Beginning, Section IV

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Chapter 18

Three letters did indeed arrive the next morning.

Hill delivered the first to us at the breakfast table, handing it directly to Jane in our father's absence.

“From our Uncle Gardiner,” she informed us.

“Oh read it aloud Jane, read it aloud,” cried Mama. “Let us hear what has become of my poor innocent Lydia.”

Once upon a time, not so long ago in fact, I would have rolled my eyes at such an exclamation, but by this time I was almost as anxious as my mother for news. Alas, we were soon to discover that there was no information to be had concerning the whereabouts of my sister.

Of Mr Wickham on the other hand, there was plenty of news.

It has been ascertained that a certain George Wickham, calling himself 'Colonel' no less and traveling alone, has boarded a ship for the new world. Within the next few weeks, he will arrive in the Americas, whence there is little hope that he will ever be found or brought him to justice for his multiple crimes. There is nothing that we can do, save to continue our search for my niece – a task with which we are daily occupied – and forget that a degenerate such as Mr Wickham ever crossed our paths.

I pray God, sister, that you will remain in good health upon receiving such terrible news. Be strong for your remaining daughters madam.

Alas Uncle Gardiner's information could not but throw our mother into hysterics. To my sincere astonishment, it was Mary who stood up to comfort her.

“Jane, Lizzy,” she falteringly began, “I believe that Hill has not yet delivered all of this morning's post. Kitty and I will look after Mama.”

And thus we were dismissed!

How my bookish little sister knew that letters from our fiancés awaited us I never found out, but just holding his missive in my hand was enough to ease the worry that burdened me. Jane and I separated in the hallway, she to her room, I to the pretty little wilderness in the garden that I often retreated to when I desired to be alone. There, I settled myself down beneath a leafy horse chestnut tree, eager but anxious to read what my beloved had written.

His letter began with such endearments and professions of love that my heart raced at his frankness. Do not blame him for indulging in such thoughts while my sister was yet missing, I believe that it was the only thing that kept him going in those long, dark days. There is much detail that he has never shared with me about the places and people he encountered while he searched for Lydia, but from the carefully filtered version that I have been told I possess some idea of how difficult it must have been for all involved.

The substance of his letter reflected that of Uncle's – Lydia remained unfound, while Wickham had fled to America. Thus he would never become my brother, nor pay for his complicity in the Rosings fire. Mr Bingley had joined the search party, as had his cousin the Colonel – whose military connections had proved invaluable in tracing the ship that Wickham had embarked upon. It appeared that they communicated daily with my relatives, and more than once did he express his respect for my uncle and aunt. Of Father, he said very little, except that he worried for his health, so tired did he suddenly seem.

There was also news from Rosings to be shared – the house in Wiltshire was ready to receive Lady Catherine and her daughter as soon as both were fit to travel. How happy Charlotte must have been to receive similar news! My heart swelled with joy for my dear friend. On more sombre topics, a trial date had been set for those involved in the fire who had already been apprehended. It looked likely that they would hang for their crimes, and for just a moment a fleeting sense of relief that Mr Wickham was not among them passed over me. Oh, I did not have any tender feelings left for that deceiver, I simply did not like to think of any man of my acquaintance coming to such a violent end.

After that the tone of the letter again changed. The final page contained nothing but his joy at our engagement. Only now did my tears start to fall, as I thought of this good man who loved me so passionately and was willing to endure such humiliations and hardship for my sake. What must his family and servants think of the great Mr Darcy involving himself in the search for an eloping young woman?

The evening draws on my dearest, and I must soon retire if I am to rejoin your uncle early tomorrow. Come to me in my dreams, restore my soul while I slumber as only you can. Promise that it will not be long before you are there with me in person, warming my bed with your delightful body, so that I might hold you as we sleep and wake to the blessings of your love.

Elizabeth, Elizabeth, if only I could tell you how ardently I admire and love you in words that you might understand. Yet I am not so eloquent a man. Thus it will remain for me to show you once we are married in the way that only a husband can. Write soon and tell me that you will not make me wait long. I am a sad and sorry man without you beside me.

I will only add, God bless you.

Most affectionately and humbly yours,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

How shocked the people of Meryton would have been to have seen such things from the pen of the uptight Mr Darcy! Even I was taken aback by his candour, though I loved him all the more for it. One thing seemed certain – he would put every effort into finding Lydia, if only so that we could be together again. Assuming that Mr Bingley felt the same about seeing his fiancée, it surely would not be long before my sister was home.

I heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Jane coming towards me. Tears glittered in her eyes and I rose to hold out my arms to her. We embraced fiercely, so many emotions overflowing as we held each other.

“Charles says that he is still hopeful that they will find her soon,” she said questioningly when we drew apart.

“I'm sure they will,” I replied, confident in Fitzwilliam's determination to succeed. “She must be somewhere in London. She has no friends to hide her – the next time she spies a new bonnet that she likes, she will probably find her own way to our Aunt's house.

“What if she is unwell or injured? What if she is not at liberty to come home?”

“Jane, try not to think about such things. Most likely, the only thing preventing her from returning is her own sense of embarrassment at what has happened. Our uncle knows many people, he will find her I am sure of it.”

“That is what Charles wrote also. I wish it to be true,” she sighed.

Clearly the others were beginning to feel more than a little frustrated at having to remain indoors during such good weather. Mama and my sisters had not been into Meryton since learning of Lydia's disgrace, and too much time in such close proximity to each other was starting to tell.

As soon as I entered the sitting room, the tension in the atmosphere was enough to make my skin tingle. Mary sat with a pile of books, unable to settle with any of them, evidently being distracted by Kitty's constant fidgeting and Mama's inane chatter. The two girls looked up at me, hope for a more entertaining occupation on their faces. Boosted by my successes of the previous evening, I was more than happy to try and conjure up another activity. Casting about for something we could do together, I was momentarily at a loss for ideas. My sisters and I were all possessed of very different characters, and finding something that we could all enjoy was never an easy task.

When Jane followed me into the room humming a tune to herself I was suddenly inspired.

“Come Kitty,” I motioned to her. “Help me move this sofa out of the way.”

When my sisters looked at me to ask what I was up to I merely raised an eyebrow and waited for someone to assist me. With the furniture arranged to my satisfaction, I seated myself down at the pianoforte and gestured my somewhat sullen family into the centre of the room.

“Ladies,” I addressed them. “May I be the first to welcome you to the first annual Longbourn summer ball. If you would all please select a partner for the first dance, the musicians are ready to begin.”

Of course, the first complaints were heard before I even had time to place my hands on the keys.

“Oh Lizzy, you know I hate to dance.”

“What's the fun of dancing when they're aren't even any officers?”

“Elizabeth. I don't know what you can be thinking of. Have pity on my nerves! I can't stand to have so much noise in the house.”

To my relief it was Jane who stepped in to encourage them.

“I think it is a perfectly lovely idea. But if we are going to have a ball, then I insist that we should do it properly,” she said with a wink. “I haven't had nearly enough chances to wear my new blue dress, and I was thinking the other day that my cream dress with the green trim would look extremely well on you Mary.”

“You know I am not interested in such things Jane,” Mary almost snapped at her. The expression on her face did not match her words though, convincing me that a little gentle coaxing might be enough to change her mind.

“Humour us a little,” I asked her. “Please?”

“I have an old piece of ribbon that would match that dress,” added Kitty carelessly. “It's a bit stained where Lydia spilt wine on it at an assembly, but if we tie it in the right way it would hardly show.”

“Well that settles it then,” declared Jane with all the certainty of the eldest sister. “If the musicians will be happy to wait for our return,” she continued, turning to me in her most formal manner, “I believe we shall require a few moments to dress.”

And so it was that we spent a most agreeable afternoon, dressed up in our finery, with our hair arranged in the most elaborate styles we could imagine, dancing with each other while Mary and I took turns at the piano. We laughed and we twirled until we were exhausted, Lydia's foolishness temporarily forgotten. Even Mama joined in the fun, and for once we all enjoyed our time together. Mary too entered into the spirit of the entertainment, permitting Kitty and Jane to fuss over her appearance and playing the most light-hearted of jigs with a happy heart.

But it was perhaps Kitty who impressed me the most, consenting to sing for us when our feet ached and we all cried out to sit down. Her voice was sweet and well pitched, if a little weak and untrained, but what I had never really taken note of before was how naturally the foreign words of the song came to her. She was possessed of a great talent for reading and pronouncing the Italian tongue, so that the words flowed from her in a way that I had never been able to achieve. I watched her once she finished as she struggled to translate the song for herself, her lips moving silently as she sought to remember a word.

Here was something I could do for my sisters. As wife of Mr Darcy, I would have more than sufficient means to engage tutors for them, to improve their education and encourage their talents. Notwithstanding my mother's belief that they were all sufficiently grown to be out, they were really little more than children, who would no doubt improve by leaps and bounds with the right guidance. Maybe even a spell or two at Pemberley, away from the influence of Mama and Papa would do them good. I hoped, although was not at this point entirely sure, that Fitzwilliam would approve of my plans.

