Page 7 of Reckless, Headstrong Girl (Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)
LONGBOURN
I n some ways, Lydia’s imaginings were correct.
By Wednesday morning, not one member of her family suspected she had been abandoned by George Wickham.
All, even cynical Mr Bennet, expected that, if the man had taken the trouble to sneak away with her, he would marry her and come sauntering into Hertfordshire looking for an advance on her thousand-pound expectation, which was one fifth of Mrs Bennet’s legacy.
If he were a real cad, he would send a letter threatening not to marry Lydia without some financial incentive.
Either way, Lydia would have to marry the man.
And when Colonel Forster was seen riding up the drive, the family—less Mrs Bennet, who could not get out of bed for the grief of not seeing her daughter married—gathered in the parlour to hear news of the elopement.
Colonel Forster rushed into the room, his expression and bearing a mixture of urgency, embarrassment, and imposition.
He had been in charge of the girl, and the fault was his, but he could hardly bear it given that Lydia Bennet was such a hoyden she would run away with a scapegrace.
“Let us speak in private, sir,” Colonel Forster said grimly.
Thus, the sisters sat in trembling expectation of news—of relief from the worst of their feelings of uncertainty.
Half an hour later, the colonel left without taking refreshments, and Mr Bennet remained in his room.
After another interminable quarter hour, Jane went to her father.
What she heard was this: it had taken days, but Colonel Forster had traced Wickham’s movements all the way to the edge of London where he stepped, alone, off the coach and went into a tavern.
When the coachman, impatient for having his horses standing, sent the postillon in to collect his passenger, he discovered that Wickham had stepped out the back door and dodged his obligation to pay his way.
There was no girl with him—of that, everyone was certain, and each would swear to it.
Upon closer questioning, the coachman and postillon had said they began with a young lady but could not say when or where she decided that the gentleman was not to her liking and stepped off.
It was dark, and it was all they could do not to run the team into a ditch.
By necessity, they had been plodding along, and they could not be expected to keep track of the doings inside the coach.
Why, at any stop along the road, the girl could have gone off, and why would they take note?
The horses must be changed and looked after.
A person could not keep an eye out in all directions.
Besides, they had not even been paid and could not be held accountable for some chit who did not have the sense to stay at home where she belonged.
“She is lost?” Jane whispered.
“Utterly and completely,” her father sighed. “I only wonder how I shall tell Mrs Bennet.”
Jane paced in front of her father’s desk, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Oh, poor Lydia! Where can she be? Surely, she will find her way back to Brighton!”
“You are free to think so, Jane, if it gives you comfort. But it has been five days now. I do not expect her to magically reappear.”
“But what will you do, Papa?”
“I am going to Brighton, I suppose, to see what I can find out. No, no, Jane, do not get your hopes high. I expect I shall hear very little if anything to the purpose, but I must do something.”
“We must ask Uncle Gardiner to help. Will you not send him a letter?”
“I see no reason to do so. What can he do about it? But if you wish to have Lizzy home, I shall not object. Write the letter, my dear. I shall go upstairs and pack.” He pulled a small purse from his desk.
“Here is some means, daughter, for you to conduct our affairs while I am gone. It is scurrilous of me to do so, but I leave the matter of your mother in your hands. I cannot spare the time or the energy to explain to her what has befallen our youngest daughter.”