Page 19 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

On the Great North Road

The Next Morning

Alexander leaned back in the carriage and adjusted the rug over his lap, relishing the warmth. He was blessed with an excellent living at Kympton and, unlike his twin, was not a lavish spender. Thus, he had an entirely reasonable amount of money to live on. However, his income was less than a twentieth of his patron’s and while he was not jealous, he was, at the moment, grateful for Darcy’s deeper pockets. There had been no rental carriage available at the inn where they had spent the night, so Darcy had purchased a carriage and four horses from a local gentleman, paying top pound for the privilege. Thus, Darcy and Alexander were riding in comfort, protected from the brisk winds outside the carriage. The carriage driver was certainly far less comfortable, but Darcy was compensating him double his usual rate, so he was likely pleased enough with the situation.

“I feel for the Bennets,” Darcy said aloud. “Miss Lydia has spent the night with George and presumably been intimate with him. If he will not marry her, they will be ruined.”

“It is truly dreadful,” Alexander agreed mournfully.

“For the older girls, yes. I have no sympathy for Miss Lydia, who is a complete and utter fool and deserving of her fate.”

Alexander leaned back against the squabs and said, “She is a fool, true, but do you think that is her genuinely her fault?”

Darcy also leaned back, his brow furrowed in thought, and a few minutes passed in silence.

“Her parents are largely to blame,” the master of Pemberley finally said.

“Exactly,” Alexander said. “Miss Lydia is only fifteen years old, and she can hardly be blamed for indecorous behavior when Mrs. Bennet encourages her liveliness, and Mr. Bennet ignores her poor behavior.”

“If that is the truth, why are the older three Bennet daughters so well behaved?” Darcy demanded.

Alexander shrugged. “Partly it is due to the ladies’ varied personalities, but I suspect more of it has to do with the Bennets’ relations in Cheapside. Mr. Gardiner is Mrs. Bennet’s brother, and based on my conversation with Mrs. Phillips, he is both sensible and gentlemanly, his wife is a clever woman, and the older Bennet daughters had the benefit of spending many months visiting these genteel relations. I understand that they have spent less time in company in the last years as the Gardiners are busier with both their own growing family and a thriving business.”

Darcy regarded his old playmate in astonishment. “However could you know this?”

“I listen and ask questions, Darcy. That is, I think, one of my great gifts, and as a parson, I have cultivated that gift with care. My observations are by necessity incomplete, since I do not know the family particularly well, but as spiritual overseer of both farmers and gentry in Kympton, I have seen enough to, I believe, to understand Miss Lydia quite well.”

Darcy frowned and said, “Beyond the obvious, you mean? She is demonstrably a foolish, reckless, and immoral young lady to run away to Gretna Green with your brother at the age of fifteen.”

“There is more to it than that, though. Lydia is the youngest of the girls, and in my experience, the youngest children in a large family tend to be rather spoiled. More importantly than that, she is a strong-willed young woman, and her father is too lazy, and her mother too indulgent. Based on my observations, Miss Lydia is not intellectually deficient. She has merely been permitted to run amok in her house because of her parents’ unwillingness to rein her in.”

“I suppose that is reasonable enough,” Darcy said. “Nonetheless, the girl must bear most of the responsibility for her idiotic decisions.”

Alexander Wickham winced and confessed, “I feel some accountability for Miss Lydia’s flight. I ought to have known that cutting George off from his source of ready money would embolden him to do something dreadful.”

Darcy grunted and shook his head. “Nonsense, Alexander. You are not responsible for your brother’s wickedness.”

Alexander grimaced. “Not responsible, perhaps, but when I see my own brother cause such devastation for a family, I am grieved and wonder if there was more I could have done. Moreover, I will be honest and confess that my actions have done you a great disservice too, Darcy.”

His patron turned a bewildered look on him. “On me?”

Alexander hesitated and then decided to speak plainly. “Darcy, I have seen how you look at Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed slightly. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I do not know what you mean!”

“She is a charming young woman,” Alexander said gently, “along with being intelligent, clever, arch, and unusual. There is no shame in being attracted by her.”

Darcy turned away to stare out the window at the dull scenery, and Alexander waited patiently until, two minutes later, his patron looked back at him with a rueful expression on his face.

“I would ask how you know of my feelings about Miss Elizabeth, but you answered that question a few minutes ago; you watch and discern much that is hidden from others.”

“I know you very well, Darcy,” Alexander said simply. “You are not in the habit of gazing at young women. Indeed, given your history of avoiding matchmaking mammas and their daughters, you are more likely to stare at a convenient wall than a pretty woman.”

Darcy could not help but smile at these words, but then his lips turned down and his forehead creased in a frown.

“It matters not that I find Miss Elizabeth tantalizing,” he said heavily. “The Bennets are not well enough connected to be worthy in-laws for a Darcy, and that is quite aside from the behavior of the younger girls, especially now that Miss Lydia has run away with your brother.”

“Miss Darcy nearly did as well, sir.”

Darcy’s expression shifted to one of anger. “George would have married Georgiana, at least.”

