Chapter 4

Elizabeth experienced a range of emotions over the following days. The journey back to Hertfordshire was filled with signs of her sadness and anxiety and many reassurances from her aunt and uncle that they would find Lydia and put things to rights, whatever that would be in this circumstance. It did little to assuage Elizabeth. She was at once desperately worried about what would happen if Lydia was not found, doubtful that there was any good resolution to her rash actions, heartbroken at the separation from Mr Darcy, and furious with her sister for being so stupid.

Elizabeth’s anger towards Mr Bennet was only slightly less acute; she had warned him that it was foolish to allow Lydia to go to Brighton, but he had not wanted to listen to his youngest daughter’s complaints if she was denied the treat. They might all be ruined because of his laziness, and she and Jane robbed of excellent husbands.

Elizabeth’s only solace was that Mr Darcy had vowed to do what he could. It was generous—more than generous. Most men would wash their hands of the Bennets and soon forget even an ardent love for the sister of a girl who had acted as Lydia had.

At home, Elizabeth said nothing to Jane of her time in Derbyshire or really about the holiday at all; Lydia was the only thing on their minds. Since even thinking of Mr Darcy made Elizabeth feel ill with worry, she was content to stay silent, returning to her memories of him only at night when she could not sleep. Her love and trust for him supported her during the trying days before news arrived. He was the best man she knew, and if he could help—whatever he could do—he would.

At last, an express arrived from Mr Gardiner, informing them that the couple had been found and would marry at the end of the month. Mrs Bennet’s recovery was instantaneous, and she was as happy and exuberant as she ever had been. Although it was contrary to her personal wishes, Elizabeth convinced her father to invite the couple to Longbourn.

“I shall hate it as much as you, Papa,” she told him one afternoon in his book-room. “I would gladly never see him, and I am afraid I shall be tempted to shake Lydia, hoping to make her see how stupid and reckless she has been. But we must give the appearance of acceptance—let people believe there was nothing scandalous about the affair.”

Her father sighed heavily. He looked as though he had aged a decade since she embarked on her holiday with the Gardiners. “You are right, Lizzy, but let it be a short visit. Do not be surprised if I do everything possible to avoid their company, especially that…cur’s.”

Elizabeth moved to stand beside his chair and wrapped an arm across his shoulders. “I shall help you escape them, as long as you let me take refuge in here with you.”

Sitting in his bedchamber in his London house, Darcy rested his head against the back of his armchair, eyes towards the ceiling, and let out a low groan. It had been an exhausting week and a half. Only that evening had all the necessary papers been completed and signed. The business aspect of the situation—for which he had no polite name—had been concluded, and Darcy hoped it meant he would soon stop feeling perpetually sick in his stomach. That might not happen until after the couple were married and the final sums of money had exchanged hands.

Darcy fervently hoped that tonight he would sleep. Since leaving Elizabeth in Lambton, he had managed no more than two or three hours a night, with the occasional brief nap. It seemed like several months had passed since that morning, but at last, this dreadful period was almost at an end. The wedding would be soon, and Darcy would attempt to forget all about it, confident he would never see Wickham again; he hoped the same was true of Lydia Bennet. Elizabeth would understand, especially if he told her more about how Wickham had treated Georgiana.

Elizabeth. Darcy closed his eyes and let images of her flood his mind. The way she had looked at him during their last walk together, so full of life and joy, the feel of her hand in his, even her presence by his side, it was all so…right. They were meant to be together; he had known it at Easter when he proposed—and she had justly rejected him—and it was even more evident all these months later. She had put her trust in him, and—for her—he had found her sister and coaxed Wickham into marrying her, once it became evident the silly, ignorant girl would not leave him. Darcy had hated every minute of the endeavour, but he would do it again and again if that is what it took to win Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.

“Soon,” he whispered as though she would hear him. “The day after the ceremony, I leave at first light for Pemberley. I must see Georgiana and escort her to town. Once that is done, I will come to you, my love.”

Then, the unspoken promise between them would be fulfilled, and they could look forward to a bright future.

