Page 4

Chapter Two

The second day of travel brought less pleasant weather, a fine mist occasionally giving way to heavy rain that drummed against the carriage roof.

At midday, they reached a coaching inn where Darcy had arranged a private parlour for their luncheon.

While the servants scurried about, ensuring fires were lit and the table properly laid, Elizabeth stood at the window, watching Darcy speak with the coachman and grooms, his tall figure unmistakable even at a distance.

“My brother always sees to every detail himself,” Georgiana commented, coming to stand beside her. “He says it is the duty of a gentleman to ensure the comfort and safety of those in his care.”

Elizabeth smiled, recognising the truth of this observation. “He takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

“Always,” Georgiana agreed. “Sometimes too seriously, I think. That is why I am so very glad he has found you.” She coloured slightly at her own boldness. “Forgive me if I speak too freely, but I have never seen him so... content as he has been these past days.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Elizabeth assured her warmly. “I am glad to hear it, for he has brought me great happiness as well.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lydia, who had been refreshing herself after the morning’s journey. She looked pale but composed, having adopted a subdued manner that still struck Elizabeth as profoundly unlike her former self.

“Mrs. Annesley says we shall reach Leicester by evening,” Lydia remarked, glancing out at the dreary weather. “I suppose I should be glad to end this journey.”

Elizabeth sensed her sister’s apprehension. “Mrs. Wilkins is expecting you,” she said gently. “Mr. Darcy speaks most highly of her.”

Lydia nodded without enthusiasm. “So I have been told repeatedly. I am sure she is everything proper and respectable.”

The door opened to admit Darcy himself, bringing with him a gust of cold air and the faint scent of horses and leather. “The roads ahead are clear,” he announced, “though we may encounter more rain. I have ordered a hot meal that should fortify us for the remainder of today’s journey.”

As the meal concluded and they awaited the preparation of the carriages, an unexpected moment of connection occurred. Georgiana, who had been mostly quiet during luncheon, suddenly addressed Lydia directly.

“I believe... that is, I understand we share a certain unfortunate acquaintance,” she said hesitantly, her fingers nervously pleating her napkin. “Mr. Wickham was known to both of us.”

A charged silence fell over the room. Darcy stiffened, clearly concerned for his sister, while Elizabeth held her breath, uncertain whether to intervene. Lydia’s face drained of colour, but she met Georgiana’s gaze steadily.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, her voice tight. “We did.”

Georgiana glanced at her brother, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement.

“I thought perhaps... it might help you to know that you were not the first to be deceived by him. That his... his charm was most particularly designed to take advantage of young ladies who had no reason to doubt his character.”

Lydia’s hands trembled slightly as she set down her teacup. “Did he... were you also...?” She could not complete the question.

“No,” Georgiana replied quietly. “My brother intervened before matters progressed so far. But he had convinced me that he loved me deeply, that our elopement was the only way we could be together.”

“He told me the same,” Lydia said bitterly. “That we must marry immediately, in secret. Of course, there was no marriage, only...” She trailed off, glancing at Darcy with evident embarrassment.

Elizabeth stepped in gently. “I believe what Georgiana wishes to convey, Lydia, is that Wickham’s behaviour followed a pattern. The fault was entirely his, not yours.”

“Indeed,” Darcy added, his voice containing barely suppressed anger. “Wickham made a study of identifying vulnerable young women. He did the same with the daughter of one of Pemberley’s tenant farmers many years ago.”

Lydia appeared startled by this information. “There were others? Before Georgiana? Before me?”

“Yes,” Darcy confirmed grimly. “His charm and appearance of goodness were carefully cultivated masks that concealed his true nature.”

A complex array of emotions crossed Lydia’s face: shock, hurt, anger, and finally, a flicker of something that might have been relief. “I thought...” she began hesitantly, “I believed he truly cared for me, at least at first. That I had somehow driven him to... to change toward me.”

“No,” Georgiana said with unexpected firmness. “He never changed. He merely revealed what was always there, once he had accomplished his purpose.”

Elizabeth watched her sister absorb this truth, seeing in her expression the slow, painful relinquishing of a cherished illusion. It was, she reflected, a necessary part of Lydia’s maturation, however difficult.