Eventually we all retired, exhausted, to change. But our efforts had been worth it. Gone was the earlier tension and unease, replaced by the beginnings of a new understanding of each other.

As we all trudged upstairs to change, Jane nudged me none too subtly in the direction of our mother's room.

“You must tell her at sometime Lizzy” she whispered commandingly. “At least she is now tired and will not be able to make too much fuss.”

Seeing the sense in what she said, I did indeed follow Mama to her chamber, and there told her, in what I hoped would be a convincing manner, of my engagement to Mr Darcy. I would have added news of his return to London to assist our father, had not her sudden pallor and shocked silence distracted me. Never had I seen Mama act thusly. Never had she been so quiet or so still before. I moved to sit close beside her, rubbing her hands and speaking gently to her, until she just as suddenly came out of her stupor, loudly praising my good fortune and pronouncing me to be, after all, her favorite and most faithful daughter.

I had to chuckle at that, for it was a most undeserved and untrue epithet, but I was glad to see my mother smiling, and happy to have made her proud of me – for you see, I was not so immune to my mother's opinion of me. We spent a happy half hour together, talking of my future, or rather, Mama talking of my future while I listened and attempted to keep my responses polite and well meaning.

When I was finally released to my room, with my mother's blessing, I nervously picked up pen and paper to write to my beloved. I wished to encourage him, both in his search for Lydia and his open affection towards myself. This was my first ever attempt at writing a love letter, and it cost me several pieces of paper before I even had a beginning that I was satisfied with. The words of love which flowed so easily from Fitzwilliam's pen seemed stuck inside my own.

Frustrated I got up to gaze out of my window in an attempt to structure my thoughts. What was it that I really wanted to tell him? What, more importantly, did he desire to hear from me? I did not plan to be the submissive kind of wife who only acted as her husband instructed – I cannot even begin to imagine how any woman can play that role with anything resembling happiness, but at this point, when he was in London working to save my family, his happiness and wellbeing was forefront in my mind.

Having taken the time to think, I sat down again with a renewed energy. Fitzwilliam had assumed that we understood each other before, when he almost left Augustine Lodge without speaking to me. I would not deny him the truth of my feelings now, for I deeply desired our marriage to be one of honesty and trust. And so, while feeling all the boldness of my words, I poured onto the paper all the quietest whispers of my heart. I would leave him in no doubt of my love for him, my desire to be alone with him, my trust in him to find my sister. I told him of the agony of being a woman at such a time, forced to sit at home and wait, always hoping for a letter even when no amount of words were ever enough. I told him of Mama's stunned silence upon hearing of our engagement, and of the happy times I had been enjoying with my remaining sisters.

My darling, how I wish that I might be with you! Yes, to help search for my poor sister, but I confess that my desire is more to see you. I cannot deny that I am making the most of our unlooked for period of isolation indoors, and I have been delighted to find two wonderful companions in Mary and Kitty. Jane, of course, is a joy to be with, and is running this household with a skill which I think would impress you. But in spite of all that is good here, I long every moment to see your face, to be near you and share every moment of your day.

Yet I am sure that your search is far more trying than you admit to me, and perhaps I am naïve to wish myself part of it. We are all praying for your success and protection, but you must promise me to take care and keep yourself from all danger. Until we can be together again and I can see for myself that you are unharmed, I shall be constantly uneasy with worry for you.

Mama is already beside herself with thoughts of our grand wedding! Rest assured, husband-to-be, that I have no such expectations. My only wish is that you be there and, you will overlook my boldness I hope, that we will be alone soon afterwards. From what little I have experienced of your loving attentions to me, I await with frustrated pleasure the joy of our union.

But you are a busy man, and I have already written so much. Believe me that it is only a fraction of what I would say if I were there, as I wish to be, in person.

Please take care my love – your health is my happiness now,

All my love, Elizabeth

Finally, after a torment of deliberation, I added Miss Darcy's missive to Lydia, with a postscript instructing him to deliver it to my sister when she was located and begging him not to be angry with his sister or myself, for we both acted from good, sisterly motivations.

We remained locked indoors for the next two days, the time passing slowly no matter how many activities we tried to occupy ourselves with. Mama was full of wedding plans, so much so that even Jane could take no more. Kitty and I engaged a portion of our time each day to practising her singing, her confidence increasing with each attempt. Her linguistic skills were indeed impressive, and I was gratified to see her voluntarily sitting down with her books in an effort to improve. Meanwhile Jane spent much of her time with Mary, requesting her help with any task so long as it did not involve books!

And so it was, late one evening, that we were sat in the drawing room, Mary and Jane embroidering a new bedspread for Mary's room and Kitty and I puzzling over a piece of Italian, when a grand carriage pulled into the driveway of Longbourn. Kitty, still easily excitable – but who could blame her after so long indoors – was at the window as soon as she heard the horses.

“Who is it Kitty?” inquired Jane with barely a semblance of her usual calm.

But there was only one person we knew with a carriage like that. It took me barely a glance out of the window to know that it was Fitzwilliam's carriage, so that we were all outside before the horses had come to a standstill.

Our combined relief and joy upon seeing a tired, disheveled looking Lydia descend the carriage was no doubt heard by the good inhabitants of Meryton, but as many tears as were shed over her that evening, my heart and mind were full only of the man who had brought her home to us.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, the best man I have ever known.

Chapter 19

Father and Mr Bingley also alighted from the carriage, Jane's joy at having her sister back completed by the presence of her fiancé. Our happiness at receiving Lydia back home soon abated however as even the least observant among us came quickly to perceive that she was no longer the same carefree girl who had infuriated and embarrassed us so much in the past. What I would have given that night to have her be the way we all remembered! But even the manner in which she took Papa's offered hand as she stepped out of the carriage seemed different, subdued, saddened. She had seen more of the world in one week than in the previous fifteen years of her life, and what she saw had shattered what remained of the innocence of childhood.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley joined us for a short time in the house, receiving all of our thanks for returning our precious girl to us and taking the opportunity to refresh themselves after the journey from London. There was no time for Fitzwilliam and I to converse privately, however much I wished it, but I could see from his countenance how tired he was. My heart went out to him in gratitude for all he had done. I longed to be alone with him that we might talk quietly, our hands entwined, sharing confidences as only lovers can. Yet our public conversation was all that was proper, and I could not but be pleased by his attentions to the rest of my family. His quiet concern for Lydia as he unobtrusively encouraged her to eat a little of what Mrs Hill had prepared for her endeared me further to him. Even after all that my sister had put him through because of her foolish actions, he seemed to feel more at ease with her than ever before.

My thoughts turned often to Georgiana as we all sat in the drawing room. I could never have imagined that my silly youngest sister would ever remind me of that quiet young woman, yet tonight, tragically, that was exactly who Lydia brought to mind. It was no great surprise. Had they not both been victims of the vengeful machinations of Wickham? Had they not both had their innocence corrupted by that hateful man? Suddenly I better understood my fiancé's protective attitude to Lydia, the powerful mirroring of Georgie's experience in Lydia's must have been all the more obvious to someone who had witnessed the effects of Wickham's villainy before.

Later that evening, as the family accompanied the visiting gentlemen out to their carriage, Fitzwilliam slipped a packet of papers into my hand.

“Not from me, alas,” he whispered with a small smile of regret.

“Oh Fitzwilliam,” I sighed, raising my hand to his tired cheek for a brief moment while Kitty and Mary distracted my mother's attention.

“How I have missed you my love,” he told me, nuzzling his head against the gentle pressure of my hand. “Tomorrow,” he added fervently when he perceived my parents coming to attend him into his carriage.

He bore my mother's attentions well, accepting her thanks with sincerity and grace, before surprising everyone – Mama most of all I believe – by bestowing the most gallant of kisses on her hand as he finally took his leave, bowed to us all and climbed into the waiting carriage, sinking into the soft seats with a noticeable sigh of exhaustion.

As the coach pulled away, I glanced at the letter he had given to me – Georgie's letter to Lydia. Although unread, it was tattered about the edges, as though it had sat in Fitzwilliam's coat pocket for some time. I wondered that he had not already given it to her, but sensed that perhaps the memory of Georgiana's thwarted elopement was too much for him to handle while once again having to suffer the damage that Wickham seemed determined to inflict upon him and those he cared for.

I tucked the letter under my shawl and followed the others inside, where I was not surprised to find that Jane had again taken charge, encouraging everyone to retire for the night while keeping an unobtrusive grip upon Lydia's hand. Indeed it looked as though Lydia might collapse were it not for Jane's loving support. At moments such as these, I admired my elder sister more than anyone in the world. Gently, calmly, yet with a certainty that belied her kindliness, she could restore order where previously there had been chaos in such a few words that it seemed impossible. She lived up to my expectations, offering Lydia the love and acceptance she needed, while also soothing our mother's nerves and keeping the household functioning. For my part, I did all I could to assist her, but the roles of captain and first mate had been fixed many years previous.

