Page 21 of Reckless, Headstrong Girl (Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)

THE LONDON ROAD

D arcy could hardly conceive of a more affecting scene.

He sat on the rear-facing seat and looked on as Lydia Bennet, dressed like the meekest Methodist maiden, held the other Methodist’s hand.

Elizabeth’s sister seemed not to be seeking comfort from her companion; rather, she was comforting Sally Watkins through the reassurance of touch.

Eventually Lydia saw that Mr Darcy had noticed their clasped hands. “Sally has not been to London before, sir. She is a little worried she will not know how to get back to Horsham.”

“She will get back the same way she came, Miss Bennet. I shall have my driver take her personally, if you would like, and see her safely back to Mr Perkins.”

“Oh, I knew you would be kind, Mr Darcy,” Lydia said gently. “Do we go to my aunt Gardiner? ”

“Yes, and I am delighted to restore you to her care.”

Lydia looked out the window and blinked, but she did not say anything in response, and so Darcy said, “Is there anyone from home I could bring to you in London? Your mother, perhaps, or your father? Your sisters? I could bring them all to you as soon as may be.”

She turned back with a startled look on her face. “I-I would like Lizzy to come to me, sir, though I do not know whether she will want to see me.”

“Of course she will want to see you. She was beside herself when she heard you were lost.”

“Beside herself? For me?”

“I was half afraid she would make herself sick.”

“Do you—?” The girl looked at her companion as if to gather reassurance. “Do you think they will want me to come home, sir?”

“What? Of course they will! I know they will. They will be celebrating very shortly if I am not mistaken. As soon as you walk through your uncle’s door, I shall write an express to your father. I should have done so in Horsham, but I was very anxious to get you to London.”

“I have been gone for some weeks, sir. I think an afternoon cannot matter so much to them.”

“A minute of not knowing what has happened to you matters a great deal to your family. Of that I can assure you.”

After half an hour of silence, Lydia spoke again. “How did you find me, sir? ”

“Your uncle and his retainers combed London for you, while I went to Hickstead and spoke to everyone I could find. I believe the man’s name was Parch? He said he had taken you to Horsham.”

To Darcy’s astonishment, Lydia’s face brightened, and she spoke joyfully.

“Mr Parch? You spoke to Mr Parch? I was so put out with him for leaving me, but I owe my life to Mr Parch, I think, though he could hardly afford to offer me anything. He gave me food, even though he was hungry, and went for two whole days off his route. Poor Bill”—she sighed—“he had the worst of it.”

“Bill?”

“His little donkey. Such a tired old thing. If I had a mint of money, I would see Bill retired in a nice pasture with a shelter and carrots and all the hay he could eat. Of course, I would see Mr Parch with a little something to keep him body and soul together too. I never saw anyone kill a rabbit before, and when we had to sleep under the potato cart, I wondered how that man had lived to such an age.”

Good lord, had she really slept under a potato cart? “He—he did not importune you then?”

“Mr Parch?” she asked incredulously. “He kept as far away from me as possible and told me half a dozen times a day he did not want a wife.”

“Were you hurt at any time you were…away?”

“Well, no, not really. I mean Mr Wickham treated me horribly, but—” She looked down at her hands.

“There are those that would say I deserved what I got from him. Leastways he threw me out of the coach before anything really terrible happened. Anyway, some carters chased me, but I ran deep into a field of barley and lay down so they did not find me. And then the farmers chased me off, and no one would take me up until Mr Parch came by. Nobody in Cowfold would help me either, though I asked everybody.”

“I found them to be a very unhelpful bunch.”

“Why, so did I, Mr Darcy! We even went to the monastery, and the monk sniffed at me and said they were Carthusians and sent me away. What is a Carthusian, sir?”

“They are literary monks. They sit in their cells and copy out manuscripts.”

“I suppose it is just as well I did not end up thrown on their mercy then, but I do not know how writing a letter to my father would have hurt anybody.”

“Nor do I. What did you make in the workhouse?”

“Gloves, sir. Linen gloves for the shop girls and such. I got better at it as I went.”

“Did you?”

“Well, I was taught as a child to sew at least, and matron had no cause to dock me for poor stitches. But she did dock me for talking back to her twice, and I learnt to bite my tongue. Mr Perkins said I could buy paper when I earned enough and he would send my letter by the penny post. But I could never get the fee because, you know, Dora needed a salve for her elbow, and that was that.” She stopped speaking abruptly and looked across at him with a look of self-consciousness.

“I am prattling on and on, Mr Darcy. I had thought I learnt not to be such a chatterbox, but after the first two hours of my freedom, I am myself again.”

“I am glad to see you are. I wonder whether I might coax you to chatter a little more. Why do you wish only for your sister Elizabeth?”

