

She scanned the letter once more as she walked back toward Longbourn, searching for reason to expect a more pleasant outcome than her imagination foretold. Her only discovery, however, was the acute pain Mr. Darcy must have experienced at reading each innocently ominous line. I believe him to be an angel, sent from Heaven by our dear father… Poor, foolish girl, to be so deceived! In years to come we will all take tea on the veranda at Pemberley and watch our children playing and laughing together on the green … A vile image, indeed - were the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?

George wishes us to honeymoon by the sea, she read as she reached the letter’s close.

“Oh yes,” Elizabeth muttered bitterly. “God forbid the villain should once more miss his seaside holiday!” She recalled his longing for the ‘bracing breezes of the sea’ when they had danced at Netherfield. I had planned a journey to Ramsgate this summer past, but circumstances necessitated its cancellation. What a tragedy for him, to be denied Ramsgate one year and Brighton the next! She kicked aside a small stone in the path, sending it skittering into the grass.

Then she halted in the lane, stone still. Ramsgate!

Miss Bingley’s words filtered to her consciousness from a memory many months past, in the Netherfield drawing room. What a disappointment for Miss Darcy, to take ill and miss traveling to Ramsgate. Then Wickham’s statement in the same home, scarcely a month later…

A sick sensation of alarm grew in Elizabeth’s stomach, and her heart pounded wildly as she attempted to force these memories into a coherent understanding. Miss Darcy was to have summered in Ramsgate, and there Wickham would have followed – undoubtedly by design. It seemed an inescapable conclusion that this morning’s elopement was not the product of reckless impulse, but the result of persistent calculation spanning many months, perhaps years. The uncertainty lay in the source of the scheming -- was it only on Wickham’s side, or was Miss Darcy a willing conspirator? For Mr. Darcy’s sake, Elizabeth hoped desperately for the former. How he would bear such a betrayal from his sister, she could not imagine.

It was impossible to know how to apportion the blame, but in either case, Elizabeth felt one conclusion increasingly certain. Miss Darcy and Wickham were not bound for Gretna Green at all.

Wickham cared no more for Miss Darcy than he did for Kitty or Lydia, of this she was certain. Neither did she credit Mr. Darcy’s assumption that he sought only a large dowry. Certainly, he could have applied his charms to some rich widow or dim-witted heiress long ago. To Elizabeth’s mind, Mr. Wickham’s aim was revenge. He desired whatever he could obtain at the expense of Mr. Darcy’s fortune or family honor, and the seduction of Georgiana Darcy would deliver on both counts.

Then why would a man of such shrewdness delay a full year to accomplish this evil objective, only to follow the most predictable, well-worn route of lovers? Even with an advance of a day or better, a journey to Gretna Green by coach would consume the better part of a week. Considering the resources and manpower within Mr. Darcy’s power to dispatch, the couple’s chances of arriving in Scotland undiscovered would be slim at best.

Elizabeth hastily folded Miss Darcy’s letter, picked up her skirts, and sprinted the remaining distance to Longbourn. She entered Kitty and Lydia’s room to find both sisters still abed, no doubt dreaming girlish fantasies of soldiers and balls.

“Lydia!” Elizabeth hissed, shaking her sister firmly. “Lydia, wake up!”

Lydia turned over, shielding her eyes with her forearm. “Lord, Lizzy! Whatever can you want at this hour?”

“Does Mrs. Forster depart this morning for Brighton?”

Lydia yawned. “Yes, I suppose.” She rolled away from her sister and drew the coverlet over her head, but Elizabeth only shook her shoulder more violently.

“Lydia! You must rise at once! For you, most undeserving of all girls, this is a fortunate day. You may accompany Mrs. Forster to Brighton after all, but you must get out of bed immediately and send word to her. Quickly – write a note and tell her we will meet her in Meryton in an hour’s time.”

She went to the closet and retrieved a small valise, which she deposited at the foot of Lydia’s bed. “Pack only what you can carry the distance to Meryton. The rest of your things will be sent along later.”