And so, in that same gentle spirit which guided her every action, Jane asked Kitty and Mary to escort Mama to her rooms, granted my father permission to return to his books, and, with little more than a look, bade me to prepare our room for a long sisterly talk with Lydia. Whether or not she would be ready to speak of her ordeal we did not yet know, but if she wanted our companionship then, for the first time in many years, we would willingly give it for as long as required.

In my mind I could not help but think of poor, broken Georgiana, and how long it had taken her to recover from the wickedness of George Wickham. And yet, a small voice of hope whispered, her true self was indeed beginning to reassert itself. In the warmth of the Saxby family, she had been able to smile and laugh again. How I hoped that would be the case every day when we were united as sisters. And now, Lydia was back with us once again, and it was our responsibility to help her recover her spirits, not to mention salvage what we could of our family's reputation.

Hill helped me to prepare a tray of tea and biscuits to take up to our room, along with several extra candles in case we stayed up very late talking. I took the tray upstairs, selected a night gown for Lydia, stoked the fire in and changed quickly into my night things, wishing for everything to appear as settled as possible before Lydia entered the room. Soon, I heard soft footsteps as she and Jane approached, and hastily turned back the bed coverings that Lydia might snuggle underneath them should she wish to.

“Hush, dear,” I heard Jane whisper from the other side in response to a murmur of Lydia's that I did not quite catch. “Of course Lizzy will be glad to see you. She has been as concerned as any of us. Was it not her fiancée who came to find you?”

I paled in shame at the thought that my own sister would think me unwilling to comfort her in her time of need. Oh I had truly been a bad sister if that was what she expected of me. Tears sprang to my eyes, so that when I heard the door opening I turned away, hastily wiping my face with my sleeve. Once I had regained my composure, I moved to welcome Lydia and led her to the bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that I found myself supporting almost all of her weight as she sat. Taking the handkerchief from her hand, I dried her eyes as gently as I could while quietly telling her how very glad I was that she was safe and well.

To my horror, this only caused her to cry even harder than before.

Jane and I both sought to soothe her, but to no avail. After a few moments she began to speak in a very quiet, most unLydia-like voice.

“I'm sure I don't know why everyone is being so nice to me. I hardly deserve it. I have been a very bad sister to you all.”

“Oh no Lydia,” cried Jane. “You have not been a bad sister. You have been treated most terribly by Mr Wickham, that is all.”

“You do not understand Jane. I chose to go along with him, I thought it would be a great laugh. I thought I would be the first one of my sisters to be married, and that I would go before you all.” Suddenly she looked up at me, her eyes wild with fear. “I did not know about the fire Lizzy,” she gushed. “I promise I did not. I would not have gone with him if I had thought him a criminal.”

Her distress was acute, and I reached out to embrace her, pulling her to me as I stroked her hair in the same way that Jane did for me whenever I was upset.

“Please Lizzy, you must believe me. Say that you do. Fitzwilliam told me what had happened, about his aunt and his cousin and their house. He said that Wickham might hang for what he did, if anyone ever finds him. But I truly did not know. I thought,” she broke off, overtaken yet again by tears that choked her throat.

“You thought what dear?” prompted Jane gently.

“I thought,” she gulped, “that, that he loved me.”

We sat quietly for a time, holding each other and weeping at the pain Wickham had caused to those we loved.

As Lydia's breathing began to even out, I poured us each some tea before it got completely cold, and Jane assisted Lydia in changing her clothes and brushing out her hair. I looked down at the little table in our bedroom, and saw Georgiana's letter lying next to the tray. I wondered whether I should give it to her now, whether she was strong enough to cope with the information it contained. As Jane ran the brush soothing through Lydia's long hair, I fingered the fine paper contemplatively, only looking up when I heard Lydia question me.

“What is that Lizzy?”

Her voice, so unfamiliar in its new quietness startled me, and I found myself prompted to tell her the truth.

“It is a letter that a friend gave to me for you.” At her quizzical look I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for my sister's hand.

“You are not the only unfortunate young woman that Mr Wickham has preyed upon,” I told her in what I hoped was a gentle manner. She gasped in response and sat up a little straighter.

“Who else? Mary King?” she asked so quickly that she almost reminded me of the old Lydia.

“No,” I said quietly. “Someone you have never met.”

“But someone that Fitzwilliam knows,” she guessed. The quickness of her mind astonished me, until it occurred to me that maybe someone else had already informed her of the Ramsgate affair.

“Yes,” I cautiously replied, my desire to protect both Darcys preventing me from saying more.

“Only he was so – different to how he had been before, Fitzwilliam that is, when he found me. And he was hardly cross or anything – la,” she smiled weakly, “he even asked me to call him Fitzwilliam! He told me then that he had known Wickham for years, just like George had said, only his version of the story was very different from what we had been told. But it always seemed like he was holding something back. That he couldn't have been so angry at him over a few debts.” She looked up at me and meekly asked the question I had been dreading. “Who is she?”

I glanced to Jane for support, and gripped the letter in my hand so tightly that it almost ripped. “His sister,” I whispered, praying to the Almighty that Lydia could be trusted to keep this scandal to herself for the remainder of her earthly life.

“Miss Darcy?” Jane exclaimed in shock.

I nodded, relieved that Lydia's only reaction so far had been to freeze up completely. “I believe that she has written about what happened to her in this letter. She was present when I found out about Lydia's – about Lydia,” I corrected myself before I said something I shouldn't, “and I think she hoped that she might be able to spare Lydia some of the sufferings that she has experienced because of that cad.”

“May I read it?” asked Lydia bravely, reaching out to take the letter from me.

“You realise that you must never tell anyone about what you are about to read,” I warned her gravely. “Many people's happiness would be ruined were you to breathe so much as a word of it to anyone. Even Kitty and Mary must never be told.”

My heart broke over how abashed she looked. “I know,” she nodded. “If I ever wish to see my sisters married and become the sole remaining Miss Bennet, then there are many secrets I must keep. Father and Fitzwilliam and I spoke about it in London before we came here. I am so sorry I put your reputations at risk Jane. I did not mean to,” she began to sob again. “He said that he loved me.”

Truly, that despicable man had deceived my sister most wickedly. When she regained her senses, she sat quietly and read dear Georgiana's letter to herself, gasping in places and nodding silently in others. I believe that Jane observed her closely while she read, while I wandered to the window, eager to look at something else for a while even if it was only the darkness outside.

Once she had finished the letter, Lydia remained so still and quiet that she eventually fell asleep in Jane's arms. Kissing each of them goodnight, I left them to share the bed that Jane and I usually shared, and crept into Kitty and Mary's room. To my surprise I found them both awake, full of concern for their youngest sister. Quietly, I reassured them that she seemed physically well, but somewhat lacking in spirit. Mary suggested that we all pray for her before retiring to bed, an idea which we both approved of, although I suspect that Kitty fell asleep almost as soon as Mary instructed us to close our eyes.

It will hardly come as a shock to you to hear that I crept out of the house almost as soon as it was light. I doubted very much that Fitzwilliam would be up and about so early after having seen how exhausted he was the night before, but if there was even the slightest chance of encountering him while we could be alone, I was not going to miss it.

The early morning sunshine warmed my back as I rambled about the pathways near my home. If he was to come, I was fairly certain that my love would be on horseback, thus allowing him to cover a much greater distance than I could manage. Idly I wondered if he would wish for me to learn to ride once we were married, after all, no doubt every accomplished woman of his acquaintance could surely do such a simple thing. For all my confidence in other areas though, I had never felt entirely safe on top of a horse, and was somewhat doubtful of my ability to appear composed and assured while riding one.

I was happy to distract myself with such thoughts, which were only mildly disconcerting compared to the events of real life at that time, while waiting to see if Fitzwilliam would arrive. I tried to imagine myself as mistress of a grand estate, as a wife and a mother. Soon, I would be responsible for running two households, for visiting tenants and seeing to their needs, for helping to care for Georgiana and assisting her at her coming out. It was all rather overwhelming! I looked forward to talking more to Fitzwilliam about it one day, when we were at leisure, with all the cares of today behind us, to determine his ideas on the matter. He did not strike me as the most demanding of husbands, yet no doubt he would have expectations about his wife and her duties. And of course, he would want an heir.

I blushed at the mere thought of such intimacy, glad to be alone when my thoughts turned in that most unsuitable direction. With such a gossip for a mother, it was impossible that I could ever have got to be one and twenty without having some idea of a woman's marital duties and what they involved, although I felt I lacked clarification on many details. I had however, gained the certain impression that it was not always an unpleasant event. In fact, several of my mother's friends had often intimated that they rather enjoyed it.

“Elizabeth.”

I span round, thrilled to see Fitzwilliam approaching at a gallop. As he drew close, he all but jumped off his horse and gathered me into his arms, holding me so close that I struggled for breath.

“My Lizzy,” he sighed, “You cannot know how much I have missed you.”

