Chapter 18

On the Great North Road

Saturday, 15th August, 1812

After a pleasant, simple luncheon of cold meats and salad, the party entered their carriages again and drove onward toward the Sibson Inn, just north of Water Newton, where they would spend the night.

Elizabeth had managed to whisper the news about Lydia's courses to her father and was relieved to see the furrows in Mr. Bennet's brow relax a trifle in relief. It would be far easier, and more palatable, for Sir Christopher or Captain Scofield to marry Lydia if she was not carrying Wickham's child.

When the horses pulled the carriage out of the courtyard and back onto the Great North Road, Lydia asked Sir Christopher, "Where is your family home, sir?"

"My family"s manor is in Hampshire, Miss Lydia."

"Is that close to London?"

"Yes, quite close. It is a little more than a morning's ride from Pine Manor to Town."

Lydia's face brightened, and she asked, "How much of each year do you spend in London?"

"Oh, I would say five or six months a year, though not all at once. One of the benefits of living so near Town is that I can travel back and forth with ease. I suspect that you are inclined to not leave Pemberley as often, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy, who had been staring in a besotted way at Elizabeth, jumped a little, collected himself, and said, "That is quite true, especially during the winter. Snow storms can be exceedingly dangerous in Derbyshire, making it almost impossible to travel."

"Derbyshire is a beautiful area, however," Elizabeth said fervently. "It is so wild and glorious and free."

"I am glad that you think so," Darcy replied, bestowing a special smile which Elizabeth now understood was meant entirely for her.

She blushed as Sir Christopher asked, "Have you ever been to Vauxhall Gardens, Miss Lydia?"

"I have not!"

"It is a most marvelous place," the baronet enthused, "with music and fireworks and the most delicious ham sandwiches..."

Lydia and Sir Christopher and Mrs. Greenfield spoke about Vauxhall, and then Sir Christopher described a hot-air balloon ascension which he had seen in Hyde Park a few months previously. Elizabeth was content to be quiet, as her thoughts drifted from Lydia's fortunate escape from an unwanted pregnancy, to the beauty of the countryside passing by, to agitation over whether either of the remaining suitors would wish to marry Lydia, and finally to Mr. Darcy.

He sat there, as silent as she, but she felt comfortable with his silence. He was not a loquacious man, Mr. Darcy, but when he spoke, he spoke with sense.

He was also so very handsome, and yes, she was in love with him! And he was in love with her. Given his assurances that he loved and respected her, and her admiration and devotion for him, surely they would eventually be united in marriage?

And yet, the old dread was there, that when the time truly came, he would withdraw due to fears of scandal. Indeed, if Lydia did not marry, the Bennets would be ruined...

"Are you well, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked softly, obviously having observed her anxious expression.

Elizabeth scrunched her nose and managed a smile. "Yes, well enough."

She glanced at Lydia and murmured, "It is hard not to worry about the future sometimes."

"What is it that Christ said?" Darcy murmured back. "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the dayisthe evil thereof."

Elizabeth considered this and then nodded. "You are correct, of course. There is truly no point in being anxious about the future when I cannot control it at all. It is in the hands of God and others now."

"Indeed," Darcy replied.

/

Great North Road

It was growing late in the day, and they were only a few miles from the Sibson Inn when a light rain began to fall, followed by a heavier rain, and by the time they arrived at their destination, the coachman and horses were drenched, and the road was a muddy mess. The Sibson boasted a covered area in the yard, which permitted Darcy and the others to step out into a sheltered area. Elizabeth was grateful to avoid the rain pouring on her head, though she felt a trifle chilled as the air was cool. She stepped closer to the house as Sir Christopher, Lydia, and Mrs. Greenfield left the carriage, even as various servants dashed about in the downpour, removing the horses from their harnesses and leading them into the nearby stable.

"Shall we enter?" Darcy asked, raising his voice above the thunder of the rain, and she gratefully accepted his arm and walked into the front vestibule of the inn, followed closely by the others.

Maids hurried forward, and a moment later, the innkeeper himself, a rotund, red-headed man of some forty summers, stepped into the room, bowing and beaming at the sight of the visitors.

"Mr. Darcy, it is such an honor to meet you, sir. I have arranged for a number of chambers for your party, which are as clean and fine as you can imagine. There is also a large parlor available for you. Perhaps one of the maids can escort the ladies upstairs?"

Elizabeth, whose stockings had gotten wet in spite of her sprightly move from carriage to inn, nodded with relief and collected Lydia by grasping her with one arm. A maid appeared and gestured for them to follow her, and the three ladies proceeded up a well-swept wooden staircase and down a long, carpeted hall into a large bedchamber. It was, as the innkeeper had promised, clean and even attractive, decorated in greens and blues.

"There is a small sitting room next door," the maid said, gesturing toward a closed door. "We will make up a cot in there for the third lady, if that is pleasing to you all."

"That would be wonderful," Mrs. Greenfield said cheerfully. Not for the first time, Elizabeth thanked God for the older lady, who seemed to accept odd living conditions, and bad weather, and Lydia's peculiarities, with majestic calm.

