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T he Gardiners and Elizabeth went out for a quick drive in the morning, but made certain to be back at the inn by early afternoon. No one wished to miss Mr. Darcy’s visit, and the Gardiners understood full well that Elizabeth very much hoped that Mr. Bingley would be with him.

“Jane is still not over him, Aunt,” she whispered to Mrs. Gardiner.

“Poor Jane! I fear she is someone who loves very deeply,” Mrs. Gardiner sighed.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It is a very good thing if one’s love is returned, but…”

“But not such a good thing if it is not,” Elizabeth concluded.

“Yes; be careful, Lizzy. I suspect you are much like Jane.” Mrs. Gardiner eyed her niece carefully. “And on that subject, I still say that Mr. Darcy is much taken with you.”

Elizabeth blushed and looked away.

“There is quite evidently something you are not telling me,” Mrs. Gardiner observed. “That is your prerogative, of course, but you know I am always ready to listen.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Elizabeth’s tone was final.

She was not ready to talk about Mr. Darcy’s proposal while she had visited Charlotte in Kent, her immediate and unkind rejection of his proposal, and the letter he had given her that had changed everything.

How little she had known him, and how incredibly foolish she had been to reject the best man she would ever meet.

Shortly after their return to the inn, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley appeared.

Mr. Darcy had brought flowers for both the ladies, and explained that the blossoms had come from Pemberley’s gardens.

The two bouquets were much the same, though Elizabeth saw immediately that hers contained a single red rose, while her aunt’s did not.

Mr. Bingley was clearly delighted to see Elizabeth, and he asked immediately after Jane’s health. Elizabeth replied that Jane had not been in the best of spirits of late, and Mrs. Gardiner immediately added, “She was sorry not to see you this past January, Mr. Bingley.”

“I was in London, Mrs. Gardiner,” Mr. Bingley said, rather uncomfortably.

“As was she,” Mrs. Gardiner informed him.

“Miss Bennet? In London?” His surprise could not be feigned.

“Indeed; she visited your sisters and they returned her call – eventually.”

Mr. Bingley’s face darkened. “They did not tell me of this.”

“We suspected that to be the case.”

Mr. Bingley shook his head. “I feel terrible, Mrs. Gardiner. Had I known she was in Town…”

A knock on the door provided a welcome interruption to the difficult conversation. Mr. Gardiner answered the knock, and returned with two letters in his hand. “For you, Lizzy, from Jane. But her handwriting looks quite odd; I hope she is not ill.”

“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Elizabeth asked the company at large. “I just want to make certain that all is well.”

She was assured that everyone understood her concern, and that she should retire to peruse her letters at once. In her room, she read:

Dear Lizzy,

Everything here is just as you left it, though I must mention that Daisy has whelped six puppies, much to Papa’s delight.

Elizabeth skimmed through the letter; she did not wish to be gone from her visitors for long, and only wanted reassurance that Jane was well. Then her eyes widened.

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are allwell. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia.

An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she had gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham!

Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected.

I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides!

But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood.

Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step marks nothing bad at heart.

His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing.

Our poor mother is sadly grieved and keeps to her room.

My father bears it better. How thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves.

They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight.

The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us.

Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon.

Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention.

I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother.

I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written. ”

Elizabeth’s heart was pounding. Lydia and Mr. Wickham! How was this even possible? She ripped open the other letter, and read as follows:

By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent.

Dearest Lizzy,I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed.

Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland.

Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express.

Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs. Forster gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel Forster, who, instantly taking the alarm, set off, intending to trace their route.

It appears that they were seen to continue toward London.

I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that side of London, Colonel Forster came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success,—no such people had been seen to pass through.

With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart.

I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. Forster; but no one can throw any blame on them.

Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great.

My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him.

Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even ifhecould form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything?

Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel Forster is not disposed to depend upon their marriage: he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared Wickham was not a man to be trusted.

My poor mother is really ill, and keeps to her room.

Could she exert herself, it would be better, but this is not to be expected; and as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected.

Poor Kitty has received a good deal of chastisement for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder.

I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient.

Jane

P.S. I take up my pen again to do, what I have just told you I would not; but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible.

I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former.

My father plans to go to London to try to discover her.

What he means to do, I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way.

As Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again to-morrow evening and so cannot assist us further, my uncle’s advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.

It was impossible for Elizabeth to conceal her distress. She ran back into the room where the Gardiners conversed with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, tears running down her cheeks.

“Good God!” Mr. Darcy exclaimed at once, leaping to his feet. “Whatever can be the matter?”

Elizabeth swayed, and Mr. Darcy was at her side in an instant, guiding her to a chair. Mrs. Gardiner immediately had an arm around her niece. “Lizzy? Is it Jane?”

Elizabeth shook her head, violently. “No – no! It is Lydia!”

“Lydia?!”

“Lydia was visiting with friends in Brighton. She has left them—has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr.Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton.Mr. Darcy, you know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to marry her. She is lost to us forever.”

“Wickham!” The name exploded from Mr. Darcy’s mouth.

Elizabeth looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks. “I might have prevented it. I should have prevented it! Had I explained what I knew of him to my family, she would have known better!”

“No, this is my fault, my fault entirely,” Mr. Darcy said, in great agitation.

Poor Mr. Bingley knew not where to look, but his kind heart could not let him be silent. “Miss Elizabeth, is there nothing that can be done?”

“No, nothing.” Elizabeth wept in earnest. “I beg you to conceal this unhappy event as long as you can! Please, please, do not tell your sisters, Mr. Bingley, I beg you!”

“We must leave at once,” Mr. Gardiner declared. “I must help Bennet search for her.”

Mr. Darcy, his head spinning, understood that he and Mr. Bingley should depart.

“I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part, that might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks.”

The two gentleman bowed, expressing their concern once again, and took their leave.

In that moment, Elizabeth knew two things. First, she realised that she was in love with Mr. Darcy; second, that he was now lost to her forever. She was ruined, Jane was ruined, they were all ruined, and there was nothing whatever to be done.

“How long will it take you to be ready to leave, Lizzy?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

“Ten minutes. Fifteen.” Elizabeth could not think; her head was still spinning.

“Give us half an hour, Henry,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered to her husband. “I will pack for her; she scarce knows what she is about.”

Another knock on the door prompted an exasperated “Now what?” from Mr. Gardiner.

“Messenger came with this for Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” the maid explained. She handed Mr. Gardiner a small message. It was edged in black.

Mr. Gardiner took it, gave the maid a coin, and just held it for a moment. He did not think his niece could bear any more. He brought it to his wife, and their eyes locked. “I will give it to her,” she whispered.

Elizabeth was in her room, staring at her trunk in confusion.

She knew she had to pack, but somehow she could not bring herself to begin.

She wanted to be at Longbourn, she wanted to help Jane, to ease the burden that had been placed on her sister’s slender shoulders, but she was unable to decide what to do first.

She looked up as her aunt entered the room.

“Sit down, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said, gently.

Elizabeth saw the black-edged letter in her aunt’s hand and began to tremble. “No, no, no, no.”

“Shall I open it, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth could only nod. What if it was Jane? Or Lydia? Or –

“It is your mother, Lizzy. Fanny Bennet has passed away. I am so very sorry.”