Page 26

Elizabeth saw Lydia flinch as Mrs Bennet squeezed her a little too hard, and quickly moved to intervene. “We really must be on our way, Mama. The days grow short, and we have many miles to travel.”

With a final flurry of embraces, handkerchief waving, and last-minute admonitions from Mrs. Bennet, they were finally settled in the carriages. The primary travelling coach bore the Darcy crest on its doors and was appointed with every comfort: plush seats upholstered in dark blue velvet, thick rugs for their feet, and cleverly designed compartments for refreshments and books.

For this first stage of the journey, Darcy had suggested that he would ride alongside the carriage on horseback, leaving the ladies to become acquainted. Elizabeth found herself seated beside Georgiana, with Lydia opposite. The second, smaller carriage followed behind, carrying Georgiana’s companion Mrs. Annesley, Darcy’s valet, and Georgiana’s lady’s maid, who would assist all the ladies on the journey. Darcy had promised Elizabeth her own maid once they arrived at Pemberley, of course.

As the carriage pulled away from Longbourn, Elizabeth caught a last glimpse of her family standing in the drive, gradually diminishing as the distance increased, until they rounded a bend in the lane and were lost from sight. She was surprised by the sudden pang of nostalgia that seized her.

“It is strange,” she said aloud, “to leave the only home one has ever known.”

Georgiana looked at her sympathetically. “I remember feeling the same when I first left Pemberley for school. But you will soon come to love Pemberley as your own, I am certain of it. It is at its finest in summer, when the roses are in bloom and the lake reflects the blue of the sky. But winter has its own charm, with fires burning in every grate and the hills covered in snow.”

Elizabeth smiled at her new sister’s enthusiasm. “I look forward to experiencing all its seasons.” She turned to include Lydia in the conversation. “And you, Lydia, shall see something of the country as well, though in rather different circumstances.”

Lydia, who had been staring listlessly out of the window, turned her attention to Elizabeth. “Yes, I suppose I shall,” she agreed without her usual animation. “Though I doubt a widow’s establishment in Leicester will compare to the grandeur of Pemberley.”

There was a hint of the old Lydia in this remark, a touch of petulance that was almost reassuring. Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with Georgiana, who seemed uncertain how to respond to Lydia’s comment.

“Mrs. Wilkins keeps a most respectable house,” Georgiana ventured after a moment. “She was the kindest of nurses to both my brother and I when we were small, and I know my brother trusts her implicitly.”

Lydia merely nodded, returning her gaze to the passing countryside.

The first few miles passed in somewhat strained conversation. Georgiana, naturally shy, made valiant efforts to engage both Elizabeth and Lydia, asking about their childhood at Longbourn and sharing gentle anecdotes of her own upbringing at Pemberley. Elizabeth responded warmly, drawing parallels between her experiences and Georgiana’s where she could, attempting to build bridges of understanding between them.

Lydia contributed little, her responses brief and uncharacteristically subdued. Elizabeth observed her sister with growing concern, noting the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the way her hands occasionally strayed to her stomach before being hastily withdrawn.

When they stopped at a coaching inn to change horses and take refreshment, Elizabeth seized the opportunity to speak with Lydia alone. While Darcy escorted Georgiana inside, Elizabeth held her sister back with a gentle touch on her arm.

“Walk with me a moment,” she suggested, nodding toward a small garden at the side of the inn. “The fresh air will do us good after being confined in the carriage.”

Lydia followed without protest, an acquiescence that would have been unthinkable just months ago. They strolled slowly along a gravel path bordered by winter-bare rosebushes, their breath forming small clouds in the crisp air.

“How are you truly, Lydia?” Elizabeth asked softly when they were out of earshot of the others. “You need not pretend with me.”

Lydia’s carefully maintained composure cracked slightly. “How should I be?” she replied, her voice bitter. “I am to be hidden away as a false widow, carrying a child whose father I...” She broke off, unable to continue.

“Whose father you killed,” Elizabeth finished gently. “In self-defence, Lydia. You must remember that.”

“Do you think I could forget?” Lydia’s laugh was hollow, nothing like her former carefree giggle. “I see it every time I close my eyes. The look on his face when... when the knife went in.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “He was going to leave me, you know. Pregnant and ruined, and marry you instead. He laughed when I begged him to do the right thing.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of anger toward the man who had nearly destroyed her sister, followed by profound pity for Lydia herself. “You were defending yourself, and your child,” she said firmly. “There is no shame in that.”

“Isn’t there?” Lydia’s eyes, when they met Elizabeth’s, were filled with confusion. “I should feel only relief that I escaped both ruin and the gallows, thanks to Mr. Darcy’s intervention. And I do feel relief... but also grief.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “How can I mourn him after what he did? What does that make me?”

Elizabeth drew her sister to a stone bench partially sheltered by a yew hedge. “It makes you human, Lydia,” she said, taking the girl’s cold hands in her own. “Wickham had a talent for inspiring affection, even in those he wronged. Your feelings are not wrong; they are simply complicated.”

