Chapter 10

On the road to Pemberley

Near Sundown

Thursday, 13th August, 1812

Richard patted the brown neck of his borrowed horse, the creature's head drooping wearily as it plodded into the yard. The colonel had hired it at the last posting-house and ridden it hard to get here. His own horse would be brought forward at an easier pace, and this one would have a good night in a good stable with plenty of hay and a mash.

Richard slid off the bay's back and patted it again as a stable boy came up to take the reins.

"Hold a minute," Richard ordered and tugged free the laces holding his saddlebags in place. They contained the clothes he would need for the night and the following few days; his trunk was far behind him with his own horse. He watched as his mount was led off before turning towards the inn proper and noting the name, The Dragon and the Firefly. He smiled at the whimsical title and observed the portly innkeeper hurrying to greet him.

The man was all fawning subservience, ecstatic to have the son of an earl staying at his hostelry and determined to satisfy.

"If you please, sir, there is a small private parlor available adjoined to your bedchamber," the man suggested. "I will have your dinner – a very fine dinner – ready for you in half an hour. If I may be so bold, I do not think you would enjoy the coffee room tonight, sir."

Richard agreed; he was weary and in little mood to mingle. He threw his saddlebags over his shoulder and followed the summoned maid up the staircase, which was largely swathed in shadow because of the railing which blocked the light of the candles set strategically around the walls. The upstairs hall was brightly lit, however, and the rag rugs on the floor were simple but clean and brightly colored.

When the maid showed him into his room, it was obvious that the best chamber in the establishment had been appointed for his comfort. The plain white china basin and pitcher were unchipped, and Richard regarded them with a charitable eye. He had washed up under far worse conditions than in a comfortable room with solid windows and good English china filled with clean water and a soft warm cloth laid by for his use.

As he dried his face and neck, he looked about the room. A thick rug lay before the fire and a modest vase of local wildflowers sat on the table. A quick inspection of the bed showed clean sheets and fluffed pillows and well-aired blankets, and there was no layer of grime across the windowsill when Richard peeked out.

Thus, he went into the dining parlor well satisfied and looking forward to a good meal. The dinner did not disappoint; simple homely fare – ham and potatoes and gravy and a thick wedge of cheese and sturdy slices of bread with gleaming crust and slathered in butter – but it was skillfully cooked, and Richard enjoyed it immensely.

Contented in front of the fire, with a filled belly and the pleasant weariness in his bones of a hard afternoon's riding, Richard pondered his task and the precipitating reasons of his undertaking it. He had been considerably surprised – and then deeply pleased – to realize that Darcy had fallen in love with the quick-witted, lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Oh, his reticent cousin had not said as much, of course – that wasn't Darcy's style – but it was obvious, not only in his tireless work on Lydia Bennet's behalf, but in the brightness of his eyes and the softness of his voice as he spoke of Miss Elizabeth.

Richard had laughed when Darcy had recounted the scene where he had challenged Wickham to a duel followed by the miscreant's flight. It was a pity that Wickham's brashness had not impelled him to accept, Richard thought. They could have been done and over with the whole affair swiftly. Instead Wickham had gone to ground with his stolen money, not returning to Mrs. Younge's boardinghouse as expected. Richard's men had watched the house ever since, but there had been no sign of their adversary.

Darcy worried that Wickham, feeling vengeful at Darcy's interference, might travel to Pemberley to cause problems for Georgiana. Richard doubted the man would have the guts – or the foolishness – but it was not impossible, and so he had agreed to visit Derbyshire to protect Georgiana until Wickham was found or he and Darcy deemed that the danger had passed.

It made for a busy day, since Richard had enjoyed dinner in Cheapside with the three gentlemen vying for Miss Lydia's hand only eight hours previously, but it was not any great hardship for an army man, who was used to hard slogs through mud on the Peninsula.

Richard took a sip of wine and grinned wolfishly. He only hoped that Wickham would appear at Pemberley. He hoped it very much.

