Page 17 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Drawing Room
Longbourn
The Next Day
The drawing room of Longbourn had become almost as familiar a haunt as the sitting room at Netherfield. Bingley spent as much time with Miss Bennet as he could, and Darcy had made himself a faithful shadow, though Bingley did not truly need his support. But the magnetic Miss Elizabeth was there, and occasionally Alexander Wickham, who was always a delightful conversationalist. Darcy had watched the pair of them like a hawk for a few days before arriving at the conclusion, with quite unwarranted relief, that there was no courtship there. Alexander spoke with his customary ease and kindness with Miss Elizabeth, but he paid her no especial attention that he did not also give to her family.
Darcy, on the other hand, did. He had recently discovered that Miss Elizabeth greatly enjoyed playing draughts and now made sure to play a game with her every time he visited. The board was spread before them once more, each opponent’s captured pieces arrayed alongside the board. Darcy studied the battleground in front of him before his glance strayed once more to his companion across the table. She was looking especially lovely today, a little wrinkle above her nose with her concentration, her hair pulled up in a simple bun. The green of her muslin dress and the tan lace at her collar flattered her hair and her alluring brown eyes, currently narrowed in thought. These times of visiting Longbourn, playing chess or draughts with Miss Elizabeth, were incredibly pleasant. Darcy found it endlessly refreshing that she did not shamelessly flirt with him, did not try to allure him with coquetry or showing off. Her speech was arch because that was how she was, lacking the sauciness of the bolder society misses, and she was all the more appealing for it.
It was an untenable situation. Darcy was honest with himself; he had fallen quite badly in love with Miss Elizabeth. It was impossible, of course. Even if he could overlook the disaster of her connections and low status – and, perhaps, he could, if he stayed for much longer – he owed it to Georgiana to marry well. He could, with enough inducement, possibly be willing to be disloyal to his duty to his family name, but his younger sister must be his highest priority. Mrs. Darcy must be well-connected, with impeccable breeding and manners, with experience and a good reputation so that she could help Georgiana navigate the treacherous waters of high society.
Darcy would stay in Hertfordshire until Bingley married Jane Bennet. Then he must leave, either to his house in Town or to Pemberley. He could not risk staying in proximity with the fascinating Miss Elizabeth much longer.
***
Kitty Bennet slowly climbed the stairs to the east wing of Longbourn, where she and Lydia and her parents had their bedchambers. The older three Bennet daughters were situated in the west wing of the house, and she wondered, idly, if Mary and Elizabeth would shift to different chambers after Jane was married in a few days. It was an odd thought, though it did not matter to her personally. She liked being adjacent to Lydia’s chamber. Sometimes, they would creep into one another’s rooms and speak far into the night.
They had not done so last night, and thus it was surprising that it was almost noon and Lydia had not yet come down to break her fast. Kitty knew that Lydia would be a trifle irritable at being woken up, but Kitty was bored. Her mother spoke of nothing but the upcoming wedding, Jane and Bingley were entirely engrossed in one another, Darcy and Lizzy were playing draughts, Mary was practicing her music, and Mr. Bennet was, of course, hiding in his library.
It was very late, and it was high time for Lydia to rise from her comfortable bed.
She tapped on the door and, after receiving no answer, opened it and crept inside. It was very dark, with the curtains closed tightly, and she huffed in frustration. She walked over to the nearest curtain and pulled the fabric to the side, permitting the light from cloudy skies to penetrate Lydia’s inner sanctum.
She turned around and found herself staring in astonishment. Lydia was not in her bed, and … what was that?
Brow furrowed, the fourth Bennet daughter approached the pillow, upon which lay a letter. She picked it up, walked over to the nearest window, thrust the curtains aside farther, broke the wax on the paper, opened it, and read it.
A moment later, she ran for the door.