Lydia wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, a childish gesture that reminded Elizabeth of just how young her sister truly was. “I am afraid,” she admitted in a small voice. “Of having this baby, of living among strangers, of being alone.”

“You are not alone,” Elizabeth assured her. “Mrs. Wilkins has delivered many children safely, and will care for you as she would her own daughter, and help you find a respectable home to adopt your daughter. And once you are well enough to travel after the birth, we shall bring you to Pemberley, where you can begin anew.”

“With a secret I can’t tell anyone except the man I might want to marry, who’d never marry me once I told him,” Lydia said bitterly. “What kind of future is that?”

“One of your own making,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “You have been given a second chance, Lydia. What you make of it is entirely up to you.”

Lydia was silent for a long moment, considering this, and finally nodded, seeming to accept this reality with a maturity Elizabeth had never before witnessed in her. “Mr. Darcy has been kinder than I deserve,” she said quietly. “After everything.”

Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hands. “Mr. Darcy understands better than most how Wickham’s charm could deceive a young girl. He bears you no ill will.”

“And you?” Lydia asked, searching her sister’s face. “Can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “We are sisters, Lydia. That bond cannot be broken. Indeed, I owe you a debt of thanks, for I did not want to marry Mr. Wickham!”

The sound of approaching footsteps caused them both to look up. Darcy was walking toward them, his expression concerned.

“Forgive the interruption,” he said, bowing slightly, “but the horses are changed, and we should continue our journey if we wish to reach our lodgings before nightfall.”

Elizabeth rose, offering her hand to Lydia. “Shall we?”

Lydia stood, straightening her shoulders with visible effort. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice steadier than before. “I am ready.”

As they returned to the carriage, Elizabeth felt her husband’s questioning gaze and gave him a small nod of reassurance. He responded with a look of understanding that warmed her heart, reminding her once again why she had come to love this complex, generous man.

Darcy assisted each lady into the carriage with gentle courtesy, his hand lingering on Elizabeth’s for a moment longer than necessary. “We shall stop again in two hours,” he informed them. “If you require anything before then, signal to the coachman.”

“Will you not join us in the carriage, brother?” Georgiana asked. “It grows colder, and you have been riding for some time.”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Darcy replied with a smile for his sister. “The exercise does me good, and Caesar becomes restive if confined to a walking pace for too long.”

As the carriage resumed its journey northward, Elizabeth settled back against the cushions, reflecting on the extraordinary changes that had transformed her life in such a short time. From a gentleman’s daughter with modest prospects to the mistress of one of England’s finest estates; from being horrified by Mr. Darcy’s first proposal to becoming a Mrs. Darcy overflowing with affection for her husband; from a sister exasperated by Lydia’s wild behaviour to a guardian responsible for that same sister’s future welfare.

Life, she thought, watching the winter landscape roll past the carriage window, had a way of confounding one’s expectations in the most surprising and consequential ways.

The journey continued northward, Darcy riding alongside the carriage Elizabeth observed with quiet pleasure how he would frequently draw his horse near the window to check on their comfort, his concern manifesting in small, thoughtful gestures that spoke volumes of his care. When he rode ahead to ensure their accommodations were properly prepared, she found herself watching the strong line of his back against the bright blue sky, still marvelling at the knowledge that this remarkable man was now her husband.

That night, they lodged in a most comfortable coaching inn. Elizabeth hesitated before following the inn-maid upstairs, looking at her husband, but Darcy merely smiled at her and shook his head, and Elizabeth soon discovered that she was expected to share the room she was shown to with her sister, with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley in the room adjoining.

Lydia looked at her uncertainly. “Are not you and Mr Darcy…” she began. “Well, aren’t you going to…?”

“Not the most auspicious location for a wedding night.” Elizabeth mustered a smile, though considering the way Darcy had kissed her after saying their vows that morning, this situation was unexpected. “There will be time enough for that when we reach Pemberley, I dare say. Our whole lives.” She tried to make herself believe it, though there was a queasiness in the pit of her stomach that felt oddly like rejection.

“Brother has arranged a private parlour for us to have dinner!” Georgiana said brightly, popping her head around the connecting door. “I declare, I’m quite famished; they always have excellent victuals here, Elizabeth, I hope you will enjoy the meal.”

“I’m sure it will be delightful.”

Georgiana, at least, did not seem to think it odd that her brother was not sharing his new wife’s chamber. Perhaps things were different among those who moved in the higher, near-aristocratic social circles which the Darcys frequented? Elizabeth did not know, and she did not like feeling ignorant, but at least nobody seemed to be treating her with the pity she half-expected, as a new bride abandoned on her wedding night.

I’m being foolish , she told herself sternly as she washed her face and hands. Mr. Darcy is being everything kind and considerate, and the reasoning I gave Lydia makes perfect sense. I don’t even know him well enough to want to… that!

And yet, as she sat beside him at the dinner table enjoying a delicious meal, there was some part of her that greatly regretted Mr. Darcy’s honourable gesture.