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Longbourn, Kitty and Lydia’s Room - Kitty

K itty had slipped into the room, behind and not noticed by the others. She had tried to tell them quietly, but her mother had insisted. Lydia, where could she have gone in such a hurry?

Mr Bingley moved to retrieve the note, his usual cheerfulness replaced by grave concern. Before his fingers could close around it, Mrs Bennet pushed past the others.

“Give it to me!” she demanded, snatching the paper.

Her eyes darted across the page, her face flushing then draining of colour.

“Oh! My Lydia! My poor, dear Lydia!” She pressed a hand to her breast, swaying dangerously.

“Mr Collins! You must go after them at once! Make him marry her! Oh, if only Mr Bennet were here-but you must do it now, as her future brother. Oh! My nerves! Hill! Jane! ”

The note slipped from Mrs Bennet’s trembling fingers as Jane and Hill rushed to support her. As they guided her from the room, her increasingly hysterical demands for Mr Collins to act echoed behind them. Mr Bingley stooped to retrieve the fallen letter, passing it wordlessly to Lizzy.

“Thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” Lizzy said, her voice tight with anger as she scanned the page. “What a letter to have written at such a time, when we have not even buried my father.” She paused, pressing her fingers to her temples.

The sudden silence after her mother’s departure filled the room.

Mr Collins had retreated to the far wall, making himself as small as possible, while Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley exchanged grave looks.

With a sharp glance at her supposed protector’s cowardice, Lizzy straightened her shoulders and began to read.

Dear Mama

How proud you will be when you hear where I have gone and with whom! Kitty will be so jealous – but I could not bear to stay in such a miserable house now that Papa has gone. Even with Mr Collins to marry Lizzy, it would be dreadfully dull.

But I am so excited! I am to be married, and I am sure you can guess to whom-indeed, who else could it be? We are off to Gretna Green! I hope you will forgive me for not having the wedding at Longbourn, but considering everything, we thought it best not to delay.

Next time I write to you, I will sign my name Lydia Wickham!

Lydia Bennet

P.S. What fun it will be to be married before Lizzy after all!

Lizzy’s voice had wavered several times during the reading, but she had forced herself to continue.

At the postscript, however, her composure finally cracked.

Mr Darcy stepped forward, gently taking the letter from her trembling hands to read it himself.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to contain the sob that threatened to escape.

“We must go after them at once,” Mr Bingley said firmly, turning to Mr Collins. “Colonel Forster must be informed, and we should speak with Mr Denny-he’s Wickham’s particular friend.”

Mr Collins seemed barely to hear him, his attention darting between the general disorder of the room and the corner where Mr Darcy stood with Lizzy.

Kitty noticed how her future brother-in-law seemed more concerned with a fallen ornament than with his betrothal’s distress.

Mr Darcy, meanwhile, had drawn slightly closer to her sister, speaking words too low for anyone else to catch as he offered his handkerchief.

The gentlemen’s contrasting behaviour made Kitty think, not for the first time, how ill-suited Mr Collins was for Lizzy.

Whatever Mr Darcy said made her sister look up at him with an expression Kitty had never seen before, though her attempt at a reassuring smile did nothing to hide her tears.

“Come now, Mr Collins!” Mr Bingley’s voice sharpened with impatience.

Mr Collins startled at the tone, nearly knocking over the ornament he had been fussing with.

“Yes, of course. Let us go.” He started toward the door, then paused, seeming to remember something. “Mr Darcy,” he said, turning back with an attempt at dignity, “will you be joining us?”

Kitty watched as Mr Collins’ eyes darted between Mr Darcy and her sister, who still stood close together. There was something calculating in his expression that made her uncomfortable.

“I understand from my dear Elizabeth,” Mr Collins said, his voice taking on that pompous tone Kitty had come to dread, “that you knew Mr Wickham growing up.” He glanced again at Lizzy before continuing.