“Yes, because she has a large dowry,” Alexander agreed, “but only because of that. If Miss Darcy had climbed into the carriage with my brother and started for the border, her reputation would have been entirely destroyed if he had chosen to abandon her, especially with Mrs. Younge as my brother’s evil accomplice.”

Darcy grimaced and said, “You are right, of course. So you are saying…”

He trailed off, and Alexander continued quickly, “I am not saying anything in particular, except that the Bennet daughters do not deserve to be ruined by the actions of the youngest child, and I will do my best to bring about a good outcome for the family.”

***

The Lion and the Lamb Inn

Brampton

On the Great North Road

From her warm spot inside the carriage, Elizabeth watched as their equipage turned into the courtyard of the Lion and the Lamb Inn. This was the second inn they had encountered this morning, after a night spent at an inn in the town of St. Neots.

Elizabeth had not wished to halt their journey in St. Neots, but her father had pointed out, sensibly, that driving on in the darkness would almost certainly result in an accident. Moreover, given that Kitty had spoken of Lydia’s folly openly at Longbourn and Mrs. Bennet had started howling, there was no hope that this matter could be hushed up, especially as Lydia had been alone with the elder Wickham all day.

Despair rose and threatened to seize Elizabeth’s heart as she remembered the long and dreary ride the previous day. Each time they had stopped to inquire whether Lydia and Wickham had come this way, the gap had remained the same at several hours. Wickham, it appeared, was sparing no expense on changing horses for his rented carriage. He was obviously eager to keep ahead of any possible interference.

So far, the journey had been equally discouraging. The ostler at Buckden remembered Wickham and Lydia – “a right handsome man, and quite a pretty lady, if young” – but they had only stopped briefly the previous evening. Mr. Bennet had thanked the man and tipped him appropriately, and they had set out in grim silence.

Only a few minutes ago, Mr. Bennet had directed Coachman Jack to stop once more, here at the Lion and the Lamb in Brampton. Elizabeth had objected. “We have not come very far, Father. Surely they would not stop to change the horses already?”

“I am not thinking of changing the horses, my dear,” Mr. Bennet had said, leaning to look out the window. “Wickham is clever. He may have decided to leave the main road and take back lanes for a while, and shake us off if he thinks we are following.”

Elizabeth, too weary and frustrated to speak, had accepted this and now watched dully as her father left the carriage and shuffled across the flags toward the front door. His shoulders were rounded with deep exhaustion and sorrow, his head hanging, and for a moment, anger sparked to life in Elizabeth’s heart. All of this could have been avoided if he had acted the role of father to Lydia, rather than ignoring her and letting her run wild as she chose.

She firmly squashed her fury. Recriminations would do no good, now. Mr. Bennet was acutely aware of his errors as a parent, and the only useful course of action was to try to find Lydia and the rogue who had run off with her. It was a daunting prospect, and more so as Elizabeth considered the many farm lanes the couple could take to vanish from any view of the road and their followers. She took a moment, in the silence of the carriage, to send up a pleading prayer that she and her father could find her prodigal sister and the profligate Wickham.

She took a deep breath to compose herself. It would do Mr. Bennet and their cause no good if she collapsed into despair. Movement from the inn drew her attention, and she looked over, watching as her father strode back towards the carriage. His head was erect now, and his shoulders back; the dispirited dejection was gone from expression, leaving grim determination. Elizabeth caught her breath and straightened, not daring to hope, as he reached the carriage and opened the door, meeting her eyes directly.

“Lizzy, they are here.”

Elizabeth stared at him in wonder. “Truly?”

“Yes. Let me help you out and talk to Coachman Jack about stabling the horses, and then you and I can go speak to them.”

Elizabeth nodded and quickly gathered her personal items before taking her father’s helping hand. She waited in the chilly breeze, as her father spoke to the Bennet’s coachman, and she looked around with interest.

The hostelries they had passed in the last twenty miles of the journey were plainly designed for provincial custom, with no eye to the gentry. The Lion and the Lamb, with its cavorting animals on its brightly painted swinging sign, presented a more pleasing picture. Ivy twisted and climbed across clean red brick walls that stood above a flag-paved courtyard. The stones before the door were swept clean, the courtyard tidy. It certainly cost more than the smaller, simpler inns, but then, neither Wickham nor Lydia were terribly concerned about living within their means.

“Shall we?” Bennet asked, holding out his arm to his second daughter. Elizabeth took the arm and could feel the tension in her father’s thin frame; this upcoming discussion was bound to be frustrating.

The pair climbed the steps to the main door, which was opened from inside by a neat maid. A stout innkeeper stood within and smiled as they entered.

“Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet,” he said, “allow me to show you to the bedchamber of your daughter and her husband.”

Elizabeth and her father exchanged quick glances, and Bennet said, “Thank you.”

They followed the landlord up a wide set of steps and down to the end of the hall, where the man knocked on the door. A familiar feminine voice called for them to enter, and Bennet, with a nod of thanks to his host, turned the knob and pushed the door open.