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T he Bennets continued to receive condolence calls. Lady Lucas had come shortly after Mrs. Bennet’s death, sincerely mourning the loss of her friend and occasional rival. She was followed by Mrs. Goulding, Mrs. Adams, Mrs. Chatham, and all the other ladies of the village.

The callers very sincerely expressed their sorrow at the passing of Mrs. Bennet, who had been well-liked by everyone, but the conversations soon turned to Miss Lydia.

She had not come home for her mother’s funeral; that was odd, was it not?

And what, exactly, had been the purpose of Colonel Forster’s visit?

Was it not passing strange for him to have come to Longbourn simply to say that Lydia was ill?

Surely a message would have performed such a service.

The Bennet girls did their best to stem the gossip, saying that Lydia had fallen very ill and Colonel Forster had come to inform the Bennets of it.

“But her mother’s funeral! How could she not attend that?” was the next inevitable question.

The answer they agreed upon was this: “Still quite ill, as well as prostrate with grief, you understand; after all, she was her mother’s favourite.” In this manner, they hoped to allay any suspicion that all was not well with the Bennet family.

***

Mr. Bingley returned to Longbourn once three days had passed. He was fortunate to find the parlour empty of other visitors, and the Bennet girls conversing quietly amongst themselves. Mrs. Hill announced him, and the girls all rose and curtsied. Jane kept her eyes on her embroidery.

Mr. Bingley began, “Miss Bennet, I hope you and your sisters are doing well. I know from my own experience that the loss of a parent is a terrible thing.”

At this, Jane’s tender heart was touched. She looked up. “Oh, Mr. Bingley! I had forgotten that you yourself have lost not just one, but both your parents. How very dreadful!”

“It was, indeed, and I miss them still.” Mr. Bingley spoke solemnly, but he was elated to have caught Miss Bennet’s attention.

“They say time heals all wounds,” Mary said, though she sounded uncertain. “Did you find it so, Mr. Bingley?”

“In many ways, yes, but even after several years, a word, an event, brings the memories back. But it is a good thing, truly, for you would not want to ever forget the people you have lost, would you?”

“No, of course not!” Jane said. “If only it did not hurt so!” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Oh, Miss Bennet! I am so sorry – look, here –“ Mr. Bingley rushed to Jane’s side and proffered his handkerchief.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I thought I had done crying,” Jane sniffed.

“It is early days, Miss Bennet; I promise you that it will get better.”

Mrs. Hill announced the arrival of Lady Lucas and Maria Lucas. Upon entering the room, Lady Lucas stopped and stared at Mr. Bingley. “I had heard you were back, Mr. Bingley; I wonder that you have the nerve!”

“Lady Lucas, please, there is no need,” Jane began.

“There is every need! If your dear Mama were here, what would she say, do you think, to Mr. Bingley’s sudden reappearance after these many months?”

“She would doubtless invite him to dinner,” Mary said, dryly.

“She would, you know!” Elizabeth said, beginning to laugh.

“I think she would not!” Lady Lucas insisted. “In any case, I am here to tell you that there is some vicious gossip circulating the village, and I thought you girls should know about it.”

“Gossip?” Jane asked, weakly.

“Yes; someone is saying that Lydia is not ill, but has engaged in some nefarious behaviour in Brighton!”

Mr. Bingley promptly said, “Doubtless such gossip is circulated to amuse those of lower breeding; that being the case, I am certain that you, Lady Lucas, will deny the gossip entirely, and refuse to spread it. We all know that Miss Lydia is not well; she would be horrified to think that people were saying such things about her.”

“Oh! Of course!” Lady Lucas said quickly. “I shall deny it entirely anytime I hear of it!”

But Maria Lucas looked very troubled throughout this conversation. She managed to pull Kitty outside under the pretext of finding flowers to press into her album and said, quickly, “You know that Lydia wrote to me about the elopement as well as to you!”

Kitty gasped. “Surely not!”

“She did, indeed, and she told me that you knew as well. So tell me, Kitty, is Lydia truly ill?”

It took all of Kitty’s strength to look her friend in the face and assure her that Lydia had planned to elope, yes, but had then thought better of it.

And then she had fallen ill! Poor Lydia!

“But, Maria, I beg you to say nothing to anyone about the elopement. My poor family, with Mama gone and Lydia not even able to come to her funeral – we truly do not need more trouble. Promise me, Maria.”

