Page 10 of Reckless, Headstrong Girl (Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)
THE LONDON ROAD FROM brIGHTON
M r Bennet rode a horse lent to him by Colonel Forster.
He scanned the road as he went, half his mind looking for some clue as to the whereabouts of his daughter and half mulling over his failure as a parent.
Never a man to favour industry, he was a self-indulgent scholar who had not married wisely, and after failing to father an heir, he had relinquished his authority in the management of his estate.
Master of Longbourn in name only, his chief tenants managed the land, his wife managed the house, and his girls fended for themselves.
Little did he care until suddenly he was forced to exert himself and to feel, for once, that a little endeavour to improve his youngest daughter might have spared him this miserable trek.
Hindsight made for a dismal companion over the next couple of days.
He wearily plodded along the road, changing horses twice before the outskirts of London came into view.
After looking into the tavern that was the last place George Wickham was seen, Mr Bennet relinquished his hired hack at a posting house and hailed a hackney to take him to Gracechurch Street in Cheapside.
His brother Gardiner was still away of course, but the housekeeper offered him hospitality, and Mr Bennet roused himself the following morning and wrote to his eldest daughter.
My dear Jane,
I have been from Brighton to London and have heard the very same story as told to me by Colonel Forster.
Lydia embarked in the evening of Friday last but did not emerge from the coach upon reaching London on the following afternoon.
Wickham stopped to rest at a place I would not describe to you for the world.
Even there, no one claimed to have seen him with a woman.
I can only conclude then, that Lydia is as a needle in a haystack.
She could be anywhere in the space of fifty miles, and if she is in London, we have no chance whatsoever of finding her.
I know you must be wondering what to do to salvage your sister’s reputation.
I have no answer and suggest you defer all inquiries as best you can.
Everyone will know the truth sooner or later.
At some point, claiming she is dead may be the most practical approach, but I am not so resigned as to instruct you to wear black just yet.
When my brother Gardiner returns, he will help me to look again, and that is all I can say.
As to finding Wickham and demanding some clue as to where to look, you must give up all hope, Jane.
His trail is cold from the back door of a tavern, and the warren of streets and low lodgings that spreads out from there is never-ending.
He concluded this forlorn news with a flatly worded apology for failing her.
His poor daughter, who had a tender heart and mildness of spirit, nearly collapsed upon reading such a dreadful letter. “I need Lizzy,” Jane said to the empty room. “Why has she not come?”
Her sisters Kitty and Mary had taken to languishing long in bed for lack of liveliness and something to do, while her mother dozed fretfully all day long, convinced Mr Bennet had already been killed in a duel with Wickham.
No sense could be gotten into Mrs Bennet, and Jane had not drummed up the courage to tell her mother anything other than the simple fact that Lydia and Wickham had not reappeared.
Jane ran the house and sent trays to her mother, but she knew they could not carry on this way indefinitely.
The day her father had left home, she had sent a letter to Lizzy in Limpton, Derbyshire, and had hoped to see her sister, aunt, and uncle come back by now.
At the very least, she should have received a reply, should she not?
Thinking she had misunderstood the travel plans of her relations, she dug out her aunt’s letter containing the particulars of their holiday.
“Lambton!” Jane exclaimed. No wonder her letter had not brought Lizzy flying home!
She pulled out a piece of paper, copied out her father’s letter in a fair hand and scribbled a desperate note of explanation.
She then went downstairs with her father’s purse and asked Mr Hill to have her letter sent express.