Chapter 5

The Gardiners' Home

Cheapside

Tuesday, 11th August, 1812

Mr. Bennet stared absently down at the wood of his brother-in-law's desk. Neat stacks of papers stood in rows, a closed pen box conveniently near the chair. He avoided looking at his wife's brother, as he felt guilty over how weary the other man looked thanks to both men's exhausting search for the youngest Miss Bennet.

Mr. Gardiner, in turn, studied his brother by marriage with compassion. Bennet's skin had taken on an unhealthy grayish tinge, the discouragement and fear weighing on him. His shoulders were rounded, and his coat stood in need of a good brushing, but he could not stop now – neither of them could.

"I will canvas the boarding houses and hotels further east of St. Giles," Mr. Gardiner said, "if you will try north. I hope that…"

The sudden strident sound of a high-pitched feminine voice halted his words, and both gentlemen turned eagerly toward the door.

"That is Lydia!" Bennet cried out a moment later. "I would know that screech anywhere!"

Both gentlemen nearly ran out of the office and down the corridor which led to the modest vestibule of the Gardiners' house. To the relief of both, they found Lydia and Mr. Darcy standing side by side with a maid taking the gentleman's hat and gloves. Lydia was in full cry as they entered the room.

"Do not imagine that I am grateful, Mr. Darcy! I hate you! It is all your fault that my dear Wickham left! Indeed…"

"Silence, girl!" Mr. Bennet roared, so loudly that the girl froze mid howl and turned a wide-eyed look toward her father, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Mr. Darcy," Gardiner said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "You found her, and we are enormously thankful."

"He hit my beloved Wickham!" Lydia squealed, having recovered sufficiently to speak again.

"Excellent!" Bennet snapped. "I can only hope that he broke a few of that miscreant's teeth!"

"But Papa!" Lydia exclaimed, "Mr. Wickham and I are to be married and…"

"Lydia," Mrs. Gardiner interposed as she hurried into the room, "come with me, my dear, and let the gentlemen converse in private. You look as if you could use a warm bath and a good cup of tea and a scone."

Lydia was obviously indignant at being interrupted, but her face lit up at the mention of a scone. Darcy was not surprised; the girl was buxom and well nourished, and no doubt the food at the boarding house where she had been staying was not entirely to her liking.

"Thank you, my dear," Mr. Gardiner said to his wife, and turned toward their male guest. "Mr. Darcy, would you care to join my brother and me in my study?"

"Of course," Darcy agreed, and followed the two men into a small room.

Darcy looked around as he passed through the door. A fire flickered in the grate, lighting the study and touching the brown leather chairs with warmth. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with ledgers and books of business and a handful of the latest finance treatises. A small portrait of an older gentleman hung on another wall, and unlit trimmed candles stood around in polished brass sticks. Everything was kept in impeccable order.

"Please, sir, sit down, sir," Mr. Gardiner said, and Darcy did so. A moment later, the two other men sat as well, Mr. Bennet with a quizzical look on his face.

"Mr. Darcy," Gardiner said, "I should explain that, while Elizabeth confided to my wife and me of your interest in this unfortunate situation, I did not tell my brother Bennet about it; thus, he is doubtless very confused that you have found his wayward daughter and brought her here."

"Entirely," Bennet agreed, his brow lowered. "I am incredibly grateful that you have tracked down Lydia, but I am bewildered as to how you discovered her location. I also wonder where Wickham is."

Darcy swallowed and straightened his back. This conversation would likely be a challenging one, and he could only hope that Mr. Bennet, who had never impressed him as a diligent father, would be willing to fall in line with his plan.

"First of all, allow me to tell you how I found Miss Lydia and Wickham," he said. "There is a woman named Dorothea Younge who acted as my sister's governess for a time. We discovered later that she was in league with Wickham and was intent on extracting money from our family. Of course she was dismissed and is now settled in London operating a boarding house. As soon as I arrived in London to search for Miss Lydia, I recruited my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam of the Regulars, and we called upon Mrs. Younge. After some judicious threats, she told us where your daughter and her paramour were staying. I surprised them an hour ago, slapped Wickham, challenged him to a duel, and he ran away with your daughter's funds. I then escorted Miss Lydia here – not because she was eager to escape from Wickham, but because I told her he would likely not return for fear of my retribution."

He stopped and waited. Not surprisingly, both gentlemen looked shocked and upset, and he could not entirely blame them.

"So you let Wickham go?" Bennet blurted out. "He must be made to marry Lydia. He must!"

Darcy blew out a slow breath and said, "I am certain we can track the miscreant down again, but I would like to recommend another alternative for Miss Lydia. Her marriage to Wickham is one possibility, of course, but it may not be the preferred one."

"Why not?" Bennet demanded.

Darcy hesitated for a moment and then turned to stare into the older man's eyes.

"I am in love with your daughter Elizabeth and hope to wed her," he said bluntly, "and I do not wish for Wickham to be connected to me through marriage."

Mr. Bennet's face grew slack with disbelief for a full thirty seconds, and then his face reddened. He snapped his mouth shut and glared into Darcy's eyes. "Is this some kind of joke, sir? You despise my family in general and Elizabeth in particular. Or have you forgotten that you loudly declared her ‘not handsome enough to dance with' at the assembly where you first met my family?"

Darcy was confident his own face was at least as red as Mr. Bennet's, and he shook his head rapidly.

"I do love Miss Elizabeth," he said fervently. "I do, with all my heart, and I deeply regret my stupid, insolent, rude words in Meryton. I have no excuse for my poor behavior on that account. The truth is that within a fortnight of meeting your daughter Elizabeth, I felt strongly drawn to her, which grew into fascination, which transformed into love. When we met again in Kent, I offered my hand in marriage, and she passionately rejected me. I deserved it, and since then have sought to become the sort of man whom she would be pleased to wed. I am not certain that I have succeeded, but without a doubt, I am committed to her happiness and well-being, whether she ever accepts me or not. Her sister Lydia's misery as the wife of Wickham would not make Miss Elizabeth happy."