Maria promised most solemnly, but Kitty could not help feeling anxious.

***

It was doubtless this conversation with Maria that inspired Kitty’s brilliant idea of writing a letter that was ostensibly from Lydia to the family, complaining of her illness. She explained her notion at the breakfast table.

“Interesting,” her father mused. “Can you imitate her handwriting, think you?”

“I believe so,” Kitty replied. “And I do not think anyone other than the family knows her handwriting well enough to question it.”

After many false starts, Kitty produced the following:

Dear Kitty,

If my writing is a bit shaky, it is because I am still quite weak.

This is the first time I have tried to write since getting sick.

The army doctor has come to see me every day, and he says I have the putrid sore throat.

I do not think any of us have ever had it; this is one time that I am not glad to be the first of my sisters to do something!

I wrote you about Mr. Wickham, but that has all come to nothing. And then I became so very ill, and have not given it another thought!

I still cannot believe that Mama is gone. I am certain that I shall wake up tomorrow and discover that I dreamt Papa’s letter. But it must be true, for were it not, she would be here to take care of me.

I must go – the doctor is here to see me and give me more medicine. It makes me sleepy.

Your loving sister,

Lydia

The letter was passed from one family member to the next in silence. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Kitty, it is a masterpiece, truly. No one reading this could possibly doubt that it came from Lydia.”

“But now what?” Mary asked.

“We show it to anyone and everyone who comes to visit us,” Elizabeth said.

“Particularly Lady Lucas,” Kitty muttered.

Mary looked at Kitty, who reddened and looked away. “There is something you are not telling us, Kitty; have we not had enough of you keeping secrets?”

Poor Kitty blushed even harder, and then recounted her conversation with Maria Lucas. The girls all looked quite alarmed, as did Mr. Bennet, but everyone agreed that Kitty’s counterfeit letter was the ideal manner in which to refute Maria’s suspicions.

***

The plan worked perfectly. They had no hesitation in showing the letter to Lady Lucas.

She asked about the reference to Mr. Wickham, and they replied that he had shown some interest in their sister.

Their one bad moment came when Lady Lucas suggested that Maria send a letter to Lydia with best wishes for her good health.

“Oh!” Kitty said at once. “I would not bother Maria with such a task, ma’am. Lydia has written few letters in all these weeks; I think Maria would not have the satisfaction of a reply.”

“I see,” Lady Lucas said. “Well, I shall certainly let Maria know that.”

But the fear of such a letter making its way to the Forsters, who would doubtless reply that Lydia was no longer with them, prompted the girls to share their fears with their father.

Mr. Bennet sighed. “I should have thought of this; perhaps I should go to Brighton and speak with the Colonel myself. If he knows of our subterfuge, I am certain he will help us maintain it.”

That afternoon was one of Mr. Bingley’s visitation days; he was shown the letter, and he was told of the family’s concern regarding Maria Lucas sending a letter and receiving a reply that would show Lydia’s illness to be a sham.

“Can the Forsters not be brought into the secret?” he asked.

“Papa plans to travel to Brighton to beg them to keep to our story.”

“How will he travel?”

“By post; our horses are needed at the farm.”

“It is a long journey by post, and most uncomfortable; I could travel quite a bit faster on horseback. I would be happy to be Mr. Bennet’s spokesman in this matter.”

At this, Jane looked at him so admiringly that it was all he could do not to run out and find a dragon to slay for her.

Practical Mary, though, said, “Wait here; let me get Papa.”

Mr. Bennet had been not at all eager to travel to Brighton, no matter how necessary the errand, and he was more than happy to delegate responsibility for this task to Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Bennet wrote a brief note to Colonel Forster explaining that Mr. Bingley was a close family friend and was speaking on behalf of the Bennet family; Mr. Bingley tucked the note into his coat pocket and departed, with many promises to return as soon as he was able.

***

The next day, Mr. Bingley rose with the sun. He told no one of his destination, saying only that he would be gone for two or three days.

His journey to Brighton was uneventful. He gave the horse as much rest as it required, and so it took a full day to get to Brighton.

It was already growing dark when he arrived.

He sought out a comfortable-looking inn, paid extra for his horse to get a good rub-down and a bucket of oats, ordered two meat pies and a tankard of ale for himself, and slept through the night.