By now, Lydia was sitting upright in bed and regarding her sister with incredulity. “I am permitted to go to Brighton? But if Papa has changed his mind, why did he not tell me so himself?”

Elizabeth drew out a fresh sheet of paper and placed on the writing table. “Lydia, do you wish to go to Brighton?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Then do not waste time on stupid questions, but come here immediately and write to Mrs. Forster.”

Lydia reluctantly settled herself at the table and picked up the quill Elizabeth had prepared. Once the note was complete, Elizabeth took and folded it quickly. “Pack your things and be ready to depart in a half-hour’s time. I will knock for you, and we will walk to Meryton.”

Kitty had begun to stir in her own bed some minutes ago, but only now proved herself to be fully awake. “But why should you go, Lizzy? Mrs. Forster did not invite you as her particular friend! If anyone is to accompany Lydia, it ought to be me!”

“I shall chaperone Lydia only as far as London. Mama has word of a district in town where champagne may be had for the wedding breakfast, and I am to make inquiries.”

“Oh, it is wretchedly unfair, that Lydia should go and not me!” Kitty’s pout suddenly transformed into a sly smile. “But Lydia may go chase the officers all she wishes, and the laugh will be on her – for her favorite will not be among them!”

“What are you on about, Kitty?” Lydia asked.

“Only that Miss Darcy is the most fortunate lady in England. I shall be too envious of her to spare a moment’s jealousy for you!”

Lydia dismissed her sister’s cryptic comment and pondered her selection of bonnet instead, but Elizabeth sat on Kitty’s bed and grabbed her sister firmly by the shoulders.

“What do you know of Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham?”

Kitty eyes grew wide in astonishment. “Less than you do, it would seem! Honestly, Lizzy – all I know of it is what Denny hinted. But it is not wholly unexpected…” Kitty collapsed into giggles and dove beneath the bedclothes.

With no little effort, Elizabeth stifled the urge to buffet the quivering mass of sheets and coverlets with her fists. There were more important matters demanding her attention. She hurried to dispatch Hill to deliver Lydia’s letter, and then she returned to her room to write a hasty note of her own, to her father. His displeasure with the actions detailed therein would be profound, but Elizabeth resolved not to think on it at present. Her father’s feelings, while no less important to her than they had been the day before, were nonetheless no longer foremost in her consideration.

Indeed, for the entirety of the walk to Meryton and the cramped carriage ride to London with the Forsters, her mind was wholly occupied with concern for Mr. Darcy and dread for his sister. The only feeling to occasionally intrude on this grim meditation was bitter regret at having failed to prevent the entire affair.

They must have fled to London – she had now convinced herself of this thoroughly. What their purpose there might be, she hated to imagine, for none of the options were pleasant in the least. They might go into hiding in town, or they could be bound for any destination. Wherever they landed, in London or elsewhere, the couple need only elude detection long enough to make marriage Miss Darcy’s sole alternative to ruination and social exile. Just one night spent with Wickham would leave her utterly compromised should it become known, and concealing such a scandal would be nigh on impossible. Even Kitty and Denny had inklings of the truth already, and far cleverer minds would attempt to unravel this rumor.

If there was any chance of preserving Miss Darcy’s reputation and happiness, Elizabeth knew the young lady must be found before nightfall. She had but one notion of the couple’s possible whereabouts – one thin slice of hope to sustain her through the three-hour journey until she was at last dropped in Cheapside.

Her Aunt Gardiner received her with pleasant surprise. “Elizabeth! But we had no idea you were coming!” Her welcoming smile became a look of concern as she noted Elizabeth’s serious expression. “Sit down at once, dear – I hope all is well at Longbourn?”

Elizabeth declined the offer to sit. “All is well at Longbourn, I assure you. But I must beg your assistance in an altogether unconnected matter.”

“Yes, of course!” Elizabeth silently blessed her aunt’s unwavering solicitude and embraced her in gratitude and relief. She drew back quickly, anxious not to waste a single moment of what precious time remained.

“Forgive me – I promise all will be explained in time, but let us send for Uncle Gardiner immediately. I must speak with him at once. And then, Aunt – as a matter of desperate urgency – we must go shopping.”

Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth felt a partridge among peacocks as she and her aunt wove through the fashionable crowds on Bond Street. Her sprigged muslin best appeared positively coarse against the silks and laces that passed her in flouncing waves. But though they were hopelessly humble and plain, she was glad of her sturdy brown half boots. Her feet were already aching from their endless march past jewelers and confectioners, and it gave her some comfort to imagine what unsightly blisters were encased by the delicate slippers of more stylish ladies.

Fatigue and despair were beginning to dull any enjoyment she had taken in this outing at its outset. They passed the glass window of a fruitery, where glistening pineapples, grapes, and oranges were arranged in neat pyramids, but Elizabeth took little pleasure in the impressive display. She was surrounded by all things dazzling and distracting, when what she needed most was clarity of thought and single-minded purpose.

The logic of this search, which had seemed perfectly sound on the road to London, now collapsed under the enormity of their task. Miss Darcy had left Netherfield in secret, under cover of night. She could not have carried with her a great many possessions; so much was indisputable. Despite Miss Darcy’s assertion in her letter that they were bound for Gretna Green, Elizabeth was convinced that Wickham had brought her here, to London. By whatever guise or persuasion he had lured her to town, Wickham knew all too well how to entertain a lady and stave off suspicion by liberal application of charm. To remain in his power, Miss Darcy would require diversion, attention, spoiling – and all manner of material goods. The shops, then, seemed an obvious destination. And had Miss Darcy not expressed her preference for Bond Street wares above all others?

It had seemed simple enough, then. The best hope of finding Miss Darcy before nightfall was to make a thorough search of Bond Street shops. However, Elizabeth had failed to account for a few minor complications in her haste -- the shops numbered well over a hundred, and the ladies and gentlemen perusing their wares amounted to at least that number twentyfold.

In the hackney coach coming from Cheapside, Elizabeth had acquainted her aunt with as many details of the matter as she felt at liberty to disclose. Although Aunt Gardiner seemed rather skeptical of how Elizabeth’s interest in the situation should justify this rash adventure to London, the strength of her niece’s emotion persuaded her to provide whatever assistance she might. Unfortunately, she could be of little help in identifying Miss Darcy or Mr. Wickham in a crowd. It had been nearly a year since she had viewed their likenesses at Pemberley.

On they forged, however, peering through the windows of smaller shops and ducking inside the larger establishments to make a thorough survey, always keeping an eye toward the crowds passing in the street. With their simple attire and distracted demeanor, they conveniently drew little notice from either shopkeepers or customers.

They had just turned out of a watchmaker’s shop, having completed a cursory inspection of its wares and clientele, when Elizabeth thought she glimpsed a familiar face reflected in a jeweler’s window across the street. She drew her aunt into a doorway from which they might observe unnoticed. A man and young lady of the correct height, arms linked tightly and heads inclined in intimate conversation over the window display – Elizabeth felt her flagging spirits revive instantly, and she watched with anxious anticipation for any confirmation of their identity. At last, the two lovers raised their heads from examination of the wares to regard each other, and the profiles of Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham were unmistakable.

“Oh!” Aunt Gardiner gasped, and only then did Elizabeth realize how tightly she had been gripping her aunt’s sleeve.

“I am so sorry, Aunt!” Elizabeth released her aunt’s arm and nodded in the direction of Miss Darcy and Wickham. “It is they,” she whispered, even though the couple remained well out of earshot across the busy street. She watched in disgust as Wickham kissed Miss Darcy’s hand and escorted her into the jeweler’s shop.

“Shall we follow?” Aunt Gardiner asked.

“No, let us wait and observe.” Elizabeth knew confronting the couple on the open street could serve no purpose, other than to inflame rumor and suspicion. Miss Darcy was found; a quiet resolution to the whole affair could still be obtained, but only through cautious negotiation. “Oh, if only my uncle would arrive!”