Somehow I believed that to be true. For while I had missed my fiancée terribly, it was he who seemed to feel the need to physically crush us together. Not that I minded. After the tumult and loneliness of the last week, to be held so strongly by the man I had come to rely on so fully was wonderful indeed.

We remained together for some moments, shuddering sighs ripping through Fitzwilliam's body as the tension flowed out of him.

“Oh Lizzy,” he eventually sighed, relaxing his hold on me and searching out my eyes. “You are all the remedy a man needs from his woes. I thought I would not survive much longer without your presence. How I made it to eight and twenty without you beside me I shall never know.”

I smiled in tender amusement, not wishing to take his gushing too seriously, yet aware of the depth of feeling behind his sentiments nonetheless. “I have missed you too my love.”

“And that is all you have to say to me? After over a week apart, with barely one kiss to sustain me all this time – and 'you have missed me'? While I have pined and withered without you.”

“You hardly look withered, Mr Darcy,” I replied saucily, happy to find him just as handsome as ever and still willing to engage in foolish banter.

“Well, I do still have a housekeeper and a full staff to look after me, Miss Bennet, so I suppose there was little chance of that happening. But I do think I deserve to have been more than missed. Can you not say that you have had at the very least a few sleepless nights without me? A loss of appetite, a reduced attention span, an inability to follow a conversation with your usual degree of wit and intelligence?”

“I think you would wish me a simpleton sir! Is that what is required of a girl in love these days? Maybe among the refined ladies of the ton, but I assure you, we Hertfordshire girls are made of sterner stuff.” I smiled up at him and found myself in sudden need of the comfort of his embrace once again. Only here, ensconced in his arms, did I feel confident enough to whisper to him, “I have missed you so very much Fitzwilliam. This last week has been agony without you. Even while I was so grateful to you for going to seek my sister, I could not wish you back to me fast enough.” A quiet sob escaped me as I relaxed in the solace of his arms.

“Do not speak of gratitude Elizabeth. It is not what I seek, nor what I deserve. If I had acted as I should,” he broke off.

The emotion that choked his voice broke my heart. Taking a moment to consider what he had said, I realised that there was more to his reaction to the news of Lydia's elopement than his wish to marry me. Suddenly, various pieces of the puzzle that was my fiancé fell into place. Somehow, he had made connections between events that had not even occurred to me.

He blamed himself.

Chapter 20

However unappealing such an idea was at the moment of our reunion, I knew that we had to talk, to share our knowledge of recent events in order for them not to divide us.

“Come,” I instructed him, leading him and his mount off the path where we were currently stood and into a small copse. He let me lead him like a child, holding my hand and following faithfully until I reached a small copse where three boulders stood. How often Charlotte, Jane and I had come here to read together as children. He released his hold on the horse's reins, leaving the animal to roam freely while we talked.

Bidding him take a seat, I proceeded to quietly relate to him all that had occurred at Longbourn since my return. He listened with an attention I had not expected, giving me hope that his improved behaviour around my admittedly difficult family was not limited to the night before. Indeed, he seemed most pleased to hear of Kitty's linguistic attempts and of Mary's increased involvement in things other than her books. In light of our previous conversation regarding her, I could not help but sing Jane's praises to him, yet giving her no more than her due in crediting her with the smooth running of the estate and much of the improvement that had been affected in our sisters in such a short time.

Finally I came to the end of all I had to tell. Knowing that his story would be the harder, both to relate and to hear, I wondered how best to broach the subject. Thankfully, he saved me from such a task, rising from his stone and taking a seat at my feet, facing the same direction as me and leaning his head back against my lap.

“And now I suppose it is my turn. Forgive me, my Lizzy,” he began, “but there is not much of it that is not detestable. Your father wishes to keep much of what has occurred secret, but I have made no promise.” He moved onto his knees and turned to face me, the composure of his face doing little to mask the distress in his eyes. “You must tell me though if it is too much, but I have learned from bitter experience that you will be of most assistance to your sister if you can speak to her of what she has been through. Besides, you are one of the strongest women I have ever met and I do not intend to keep secrets from my wife.”

“Go on,” I told him. He looked at me carefully, as though to ascertain how much detail to give me, pressing his hand to my lips before resuming his previous seat.

“Very well.

“Upon arriving in London, I went straight to Bingley's house, where I was able to meet with your Father and Mr Gardiner. Over a late supper, I acquainted them with the entire history of my dealings with Wickham and asked your Father for his forgiveness for not telling him sooner of the danger to his daughters.” Hearing the pain in his voice, I laid my hands on top of his head, massaging his scalp with my fingers in the same way that I would do for years to come whenever he was in need of soothing. For a moment he was quiet, relaxing his head against my touch, his eyes shut in contemplation. “You father is a kind man Elizabeth,” he eventually commented. “We did not argue for long over who was to bear the greater burden of responsibility, but soon set to work formulating a plan to find your sister.

“Your Uncle, I believe, already wrote to you of Wickham's escape. It was my cousin Richard's men who discovered that he had fled on a ship the very day that I had arrived in town. His absence was almost a relief to us, except that it made the search for Miss Lydia even harder. Wickham was known about town, he had a whole network of contacts who could be turned against him for a price. But an unknown and unprotected young woman was a different matter.

“It took several days of searching and the payment of numerous bribes before we had our first solid lead. From there things progressed quickly, and without burdening you with superfluous detail, suffice it to say that we finally traced her to a part of town that none of us had ever visited, such is its reputation for violence and debasement. In the end the trail led to a small inn. Even before we could identify the building which made the dubious claim of hospitality, I could see that your father was beside himself at the thought of his daughter in such a place. Yet he showed a courage I would not have expected of him and remained with us until we had discovered her.

He turned again to face me, holding my hands in his and resting them in my lap. “You are a well read woman my dear. I believe you are aware of some of the depths to which human beings can sink. Wickham had taken your sister to this inn, on the pretence of hiding her there while he secured their transport to London. I am sorry to tell you this, but he had his pleasure from her – I think you know of what I speak – and abandoned her while he made his own escape, leaving her to the mercy of the inn keeper.

“I suppose the only good thing to be said is that the inn keeper was a woman. Other than Wickham, we have her word that no man has touched her, although, you must be aware of this – there is yet a chance that she may be with child. Your mother and Hill will know the signs if you and Jane do not.”

At that my composure completely broke down. I pulled my hands away from his and stood, pacing around as tears fell unheeded. It truly was unthinkable. Poor poor foolish stupid Lydia. Fitzwilliam was sadly mistaken if he thought my reading would have prepared me for such a thing. How could anyone ever be prepared for such pain within their own family? I rubbed the tears off my face with my hands, only to have them instantly replaced by new ones.

“It is too much,” I cried. “How will we ever bear so much! Whatever will become of us? We are ruined after all. Oh poor stupid Lydia.”

“All will be well Elizabeth, I promise.”

I looked up, not expecting to find him so close. “Even you cannot fix this Mr Darcy. Even you cannot make a child disappear.”

“No, I cannot, but I do believe that we have a solution that will be acceptable to everyone. Will you hear the rest of what I have to say?”

Sobs racked my body as he led me back to the stones. Removing his coat and laying it on the floor, he gestured for me to sit, positioning himself slightly behind me and encouraging me to rest against him. When I did so, he embraced me in his arms and pressed me against his heart, squeezing me tighter whenever he sensed that my crying had intensified.

“I will not tell you not to cry my love, but allow me to offer you the hope of redemption for your family, for I will not allow this to damage your reputation or that of your sisters. Wickham is out of our lives for good, and I will not rest until I have rectified all of the wrongs that I have allowed that blackguard to commit.”

I wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that it was not so, but my weeping overwhelmed me, leaving me incapable of speech. Instead, I wrapped my hand over his as he held me, as though I could convey my love for him through touch alone.

“As for your sister, I have proposed to your father the same remedy which I stumbled upon for my own. Anthony and Emily have already agreed to have her live with them if she is found to be with child. They will care for her until after the babe is born, at which point we will again have to decide how best to provide for them both, but you may rest assured that I will always see them cared for. In the meantime, I would like to offer Miss Mary and Miss Kitty a choice regarding their own futures. From what you have told me this morning, I hope that they will be amenable to one of the schemes that your father and I have in mind.

“The first option, and the one that your father favours, is for them to go away to school. There are numerous establishments that cater for the daughters of gentlemen, and I believe that Miss Kitty in particular would enjoy the companionship which they offer. The alternative is that a companion could be found for the girls who would live at Longbourn and encourage them in their studies, just as Mrs Annesley does for Georgiana.”

“You would do that for my sisters?” I asked, my tears drying in amazement at his generosity.

“For my sisters soon. Besides, it is the very least I can do,” he added in a voice full of contrition.

I turned in his arms and placed my fist under his chin to force him to meet my gaze. “You are not to blame for what has happened here Fitzwilliam,” I told him firmly. “No more than you are to blame for what happened to Georgiana or to your aunt and cousin. It is George Wickham, plain and simple, who has caused all of this suffering. You have done nothing to earn anybody's disapprobation, and everything to gain their love and respect.”

