Page 66

Longbourn - Lydia

L ydia shook her head to clear it, and took her uncle’s hand to descend from the carriage, she stopped to look up at the house.

It was almost entirely dark, and there were very few lights in the windows.

She could not remember ever returning to Longbourn so late before with the house being so quiet.

When they returned from a ball, they were all normally in high spirits, even if they were tired.

Lizzy was normally recanting some amusing tale of the evening, and Jane would be smiling even if she was basically asleep.

Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley and her uncle were talking in low voices.

They seemed to be arguing about something, but they were speaking too softly for her to hear.

It was just then that the front door opened and Lizzy appeared in the doorway, with Kitty not far behind her.

Lydia was satisfied that they seemed eager to greet her.

Lizzy pulled her into a hug, slightly uncomfortably, since Lizzy was so much shorter than she was.

“You’re home,” she said quietly when she released Lydia, who was half expecting Lizzy to start telling her off.

It was only after Kitty was pulling her into the house that she noticed the wet patch where Lizzy’s face had touched her shoulder.

It had stopped raining some time ago, even if the ground was still wet.

Why on earth was Lizzy crying? But there was no time for that now.

“It was such a terrible journey here, so cold!” she complained loudly as they entered the drawing room, only to be engulfed by Mrs Bennet.

“Oh Lydia, my poor dear girl!” her mother cried.

“I am hungry, Mama, can I have something to eat?” Lydia asked hopefully, “Uncle was so mean not to stop on the way. Just for some tea and maybe a little toast and jam.”

Lydia was led to a seat by the fire while her family gathered around to hear the story of her adventure. It was all so exciting. She had missed the comfort of Longbourn.

Toast, jam, tea and some cold meat arrived and Lydia proceeded to tell them what had happened to her while she had been away, while she ate her fill comfortably by the fire.

* * *

Longbourn Drawing Room - Elizabeth

Elizabeth had fallen asleep in the drawing room.

She sat up with a start-the fire had almost died down to nothing, Mary had long since gone to bed.

Mrs Bennet was asleep by the remains of the fire, and their aunt was also asleep in the chair next to their mother, having spent several hours trying to cheer her up.

Jane sat nearby working on her embroidery despite the late hour, her face drawn with worry.

Kitty was sitting in what had come to be her favourite spot by the window.

Elizabeth thought she had also fallen asleep, until she shifted slightly, and saw Kitty’s eyes were open.

Elizabeth got to her feet very carefully and slowly as her legs were stiff from the cold, and moved towards the fire to add another log of wood to it, when she heard the sounds of a carriage.

Elizabeth rushed out of the room, her stiffness forgotten, making Kitty jump and almost fall over the shawl she had wrapped around her legs as she rushed after her sister.

Jane dropped her embroidery and hurried after them, while Mrs Bennet woke with a start and followed close behind.

Elizabeth could hardly believe that it was Lydia standing outside the carriage, as if nothing had happened.

She seemed not at all affected by recent events, which was a blessing and a curse.

Once she had assured herself that Lydia was well she turned her eyes to the others, Mr Bingley, her uncle, the maid who had come with them from London, and Mr Darcy.

She tried to compose herself by making sure that the luggage and the maid were headed the right way into the house.

Her uncle and Mr Darcy were disagreeing about something, but she was very definitely not listening to their conservation, or indeed paying any attention to Mr Darcy at all.

Mr Darcy looked tired, like he had hardly slept or eaten since he had left for London, which he probably hadn’t.

She was however, for the most part still able to disregard him, that was until her uncle called her to attention to him directly.

“Lizzy, you will be the voice of reason to this young man,” he said, “Mr Darcy wants to carry on our journey to Netherfield rather than staying here tonight. ”

Elizabeth felt like her voice had stopped working-Mr Darcy spending the night, what was left of it, at Longbourn. It took a great effect but she found her voice.