/

Lydia's Bedchamber

Eleven O'clock at Night

Thursday, 13th August, 1812

The door opened, and Lydia, who had been reclining on her bed reading a copy of The Ladies Monthly Museum, looked up with curiosity, which quickly gave way to anxiety, as her father and second eldest sister entered the room. She sat up and scooted to the head of the bed as Mr. Bennet gestured for Elizabeth to take the nearby wooden chair, while he himself remained standing.

Lydia generally had no difficulty speaking her mind. Indeed, her elders had often complained that she had difficulty being silent. But now, with the memory of Mr. Bennet's anger still fresh and the awareness that any news would likely be bad news, she remained sullenly quiet.

"Lydia, I am glad to see you," Elizabeth said after two minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"I did not know you were going to be here, Lizzy," Lydia replied truculently.

"I thought it best for Elizabeth to accompany us to Scotland, Lydia, for both our sakes. I confess to having a strong desire to beat you for being such a fool, but with Elizabeth providing sense and companionship, I trust that I can refrain from doing so."

Lydia stared at her father in amazement. There was an implacable resentment in his tone and an icy expression on his face. She had never respected her father and had certainly had never been afraid of him, but in this moment, she found herself leaning away from Mr. Bennet and toward Elizabeth, who stretched out a comforting hand to pat her shoulder.

"Father, perhaps Lydia and I should speak alone about the journey?"

"By all means," Mr. Bennet replied and turned a gimlet eye on his youngest child. "But before I go, Lydia, let me make one thing clear. If you try to run away during our travel north, I will abandon you without compunction, and you will have to find your own way in the wasteland lacking the benefit of my money or my protection. Is that clear?"

Lydia opened her mouth, and then, when no words came, she closed it again.

Elizabeth said, "I think she understands, Father."

Bennet nodded, turned on his heel, and marched out, shutting the door behind him.

Lydia promptly burst into tears; wracking, anguished, sobbing which caused her nose to run and her shoulders to heave. Elizabeth, while she was angry, could not help but fall to her knees and throw her arms around the girl. In this moment, she thought not of Lydia's elopement, nor her willingness to live with a man outside of the boundaries of marriage, but of the little sister who had tagged along behind her when they visited puppies and kittens many years previously.

"It is all right, Lyddy," she murmured. "Everything will be all right."

"It will never be all right!" Lydia sobbed. "Never! My darling Wickham chased off, Father so angry with me, and if I do not marry one of the men he has chosen, I will be sent away to live in exile in Scotland with that horrid Mrs. Greenfield, who spoke to me as if I am a child! Oh Lizzy!"

Elizabeth released Lydia from her embrace and sat back on her heels, regarding the younger woman with a hesitant sense of relief. It was progress indeed that her sister had apparently accepted that Wickham was permanently gone and that she had no choice but to marry one of the three gentlemen who would be traveling north with them.

Of course, there was no absolute certainty that any of the gentlemen would offer for Lydia. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy had both urged the men to gracefully retreat if they found the girl impossible. Given Lydia's personality and her devotion to Wickham, there was every chance that she would succeed in chasing her suitors away.

There was also, clearly, the possibility that the youngest Miss Bennet was pregnant. Elizabeth knew, because Mrs. Gardiner had questioned Lydia on the topic, that the girl's courses were due within a week, and she prayed that they would arrive as scheduled.

"Lydia," she said, "I know you love Wickham, but he really is not a good man."

"He is! He is!" Lydia howled. "How can you say that when it was you who first admired him?"

"I was foolish, my dear sister," Elizabeth replied, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. She did feel terribly guilty for having invited the snakelike Wickham into the very bosom of Longbourn. "I thought he was the best of men, but I have discovered, to my sorrow, that my original favorable impression was entirely incorrect."

"Why would you say that? I do not believe it!" Lydia whined.

Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm. Lydia, currently in the throes of passion, would not respond well to indignant shouting.