“No Elizabeth,” he said, turning his head away. “You are very kind to me, but I know that I have let my own sister and your family down, and I cannot escape that responsibility. The fault is mine, and so must the remedy be. I will brook no argument.”

“Will you even hear my interpretation of events?” I asked, kneeling beside him. “You were left to care for Georgiana at a very young age. You have always done your best and have brought her up to be a charming and accomplished young woman. But part of the process of growing up is that of adventuring and exploring. You were right to allow her to go to Ramsgate last summer,” I ignored his attempt to interrupt me and carried on speaking over him. “She deserved the opportunity for some fun. No-one could ever have known that Wickham would prey on her as he did, and no-one would blame Georgiana for responding as she did to the attentions of such a liar. But you are most certainly not responsible for what happened.

“And as for Lydia – did I not also know of Wickham's past? Yet I do not sit here blaming myself. For truth, I have examined my behaviour closely enough over this last week, and I accept that some share of the responsibility for my sister's wild behaviour must be mine, for I did not do all I could to prevent it, yet the major part of the blame must again lie forever with the man who deceived her.

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn my love,” I said more hesitantly, “but just because your father loved Wickham does not mean that you dishonour his memory by acknowledging the destruction visited upon your family by your former playmate. Your father, of whom you and Georgiana speak so fondly, was the first person to be taken in by that despicable man. If he had known the truth about his godson, he too would have wanted him out of his life and away from those he loved.”

It was Fitzwilliam's turn to get up and pace about. “Please Elizabeth. I cannot talk about this.”

“No,” I fairly snapped at him. “You would rather wallow in your supposed guilt without ever pausing to think about whether you are being fair on yourself or not.”

“I could have stopped George long ago if only I had been willing to put aside my own false pride.”

“Really?” I scoffed. “You could single handedly have stopped him from preying on young women and changed him from a selfish, greedy, resentful reprobate into a worthy member of society?”

Seeing him walk away I feared I had gone too far, but really, someone had to tell him. I began to get the feeling that marrying Fitzwilliam carried the responsibility of becoming the only person ever to tell the great Mr Darcy of Pemberley what to do. Both of us were going to need some time to get used to the idea.

I picked up my skirts and ran after him.

“Please wait,” I cried, not wanting to appear red and panting in front of him. “Fitzwilliam!”

He stopped his pacing, though he did not turn to face me. “I am sorry I spoke so,” I said. “I should not have teased you as I did. But I think that you owe it to yourself, not to mention Georgiana and me, to stop blaming yourself for his every wrongdoing. You are a good man Mr Darcy, and I will not have you doubting yourself because of that miserable excuse for a human being.”

Amazed by my daring, I walked around him and laid my hands on his chest as I spoke, hoping that the intimacy would give him pause to consider my point. After an agonising wait in which I feared he would walk away again he finally met my gaze.

“I cannot promise to forgive my self so easily my darling, but since you have commanded it, I will give the matter some thought.”

It seemed that was the best I could hope for at that moment and, distracted by the wandering of my own hands, I let the matter drop. Even with my gloves on, the feel of his firm body was delicious. As my fingers traced the lapels of his jacket, I was aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, our closeness causing all serious thought to fall out of my head. A moment later his arms were about me, crushing me to him in a passionate kiss. He murmured words of love to me as he lavished his affectionate attention on me, his hands fighting their way under the edges of my bonnet and into my hair.

Withdrawing my hands from him for a moment, I untied the wretched thing and threw it to the wind. His hands immediately buried themselves in my simple hairstyle, quickly causing it to come lose and fall around my face. He stepped back, looking quite pleased with himself, although I am sure I must have looked a state. I would have to be careful to sneak back into the house without anyone seeing me.

“I really should return home soon,” I whispered, afraid to break the impassioned silence into which we had fallen.

“Then I shall walk you there,” he replied gallantly, fetching his coat and his horse before offering me his arm. I took advantage of the opportunity to compose myself, tidying my hair as best I could, but when I looked round for my bonnet I was thrown into a panic when I realised that it was nowhere to be seen. After a search of some minutes, Mr Darcy discovered the offending item under a tangle of blackberry bushes, but by the time we had managed to retrieve it from its hiding place it was in no fit state to be seen. The ribbons had been cut to shreds and the fabric of the hat stained with mud and berry juice.

With no other option, I held the hat in my hand as we walked, hoping that I would get away with simply telling anyone we met that I had taken it off as I had a headache and had hoped the feel of the wind in my hair might soothe it. I thought that it sounded like something I would do!

As we walked, our moods sombred again at the thought of the broken little girl who slept in my bed.

“I could not help wondering how it is that she calls you Fitzwilliam and speaks of you with such fondness,” I commented to him with a sad smile.

He looked at me as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I needed her to trust me. And she would hardly have done that if I had continued to be the proud, silent man that people in Hertfordshire had thought me. Instead I endeavoured to treat her as I would Georgiana. I was truthful with her, and kind, I hope, and over time she and I came to be friends.”

“You will understand how unlikely I ever thought it to be that I would hear you say that sir,” I laughed,

“Indeed, and you have my complete agreement. But I can see now that Miss Lydia has the potential to become a charming young woman. After all, does she not share her lively spirits with her perfectly wonderful older sister?”

Deliberately mistaking him I replied, “There are not many who would call Jane lively sir, but I most wholeheartedly agree that she is perfectly wonderful. Perhaps you should be careful not to let Mr Bingley hear you speaking of his fiancée in such warm terms though.”

He smiled down at me and fondly tightened his grip on my arm.

“But seriously Fitzwilliam, you feel there is hope for Lydia?”

“As long as she can recover from the hardships she has suffered these last weeks, then I do believe there to be a chance that she will emerge from this experience as a more refined, more mature young lady. But it will be a long road and she will need all the support we can offer her.”

“It sounds as though you have already helped her to make a good beginning my love,” I thanked him as we neared the house.

“And now it is your turn to be there for her,” he encouraged me. He pulled me into his arms one last time before we parted. “Mr Bingley and I would like to call on your family later.”

“You are always welcome sir.”

“Well in that case my Lizzy,” he murmured, bending his head to mine and claiming my lips in another knee shaking kiss.

Several minutes later I stumbled breathlessly into the house, smuggling my ruined bonnet in unnoticed and rushing to my room where I found Lydia and Jane already dressed. Guessing where I had been, Jane cast me a reproachful look, while my youngest sister did something I could never remember her doing before and caught me in a sisterly embrace.

“I am so glad that Fitzwilliam is to be our brother Lizzy,” she whispered. “He truly loves you very much.”

Chapter 21

Breakfast at Longbourn was a curiously quiet affair that morning, my recently matured younger sisters all behaving with a decorum that they had never hitherto displayed. As much as I had longed for such improvement in their manners on many previous occasions, to actually see such a thing played out before me was nonetheless entirely disconcerting. Casting my eyes round at their saddened faces, as they politely asked for the butter to be passed and ensured that our father's tea cup was sufficiently filled, I struggled to repress a desire for the hustle and bustle which were usually so distinctive of Bennet family meals.

Realising that the sense of gloom that had descended over the table risked engulfing us all if not dispersed henceforth, I decided to break the heavy silence, my voice sounding too loud in the sombre room.

“Well I hope that you will all have calmed down somewhat by the time that Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley arrive this morning, for I have no doubt that if they find us as spirited and boisterous as this they will hardly get a word in edgewise.”

Lydia looked up for the first time since sitting down. “Fitzwilliam is coming this morning?”

I nodded, intrigued by the strange look that overcame my sister's face at my news. Without saying another word, she sat up a little straighter and tugged on the bodice of her dress, not to lower the neckline as she might have done but a few weeks before, but simply, it appeared, to tidy her clothing so that she might be at her most presentable.

“You have found yourself a good man Lizzy,” my father commented quietly. “A very good man indeed. Tell him to come into my study when he arrives would you? I should like to ask his opinion on something.”

In fact, to my great amusement, when the gentlemen from Netherfield did arrive, my whole family seemed to have something to relate to them. Kitty wished to demonstrate her increasing command of Italian, her own skills complimented by Mr Bingley's near fluency in the same language, while Mary not altogether unobtrusively seated herself at the pianoforte in the same room and proceeded to play one of the pieces she and I had recently been working on. She was rewarded for her efforts by a number of sincere compliments from both of our visitors, so that everyone was pleased to see her flush with the joy that comes from well deserved praise. Father did indeed request the presence of both gentlemen in his study to assist him in some matter that he was struggling to resolve. All this they did with seeming good humour and all possible politeness, although I dare say that they were as keen as Jane and I to be away from our amassed family.

Alas, before we could make our escape, Mama too was determined to have her share of attention.

“Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley,” she called to them, “I was looking through my girl's treasure boxes this morning when I came across these portraits. I thought that you might be pleased to see your brides as they were as children.”