Elizabeth and her aunt stood in the doorway for some time, watching the jeweler’s shop closely. At length, the couple emerged. Wickham pocketed a small box, and Miss Darcy looked up at him with glowing adoration. Her gaze was so trusting, Elizabeth could not believe her to be a willing party to this scoundrel’s vengeful schemes. She had hoped, for Mr. Darcy’s sake, that his sister truly believed Gretna Green was their intended destination when she left Netherfield. Miss Darcy’s countenance did not appear to be that of a girl wittingly entering a sordid tryst, Elizabeth now noted with relief. Rather, her gaze displayed only guileless reverence for her companion. Miss Darcy might be imprudent and impulsive, but thus far she appeared to remain innocent.

Wickham and Miss Darcy proceeded slowly down the street, and Elizabeth and her aunt followed at a discreet distance. The couple paused to admire a confectioner’s display, then spent a short time inside an establishment where elaborate fans were for sale. They had just entered a linen draper’s when a hired coach came to an abrupt halt alongside Elizabeth and Aunt Gardiner. There were three men in the carriage, but only one stepped down.

“Oh, Uncle Gardiner!” Elizabeth embraced him warmly. “The men with you – are they…”

“Yes, yes, Elizabeth. All is as you suggested. The stage is set, and we lack only our villain.” He spoke seriously enough, but Elizabeth thought she detected a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Even in town, he would persist in being an angler. Elizabeth knew no one who took such great satisfaction from reeling in a catch.

“They are just there, in the draper’s.” She indicated the establishment.

“Shall we, then?” Uncle Gardiner offered one arm to his wife and the other to his niece. Elizabeth took a deep breath and attempted to compose herself as they entered the shop.

And what a shop it was! Elizabeth felt she had entered an Aladdin’s den of feathers and furs, silks and lace. Great bolts of cloth in every imaginable color and pattern were stocked to the rafters high overhead. The establishment seemed to continue back into infinity, partitioned into room after room of pattern books and perfumes and elegant accoutrements. They passed cases of fans carved from horn and ivory, their gilt edges sparkling seductively, then a veritable rainbow of parasols, and finally found Miss Darcy and Mr. Wickham examining an arrangement of beautiful lace gloves.

“Why, Miss Darcy! I had no idea you were returning to town before the wedding.” Elizabeth hoped her light tone and forced smile gave the appearance of nonchalance. Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach roiled with anxiety, but she managed a reasonably graceful curtsy considering the circumstances. “And Mr. Wickham – what a great surprise to encounter you here! I should have thought you would be halfway to Brighton by now.”

If Elizabeth was struggling to maintain her composure, Miss Darcy was waging a similar battle, with considerably less success. She blushed deeply and looked to Mr. Wickham with beseeching alarm. Wickham was, as ever, unruffled. He bowed deeply.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, what a pleasure.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips before Elizabeth could conceive of any politic method of deterring this most unwelcome liberty. At least she was wearing gloves.

“Miss Darcy and I are enjoying an afternoon of shopping,” he offered effortlessly. “I have business here in London, so I requested leave from Colonel Forster to rejoin the regiment in some days’ time in Brighton. Miss Darcy here was in desperate need of gloves for Mr. Bingley’s wedding, and so it was my great pleasure to escort her to town. As an old family friend, of course.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth avoided meeting his gaze, certain that her contempt for this rogue would be obvious should she dare. “We are on a similar errand, making last-minute purchases for the wedding. Does your brother accompany you to town, Miss Darcy?”

The young lady paled. “My brother?”

Wickham interjected smoothly. “Surely, Miss Bennet, a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s import would not be bothered with such a trivial mission as ours. Such great men can scarcely be troubled to think of gloves, or fans, or any of the other trifles so essential to a lady’s happiness.”

Elizabeth could no longer hold her tongue. “You are undoubtedly correct, Mr. Wickham. Mr. Darcy is gravely concerned for his sister’s welfare, to be sure. But it is difficult indeed to imagine him taking an exceptional interest in gloves or fans. In defining ‘essentials,’ you could not be more dissimilar.” Mr. Wickham’s expression of discomfiture was immediate, but Elizabeth quickly donned a disarming smile.