A moment later, the door opened and a male servant staggered in with the trunk that Elizabeth was sharing with Lydia.

"I suggest that you ladies change for dinner," Mrs. Greenfield said. "I will determine the locale of my own trunk and move into the sitting room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Greenfield," Elizabeth replied.

/

Dinner, which was served in a private parlor, was surprisingly elegant, consisting of a large ham, asparagus, glazed carrots and potatoes, a tureen of soup, a large salad, and a carefully piled pyramid of the local fruits. The conversation was also pleasant, as Lydia, while by no means silent, did not attempt to dominate the discussion, and when she did grow too loud, a soft admonition by Mrs. Greenfield caused her to drop her voice levels to an acceptable range.

Elizabeth, watching her youngest sister speaking with her two remaining suitors, found herself cautiously encouraged. Neither man showed any sign of being disgusted by the girl, and Lydia genuinely appeared to be interested in the lives of both men. That was sensible – Lydia would, if she accepted an offer from one of the gentleman – be joined until death parted her from her husband. Sensible, yes, but Lydia had never been sensible. She had run off with Wickham, who truly had nothing but his handsome face and form to recommend him.

It occurred to her, for the first time in some days, to wonder what had happened to Wickham. The conversation around her was relatively loud, and she took a bite of ham, chewed, swallowed, and turned a little toward Darcy who was, as usual, on her left side.

"Is something the matter, Miss Bennet?"

She felt her cheeks warm as she lifted her eyes to meet his. He looked at her a great deal, and now that she knew his attention was born out of admiration, not disdain, it was pleasant to be the subject of his gaze.

"I wondered," she said softly, "whether you know what happened to Wickham."

"I do not," Darcy murmured. "My cousin Fitzwilliam and I assumed he would return to Mrs. Younge's boarding house and had that building watched, but he did not."

Elizabeth frowned. "That is a pity. If there is a wasp in the room, I would rather know where it is."

"Yes, that was a mistake on my part, or perhaps not. When I found Miss Lydia with the rogue, my priority was your sister, not containing Wickham."

"I am grateful for that," Elizabeth replied immediately. "Very grateful. I shudder to think what would have happened if she had been left alone in a dangerous part of Town."

"That was my thinking as well," Darcy said.

/

Private Parlor

Sibson Inn

Sunday, 16th August, 1812

A log shifted and fell in the fire, sending a flurry of sparks up the chimney and a wash of heat out into the room. Elizabeth welcomed the sudden warmth on her back, as the tapping rain at the window chilled the room despite the heavy curtains drawn across the glass. Though it had been partly sunny that morning when the party set out for the local church to attend Sabbath services, by the time they had returned to the inn, the rain had started again. So they had spent the day there in the warmth and comfort of the hostelry, beside the parlor's blazing fire where now they all sat for dinner.

Elizabeth took a bite of venison, contemplating the travel on the morrow. The roads would be muddy, drenched by the ongoing downpour, and it would make for a slow and unpleasant journey. She did not much fancy the possibility of losing a wheel, but the unhurried pace did not bother her. As far as she was concerned, it would be well to go as slowly as was at all reasonable, the better to give Lydia a chance of winning one of her suitors.

It was a comfort to Elizabeth that her sister seemed to be taking this opportunity seriously. Lydia had maintained her good behavior, and Elizabeth wondered if Commodore Quill's abrupt departure had shaken her. Certainly, everyone had noticed Mr. Bennet's glares directed towards his youngest daughter, even Lydia herself, who usually remained either oblivious or impervious to disapproval. Elizabeth was confident that Mr. Bennet fully intended to follow through on his plan of leaving his youngest daughter in a small cottage in Scotland, with only Mrs. Greenfield for company, should she fail to choose – and charm – one of her remaining suitors. She hoped, and prayed, that Lydia was sufficiently frightened that she would continue to behave well and treat this entire journey with appropriate gravity.

A soft moan drew her attention, and she turned her head to observe Mr. Bennet lowering his wine glass with his right hand, his forehead creased with discomfort.

"What is wrong, Papa?"

"My apologies, my dear," the older man said. "It is nothing serious – merely a flare up of my sciatica pain."

"Oh dear," Elizabeth said sympathetically.

Her father was a healthy man, but he did occasionally experience soreness in his left hip, especially when he had been traveling for some days. They were only two days into their journey, but the previous weeks had involved rushing around London trying to find Lydia and Wickham, and making arrangements, and thus it was not surprising that the old pain had flared up.

"Do not worry about me, Lizzy," her father ordered and poured the rest of his drink down his throat. "I am certain a good night's sleep will help."

Darcy, who had been listening to the conversation with concern, tilted his head toward the closest window and said, "It is still raining hard. If the weather does not clear, we may wish to stay here for another day. Would that be helpful, Mr. Bennet?"

"It would, yes, but I will not … I know we are all eager to make good progress."

"Lydia and her suitors need time to determine their plans," Elizabeth said quietly. "Perhaps a day here would be useful."

"Especially if the weather remains poor," Darcy agreed.