“Oh, well, I think Lizzy is the only one of my sisters who under stands me. There is something I must say to her as well, which is that she was very right and I was very wrong. Will you really fetch her?”

“I shall if your father will give me that privilege, yes.”

“Well, if you do go to Longbourn, would you tell my sisters that I long to see them too, only I think Lizzy will scold me properly as I deserve, and that I had rather get that over with before I go home. I am afraid Jane will be very sweet to me, and Mary will give me a neat little sermon to try to redeem me, and Kitty will be glad to see me, and Mama will be overcome with happiness, and I will be crushed to death by their kindness. Even Papa will likely tell me I am the stupidest girl he ever knew and leave it at that. Only Lizzy will say what is true, and that is what I most want to hear.”

Who is this girl? Darcy wondered. And more to the point, how would he explain to Mr Bennet that his youngest daughter was so altered?

At least, he had not found her in the morgue or in a brothel.

Perhaps God was occasionally in the mood to dispense a boon even to someone as undeserving as a rich man.

Darcy had left Horsham with Lydia Bennet at half past nine in the morning. They had stopped once for a meal and arrived late in the afternoon at Mr Gardiner’s house in Cheapside.

“If you do not mind, perhaps I should go in first and tell them you are with me?”

“Oh, yes, pray do so, Mr Darcy. I want a moment to compose myself. I am afraid I shall burst into some very noisy weeping, and I do not want to upset my uncle.”

“Mr Darcy!” Mr Gardiner said from the hall. “What is towards? I did not expect you until Sunday.

“I have your niece. Forgive me for not sending an express. Only I was so out of my mind, first with worry and then with relief?—”

“You have her?”

“She appears to be whole and only a little the worse for wear.”

Mr Gardiner swept past Darcy and ran to the kerb, and Lydia opened the coach door and fell into her uncle’s arms. Despite her efforts otherwise, she broke into sobs of joy and severely discomposed the entire household who had streamed out of the house to witness the homecoming.

Everyone was sniffling and wiping their eyes, and when Mrs Gardiner ran out too, the scene was enacted all over again.

Everyone spoke all at once and finally Darcy, seeing that Sally Watkins looked to be shrinking in the background, went and stood next to her and directed her into the house.

Eventually Mrs Gardiner noticed that Lydia was not alone.

“Oh, Aunt,” Lydia said wiping her eyes, “this is Sally Watkins. Mr Darcy brought her with me for comfort, and she has been very kind to me. Might she stay the night, ma’am?”

“You are very welcome, Sally, and yes, Lydia, she may stay for as many days as you like. Are you hungry?” She took the women away and left Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy standing in the parlour.

“Might I offer you a brandy, Mr Darcy?”

“I am tempted, sir, but I have been unforgivably remiss. I have not sent word to her father.”

“You must have been shocked. Was she truly in a workhouse in Horsham all this time?”

“She spent some days on the road with a potato seller, of all people, who ultimately took her to Horsham.”

“And you believe she has not been?—”

“I am convinced of it, sir. The potato seller was apparently kind to her in his way, and he thought he was doing her a service by giving her to the Methodists.”

“Perhaps he was. He could have given her to an entirely different sort of people.”

“I cannot think on it now, sir, having thought of nothing else for nearly two weeks now.”

“Indeed. We have much to be grateful for. I must write a note to Thomas and send it express tonight.”

“I wonder, Mr Gardiner?—”

“Yes? ”

“I am suffering from an excess of energy, and I wonder whether you would consider letting me take your note to Hertfordshire.”

“Tonight?”

“If you would allow it, yes.”

“I would be very glad of it, Mr Darcy, but I could hardly ask it of you.”

“But suddenly, I need to be doing something.”

“Lord, yes. I have been in such a state of general frenzy that its cessation leaves me quite at a loss. I doubt I shall sleep at all tonight.”

“Then you will give me leave? Bingley is still at Netherfield, and I can easily throw myself on his hospitality after I have delivered the news to Mr Bennet. Then, perhaps, I shall feel as if I can rest.”

“You have taken on more of our troubles than you should, Mr Darcy.”

“You are too astute of a man not to know why I have done it, sir. My guilt over Wickham is one reason but not the whole of it.”

“I do not believe Lizzy is immune to you, Mr Darcy, if that helps. I have never seen her as agitated as when she thought you might accuse her of following you to Derbyshire.”

“I am not sure I am comforted by that observation. Perhaps, she would have been happier not to have seen me.”

“Pardon me for saying so, Mr Darcy, but though you know a great deal about a great many things, you appear to know nothing about a woman. ‘She doth protest too much,’ and in doing so, she says a great deal about what she does not want you to know.”

“I very much hope you are right. I shall step out for a moment and warn my driver he is in for a very long night and that we shall need fresh horses. And when you have your letter ready, I shall be off.”