Chapter 18

Elizabeth huffed in frustration as she realised she had read the same page three times over. Though the novel was one of her favourites, she could not seem to comprehend the words. Her eyes kept drifting off to the distant hillside, looking up the road to the south. Why? It was not as though she were looking for anyone in particular.

No, that was a lie. She longed to see Mr Darcy's carriage returning from London. She silently chastised herself for her thoughts, knowing that he never wished to see her again. But perhaps if Mr Darcy returned, he could see that something was not right in that house. Mrs Younge's influence was not what it should be. After what she had seen in the market, Elizabeth had no doubt of that.

She let out another sigh. It was not her place to worry or meddle. Mr Darcy and his sister had made their decision, unjust as it was. She would do better to forget them.

Just then, Lydia walked in, looking upset and fretful. "Lydia? Whatever is the matter?" Elizabeth asked.

Lydia must have been entirely lost in her thoughts, for she jumped at the interruption. She raked her teeth over her lower lip, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. "Oh, Lizzy. I do not know what I am about."

Elizabeth rose from her chair by the drawing room window and set her book aside. She took Lydia's hands and had her sit down on the settee with her. "What has happened? Surely it is not as serious as you would have me believe?"

Lydia cast a worried glance over her shoulder as if she were afraid someone would overhear. Elizabeth stood, closed the door, and rejoined her sister on the settee. Surely it was not serious. Lydia was so excitable that any little thing might have brought her into such a state. Even so, she wanted to be there for her sister in any way she could. "Tell me what is troubling you."

"I was sworn to secrecy, Lizzy. Oh, dear, I do not know why I vowed not to breathe a word, but now that I know the secret, I do not know if it is right to keep it all to myself."

Lydia shifted nervously, but Elizabeth touched her cheek to keep her from looking away again. "Who made you promise?"

"Mr Wickham! I am heartbroken, Lizzy. He says he will be leaving Meryton shortly. I had thought him the most handsome officer of them all, and now we will be without his company at the assemblies. He is the best dancer, I daresay."

Elizabeth's heart began to hammer in her chest. "Mr Wickham is leaving? But the militia is not due to leave for several more months. Are you sure he is not just going to visit somewhere on leave?"

"No. He said emphatically that he is leaving and will not return. He has asked me to help conceal his departure as long as possible. He sees me as a particular friend, and felt I was the only one he could come to trust with such a secret."

It was evident that Mr Wickham had not known her sister long. Everyone in Meryton knew she could not be trusted with a secret. There could be no quicker way of spreading a fascinating piece of gossip than to repeat it to Lydia. But that was hardly the point. It was strange indeed that Mr Wickham was leaving. When an abrupt, secretive departure was added to his behaviour towards Miss Darcy, a very nasty picture began to result.

Elizabeth sprang up from the settee, beginning to pace. "When did he say that he would depart?"

"In a few days, I expect," Lydia replied. She pouted, looking pitiful as a little girl who had been refused a sweet. "It will be terribly dull here without him."

Elizabeth looked down at her sister with a crooked smile. Lydia did not appear to have the least idea that anything was at stake beyond her loss of a dancing partner. "Did he say where he was going? Or if he intended to take anyone with him?"

"No, not with any certainty. He only said something about seeing nothing but sheep and thistles for days on end. I did not know what he was talking about."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. Sheep and thistles — Scotland. Surely he did not intend to go to Gretna Green? It made entirely too much sense. Could he be planning to take Georgiana there so they could elope?

She did not wait to explain her haste to Lydia, but only hurried out of the room and bounded up the steps toward her room. She changed quickly into a warm dress and Spencer jacket, taking along her bonnet, warm gloves, and a shawl. With rain threatening on the horizon, it would be a cold walk into Meryton. That mattered little. After the news Lydia had just let slip, Elizabeth knew she did not have a moment to lose. If Mr Wickham had convinced her friend to run away with him, she had to do whatever it took to stop them. Georgiana was an intelligent, sensitive young woman, but she was still only sixteen. If Mr Wickham wished her to run away from her family and destroy her reputation, he could not really love her. His object must be her fortune, a significant inducement for an unprincipled man.