“I would not normally ask this of you, since you are entirely unconnected with us, and this is a private family matter. But you might be able to assist us in finding them. Would you be willing?”

Mr Darcy’s expression hardened at the mention of Wickham’s name. “I would indeed,” he said tersely. “But as Bingley suggested, speaking to his friends here might shed more light on the matter at this stage.”

“We have wasted too much time already,” Mr Darcy added, his voice growing urgent. Then, turning to Lizzy with a markedly gentler tone, “Miss Elizabeth, you said you had heard your sister’s voice this morning?”

Lizzy nodded, “Indeed, Kitty and Jane spoke to her through the door, when she would not come down for breakfast.”

Kitty had been watching the scene unfold with growing fascination.

The way Mr Darcy’s manner changed completely when he addressed Lizzy, how her sister seemed to lean toward him unconsciously when he spoke-there was clearly more happening here than she had realised.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

She had information that might help, and for once, she might be useful.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.

“It started this morning,” Kitty said slowly, trying to organise her thoughts. “She didn’t want to wear black. She was in a terrible temper about it, throwing things about.” She paused, realising now how significant that detail might be. “I thought she was just being Lydia, but…”

“So I dressed and went down without her,” Kitty continued, her voice growing stronger as the memories became clearer.

“Sarah was with her then, but left soon after. When Jane and I came up about half an hour later, she was still in here. She answered us a few times through the door.” Kitty twisted her hands in her skirts.

“There was so much noise-things were moving about. I thought she was just having one of her tantrums, but now I realise… she must have been packing.”

Kitty looked around at the strained faces before her.

Lizzy looked exhausted, her hair dishevelled and her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

Mr Bingley’s face was white with determination, while Mr Darcy’s expression had grown thunderous at each detail of Lydia’s deception.

Mr Collins, hovering uncertainty near the door, seemed unable to decide between concern and annoyance.

The gentlemen departed for Meryton, dropping Miss Darcy off at Netherfield on the way, Mr Collins still casting uncertain glances at Mr Darcy’s retreating figure.

Lizzy immediately began gathering up the scattered items from the floor, her movements quick and purposeful.

“We must send an express to Uncle Gardiner at once,” she said, pausing to look at Kitty.

“And you share a room with her-can you tell what she’s taken? ”

Lizzy sat at the small writing desk, her pen moving quickly across the page as she wrote to their uncle.

Kitty watched her sister’s face set in determination.

They needed Uncle Gardiner’s help desperately-someone who would actually do something, unlike Mr Collins.

The thought made Kitty glance at the door through which their supposed protector had just departed, his uncertain manner still fresh in her mind.

* * *

Longbourn, Mrs Bennet’s Room - Elizabeth

The sisters took turns sitting with their mother, who had retreated to her room in a state of nervous collapse.

Between bouts of hysterics, she would alternate between lamenting Lydia’s behaviour and insisting that Mr Collins must go after them at once.

After some discussion, they decided to postpone their father’s funeral until the end of the week-both to allow the Gardiners time to arrive and, hopefully, find Lydia, and to avoid giving the neighbourhood more cause for gossip than it already had.

“Oh! My dear poor sweet Lydia!” Mrs Bennet moaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “If only she had hit her head instead-at least then we would know where she was!” She fluttered her hand weakly. “Mary, my smelling salts, quickly now, girl.”

Mary silently handed over the smelling salts, which their mother inhaled deeply.

“Ah, that is better. But with no Mr Bennet to fight Wickham and make him marry my poor girl…” She turned her tear-stained face toward the ceiling.

“It will have to be Mr Collins now. Though he seems hardly equal to the task,” she added in a rare moment of insight.

Lizzy and Jane exchanged glances over their mother’s head. Their father would have known exactly what to do, while Mr Collins…

“Mama,” Jane said in her gentlest voice, “we may receive word of their marriage any day now. I am sure they have gone straight to Gretna Green, as Lydia wrote.”