“There can be no need to go on to Netherfield, Mr Darcy, you are very welcome to stay here tonight.”

He was staring at her intently, as if undecided and searching for some unattainable truth in her words.

Mrs Gardiner, who had reappeared, added her voice to her husband’s and niece’s and, at last, Mr Darcy agreed. Mr Bingley had disappeared in the house.

“Let us join the others,” Mrs Gardiner suggested, “It is too cold and damp a night to be out in it for long. I believe Jane has just sent for some hot tea and toast.”

Mr Gardiner offered his arm to his wife who readily accepted it, leaving Mr Darcy and Elizabeth standing in the outside.

Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. She wished to say something, to break the silence, but almost every subject seemed to be barred. They both spoke at the same time.

“We should join-”

“I wanted to-”

She laughed, “Please continue.”

“Forgive me, I just thought we should join the others inside where it is warmer,” he said, offering her his arm. “Your aunt is correct, it is very cold tonight.”

She took his arm, hardly knowing where to look or what to feel. She had tried to deny it for months, but it was no good. He really was the best of men.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my sister.”

“It was the least I could do.” They had stopped just inside the door, looking at each other, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, the light from the candles down the hall catching in his eyes.

“How you much have suffered, you look as if you have hardly slept.” As if of its own accord, her other hand came up and brushed his check lightly. She caught herself, and froze as if unable to move.

“I did it for you,” he said simply. He took her hand resting on his check in his large warm one, and ran the thumb lightly along the back of hers.

Neither of them were wearing gloves. Slowly, he brought her hand up to his lips as he gently kissed it, his eyes closed.

She knew she should step away, she knew she should leave him and run into the drawing room where her family was, but she couldn’t.

He opened his eyes as he lowered her hand, but did not release it, as a small smile played across his lips.

“I know, but-” She started to explain how it would be best if they joined the others, when he gently pulled her closer to him, until her hand rested on his chest. Then he kissed her.

It was a sweet kiss, and being her first she had nothing to compare it to, except that it was over entirely too quickly.

When he released her, he was smiling as he whispered, “We’ll find a way. ”

Elizabeth dressed the next morning quietly and quickly. Today was her dear father’s funeral and last night seemed like a dream. It was impossible that Lydia was home, and that Mr Darcy had kissed her. No- she would not think about either of them, for today was about saying goodbye to her father.

Breakfast was a sombre affair. Lydia had had a fight with their aunt about wearing black, but between Mary, Kitty, Jane, Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner they had managed to get her dressed.

By the time they had gone down, Mrs Bennet was at the table with Mr Gardiner, and it seemed she had not heard Lydia’s screams.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, their uncle informed them, had left for Netherfield and would join the other gentlemen at the church.

The ladies would remain at Longbourn during the service, where Hill had already begun preparing for the funeral breakfast. Elizabeth felt the weight of her father’s absence particularly keenly as she watched the men depart - Mr Gardiner, Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, and even Mr Collins would stand in the places where his daughters could not.

The morning passed in tense silence as they waited, broken only by Lydia’s complaints about her new black boots, which were sensible rather than pretty. When Jane attempted to intervene, Mrs Bennet surprised them all by speaking sharply to her youngest daughter.

“You will wear those boots and not say another word about them,” she said with unprecedented sternness, “or you will have no dinner and attend no balls for a year.”

Elizabeth exchanged a startled look with Jane. Their mother had never spoken so harshly to her sombre daughter before, nor threatened any real punishment.

When Elizabeth thought back later that evening, she could barely recall how the morning had passed.

She remembered crying as the church bells tolled, Jane’s hand finding hers across the settee.

Through the window, they had watched the gentlemen gather - Mr Gardiner grim-faced at the front, Mr Phillips, Sir William and Mr Long behind him, then Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy bringing up the rear.

Even at this distance, she could see how carefully they carried their burden.

He may not have been the best husband or father in the world at times, but he had been theirs, and they loved him. They would always love him.