***
Drawing Room
The drawing room was pleasantly calm, with a fire roaring in the fireplace, and Jane and Bingley speaking softly with one another, and Mrs. Bennet watching the engaged pair fondly, and Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth playing draughts in a comfortable corner well protected from drafts.
Elizabeth stared at the board, her eyes narrowed. Mr. Darcy was an excellent player, and so far, they had each won two games. This one would be the tie breaker, and she had no intention of making any stupid moves that would give her opponent the advantage.
The door was suddenly flung open, and she lifted her head irritably, which quickly gave way to alarm. Kitty, entirely pale, her blue orbs wide with distress, entered the room with a paper in her right hand.
“Lydia!” she croaked. “Lydia!”
The Bennet ladies were on their feet in seconds.
“What about Lydia?” Mrs. Bennet screeched. “Is she ill? What is happening?”
“She has run away with Mr. Wickham!” Kitty screamed, whereupon her knees collapsed, and she dropped to the floor.
The resultant hubbub was almost beyond belief. Mrs. Bennet began bawling, Jane rushed to tend to the stricken Kitty, and Elizabeth, filled with horror, bent over to take the paper from her sister’s hand and rushed over to the window to read it with shaking fingers.
My dear family,
You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. I will write to you from Scotland and sign it Lydia Wickham! Wickham tells me that it will only take a few days to be married, and thus I will be married first of all my sisters, even before Jane!
Yours,
Lydia
Elizabeth wobbled in her distress and was startled when a strong hand reached out to grasp her arm. She turned an ashen face toward Mr. Darcy, who said, “Please, do sit down, Miss Elizabeth.”
She wanted to scream, to cry, to run as fast as she could to find Lydia, but she felt so weak that she accepted Darcy’s support and tottered a few feet away to collapse onto a chair.
Mr. Bennet entered at this moment, attracted by the noise, and demanded, “What on earth is going on? Is the house on fire?”
“Lydia has run away with Mr. Wickham!” Kitty sobbed from her position on the floor.
“What?!” Mr. Bennet shouted, which provoked both Kitty and Mrs. Bennet to speak at once, rendering both unintelligible.
“Silence, please!” he said a few seconds later, and turned to Elizabeth. “My dear, perhaps you could explain?”
“I believe this letter explains it very well,” she replied drearily, holding out the paper which described, in sufficient detail, her youngest sister’s ruinous behavior.
The master of Longbourn stalked over to take the letter from her hand. He took it over to the window in order to let the light fall upon it. When he lifted his face two minutes later, he too was pale as a ghost.
“Dear God Almighty,” he murmured, and Bingley, who had been looking helpless, said, “Mr. Bennet, what can I do to assist you?”
Bennet groaned and held out the letter toward Jane’s fiancé. “I am not certain that anything can be done. Feel free to read this, and your friend as well, and then…”
He trailed off and turned to stare out the window, and Elizabeth watched as Bingley read the letter and then handed it to Darcy.
Her eyes shifted to her sisters and mother. Jane had pulled Kitty up off the floor and had her sitting on a couch with Mrs. Bennet, who was sobbing gustily into her handkerchief.
“We must go after them,” Darcy announced suddenly, and Bingley said, “Indeed, we must. Do we have any idea what time Miss Lydia left the house?”
Elizabeth was still reeling from horror, but she was sufficiently collected to ask, “Kitty, did it look as if Lydia’s bed had been slept in?”
“No,” the girl whimpered, “and the letter was on a pillow, so I do not think Sally had already made up the bed.”
This was true enough, and Elizabeth shook her head in despair. “She probably left last night, then, and we have little hope of catching up with them.”
“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said authoritatively, “could you and Bingley and I speak in private?”
Bennet turned away from the window, and Elizabeth, looking at her father, thought he had aged a decade in the last minutes. “Of course, Mr. Darcy, though I am not certain what can be done.”
“I believe a great deal can be done,” the master of Pemberley said forcefully.
“Very well,” his host replied somberly. “This way, gentlemen.”