Chapter 7

Longbourn

Wednesday, 12th August, 1812

Darcy bowed to Miss Bennet and glanced around, only to be disappointed. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet, Bingley. I do have news of Miss Lydia, but perhaps I could speak to Miss Elizabeth as well?"

Jane Bennet flushed uncomfortably and hastily dropped a curtsey. "Of course, Mr. Darcy. I apologize for not greeting you properly. I will…"

She broke off as the door opened, and Elizabeth rushed in and pulled the door shut behind her. Darcy could not help but smile at her and was delighted when she returned the smile.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, "I saw you arriving and hurried down as soon as I could. There is news of Lydia?"

"There is," Darcy replied, forcing his face to assume a more serious expression. His heart was pounding with joy at being in his beloved's presence again, but the situation with Lydia was the most important concern for the Bennet ladies, and the report he brought might well not be particularly palatable.

"There is," he repeated. "It is rather a long story, so…"

"Of course, let us sit down," Elizabeth finished, gesturing toward a comfortable chair near the window. "A maid will bring tea in a few minutes, but until then we should be safe from curious ears."

Darcy took a seat and waited for the others to take their own places and then sat in silence as he contemplated how best to tell the story of his discovery of Lydia.

"As I told you, Miss Elizabeth, I departed Derbyshire for London in the hopes of finding Miss Lydia and Wickham…"

He continued his story, with a brief break for tea and scones, and finally arrived at his discussion with Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner, with his suggestion of an alternative to Lydia marrying Wickham.

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances, and Elizabeth said, "What is your idea?"

Darcy blew out a long breath and fixed his gaze on the woman he loved. He was afraid that Elizabeth would not be pleased with his idea, and indeed, if she loathed it, he would probably search out Wickham and bribe him to marry Lydia.

"My idea is as follows. I understand that Miss Lydia wrote that she was eloping to Gretna Green with Mr. Wickham. I propose that instead of Wickham traveling to Gretna Green, a party including myself, Miss Lydia, one of Miss Lydia's sisters, a companion for Miss Lydia, Mr. Bennet, and a few eligible gentlemen journey to Scotland. Miss Lydia will be permitted to choose the man she likes best of the three or four men and marry him at Gretna Green. She will thus be safely married, and I am confident that in time, and with judicious explanations, the matter of Wickham will be forgotten."

The ladies and Bingley were now staring at him incredulously, and Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy, my sister is a besmirched, sixteen-year-old fool who has only her beauty and liveliness to recommend her. Why would any honorable man be willing to marry her?"

"Because I will pay him ten thousand pounds," Darcy said bluntly.

This provoked obvious astonishment on the part of both young ladies, and Bingley said with a frown, "Darcy, I fear I do not entirely understand. That is a princely sum indeed, and I cannot … surely Wickham would be willing to wed Miss Lydia with that kind of inducement?"

"He almost certainly would," Darcy agreed, "but aside from my own disgust at paying that wretch, I am gravely concerned for Miss Lydia's future as the wife of Wickham."

"You do not think he loves and cares for her?" Jane asked softly.

Darcy turned toward her and shook his head. "He cares for no one but himself, Miss Bennet, of that I am completely certain. He takes and takes and takes, and with all due respect to your sister, she has no idea of his true character."

Elizabeth sighed mournfully and said, "I am well aware, and in truth, I do not entirely blame her, though of course I am horrified that she ran off with him in such a way. When I first met Wickham, I thought him the most wonderful of men, and he deceived me completely as to his nature. He has such outward charm, but inwardly he is a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"He is," Darcy agreed. "He is. Your sister is very young to be tied to such a man her entire life. Moreover, you know the laws of the land. There is no guarantee that he will treat her with even a modicum of decency."

Elizabeth pulled in a sharp breath. "Are you saying … surely you do not mean that he would actually harm her?"

"I would not put it past him if he were in his cups, and he often is," Darcy responded. Jane Bennet's eyes were shiny with tears, and her handsome face contorted with sorrow.

"Poor Lydia," she murmured. "Poor, foolish Lydia."

"It is not as neat and tidy as Wickham marrying our youngest sister," Elizabeth mused, "but I agree that almost any man would be preferable to that reprobate."

"My cousin Richard is looking about for appropriate men who might be interested," Darcy said.

"What does our father think?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy hesitated for a moment before answering with care. "He was initially inclined to believe that your sister's marriage to Wickham was the best option, but eventually he came around to my way of thinking."

The conversation had, in fact, been surprisingly fractious. Mr. Bennet had always seemed a lackadaisical man, more interested in his library than his children, but Lydia's scandalous behavior had inspired a genuine eruption of rage in the master of Longbourn. Indeed, Mr. Bennet seemed to think that Lydia deserved her fate as wife of George Wickham, and he had only been convinced of the messier, alternative plan after a great deal of discussion with his brother-in-law and Darcy.

As for Darcy himself, while he did not like Miss Lydia in the least – she truly was vain and vulgar and hoydenish – he could not help but think of his own dear sister who had nearly been tied to the villainous Wickham for life. It had only been Darcy's providential decision to journey to Ramsgate a few days earlier than planned which had prevented Georgiana and Wickham from eloping.

