Chapter 8

Breakfast Table

Longbourn

Thursday, 13th August, 1812

For the first time in more than a week, Mrs. Bennet had dressed and presented herself at the breakfast table. Elizabeth, who had spent the previous night packing for a long trip, had selfishly hoped that her mother would keep to her bed, but alas, it was not to be.

"I should go to London," Mrs. Bennet cried out, her lace cap dancing in her agitation. "Poor dear Lydia needs me, her mother, during this trying time. Nor do I understand why Mr. Bennet is not making Wickham marry Lydia!!"

"Father made it clear in his letter that he wishes for me to go to London," Elizabeth said patiently. "Furthermore, at this point, Mr. Wickham has disappeared."

"You truly think he has no intention of marrying Lydia?" Kitty asked, her pale blue eyes wide.

Elizabeth huffed and shook her head. "Kitty, Mr. Wickham is a profligate and a spendthrift. He has always intended to charm an heiress into wedding him, and he has no use for Lydia because she has no dowry."

"Then why did he run away with her?" Kitty demanded. "Lydia said they were going to Gretna Green to marry! Why did he change his mind?"

Elizabeth compressed her lips, took a deep breath, and said, "He did not change his mind, Kitty. He was merely desirous of having intimate relations with Lydia for his own pleasure, with no concern about her or her future. He is a truly horrible man."

"You never said that before," Mrs. Bennet sobbed, dabbing her silken handkerchief at her brimming eyes. "Indeed, you introduced Mr. Wickham to your father and me."

Elizabeth could not help but wince in shame at these words. It was true enough that she had greatly admired Wickham and had done her best to make him a frequent guest at Longbourn the previous autumn and spring. She really had been incredibly stupid.

"I know, Mamma, and I am very sorry. I fell for his lies initially, but I should have spoken up when I learned the truth. I knew what he was, but since he was leaving the area for Brighton, I did not say anything. Even when Mrs. Forster invited Lydia along, it did not occur to me that she would be in danger from the rogue."

Mary, who had hitherto been silent, lifted her head and said, "How did you know of Wickham's poor character, Lizzy?"

"Mr. Darcy and I met in Kent," Elizabeth explained, "and on one occasion, I gave way to righteous indignation on Mr. Wickham's behalf. I challenged Mr. Darcy regarding the disputed church living, and Mr. Darcy explained that Wickham signed away all rights to the church living in return for receiving three thousand pounds. Mr. Darcy called upon his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, a most excellent and honorable gentleman, for support of his story. I realized then what I should have earlier; that Wickham had promised not to blast Darcy's reputation locally, but he did. He said he would not avoid Darcy, but he went to London instead of going to the ball at Netherfield. He pursued Miss King because she inherited ten thousand pounds. I knew he was a degenerate, but I was afraid of saying too much, and in any case, Wickham was so well liked that I thought no one would believe me."

She moaned and rubbed her forehead. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I did not say something."

"I daresay no one would have accepted your warnings," Kitty said, suddenly sympathetic. "I know I would have not; Mr. Wickham is so handsome and agreeable that I would have thought that you were absurdly wrong. Lydia definitely would not have believed you! All she has ever wanted is to marry a man in a red coat."

"All that is quite beside the point!" Mrs. Bennet cried out. "What are we to do? My dear Lydia disgraced, along with all of you girls! We will be shunned and despised, and when Mr. Bennet dies, Charlotte Collins will throw us to the hedgerows before he is cold in his grave!"

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances, and Elizabeth said, "There is still a chance that Wickham will be found, Mother, and if not, well, there are other alternatives."

"Such as?"

"Mr. Bingley has said he wishes to marry me," Jane said bluntly.

The matron's frown shifted instantly to a beaming smile of joy. "Oh Jane, I knew it! I knew that you could not be so beautiful for nothing! Oh, my dear Jane! You will be mistress of Netherfield at last!"

"I have not accepted him," Jane stated calmly. "I am thinking about his offer."

Poor Mrs. Bennet's face was hard pressed to keep up with the rapid changes of expression.

"Not accepted him?" the lady demanded shrilly. "How can you possibly say that? Jane, he is wealthy and handsome and charming…"

"He left me, Mother!" Jane interrupted, her usually placid face twisted in anger. "He told me he would return to Netherfield and then left without so much as a farewell. Furthermore, he allowed his sisters to treat me very poorly. No, if I am to become Mrs. Bingley, I must be assured that Mr. Bingley has the backbone to stand up to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. I will not live my life being denigrated and sneered at by false friends."

"Brava!" Elizabeth exclaimed, gazing in wonder at Jane. She had always adored her eldest sister but had also been exasperated by Jane's commitment to gazing at the world through rose-colored spectacles. It seemed that the combined horrors of Lydia's elopement and Mr. Bingley's sisters' actions had finally shaken Miss Bennet's belief in the goodness of all mankind.

Not surprisingly, Mrs. Bennet was not equally delighted with her most beautiful daughter's words. "Jane, what are you talking about? Mr. Bingley is rich, and a wonderful match. With the entail on Longbourn, you owe it to us..."

The door opened, and a maid approached Elizabeth to inform her that Mr. Darcy was waiting outside for her. Jane, noting the whispering, gave a little wave of encouragement to her next younger sister and then turned back to argue with their mother.

Elizabeth, eager to escape Longbourn, could not help but be grateful.