“Thank you,” Lydia said eventually, addressing Georgiana. “For telling me. It does help, somehow, to know I was not... not uniquely foolish.”

Georgiana offered a shy smile. “Brother says wisdom often comes at the cost of painful experience. Perhaps we have both gained some wisdom.”

“At considerable cost,” Lydia agreed ruefully, one hand briefly touching her stomach.

The moment of understanding between them was interrupted by Mrs. Annesley returning from the retiring room, shortly followed by the innkeeper’s announcement that the carriages were ready.

As they prepared to depart, Elizabeth noticed Darcy regarding his sister with unmistakable pride, and Lydia with something approaching respect.

For the next stage of the journey, Darcy joined them in the carriage, taking the seat beside Elizabeth. The presence of his solid, reassuring form beside her provided comfort as they travelled through the dismal weather.

“Tell me about Leicester,” Elizabeth requested, partly to distract Lydia from her evident anxiety as they drew closer to their destination. “I have never visited.”

“It is an ancient city,” Darcy replied, “with roots stretching back to Roman times. The cathedral is particularly fine, though not as grand as York Minster.”

“And Mrs. Wilkins’ house? Is it in the town itself?”

“On its outskirts,” he explained. “Near enough for convenience, but sufficiently removed to offer privacy. It is a modest but comfortable dwelling, with a small garden that blooms quite charmingly in summer.”

Lydia listened to this description with increasing tension, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Georgiana, noticing her distress, tentatively reached across to touch her arm.

“Mrs. Wilkins kept songbirds when my brother and I were children,” she offered. “She would let me feed them. Perhaps she still has them.”

“I believe she does,” Darcy confirmed. “She mentioned in her correspondence that her canaries had recently produced a new brood.”

This small, domestic detail seemed to ease some of Lydia’s apprehension. “I have always liked birds,” she admitted. “Though Mama would never allow them at Longbourn, as she feared they would disturb her nerves.”

The conversation continued in this vein, with Darcy and Georgiana offering small, reassuring details about Mrs. Wilkins and her household, gradually creating a picture that appeared to calm Lydia’s fears somewhat.

As dusk began to fall, the carriage at last turned down a narrow lane, having to stop more than once to let other vehicles pass by. After a few minutes, they came to a halt before a neat brick house, its windows glowing with welcoming light against the gathering darkness.

“We have arrived,” Darcy announced, unnecessarily but kindly.

A plump, grey-haired woman appeared at the door before they had even descended from the carriage, her face creased in a smile that spoke of genuine warmth.

Mrs. Wilkins was not what Elizabeth had expected; rather than the stern matron she had imagined, the woman who greeted them was small and rounded with twinkling eyes and an air of cheerful competence.

“Master Fitzwilliam,” she exclaimed, dropping a brief curtsy to Darcy. “Or I should say Mr. Darcy now, shouldn’t I? Still, you’ll always be Master Fitzwilliam to me, ever since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Darcy’s expression softened into a smile. “Mrs. Wilkins. Thank you for agreeing to our arrangement on such short notice.”

“Nonsense,” she replied briskly. “As if I’d refuse you anything after all your family has done for mine. Now, introduce me to your bride. This must be Mrs. Darcy!”

Elizabeth found herself enveloped in a warm embrace that smelled comfortingly of fresh bread.

“Welcome, my dear,” Mrs. Wilkins said. “And Miss Georgiana too! My, how you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Georgiana submitted to her own embrace with evident pleasure, clearly fond of the older woman. Finally, Mrs. Wilkins turned her attention to Lydia, her expression softening.

“And you must be Mrs. Brown,” she said, using the name they had agreed upon for Lydia’s false identity. “Come in, come in, all of you. There’s hot tea waiting, and you must be chilled to the bone after travelling in this miserable weather.”

The interior of the house was exactly as Darcy had described: modest but comfortable, with well-polished furniture and signs of meticulous housekeeping everywhere.

A fire crackled in the grate of a small but cosy parlour, where a tea tray had been prepared.

Just as Georgiana had mentioned, several bird cages hung near the windows, their occupants trilling softly.

“I’ve prepared my spare room for Mrs. Brown,” Mrs. Wilkins informed them as she poured tea. “It gets the morning sun, which I thought would be cheerful. And it’s next to my own chamber, should she need anything during the night.”