Jane and I stared at each other in shocked horror. Surely Mama was not about to get out her own paintings of us as babies? Although she had not exercised the talent of late, our mother had been a painter of some achievement when younger, an accomplishment that had included painting all of her babies in their natural state. To our dismay, it was already too late, the curiosity of our husbands-to-be had been aroused and there was no way that we could prevent them from viewing our mother's creations.

If my blush was anything like that which Jane suffered as we watched the two men gather around our mother's chair I can safely assume that I was redder than the roses that grew in the garden. Not, for once, that I was embarrassed by Mama's actions – for her paintings were indeed remarkably good - but the fact remained that I was naked in the picture that she was about to reveal to Fitzwilliam. A babe in arms perhaps, but still, as naked as Eve.

He looked up and caught me watching him, an expression of deep amusement on his face.

“Two of the most beautiful babies I have ever seen, Mrs Bennet,” Mr Bingley said easily.

“Indeed,” Fitzwilliam agreed, “and most skillfully captured by the artist.”

I was shocked to hear the words of praise fall so easily from his tongue and wondered how he would react upon finding out that my mother was the object of his admiration.

“It has been a long time since she picked up her brushes, but I would agree with you Mr Darcy. My wife has a true gift for capturing portraits.”

If I had been surprised by my mother's actions, my father's gentle words shocked me even more. Who were these people who looked so like my family and yet acted so strangely? Mr Darcy, it seemed, was less shocked, evidently having guessed the identity of the painter who had produced two such intimate portraits.

“May I enquire, madam, as to whether you have any other examples of your fine work?” he asked courteously, knowingly granting my mother's greatest wish. He threw me an amused glance as we all watched my mother dive beneath her chair to retrieve her sketch books and several other watercolours that she had painted in her younger days. My father had years ago had two of her works framed and hung in his bedroom, where they had remained undisturbed until Mama had apparently removed them that morning.

I realised, as I watched my mother so happily show off her drawings, that I could not begrudge her the attention she craved, and for once she had something to display that was worth looking at. Always keen to present her daughters in the best light though, it was not long before Mama was once again demanding compliments that focused less on her drawings and more on the models whom she had so lovingly painted.

I suppose it was just lucky that the two gentlemen she chose to sing our praises to were themselves somewhat taken in by our charms, so that the three of them – four if one counts my father who added the odd comment – spent a united few minutes speaking of how lovely we, the Misses Bennet, collectively were.

As soon as I deemed it anywhere near polite, I grabbed Fitzwilliam's arm and dragged him away from the others.

“Treasure box, Miss Bennet?” he murmured in my ear as we left the room.

“When we were born, mother set aside a trunk for each of us, decorated with our initials. Inside it Mama stores those things that she considers to be precious, “ I somewhat brusquely explained.

“And what other delights does your treasure box hold?”

“I am sure I do not know what you mean sir,” I replied, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead and desperately wishing to change the subject.

“Your milk teeth perhaps, a Christening gown, some tiny shoes, your first sampler,” he continued.

“Fitzwilliam,” I warned him.

“What? Your mother seemed more than happy to share the contents of the box with me. I am merely attempting to learn more about it so that I may please her through my interest. Plus,” he added, “I wish to learn the contents so that I might best know what I can add to them. For I would hope to spend the rest of my life adding to your treasure my darling.”

“Ah, but it is not my treasure is it? I hardly know what is in there. Besides, she has already shown you the most embarrassing artifact.”

He laughed. “Yes, I must admit that I was rather shocked to be shown a picture of my bride to be in the altogether, and by my future mother in law of all people. I must check with my married friends, but I am not at all sure that this is the way things are meant to go.”

“Well I am glad you find some amusement in it sir,” I said, unable to keep an entirely straight face.

“Oh I do, but I am still debating whether or not I must call Bingley out over it. After all, it is my job to protect you now, and here your mother is showing him pictures of you as God intended.”

“Alas, though, you have seen his fiancée in the same state. I fear that there is no way of successfully resolving such a problem.”

“Indeed, you are right as usual my love,” he said with a resigned sigh, before pulling me into the recess by the window for a furtive kiss while the attention of everyone else was diverted by the entrance of Hill with the tea things.

“I have had a letter from my aunt and uncle,” he said after far too brief an embrace. Removing to a proper distance, I took the folded packet he offered me, opening it only when he signalled that I should. “I believe they are pleased to hear of out engagement.”

I cast my eyes up to his, desperate to see hope rather than doubt on his face. It was asking too much to think that Lady Catherine and her daughter would ever be reconciled to our marriage, but the fear that the rest of his family would not accept me either was strong enough to keep me awake at night.

Seeing him nod encouragingly, I dared to read the letter, an unrestrained smile taking over my face merely at the salutation. Apparently four pages were hardly sufficient to contain his aunt's congratulations and questions. I laughed aloud at her insistent requests for information on Fitzwilliam's choice of bride. Her sources had evidently been unable to provide adequate reports, although Georgiana, the Colonel and even Lady Catherine were quoted in the course of her lengthy missive.

My joy was somewhat quieted when I learnt of Lady Matlock's wish to see her nephew married in London. It had not occurred to me to think that we would be married anywhere other than at Longbourn, but the expectations placed on Fitzwilliam were different to those of most people. Of course he would be expected to hold a grand, society wedding. I decided to think on the idea when I was alone, and chose to dwell for the moment only on those parts of the letter that were perfectly pleasing to us both.

“Your aunts seem to possess rather different temperaments,” I commented as I finished reading.

“Indeed,” he drawled in agreement. “I rather get the impression though, that this aunt will be far more welcoming to you than Lady Catherine ever was. I was thinking that maybe we could go to London to meet them.” The way he said it showed it to be question, but I got the distinct feeling that there was only one answer I could give. Luckily, since it would give me a chance to see my own relations again, as well as Georgiana, I was more than happy to agree to his plan.

Before we could leave for London, there was much to be done at home.

To ensure that our family would experience no censure from the local society of Meryton, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley made a deliberate effort to accompany us around the town on several occasions, deliberately being seen with my mother and father as well as with each of my sisters in various groupings. Lydia was ever keen to be in the company of her new hero, to the point that I was almost tempted to draw her to one side and beg her to allow me some time alone with my fiancé. In the end though, once it was decided that only Jane and I would go to London, it seemed churlish to deny her time with him, especially given the improvement she was making under his care. And for once, I was thankful for Fitzwilliam's ability to face any social situation with a semblance of calm, for I believe that was the only way in which we girls were confident enough to walk into church that Sunday morning. Luckily the whisperers were few, no doubt quietened by dear Mr Darcy's forbidding countenance.

But to my amazement, my entire family stayed on their best behaviour for over a whole week! Even the town gossips soon forgot to speak of Lydia, led of course by the merchants who quickly realised the value in remaining friends with the future Bennet son-in-laws. Lady Lucas allowed Kitty to call on Maria again, Mrs Long bustled into Longbourn on alternate mornings and my Father even ventured so far as to pay a visit to some of the neighbourhood gentleman. If not for the sad turn of my youngest sister's face, I could almost have rejoiced at the change in my dear family.

On the fourth day after her return to us, I came across Lydia avidly writing a letter. Not being a good correspondent, I wondered to whom she was writing with such dedication.

“Oh Lizzy,” she cried on perceiving me. “You must read this – it is from Miss Darcy! It came in the post this morning. She has asked if we might write to each other – if her brother agrees of course – but look, it is such a lovely letter. Miss Darcy must be a very fine lady.”

I grinned at the return of some of her usual enthusiasm and picked up the letter that lay on the table. It was indeed the letter of a lady, steady, beautiful handwriting and on the very best of papers. I returned the letter to her unread, certain that Georgiana would not even know how to write anything improper.

“But you must read it,” Lydia protested as she handed it back to me. “Miss Darcy says so specifically. For although she has chosen me as her particular correspondent, she did not want you to feel left out.”

Now that definitely sounded more like my sister, but I did as she asked and was gratified by Georgie's kind concern for Lydia's well being and her delicately phrased confession of affection for me. We were to meet again in London, an occasion I was greatly looking forward to.

I contemplated sitting down with Lydia to compose several missives of my own, when out of the corner of my eye I perceived two handsome gentlemen on horseback turn into our driveway. Hoping that I could intercept them before Lydia saw them, I excused myself, grabbed Jane's arm as she passed me in the hallway and together we ran laughingly out to meet them.

What a lovely morning we had! The first we had shared without any sisters or parents or well wishers to stifle our pleasure in simply being together. And if we weren't exactly together as a foursome the whole time I think you will forgive us. Finally we had chance for private moments and swift embraces, lovers' whispers and girlish laughter. Jane and I felt ourselves the most fortunate, blessed young women in the world, and I would venture to say that our fiancés did not get on that badly either!