/

The Gardiner House

Gracechurch Street

The lock on the door clicked, and Lydia started up from where she had been sitting upon the edge of the bed, staring vaguely out the window. She gazed expectantly at the door. It was not the usual time for a meal or a bath to be brought to her, so some development must have occurred. This seemed to be confirmed, as a moment later, one of her aunt's maids stepped into the room and said, "Please come with me, Miss."

Lydia lifted her chin and followed the woman out the door and towards the stairs. Her stomach churned with a nauseating mix of emotions, none of them pleasant. She was utterly furious that she had been locked in her room ever since her arrival at the Gardiners' house as though she were some criminal! How dare they? How dare her father? How dare he take the side of rude, horrible Mr. Darcy? Why did they insist on persecuting her dear Wickham?

Her poor Wickham! It was truly awful of Mr. Darcy to have frightened him off the way he had. But Wickham had not shown much concern for her, either, which hurt and confused her. Surely he loved her as she adored him? But he had snatched her reticule on his way out the door, stealing all her money without compunction, and had been quite rude about her honor as well. Was it – surely Mr. Darcy had been lying when he said that Wickham had had no intention of marrying her. He had promised her. He would not lie.

Certainly he would not lie?

No! He would not deceive her in this matter. This was all Mr. Darcy's fault! And her father had believed the master of Pemberley in spite of the man's rudeness and disdain toward the Bennet family. Instead, Mr. Bennet had blamed her for the current situation, which was most bizarre and unreasonable! She had been shocked – and indeed frightened – when her father had yelled at her after she was dragged into the Gardiners' house. He had never shouted at her before! Indeed, he had never had much at all to do with her before, far preferring to make sardonic remarks over meals and then escaping to the library, away from his wife and daughters.

Lydia had taken full advantage of her sire's inattention. Mr. Bennet had always given in to his wife's financial demands so that he could enjoy peaceful days sitting undisturbed with his books. Mrs. Bennet had been most generous in distributing pin money to her favorite daughters, and Lydia had spent her allowance making herself as pretty as possible in order to charm all the men who eagerly flirted with her.

And she had succeeded! She had captured the heart of the most handsome man in all of England, and they would be married. Or they would have been wed, had it not been for Mr. Darcy's unwanted interference! And they might yet be married, for surely even now, Wickham longed to claim her as his bride and was only discouraged by Mr. Darcy's presence!

It was thoroughly unfair that her father should be angry with her. She had only been doing as her mother had always wished in finding a husband. His anger should rightfully be turned on that interfering Mr. Darcy! Perhaps he had come to his senses and realized this? Maybe he was having her brought to him so that he might apologize – or even, maybe, Wickham had arrived and asked for her!

These hopes were dashed as the maid opened the door to the sitting room and gestured Lydia inside. Lydia's chest clenched with nervousness as she took in the occupants of the room. Her father stood near the window wearing a hard scowl, and a tall lady, possibly in her mid-thirties, sat demurely on a chair, dressed in a plain green muslin gown.

"Shut the door, please," Mr. Bennet said, and Lydia realized a moment later that he was speaking to the maid, who obediently departed and pulled the door shut.

"My daughter Lydia," Mr. Bennet said to the woman. "Lydia, Mrs. Greenfield, your new companion."

Fear gave way to astonished dismay. "A companion? I do not need a companion, Father! I need to be married."

"And perhaps you will be," Mr. Bennet replied, "but that is still not a certainty, and if worse comes to worst and I am forced to banish you to the wilds of Scotland, Mrs. Greenfield will look after you."

Lydia was very fond of novels but had always thought the various heroines' predilection for turning pale was nonsense. Now, she could actually feel the blood draining from her face, and she collapsed more than sat in a convenient chair.

"Banish?" she repeated feebly.

"Yes, banish," Mr. Bennet said coldly. "I have no intention of allowing you to return to Longbourn unwed, and while I have hopes of marrying you off, I intend to be certain that there is a reasonable alternative."

"Have you found Mr. Wickham?" she demanded eagerly.

"No. He ran, of course, being the coward he is, and indeed given the circumstances, even if he did appear at the door of this very house, he would either be sent away, or more likely, be arrested for indebtedness. He has left substantial debts all over England, apparently."

Lydia's pallor gave way to a flush of indignation. "That is Mr. Darcy's fault! If he had given my dear Wickham the church living…"

"Mr. Wickham was paid three thousand pounds to give up all rights to that living, at his own request," Bennet interrupted, his dark eyes flashing. "I have seen the document myself. Your lover lied to you, to me, to everyone about the matter. It is Mr. Darcy who is the honorable man; Mr. Wickham is a lascivious, spendthrift wretch!"

Lydia promptly burst into tears at these harsh words, and Mrs. Greenfield rose to her feet and said, "Mr. Bennet, would you like me to explain the situation in its entirety to Miss Lydia?"

Bennet, who was caught between fury and a craven desire to run away, hesitated briefly. He had only met Mrs. Greenfield the previous day and wondered whether the woman would be equal to the task of handling his daughter.

"I am quite confident that we will be able to come to an understanding," Mrs. Greenfield continued, and Bennet relaxed. The woman was tall and broad and strong, and there was a certain martial light in her eyes, which boded well for her ability to manage Lydia.

"Thank you, Mrs. Greenfield," he said and stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Now, Miss Lydia," Mrs. Greenfield said sternly. "I wish to help you, but the sooner you accept your current circumstances, the better. Mr. Wickham will never come for you, and indeed you were a fool to imagine that he would! According to your father, he ran away from Brighton due to unpaid debts. Do you imagine he would marry a girl of only sixteen years when she brings nothing of substance into the marriage?"

Lydia continued to cry. Her life was ruined forever.