Elizabeth walked to Meryton as fast as she could, arriving breathless and overwrought. She chided herself that she must calm down before she reached the Darcy's rented townhouse. Elizabeth turned down the street towards the smart little house, trying not to get caught up in conversation with those she knew. She knocked, praying that the maid would answer the door for her.

When the maid appeared a few moments later, the girl's face fell. "Miss Bennet. Whatever are you doing here?" she asked. The girl looked as if Elizabeth had lost her mind, no doubt recalling all the painful details of what had happened the day Mr Darcy had thrown her out of the house.

"I am sorry for the intrusion, but I must see Miss Darcy. Please, I know what Mr Darcy said when last I left this house, but it is urgent. A matter of life and death." Elizabeth did not care if she had to go down on her knees to beg admittance. If it would save Miss Darcy from making the worst mistake of her life, she would be as undignified as was necessary.

The maid glanced over her shoulder, unsure. "Allow me to speak with my mistress."

She closed the door, returning a few moments later. "Miss Darcy says she will see you for exactly five minutes in the parlour." The girl curtsied, sending Elizabeth an apologetic look. "Just through here, Miss Bennet."

She announced Elizabeth and left the room. Elizabeth was glad to see that Miss Darcy was alone. Miss Darcy stood from the chair near the hearth and shot her a sour look. She said nothing until the door was closed. Elizabeth bowed, but Miss Darcy did not return the show of respect. "What are you doing here? I believe my brother was clear when he sent you from this house, never to return."

"I apologise for coming like this. But I fear I must speak with you about something very grave indeed," Elizabeth replied. It took all her courage not to turn and leave when she saw the marked anger in Miss Darcy's eyes. "I have not come to discuss the charges made against me. Though I assure you, they are false. But I believe I have found out something that will affect your future happiness and that of your family."

Miss Darcy looked startled. "Oh? And what is that?"

Elizabeth took a tentative step forward. "May I sit down?"

Miss Darcy looked at the chair beside her, finally nodding. "Very well."

Elizabeth joined her near the hearth, taking off her bonnet. "I will come straight to the point, Miss Darcy. There is a rumour that has caused me no little anxiety. It concerns you and…and Mr Wickham. Are you planning to go to Gretna Green and elope with him?"

It felt strange to be so forward, but she did not have time to lose in coyness. Miss Darcy's eyebrows flew up, but Elizabeth could see the truth of it in her eyes.

"How dare you!" However, she did not deny it.

"Miss Darcy, you must not do it. It would ruin your reputation, your happiness — perhaps forever. No honourable man would ask such a thing of so young a woman. Please, I beg of you, if he has convinced you to go away with him, reconsider. Think of your brother and what this would do to him."

"You have no right to talk about my brother. You — who only befriended me to get your claws into him," Miss Darcy spat. However, as she stopped speaking, sadness came into her eyes.

Good. Elizabeth could have sighed in relief on seeing that softening. With any luck, she would remember the great affection she had for her brother and be persuaded against going through with their plans.

"I never had any intention of getting close to you for my own advantage, Miss Darcy. You will not believe me, I know. I suspect that Mrs Younge has painted me in a terrible light. But I was only ever your friend because I saw in you a kindred spirit. You are kind, sweet, and gentle. And if you go away with Mr Wickham, you will lose everything that matters in life — not least your relationship with your brother. You will be alone in the world."

"Except for my husband."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It is rarely enough. Do you really think that living in isolation, with him a deserter, will be the life you want to lead? You would be spurned from polite society, banished from your home, friends, and family. You cannot want that."

She could see her words had started to influence her. Doubtless, Mr Wickham had presented a very different picture of the life that awaited them. He would not have spoken of all the difficulties they would face. "If your feelings for him are as strong as they seem, you should at least speak with Mr Darcy first. Surely waiting a few months is better than running off in the middle of the night."

Miss Darcy frowned. "Mr Wickham says my brother would not understand."

Elizabeth suddenly remembered the conversation she and Mr Wickham had had upon their first meeting. Mr Darcy had been jealous of the man and refused to give him the living his father had promised. But was there more to the story than that? "Miss Darcy, I understand what you must be going through right now. But surely concealing your plans from your brother is not the right thing to do. Mr Darcy may not understand at first, but he has your best interests at heart, of that I am certain."