After roaming the gardens for over an hour, Fitzwilliam called to Bingley that we might wander further afield. I can hardly express the surprise I felt at seeing my mild sister and her betrothed round the corner of the still room mounted together on his horse. Never had I thought to see proper Jane so frivolously seated on her fiancé's lap, let alone on horseback as well! The smile on her face and her obvious enjoyment at shocking me so was clear for anyone to see as Fitzwilliam stepped forward to offer her a means of descending gracefully before leading us all out of the grounds, clearly set on a particular destination.

As we walked, I was pleased to see Fitzwilliam offer his arm to Jane. With all the attentions of my family, I had been wishing that the two of them might have an opportunity to get better acquainted with one another before we left for London where we would, after all, be spending much time with him. Only snippets of their conversations floated back to me, but I did hear Lady Catherine's name mentioned a few times, along with Lydia's, Georgiana's and mine.

What pride swelled up in me as I thought of what a remarkable man I was to marry. Truly he had his faults, but whosoever does not? Turning to my companion I asked him,

“Will you tell me about Pemberley Charles? If it is not too boring that is. Only,”

“Go on,” he encouraged me when I paused.

“Only, I never expected to find myself as mistress of a great estate and I am finding myself to be more than a little nervous at the thought.”

I got the impression that he was about to agree with my sentiments, until he thought better of it and adopted a more conciliatory approach. “Well, Pemberley is a rather grand place, and Darcy can be, shall we say, rather fastidious about how it is organised. But you must remember that it has been without a mistress for over ten years now. I am sure Darcy will not expect you to take on all the duties that his mother carried out immediately upon your arrival.”

“But what of the staff?” I pressed him. “Surely they will be anticipating their new mistress to assume responsibility for the house at the very least. And I am sure that the housekeeper there will have very particular ideas of what my duties will be.”

“Reynolds?” he laughed. “Rest assured Elizabeth, you could not hope for a kinder, more capable housekeeper than Mrs Reynolds. Why, she has been at Pemberley longer than Darcy himself!”

“She was his nanny was she not?”

“Aye, but she also grew up on the estate. And really, of all the things you could worry about, Mrs Reynolds need not be one of them.”

“So you think there are things I should be worried about then?” I teased.

“Oh definitely,” he concurred, matching my tone exactly. “There are the drawing rooms that must be constantly reorganised to keep them in the current fashions, the mistress's garden that you must personally tend and keep in a state of eternal perfection, the accounts which must always balance, letters of thanks and regret to be sent personally from the mistress, soirées to organise and balls to hold, staff to hire and staff to fire. Rest assured, dear sister, there will be more than enough to occupy your time!”

“You Charles Bingley, are a cruel and monstrous fellow to tease me so,” I responded, failing to keep my face serious as I did so. “Jane,” I called, “come and relieve me of this man's teasing.”

On regaining my fiancé's arm, I decided that the time had indeed come to air my fears to him in greater detail.

He looked at me with some surprise when I had finished. “I confess Lizzy, that I had not given it a great deal of thought. But rest assured, you are one of the most capable women I know, and I have complete faith that you will be able to fulfil whatever is asked of you.”

“Truly my confidence does rise with every attempt to intimidate me,” I agreed, “but yet, what a task to take on sir. I have never been faced with a challenge so great.”

Chapter 22

Posted on Sunday, 6 May 2007

We found out a few days later that Lydia was, thank the Lord, not with child, the incontrovertible evidence keeping her bed bound for a day. Never had we been so pleased to see our sister ill. As delicately as possible, the news was conveyed by my parents to Fitzwilliam, whose true relief at the information was clear to see.

As soon as she was well enough to come downstairs again, my father summoned all of our family, including his future sons, to the drawing room for a rather ominous sounding announcement.

“Mary, Kitty, Lydia, the time has come to decide what is to become of you. I believe you know the options before you – a companion to live a Longbourn with us to guide your studies, or a place at school, where you shall be able to meet other girls and experience more of life than you can here in Meryton. What I wish to know now is if any of you have a strong preference in favour of either of these options?”

Nervously did my sisters look around the room, intimidated, no doubt, by the serious nature of the conversation that they were being invited to participate in and well aware of the fact that our father would be well within his rights to decide matters on their behalf.

“Perhaps it would help if we might know a little more about the school you had in mind sir,” suggested Jane when it appeared that none of our sisters felt ready to offer an opinion.

Kitty at least was ready to second this request, adding that she would feel more than a little worried at going too far away from home.

“Mr Bingley has been kind enough to enquire of the school mistress who oversaw the education of his sisters,” Papa informed us. “Many of the staff who were employed there during Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley's time have now moved on of course, but the school has been able to provide me with excellent accounts from gentlemen whose daughter's have been there more recently.”

“The institution is on the outskirts of London,” added Mr Bingley kindly, “and is really very pleasant. All girls share a room with just one other student, and the curriculum is varied and, I am told, quite modern. You would be able to continue your studies of Italian, Miss Kitty, and they have some of the very best musical tutors who I am sure you would enjoy studying with Miss Mary.”

I had found it difficult to guess what Mary's preference might be, but none of us were surprised that Kitty was keen on the idea of school. Lydia had so far also remained very quiet. I wondered if she did not feel somewhat overawed at the thought of joining an institution where so many of the other students would be far ahead of her in terms of their education. Perhaps a more private conversation between our father and her would be more conducive to hearing her thoughts.

Given the train of my thoughts, I was astonished when it was in fact Lydia who spoke up next, expressing neither an enthusiasm for school nor a desire for a live in governess – for such she would need. Instead, she asked if it might still be at all possible for her to visit with the Saxbys on the Kent coast. I had all but forgotten their incredibly generous offer of shelter should it be necessary, but could not help feeling that it was asking too much of them to take in a young girl who had no real need for their hospitality.

“For Miss Darcy has spoken so kindly of them, and Lizzy has told me so much of them also, that I confess I was almost looking forward to having to live with them. But if it would be too much of an imposition, then I suppose I must not go.”

“And what would be your preference if you were not to go to Kent Miss Lydia?” Fitzwilliam asked her gently.

“I do not know if I am ready for school sir,” she answered in an equally quiet tone. “Many of the girls there will know much more than me. And perhaps even two weeks ago I would not have given that another thought, but now I feel that I should not like to be the stupid one.”

“I too would not relish the thought of going away to school,” volunteered our other sister when no-one spoke.

“Very well Mary. May I ask what your reasons are?” Father enquired.

“I do not believe that school would be suited to me Papa,” she began rather proudly, faltering slightly before adding, “I am not frivolous or flirtatious like other girls. I am happy with my books and my sewing and my music, I do not long for a season in town or a lavish presentation at court. Besides,” she added even more softly, “I do not think our mother would like to be left alone at home. I will stay and be a companion to her, even if that means I must change to be more acceptable to her.”

A brief silence followed her confusing little speech. My heart went out to her – the most forgotten of the Bennet sisters. There was much truth in what she had said, yet also a bittersweet sadness at her willingness to sacrifice her girlhood.

“Mary,” Jane ventured, “you are a charming and gifted young lady, with as much right to happiness and success as any of us. But if it is truly your wish to remain at Longbourn, then I am sure that Mama will be pleased to have you, and we will do all that we can to see to it that you have access to such tuition and companionship as you desire. And besides, Charles and I shall be but a short distance away at Netherfield. It will be a great source of comfort to me to know that I might visit with you as often as I wish.”

“Thank you Jane,” Mary replied, her head downcast to disguise the tears that pricked at her eyes.

“Well then, assuming that no-one else has anything to add, I will go to my library and write to Mrs Hattersley to inform her that I have one daughter who wishes to join her establishment immediately, and another who might accompany her in the future,” said our father, obviously feeling that he had spent enough time being paternal for one day. “Mrs Bennet, perhaps you might be so good as to spend some time with Mary discussing her ideas for her future. Jane will join you I am sure.”

And with that he was gone, my sisters' futures having apparently been resolved in less than a quarter of an hour. Kitty eagerly left her seat to move nearer to Charles, keen to learn more about the opportunities that would be hers once she went to school. Being already sat close to them, I joined in their discussion, ostensibly out of concern for Kitty but, in truth, mainly to make sure that my sister would not go to school only to leave as another Miss Bingley. It was not exactly something I could ask Charles about directly, but I was understandably concerned at seeing my sister's future entrusted to the same group of people who had produced that woman.

Other groups naturally formed in the room, Mama, Jane and Mary moving together as they had been asked to do, thus leaving Fitzwilliam and Lydia to talk of her future. Having heard enough from Charles to put my mind at rest, I decided that they could all do just as well without me and followed my father out of the room, knocking lightly on the library door before slipping in to join him.

“Ah, Lizbeth,” he sighed when he saw me. “Have I redeemed myself from my past mistakes do you think, or must I spend more time en famille before I may count myself forgiven?”

“Perhaps just a few more years Papa, and then you will be able to hand over responsibility to them all to someone else,” I smiled back, pleased to hear the old tone of cynicism returning to my father's voice. Not that I wanted him to revert back into his former ways of hiding in the library and allowing his family to run amok, but I was grateful for any indication that my family were beginning to regain the quirks that made them who they were.