“Miss Darcy, may I introduce you to my aunt and uncle?”

Miss Darcy nodded. At the mention of her brother, she had released Mr. Wickham’s arm as if it were a live snake. Elizabeth now grasped her elbow gently and led her to where her aunt and uncle were standing, a few paces away.

“Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner, may I present Miss Darcy.”

“We are delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” her aunt said. “I had the very great pleasure of meeting Mr. Darcy several weeks ago.”

Miss Darcy flushed at this mention of her brother and then paled as Elizabeth introduced Mr. Wickham. To her relief, her aunt and uncle greeted him cordially, betraying nothing.

“I say, Mr. Wickham, if you are familiar with this district, you may do us a great service.” Mr. Gardiner’s manner was all amiability and ease, and Wickham, true to form, seized an opportunity to ingratiate himself.

“I am always glad to be of assistance.”

“My sister, Mrs. Bennet, is quite insistent that champagne be served at her daughter’s wedding breakfast, and no explanation of war or blockades will dissuade her. I understand some of the city’s finest wine merchants are somewhere along this street, and I have promised to make inquiries on her behalf. With little hope of success, you understand.”

“I think you shall have as much luck finding champagne among these haberdasheries as you will in any wine shop,” Wickham replied. “It will come prodigiously dear if you do. But if you are determined to search, there are some very fine wine merchants toward the end of the street – and I believe a few more in old Bond Street.”

“Would you be so good as to step outside with me and give the direction to my driver? I am afraid we do not frequent this district, and my wife will tell you I am notorious for losing my bearings in an unfamiliar street.”

Elizabeth stifled a burst of laughter. A more inappropriate occasion for mirth she could not imagine, but to hear her uncle claim ignorance of London’s geography strained her composure. Mr. Gardiner had guided their tour of the Peak District with nary a wrong turning in a fortnight’s travel. Fortunately, Mr. Wickham was not acquainted with the infallibility of her uncle’s internal compass.

“As I said, I am glad to be of any assistance.” He bowed to the ladies. “I shall return shortly,” he murmured to Miss Darcy. Then he followed Mr. Gardiner out to the street, and Elizabeth rejoiced in knowing his last promise to Miss Darcy would be broken as certainly as all his others.

After the gentlemen departed, Elizabeth was able to give Miss Darcy a genuine smile. She begged the young lady’s assistance in selecting a parasol to complement Jane’s wedding gown. In all the excitement of recent weeks, Elizabeth realized she had neglected to purchase a wedding gift for her dearest sister, and it delighted her to have an honest purpose to mitigate the amount of deceit she had employed throughout the day.

By the time a lovely lace-fringed parasol had been selected, purchased, and wrapped, Elizabeth felt secure that neither her uncle nor Mr. Wickham would be returning to the draper’s. The burden now became acquainting Miss Darcy with this reality. At a loss, Elizabeth cast her aunt a silent, pleading look.

“How fatiguing it is, standing about in shops on such a warm day!” her aunt declared. “Ladies, let us hire a carriage to Berkeley Square and treat ourselves to an ice at Gunter’s.”

“Oh, I adore Gunter’s!” Miss Darcy exclaimed. “But we must wait for Mr. Wickham to return, of course.”

Elizabeth and her aunt exchanged glances. Elizabeth drew near to the young lady, took her arm gently, and whispered, “Mr. Wickham will not be returning, Miss Darcy.”

“But certainly he shall!” she objected in a loud voice, drawing the attention of two ladies perusing a nearby display of feathers.

“Of course, dear,” Aunt Gardiner took Miss Darcy’s other arm and began to lead her toward the front of the shop. “But let us look for him in the street. You know how easily a simple conversation between gentlemen regarding wine becomes a lengthy debate of blockades and war strategy – it may be hours before they recall our presence.”

When the men were nowhere to be found outside the establishment, Miss Darcy was reluctantly persuaded to hire a coach and wait within, but she would not hear of quitting Bond Street without Mr. Wickham.