Bennet swallowed hard and turned to stare at his brother by marriage. "Gardiner? Do you know anything about this?"

Gardiner cleared his throat and said carefully, "On our way back from Derbyshire, Elizabeth told us of Mr. Darcy's offer. I can say, with confidence, that Elizabeth's view of you has softened considerably, sir."

Darcy could not help but smile broadly at these words, his mind wandering hopefully toward a possible marriage, and a life with his dear Elizabeth, and...

"What alternative is there to Lydia marrying Wickham?" Mr. Bennet demanded, having recovered sufficiently to speak.

Darcy told him.

/

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Wednesday, 12th August, 1812

It was a beautiful day outside. A light breeze set leaves and flowers dancing, and tugged at horses' manes and farmers' hair as they went about their work. The whole world was bright with light and color, the sun smiling brilliantly down on the earth below, the blue sky dotted with puffs of white cloud.

The peace and joy of the outdoors did not extend into Longbourn. A gloomy air permeated the drawing room, with the three sisters present – Elizabeth, Mary, and Kitty – all silent in their own pursuits. Mary's eyes moved intently across the page of Fordyce's Sermons, Kitty's gaze followed the slow majestic path of a cloud floating by outside the window, and Elizabeth re-read the same line of Shakespeare's Sonnet 60 for the third time.

She sighed and lowered her book, following Kitty's glance out the window. Normally the sonnets held her spellbound, but today they could not keep her attention. She was still agitated from the two hours spent cloistered with her mother, vainly trying to soothe Mrs. Bennet's vapors and wailing. Mrs. Bennet was distraught at the loss of her favorite daughter and was proving voluble about it, and she was inclined to lay the blame upon anyone and everyone besides herself. It was frustrating and wearying, and Elizabeth had been greatly relieved when Jane appeared to take a turn sitting with their agitated mother.

The door opening was a welcome distraction, and she looked over as the butler stepped inside. Mr. Bingley entered at his heels, his normally cheerful face unusually anxious, the sharp cut of his country coat unable to hide the nervous set of his shoulders.

"Mr. Bingley," the butler announced and withdrew.

Elizabeth was on her feet in a moment, with Mary and Kitty rising a moment later.

"Mr. Bingley!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "This is a great surprise! I had no idea you were in Hertfordshire!"

"I arrived only a few hours ago at Netherfield and came here as quickly as I could," he said. "I was hoping … do you think that … might I speak to Miss Bennet?"

There was a gasp of astonishment from Kitty, and Elizabeth considered their guest thoughtfully.

"Mr. Bingley," she said, "I fear you call on us at a rather difficult time. My father is in London, and my mother is unable to receive guests."

"I am aware," the gentleman replied, his blue eyes grave. "Darcy told me of the situation with Miss Lydia. I am grieved and worried on your behalf, but I assure you that your sister's circumstances do not, in any way, alter my respect for your family and my care for Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth felt something in her chest ease, and she said, "Jane is with my mother at the moment, but I will go and tell her of your arrival."

"Thank you," Bingley replied with obvious gratitude.

/

Mrs. Bennet's Bedchamber

"Is there any news of my dear Lydia?" Mrs. Bennet asked fretfully as soon as Elizabeth entered the room. The matron was sitting up in bed, leaning against three feather pillows, and dressed in an expensive nightdress and dressing gown. Jane, seated on a chair beside her, looked exasperated, which Elizabeth entirely understood. Mrs. Bennet"s complaints and moaning were tedious and exhausting.

"No, but there is other news which will, I hope, bring you some joy. Mr. Bingley has come to visit and has asked to see you, Jane."

Jane promptly turned white, and Mrs. Bennet's demeanor shifted immediately from languid to energetic.

"Mr. Bingley? Mr. Bingley is here?" she demanded, her eyes wide.

"Yes, Mamma. He informed us that he arrived at Netherfield Hall only a few hours ago and would like to speak to Jane, if she is willing, of course."

"Willing? Surely she is," Mrs. Bennet declared, turning toward her eldest and most handsome daughter. "Now Jane, you must change your dress, and have Sarah do your hair again…"

"Mamma," Elizabeth interpolated. "Jane looks beautiful, as always, and I am quite certain that Mr. Bingley wishes to see her as soon as possible. He has ridden a long way today and is doubtless tired, and not wishful of staying too long."

"Oh!" her mother replied blankly. "In that case, I suppose – do brush out your skirt, Jane, to remove the wrinkles. Oh, if only I were dressed and could welcome Mr. Bingley myself!"

"I will send Mary and Kitty up to sit with you," Elizabeth declared, taking Jane's hand and pulling her, unresisting, out of her mother's door and into the corridor, whereupon she turned and seized Jane's other hand and looked gravely into her face.

"Do you wish to see Mr. Bingley?" she asked, searching her sister's countenance intently. "You do not need to, of course. Indeed, given how he abandoned you, it would be entirely reasonable if you refused to meet him."

"Why is he here?" Jane asked, her brow wrinkled. "He knew I was in London and never called…"

"He did not know," Elizabeth said bluntly. "I am sorry; I should have told you that sooner; the truth is that Mr. Bingley's sisters and Mr. Darcy concealed your presence from your suitor. He had no idea that you were in London all those months."

Jane gulped and her eyes grew shiny. "What of Lydia? Does he know…?"

"He does, and he says it makes no difference about his view of our family or his care for you."

Jane blew out a slow breath and said, "I will see him."