"It is a long story," she said softly. "It started with…"

An hour later, Elizabeth pulled the covers over her sister and planted a kiss on her curly head. "Lydia, tomorrow will be tiring, and I urge you to sleep."

"I am not certain I can," the girl replied in a woebegone tone. "My whole life is ruined!"

Elizabeth felt a strong urge to scream with frustration but forced her voice to remain calm.

"I am sure you feel so, my dear, but tomorrow will be far easier if you are rested. Besides, think of it this way. Three fine gentlemen are vying for your hand. That is more than anyone else in the family can boast of."

This provoked a thoughtful look on Lydia's face, and Elizabeth blew out the candle and quickly retreated. She could not help but be fatigued by the day, and tomorrow would be equally wearying.

It was, therefore, rather a disappointment to discover her father sitting on a chair in the hallway with a book in his hands and two lit candles on a small table at his side.

"Elizabeth," he said, setting aside the book deliberately, rising to his feet, and taking one of the lit candles in his hand. "I know you must be exhausted, but I need to speak to you for a few minutes."

She sighed, opened the door into her guest bedchamber and gestured for her father to take his place in the room's chair while she sat down on the bed, which sank most welcomingly under her. He first lit several candles on the dresser and then took his place.

"How was your conversation with your fool of a sister?" he asked gruffly.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She was too tired to argue with her father, but there was no doubt in her mind that Lydia's idiocy was the product of her father's indifference and her mother's spoiling.

"She understands the situation," she said shortly.

"Good. I apologize for requiring you to explain our plans, but I truly am too angry to speak to her rationally. But enough of that; Elizabeth, what is your relationship with Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth considered prevaricating and then decided she was too worn out to do so. Moreover, a lack of communication had caused a great many problems in the last months.

"He loves me and wishes to marry me," she said baldly. "I love him and wish to marry him. We are both hindered, however, by Lydia's situation. I would not ask him to join himself to a family ruined by scandal, and he has an obligation to his sister and his estate to wed a lady of good reputation."

Bennet's face was slack with wonder in the light of the wavering flames, and it took him a full minute to respond.

"Darcy told me that he was enamored with you," he finally said, "but I had no idea that you were equally enthusiastic about a man whom you once despised."

"My rancor was idiotic and misguided, Father. I was obviously foolish to trust Wickham's complaints about him. The man is a liar and slanderer, and Mr. Darcy gave him three thousand pounds to give up all rights to the living. No, I took offense at his remark at the Meryton assembly that I was ‘not handsome enough to dance with' and never allowed myself to honestly evaluate his behavior, or Wickham's. My views have changed over these past months, and now I consider Mr. Darcy one of the best of men."

"Has Mr. Darcy made you an offer, Lizzy?"

"Yes, in Kent, some months ago. I refused him at the time. I disliked him, was angry at him, and did not understand his true nature. We met again at Pemberley, when the Gardiners and I were touring the estate, and renewed our acquaintance. When I received word of Lydia's folly, I shared it with Mr. Darcy, who assured me of his continued regard and determination to fix the situation."

Bennet wrinkled his nose and said, "I do not pretend to know the gentleman fully, but he has certainly worked hard to save us from my own foolishness. I am well aware, my dear, that you were right to ask that I keep Lydia at Longbourn instead of allowing her to go to Brighton. I was a nincompoop."

Elizabeth was privately of the view that he was correct, but she did not wish to heap coals upon his already glowing head. "You must not be too severe on yourself."

Bennet grimaced and said, "No, Lizzy, let me for once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. Perhaps my sense of guilt has the advantage of giving me the strength and determination to take part in this journey north."

His daughter nodded, and she could not help but yawn, which provoked Bennet to rise from his chair, walk over to her, and plant a kiss on her forehead.

"You are a very good girl, my dear, along with being intelligent and charming. I will do all in my power to arrange for a happy end to your courtship with Darcy, even if it does mean that the gentleman will carry away my favorite daughter into the wilds of Derbyshire."