“To be sure, he will return any moment,” she insisted, peering through the coach window at the passing crowds. “He must, for in a few hours we are – that is, he is scheduled to depart for…”

“For Gretna Green?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

“But – then you know!” Miss Darcy flushed and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. “But how…”

Elizabeth pulled Miss Darcy’s letter from her reticule. “Yes, I know,” she said quietly, passing Miss Darcy the folded paper. “But you may be assured that no one else shall ever learn of this from me, or from my aunt.”

Miss Darcy took the letter in her trembling hand. “Oh, my brother! I should have suspected that he would attempt to stop us.”

“Miss Darcy, if you search your heart, I believe you will find that you did suspect just that. Surely this is why you left him such a letter – you were uncertain yourself about this rash engagement, and you knew Mr. Darcy would never allow you to come to any harm.”

“Come to harm? Surely, I could never come to harm at the hands of Mr. Wickham. He has been a trusted friend of our family since my childhood. My father loved him almost as a son.”

“Miss Darcy, the details are not mine to divulge, but you must believe me when I tell you that Mr. Wickham has used both your father and your brother very ill. He knew that under no reasonable circumstances would Mr. Darcy allow you to marry him. Why else would he press for this hasty elopement?”

“For love, of course! And for the assurance that we would never be parted … there are many reasons!” Miss Darcy replied.

“Yes, to be sure. Thirty-thousand of them, to be exact. Mr. Wickham is desperate for funds, Miss Darcy. He has debts with shopkeepers and gentlemen all over London, and no doubt in Meryton as well. When he left the draper’s with my uncle, he was immediately taken into custody of the magistrate. He will be held for nonpayment, and with any good fortune, sent to debtor’s prison directly.”

“I cannot believe it! All gentlemen have debts. Whatever Mr. Wickham’s misfortunes, it would be my joy to assist him. He has given me so much, Miss Bennet – you cannot know! My own brother is not even aware of his kindness to me, for Fitzwilliam is so rarely in residence at our home, he has missed every one of Mr. Wickham’s visits.”

“Mr. Wickham has called on you? Repeatedly?” Elizabeth did not know why she should be astonished at any further evidence of that man’s devious machinations.

“Oh, yes – ever since the establishment was set up for me here in London, under the direction of Mrs. Younge. It was a dreadful time. I had never been from Pemberley for so long a duration, and it seemed Fitzwilliam was always away. I was so lonely, but Mr. Wickham took such pity on me! Occasionally he might call, bringing flowers or sweets, but more often we would meet by chance – while walking in the park, or at exhibitions Mrs. Younge thought beneficial to my education. So many happy coincidences -- they must be attributed to our exceptional similarity of mind and disposition, George said.”

So many coincidences, indeed! Elizabeth thought. Surely these encounters signaled some greater design, but she was not inclined to credit either chance or fate. It seemed far more likely that Mr. Darcy had been greatly deceived in the character of this Mrs. Younge.

“George never failed to make me smile and laugh at his stories.” Miss Darcy continued. And he would ask me questions and listen to my answers, as no one else ever did.” She picked at the stitches on her handkerchief nervously, and Elizabeth moved to sit beside her.

“But then I took ill, and poor Mrs. Younge ...” Miss Darcy’s voice trailed off, and she stared silently out the carriage window for some moments. “The next I heard, Mr. Wickham had entered the militia. You may imagine my complete surprise and delight to meet with him in Meryton! Our reunion there removed any doubt from my mind – we are meant for each other, I am certain of it.” Miss Darcy’s forlorn expression indicated anything but certainty, however. She balled the handkerchief tightly in her fist and rested her forehead against the window-glass.

Elizabeth cast her aunt a questioning glance, and Mrs. Gardiner nodded slightly in response. She gave a direction to the coachman, and the carriage lurched into motion. For some time, all three ladies were silent.

“But our transport to Scotland is already booked!” Miss Darcy suddenly objected as they turned on to a residential street. “We leave this evening, on the mail coach. He has already purchased the wedding ring!”