“Come child,” he beckoned me with no little emotion in his voice. “Favour an old man with your company while I write my letters. There was a book of essays on French philosophy here somewhere that I thought you might enjoy. All terribly modern and shockingly unsuitable for a young lady like yourself to read of course.”

“Perfect,” I exclaimed, curling up into the worn armchair beside the fire that was always reserved for me, more than aware of how few times in the future we would share such a moment together.

I read silently for some time, neither of us feeling the need to speak even when Fitzwilliam slipped into the room to join us, nor even when he rejected the empty chair beside my father's in favour of seating himself on the floor, his back leaning against the arm of my seat. If such an unusual and intimate arrangement caused me to blush profusely, the two gentlemen were too polite to comment.

Sitting there with my father and my future husband was just wonderful. It was companionship such as I had never known, and that I sensed I would enjoy much more of in the future. I could not help but smile as I dwelt on all the blessings that God had in his mercy chosen to bestow upon me.

Presently, Father laid his pen aside, causing Fitzwilliam to hurriedly relinquish his seat on the floor.

“I assume that you are in something of a hurry to return to London, Darcy,” he said presently.

“I am at Elizabeth's leisure sir,” replied my ever diplomatic fiancé.

“But for yourself, you must be keen to return to your sister and your club.”

“My sister and the rest of my family, yes. But I believe that the company here is far preferable to that of my club,” he answered with a half smile. “I do however have a number of business matters that would benefit from my presence there.”

“And what of you Lizzy? It seems that your young man here is content to wait until you are ready to accompany him, but I would counsel you not to make him wait too long.” Despite Fitzwilliam's attempt to protest, my father continued without pause. “Not that this old man wants to see you go, but have you and Jane been able to reach a decision on when you will be ready to leave?”

“Really Mr Bennet. I speak for Mr Bingley and myself when I say that we are both quite content to pay court to your daughters here in Hertfordshire for as long as they wish.”

I turned in my chair to face Fitzwilliam. “That is very kind of you sir, but I think that I can in turn speak for my sister and I when I say that we would be delighted to accompany you to London at the end of this week. We only ask for some time to spend with our sisters and to visit some of our dearest friends and relations before we leave.” It seemed likely that I would not be returning to Longbourn, perhaps ever, but certainly not for long, once we left for London, and so I wanted to take my leave of all my dearest friends before we departed. For Jane, the issue was not so pressing, but she – good natured as she was – would never have dreamed of leaving Meryton for more than a few days without saying her proper farewells.

Luckily for us, Fitzwilliam and Charles were true to their word and did not pressure us to leave before we were ready. Less than a week later then, our goodbyes were complete and we were prepared to step into the Darcy carriage and depart for town.

Our mother knew not whether to be happy or distraught upon our leaving. Thankfully, her peculiarly attuned maternal instincts prompted her to remember the great matches that Jane and I were making, so that she even forgot to bemoan her own absence from London, accepting, and in truth she had no other option, Fitzwilliam's assurance that his aunt could be relied upon to guide Jane and I in the crucial but tricky purchasing of our new wardrobes. You must understand, with only a few exceptions, our mother had never let us buy so much as a pair of gloves without her approval, so to entrust the supervision of her daughters' trousseaus entirely to another woman was perhaps the greatest sign of acquiescence that I could imagine her making.

Truly, my family had changed for the better in more ways than I could ever have imagined, making my parting from them all the more poignant. For once, spending time with them over the past few weeks had been more than pleasant, and our departure meant that I would no longer be able to observe the almost daily improvement in my sisters. But to London we were to go. And so, with a final swift embrace of Mama and Papa, I gave Fitzwilliam my hand for him to guide me into the carriage, watching with not unwarranted pride as he bowed to my parents and my sisters in turn and climbed in after me. Seconds later we were off, the start of the greatest adventure of my life.

Fitzwilliam's aunt – the one who had sent the lengthy letter of congratulations – had invited Jane and I to stay with her while we were in London. I could not help getting the impression that Cheapside was not considered a suitable address for the future Mrs Darcy, but put aside my doubts about the full implications of that idea in favour of embracing the chance to get to know my future family. After all, Lady Matlock's letter had been filled with nothing but joy at Fitzwilliam's announcement, and that great lady had also engaged Aunt Gardiner for tea the day after our arrival, so I could at least be sure that her company was unlikely to be as objectionable as her address.

During our journey, my sister and I probed Fitzwilliam and Charles for further information about Lady Matlock and their London homes, both especially grateful for Charles' glowing account of his friend's relations. Not that I could imagine him ever meeting anyone he did not like, but the affectionate esteem that he felt for the Fitzwilliams was obvious. I was particularly glad to learn that the Colonel would likely be in residence in London during our stay, although Fitzwilliam informed us that he usually preferred to stay either in barracks or with his Darcy cousins rather than at his parents' home. It was nonetheless comforting to remember that he was as kind and honourable a man as I had ever had the opportunity to meet, and thus the chance of his parents being likewise seemed all the greater.

Riding through the streets of town, I noticed Jane becoming increasingly quiet as the houses that we passed became increasingly grand and opulent. These were streets that we had only ever visited on pleasure rides, other people's lives glimpsed from the window of a carriage. But now we were driving through them as the future inhabitants of what seemed to be one of the grandest of them all. The butler opened the door to us as the carriage pulled up, only for the lady of the house herself to come down the steps to greet us.

“Darcy,” she cried, embracing her nephew. “And Charles – it is wonderful to see you again. And these young ladies must be the Misses Bennet,” she continued. Reaching her hands out first to Jane, she kissed my surprised sister on each cheek. “You must be the eldest. You are very welcome to Matlock House, my dear Miss Bennet. And you must be Miss Elizabeth, and just as beautiful as Georgiana told me.” It was a rare event indeed that someone would meet Jane and I together and grant me the honour of being the beautiful one. I loved Aunt Matlock already!

Without pausing to allow us time to curtsey or return her effusive greetings, Lady Matlock joined arms with Jane and I and swept us up the stairs and through the front doors of her house, where a small army of servants waited to take our wraps and travelling things.

“Come in and have a seat my dears. You must be tired after all that time in the carriage. I have prepared rooms upstairs for both of you, but indulge me and take a cup of tea with me first. You can hardly imagine how excited we have been to meet you.”

“Actually my dear, I believe that they might just have some idea,” announced a gentleman who stood to greet us as we entered the drawing room. “Welcome Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a courteous bow and just the hint of a smile.

“My uncle,” Fitzwilliam offered. “Lord Fitzwilliam, the seventh earl of Matlock.”

After we had returned his greeting, Charles and Fitzwilliam escorted us to seats on the sofas that graced the elegantly appointed room, before fetching refreshments for us and taking their own seats nearby. Even armed with the knowledge of his aunt's earlier letter, I was amazed by the heartfelt and unreserved welcome that Jane and I received from the earl and his wife. Mere country misses, we had no right to expect such acceptance from people who usually associated within the very highest circles of the ton, yet here we were, being treated like, well, family!

“Now,” said Lady Matlock as soon as the gentlemen were engaged in a conversation that held no interest for her, “I know I promised to allow you young ladies to rest, but you must first let me tell you of my plans for your stay. Not that I wish to impose upon you, but there are many people who I wish for you to meet and places for us to visit. First of all of course, there are appointments to be kept with my dressmaker and milliner. Those are already booked for tomorrow, and I believe that your aunt – Mrs - “

“Gardiner,” I supplied.

“Will be joining us for tea later that afternoon. Fitzwilliam has told me that you are most anxious to see her, and since I could not bear to let you stay with her when I was so desperate to have my new nieces – you won't be offended if I adopt you as well will you Miss Bennet, only Charles is here so often that he is like a member of the family himself – under the same roof as me, I thought that the least I could do would be to invite her along at her earliest convenience.”

I couldn't help but note that Mrs Gardiner was not to be welcomed on our shopping trip, but still, nothing in Lady Matlock's tone made me inclined to think ill of her. Indeed, how often could the wife of a merchant from Cheapside be invited to tea at Matlock House? That alone would be enough to scandalise those who cared about such nonsense. And the affection that she showed to dearest Jane made it impossible for me to find fault with her.

It took a decided intervention from Lord Matlock, combined with a realisation of how near the dinner hour it had become, for Lady Matlock to release Jane and I to our rooms. The gentlemen escorted us up, and witnessed our joy at being offered two lavish suites with a shared sitting room before leaving us to wash and dress for the evening.

To my surprise and joy, when we returned downstairs, we were greeted by two more arrivals at Matlock House.

“Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” I cried in delight, rushing to greet them before introducing my sister to yet more of my future relations.

As I had expected, Jane and Georgie fell into easy conversation, their quiet natures well suited to each other. And so the evening progressed, with everyone intent on being nothing but charmed by everyone else, and no-one leaving disappointed. By the time I fell into bed that night, my cheeks ached from laughing and my heart from loving. Truly, I felt that these were people I could happily spend the rest of my life with.