“How can you know that, Jane?” Mrs Bennet rounded on her eldest daughter.

“She has very little to live on, even less now that her father is dead.” Her voice rose shrilly.

“If only she had waited until Lizzy was married! But now-” She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.

“Who knows when that will be, if it happens at all? Mr Collins might decide we’re not worth the trouble and turn us out whenever he chooses.

Oh! To think of all my daughters thrown out onto the hedgerows! ”

“Mama,” Kitty ventured, trying to be helpful, “Mr Collins was planning for them to marry the day after Papa’s funeral.”

This only increased their mother’s distress. “Oh! How unjust it all is!” Mrs Bennet collapsed back against her pillows. “That your dear father should die and leave us all in such a state! And now Lydia-my youngest, my dearest-” Fresh sobs overtook her.

The sisters maintained their vigil until their mother finally exhausted herself into sleep. Just as they were preparing to seek their own rest, a note arrived from Mr Bingley. Jane’s hands trembled slightly as she broke the seal.

“There’s no sign of Mr Wickham at his lodgings,” she read quietly, her face growing paler.

“His things are gone. They’ve spoken to Colonel Forster and several of the officers.

” She paused, meeting Lizzy’s eyes. “He’s left numerous debts in town.

And Mr Denny…” her voice faltered. “Mr Denny does not believe they’ve gone to Gretna Green at all. ”

Jane unfolded another page of the letter.

“Mr Darcy believes they may have gone to London instead. He and Mr Bingley plan to ride there tonight, while Colonel Forster organises a search of the neighbouring towns. Mr Collins…” she hesitated, glancing at Lizzy, “has volunteered to inquire at the local inns.”

The sisters exchanged looks. Mr Collins investigating local inns seemed unlikely to yield results, but at least Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were taking decisive action.

* * *

20th of March 1812

Longbourn - Elizabeth

Mr Collins returned to Longbourn well after midnight, only to depart again at first light.

When Elizabeth attempted to speak with him before he left, he could barely meet her eye, fidgeting with his hat and muttering about visiting neighbouring towns.

His nervous manner suggested he found the task of pursuing an errant couple far beneath his dignity as a clergyman.

The next morning brought Aunt Philips, bustling in with fresh intelligence from Meryton.

It seemed Mr Wickham had left a trail of debts throughout the town-not only to shopkeepers but gambling debts among his fellow officers as well.

Of the man himself, or Lydia, there was still no word.

Elizabeth’s heart sank further at each new revelation of Wickham’s character.

Elizabeth found herself constantly calculating and recalculating the hours since the express had been sent to her aunt and uncle.

If they had received it by now-and surely they must have-how long would it take them to make arrangements?

To travel to Longbourn? She knew the timing perfectly well, having made the journey herself numerous times, but the mental arithmetic kept her thoughts from straying to more painful subjects: her father’s death, Mr Collins’ inadequacy, Lydia’s foolishness, Mr Darcy’s…

No. She pressed her fingers to her temples. Better to focus on practical matters.

She threw herself into arranging their father’s funeral with Jane and Mary, grateful for any task that required attention.

Each decision about the service, each choice of flower felt like a betrayal-planning to bury Papa while Lydia was still missing.

But they could not delay forever, and somewhere beneath their careful planning lay a desperate hope that this was all some terrible misunderstanding, that Lydia would be found before they had to lay their father to rest.

Late that evening, another express arrived from Mr Bingley.

Jane’s hands shook as she opened it, Elizabeth and Mary gathering close to read over her shoulder.

Mr Darcy, it seemed, had some acquaintance in London who might know Wickham’s likely whereabouts.

“They are making inquiries in certain parts of town,” Jane read aloud, her brow furrowed.

“Though Mr Darcy seems… reluctant to specify where.” Elizabeth felt her chest tighten at this news-both hope that they might find Lydia, and dread at what sort of company Mr Wickham typically kept.