On Darcy credit, no doubt, Elizabeth thought to herself. She pitied the young lady immensely. Clearly, Miss Darcy was incapable of absorbing the whole truth of Mr. Wickham’s character in one afternoon. When at last she did comprehend his villainy, the poor girl would be devastated. She covered Miss Darcy’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Miss Darcy, I fear no one will be traveling tonight. But if you and Mr. Wickham are truly meant for one another as you say, these misunderstandings will be cleared up in time. Please, I urge you – discuss these matters and your feelings with your brother.”

“Was he terribly angry?”

“Mr. Darcy? Oh, no. His anger was reserved for Mr. Wickham alone. For you, he showed only the deepest concern. He will be greatly relieved to learn you are safe at home.”

The carriage rolled to a halt before a grand townhouse.

“Oh!” Miss Darcy sighed softly. “Home.”

By now, Miss Darcy was thoroughly overwhelmed by the emotions and revelations of such a day. She numbly accepted the footman’s assistance in alighting from the carriage and entered her own home as though it had always been her intended destination. Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth introduced themselves to the rather shocked housekeeper, a formidable woman whose severe bearing suited them perfectly at the moment. Articulating as few details of the matter as possible, they expressed to her the utmost importance of keeping Miss Darcy safe at home until her brother should arrive. Mrs. Gardiner left her husband’s card as a reference should Mr. Darcy require further explanation on his return.

Elizabeth spent most of the journey back to Cheapside crying quietly against her aunt’s shoulder. She could not ascribe her tears to any one emotion, but rather to the confluence of so many extreme sensations – anxiety, pity, fatigue, relief. She wiped her eyes and composed herself as they entered Gracechurch Street, where a highly put-out Hill awaited with the Bennet family coach and four.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a surly countenance. “Your father requests your presence at Longbourn.”

“Go home, dear,” her aunt said gently. “Your uncle will send an express to Mr. Darcy directly, but there is nothing further you can do. Jane and your mother will be needing you – and the farm needs the horses.” She smiled warmly.

Elizabeth had no available words to express her gratitude to her aunt – a heartfelt parting embrace was all she could manage.

The length of the June day was such that the carriage reached Longbourn in the last lingering hour of dusk. It seemed impossible to Elizabeth that so much had transpired since this hour yesterday, when she had alighted from the same carriage at Lucas Lodge. Rationality argued that she might now rest easy – with Georgiana secure at the Darcy townhouse and Wickham under lock and key, her own return home ought to relieve all anxiety. But Mr. Darcy, no doubt still making for Scotland at breakneck speed, could not enjoy any respite from his apprehension and grief. Until he knew his sister to be safe from further harm, neither would Elizabeth feel at peace.

Mr. Bennet was waiting at the door when she entered.

“I will see you in my library, Elizabeth.”

She nodded and followed him silently, sitting down in the chair opposite his desk as he closed the door behind them. Mr. Bennet preferred to stand.

“Well, child, let me tell you that you are exceedingly fortunate in one thing. I drank entirely too much of Sir William’s port last night and have suffered the most wretched headache for the entire day. As such, the decreased clamor of our household in Lydia’s absence was not entirely unwelcome, and I was loath to invoke your mother’s excesses by notifying her of your impetuous insubordination. I have abided by your wishes then, and allowed Kitty’s impression of events to stand undisputed.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“I am seriously displeased, Lizzy. I shall expect a full accounting of this behavior.” His stern demeanor softened slightly. Her father appeared angered, to be sure, but his obvious relief at seeing her safely returned to Longbourn seemed to vanquish all disciplinary intent. Elizabeth realized that her father, too, had suffered a day of acute anxiety.

“We will speak of this another time, Lizzy. For now, you may go upstairs and rest. I will send Mrs. Hill with a tray.”

“Yes, Papa.”

He opened the door for her to leave, and she rose obediently. As she quit the room, however, she was moved by sudden impulse to kiss her father’s cheek.

“I am so sorry, Papa,” she whispered.

“I know, child,” he replied softly. “Though for your own sake, I do hope you managed to procure a few bottles of champagne during the course of this escapade. Otherwise, your mother will not be so forgiving.”

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