He wanted to save Lydia Bennet, for her sake, but also for the sake of the woman he loved. No, the woman he adored.

"Mr. Darcy," Jane said hesitantly, which drew his attention to the lovely eldest Miss Bennet.

"Yes?"

"I am still puzzled as to why the trip to Scotland is required. It is such a long journey, is it not?"

"It is," Darcy agreed, "but even if I purchase a common license, the wedding has to take place in either the bride's parish or the husband's parish. It would, I think, be catastrophic to bring Miss Lydia here unwed, regardless if she arrived on her fiancé's arm."

The Bennet ladies exchanged horrified looks, and Elizabeth said, "Yes, it would. Mother would make a great noise about it, and the neighbors would know that weeks after her departure from Brighton, Lydia was still unmarried."

"Exactly," Darcy said. "My cousin Richard Fitzwilliam is currently interviewing men who might be interested in marrying your sister, but they will not all be from the same parish. If we go to Scotland, your sister can be legally married no matter which parish the man resides in."

"That makes sense," Elizabeth said and then, tilting her head, continued. "There is something more though, is there not?"

He turned his attention on her and could not help but smile. She seemed to understand his expressions and his demeanor in a way that no one else did save Georgiana, which was incredible knowing that when they first met, they did nothing but misunderstand each other.

"There is," he agreed, forcing his smile away in favor of a grave expression. "Your sister will need to accept one of the men accompanying us to Scotland, and given that she is still pining over Wickham, there is a possibility she will refuse, in which case she and her companion will be installed in a cottage in Scotland for the foreseeable future."

Elizabeth and Jane looked at one another, and the former nodded and said, "We understand. If she can be made to comprehend the gravity of the situation, Lydia ought to be motivated by the very real threat of a Scottish cottage into taking the proceedings seriously."

"Exactly," Darcy said.

/

Pemberley

Late afternoon sun, honey-golden, slanted low across the elegant backs of the two ladies wandering through the garden along clean-swept flagstone paths. Warmth touched the back of Caroline Bingley's neck, and she moved her parasol just slightly to protect her head and neck from the sun's damaging rays. Her skirt hem brushed at the riot of deep pink flowers growing close to the ground, a pleasant scent rising up to perfume the air. A faint breeze lifted, tugging lightly at her bonnet and setting her companion's fair curls swaying.

Caroline smiled over at Miss Darcy, listening with pleasure to the young lady's shy recounting of her ride to a nearby pond that morning. Caroline herself had risen too late to accompany her hostess, but Miss Darcy had returned by midday. The young lady spent much of her day cloistered away improving her accomplishments, but she punctually arrived at meals with her guests and had employed the past few evenings walking in the garden with Miss Bingley.

The weather of late had been glorious, and Caroline took a moment to savor the dry stone beneath her elegantly shod feet and the cool breeze that wrapped around her shoulders like the softest of shawls. The roses were in full bloom, bobbing lovely heads of pink and red and white and pale delicate yellow like a sunrise. She took a deep, delighted breath of the scented air. "How beautiful the rose garden is!"

"It is lovely," Georgiana agreed from beside her. "I have always enjoyed walking here."

Caroline smiled down at her affectionately. "I believe it was your mother who had it planted?"

She was well aware that the rose garden was Lady Anne's brainchild, as she had heard the story before. But her mother's garden was one of the few subjects that lit Georgiana's young face with delight as she spoke, and Caroline maintained an air of attention even as her mind wandered. It had been several days now since her brother had departed before dawn with only a short note left behind, which alluded vaguely to business concerns of some type. Caroline fumed at his discourtesy to their hostess and the waste of an opportunity to court sweet, well-connected Miss Darcy.

Caroline could not think of any other woman whom she would prefer to have as a sister by marriage. Georgiana Darcy was the consummate lady; refined, poised, beautiful, wealthy, good-natured, and highly accomplished. Caroline looked blissfully forward to years walking side by side with Georgiana down these very paths, sisters talking together just as they were now. If she had her way, the two of them would exchange last names, becoming sisters twice over as each wed the other's brother. Charles was still moping around and had shown an irritating lack of interest in courting Miss Darcy, but Caroline would keep working on persuading him. Surely in time even her pigheaded brother could be made to see the advantages of the match, and Miss Darcy was precisely his type – fair-haired and blue-eyed and angelic in nature. Caroline had no doubt that he could be brought around to her point of view in short order. In fact, she expected it would be barely an inconvenience.

Her eyes tracked across the lavish gardens, the rolling fields, the tenant cottages nestled neatly in their hollows and dips, the stables and the elegant orangery and the carriage house, up to the great stone front of Pemberley itself. The sight of the manor never ceased to thrill her. It was as imposing and beautiful on the outside as on the interior. To be mistress of such an estate was the culmination of all her hopes and dreams – the wealth! The status! The house in Town and the parties! To be addressed as Mrs. Darcy – the thought put stars in her eyes.

Surely any day now Mr. Darcy would return. She would be ready for him when he did, and she would exert all her efforts and all her training, everything she had learned at the young ladies' seminary, to show him that she would be the perfect Mistress of Pemberley.