Chapter 4

4

D arcy nodded at Mr. Bennet as the man waved the decanter at him. "I think we could both do with a drink, sir."

"Indeed." The man was grimacing. "I know it needed doing, and I am relieved that they are finally gone and my other daughters are all safe." He shook his head. "But Lydia is my daughter, and it has been hard to send her off in this way."

"I am sorry for it, Mr. Bennet," Darcy murmured. "Although I am happy that he can no longer cause further damage to your daughters, either physically, or to their reputation. It must have taken you a great deal of courage."

Bennet's gaze was startled. "I suppose …. I thank you."

Darcy smiled wryly. "I just hope your daughter does not importune her mother too much for fripperies and money. I must warn you, Wickham will never have enough."

Bennet nodded. He looked exhausted, but he turned to the mantel and rang the bell. When the butler entered, he sent him to return with the housekeeper.

"Take a seat, Mr. Darcy. I would like to have a word with you when I have spoken to them."

Darcy waited as inconspicuously as he could in the chair by the window. His thoughts were in the sitting room, and he wondered how Miss Elizabeth fared after the scenes this morning. As if from a distance, he heard Bennet speaking.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hill, thank you for your assistance this morning. In future, all post to this house will come to me. I will check the sender, and then return to you the letters that the ladies may receive. No post at all is to go directly to any family member."

The butler bowed and the housekeeper curtsied. "Yes, sir." "Yes, master."

Then they were gone, and Bennet almost collapsed into the chair opposite Darcy. "At least my family will not have a direction for them."

He looked older. Just in this short time, he looked older. Darcy was under no illusion that the man could like his youngest daughter's behaviour, but he obviously had the love of a father.

"Gardiner assisted very much with ensuring Lydia married and lifting the ruin on my girls," Bennet sounded as if he were talking almost to himself. "But I always knew she was a foolish girl, and my other daughters found it very difficult to live in such a household."

Darcy was relieved to hear that Bennet had no suspicion of his own earlier involvement in the marriage arrangements. But he also considered that Bennet and his wife were at fault for failing to provide discipline and an education to their youngest daughters.

Bennet, at least, had paid a heavy price, and Darcy would not be so cruel as to speak of it.

But he was unprepared for the man's next words. "While I am grateful that you arranged the … removal of that man from Longbourn, I am still unsure why you might have gone to such trouble, Mr. Darcy."

Bennet might look older, but his gaze was still piercing.

Darcy bowed his head. He was not yet ready to reveal his intentions — at least, not until after he had the opportunity to speak to Miss Elizabeth. He spoke carefully. "Wickham was my father's godson. Father loved him, paid for his education, and could see no bad in him. Wickham has repaid that with living financially at a station he cannot afford, and uses his education to impose himself on young women as if he were a gentleman." He shrugged. "It is my duty to mitigate what is my father's fault for giving him ideas above his station."

"Oh. I thought it might be something else." Bennet slumped back in his chair.

"What would that be?" Surely the man had not guessed?

Bennet shrugged. "You apparently arrived here with Mr. Bingley in time to hear what went on, but would have expected Wickham and Lydia to have been gone some days previously. I doubt you were here merely to ensure Mr. Bingley would see my eldest daughter."

Darcy thought he was best not answering that. But his silence was obviously as incriminating as speaking would have been, judging by the man's expression.

He rose to his feet. "I thank you for the drink, Mr. Bennet, and for your assistance in arranging Wickham's departure from Longbourn." He dare not ask to see Miss Elizabeth, not today.

If Bingley's return had been accepted by Miss Bennet, then they could return tomorrow, and hopefully there would be no surprises.

The following morning, he rode out early, as was his habit. He'd had little sleep, and it was barely dawn. An early morning mist was curling above the fields, hiding any unevenness underfoot and he took care not to ride too fast until he was safely on the lane.

So it was nearly half after six when he reached Oakham Mount, and he rode slowly up the path on the west side.

Elizabeth — Miss Elizabeth — had told him during a stroll at Pemberley that it was her favourite walking destination when she was at Longbourn, and he had looked for it on the map.

But perhaps it was too early for her this morning, and he tried to prepare himself for a disappointment. But it was not necessary.

He counted himself exceedingly fortunate when he broke through the trees into the clearing which looked out over the sunrise and he saw her figure on the bench, silhouetted against the sun.

He smiled. He would know her anywhere, and he coughed to announce his presence, although he was sure she would have heard his horse. They had not been that quiet. But she seemed startled, and rose as she turned.

"Mr. Darcy!"

He bowed. "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you are not displeased that I recalled you telling me of this destination and came here, hoping to see you?" Please do not let her be provoked.

But she smiled at him, and his heart jumped in his chest. "How could I be angry with you, Mr. Darcy? And I have wanted to speak to you."

"I am at your service, madam." He bowed again and stepped to the bench where she had moved along to one end. "With your permission?" He indicated the bench, and at her nod, sat down.

He must be very careful. He recalled the last time he had seen her before returning to Hertfordshire. In that small parlour at the inn in Lambton, she had turned away from him, her face a mask, and said goodbye with a finality that had shaken him to the core.

But it must have been because she knew that a gentleman would turn away from a ruined family. At least, he hoped that was what she had thought.