The entirety of Lydia and Mr Wickham’s visit to Longbourn was nothing short of torture for Elizabeth. Her sister was full of smiles and pride, and her mother was little better. She spent the whole time biting her tongue not to let loose her low opinion of the newly married couple.

After saying as polite a farewell as she could muster and waving at the carriage as it pulled Lydia and Mr Wickham away, Elizabeth turned towards her favourite path and began walking, not bothering to speak a word to anyone. Jane followed, calling her name, and Elizabeth waited until she was beside her before continuing, her sister’s arm wrapped about hers.

“I wish you were not so angry,” Jane said.

Elizabeth glanced at her. She had kept her feelings to herself, but she was not surprised her sister had noticed. “How can you not be? Lydia seems to think marriage is a great joke and that she has won some sort of prize by being the first of us to wed. She has no notion of the gravity of what she has done or how her actions might have destroyed our family—or she cares not an iota if she does—and Mama encourages her.

“As for him”—Elizabeth refused to speak Mr Wickham’s name; the very sound of it revolted her—“he is smug, odious, and duplicitous. I am disgusted that I ever thought well of him and that I had to share a roof with him. After this visit, which I know was necessary, I will not. If Papa permits either of them at Longbourn again, I shall go elsewhere for the duration of their stay.”

She hoped she would soon have a home of her own. Out of consideration for Mr and Miss Darcy, Elizabeth would not admit Mr Wickham or Lydia entry to Pemberley or the London house. Even should Mr Darcy say he would tolerate it, believing it would please her to see her youngest sister, she would refuse.

“I know it has been difficult. I pray Mr Wickham will succeed in his new position, for Lydia’s sake as well as his own,” Jane said in a conciliatory tone.

“I shall do likewise. He is now a husband and could possibly be a father before long. I hope he takes his new responsibilities seriously.” Elizabeth spoke to please her sister, silently adding, Though I doubt he will.

They were quiet for a while, and Elizabeth’s spirits calmed. She always found being surrounded by nature on a pleasant day improved her mood, and it worked its magic once again. She thought about Mr Darcy and how soon he would be in Meryton. It might depend on when Mr Bingley returned from Yorkshire. She expected the two men to come together, given Mr Bingley’s desire to return to the neighbourhood. Mr Bingley would send word to open Netherfield, and the village gossips would ensure the news reached Longbourn.

As though knowing she was thinking of the gentleman, Jane said, “Why would Mr Darcy have been at Lydia’s wedding? I did not want to ask her, since she said it was meant to be a secret.”

Lydia had accidentally mentioned it while speaking—boasting, really—of the ceremony. Elizabeth had hidden her smile. It had proved to her that Mr Darcy had done as he said he would in Lambton and assisted her uncle in resolving the distressing situation. Mrs Bennet liked to act as though Mr Wickham had always intended to marry Lydia, but Elizabeth knew that was nonsense.

“I suppose someone who knows them both informed Mr Darcy of that man running off with a young lady. Mr Darcy is too good not to intervene and attempt to rectify the situation.”

“That would explain it.” Jane sounded a little disappointed. The reason why was apparent when she continued. “I thought perhaps it meant they were attempting to repair their friendship. They have known each other since boyhood, and it would be a comfort to know Lydia’s husband had such a gentleman as one of his connexions.”

It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh at Jane’s notion. It was unthinkable that Mr Darcy would look upon Mr Wickham in any sort of amiable light. Fortunately, she was not called upon to comment; Jane posed another question.

“What did you and Mr Wickham talk of before they left? I saw him approach you on the lawn while I was speaking to Lydia.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes—not at Jane, but at Mr Wickham’s impudence. “He said that we were always good friends, which we were not—not after Mr Darcy told me the truth about him when I was staying with Charlotte—and that now we were more. I told him in no uncertain terms that I had only been polite because I was forced to be in his company, but when it was just the two of us I felt no such compunction and would just as soon forget his existence. I did not stay to hear whether he had any response. It was no more than he deserved. They are gone, I am walking with my favourite sister, and I wish to put them from my thoughts and remember only that which makes me happy.”

Jane patted her arm and said nothing further.