Miss Darcy's face softened. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Mrs Younge strode in. "How dare you show your face here again! I shall have to call the constable and have you forcibly removed if you do not get out this instant!"

Elizabeth stood, backing away from the woman and keeping herself in line with Miss Darcy. "I came to talk to Miss Darcy —"

"Something Mr Darcy, her brother and guardian, expressly told you not to do!" Mrs Younge flushed dark red in her rage, making her elegant face look almost ugly. "Does everyone in Meryton have as much nerve as you? Or is the Bennet family the ones who think that impropriety and backward manners are the order of the day?"

Elizabeth counselled herself to have a care, to not lose her temper as she had before. "I came here in good faith to stop Miss Darcy from making a terrible mistake." She looked at Mrs Younge. Did she not seem perhaps too angry? As though it was not the welfare of her charge that concerned her, but rather as though Elizabeth was interfering with her own affairs.

A terrible suspicion dawned on Elizabeth. It seemed too monstrous to believe, but could Mrs Younge possibly be complicit in Mr Wickham's schemes? Could she be encouraging Georgiana in this folly?

Elizabeth began carefully. "As her companion and friend, I would think that you should have talked her out of this decision."

"What Miss Darcy wants to do to secure her own happiness is none of your affair," Mrs Younge said, her voice poisonously soft. "Now, I must insist that you leave this house. And this time, never return." Mrs Younge stepped toward her ominously.

Elizabeth cast a painful glance at Miss Darcy, willing her to understand and change her mind. "Please reconsider, Miss Darcy."

"Do not listen to her, Miss Darcy. She is only trying to ruin your happiness." She stormed up to Elizabeth, forcing her back into the foyer. "How did you come to know about the elopement?"

It was real, then, and Mrs Younge knew of it. Some part of her had still hoped there could be another explanation. Elizabeth's heart hammered against her chest as it was confirmed. "I—"

"You are jealous of Miss Darcy and Mr Wickham, are you not? You have been spying, I'll wager." Mrs Younge screwed up her nose. "Shame on you."

"I am not jealous —"

"You are! Mr Denny introduced him to you on his first day here, and you cannot stand the thought of someone else capturing his attention."

Mrs Younge continued to stalk toward her, pushing Elizabeth closer to the front doors. Would Mrs Younge spread rumours about her through Meryton, claiming that she had come to accost Miss Darcy?

No good could come of pursuing the conflict. Miss Darcy simply would not listen to her — not now. Elizabeth backed out of the front doors, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. "Please, I am only trying to help."

"Well, don't," Mrs Younge said coldly, and slammed the door in her face. It took a few moments for Elizabeth to find her composure. Her legs felt like they were weighed down with lead as she walked down the steps. Several people passed by, whispering behind their hands as she hurried away. Had they heard Mrs Younge yell at her, seen how she had slammed the door? Elizabeth felt hot tears stinging her eyes and wished she could disappear from the street entirely.

Her mind was spinning as she headed out of Meryton and turned onto the country lane that would lead her home. She wrapped her arms around her waist, the chill coming into her bones. She had to do something. But what? Mrs Younge was not only aware of the plan, but was actively encouraging Miss Darcy to throw her life away.

When Elizabeth arrived home, it was nearly dark. Her mother came out of the house, scolding her for being so late, and ushered her up to her room to change for supper. Elizabeth could not seem to focus on the task at hand. She sat in front of the dim and clouded mirror, brushing her hair endlessly as she tried to think of what to do. She could not go back to reason with Miss Darcy. Mrs Younge had got her clutches too deep into her young and impressionable mind for that to be of any use. And she could not write to Mr Darcy. Now that Elizabeth had revealed she knew of their plot, the pair would likely try to run away at once, and the letter would not reach him in time to do anything about it.

She startled as Jane opened the door and came in. "Lizzy, whatever is taking so long? Mother is worried sick."

Jane neared the vanity, and Elizabeth turned to face her sister. "I am sorry," she said. "I lost track of time."

Jane helped her hurry and dress for supper, tying her hair back in a simple bun at the nape of her neck. Elizabeth tried to mask her dark humour, wishing she could have remained in her room to sort out what to do. She pushed her food around her plate, only making believe that she ate to prevent Mrs Bennet from worrying. Oh, God, what do I do?