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B y the time they reached Matlock House, Lydia had regained her senses. Her eyes were swollen and her complexion mottled, and she asked, very quietly, if there was a room in which she might be allowed to rest and gather her thoughts.

“Of course,” the Countess replied at once. “We will put you in a guest room.” She rang for the housekeeper and had Lydia shown to a guest room at once. Lydia curtsied and thanked the Countess politely before ascending the stairs.

The Earl had joined his wife, and the two of them watched Lydia walk away. “She is not at all what I expected,” the Countess told her husband. “I thought she would be bold as brass, but she is not.”

“Possibly many weeks spent serving as a maid has done wonders for her character,” the Earl suggested.

“Indeed; I might recommend that course of action to some of our friends whose daughters have proven uncontrollable,” the Countess said, dryly.

“What is your plan, Eleanor? Will you send a message to Darcy?”

“Yes, at once.”

***

Lydia paused at the doorway of the room she had been shown to.

It was decorated in rose and cream, with accents of gold; quite as pretty a room as Lady Greenfield’s.

Head swimming again, she dropped her satchel on the floor and sat down on the bed.

Mama dead? How was that possible? Mama was young, far too young to die!

And possibly because of Lydia’s elopement!

How could she face her father and her sisters, knowing that Mama had died because of her own stupidity!

Perhaps she should not return to Longbourn at all; perhaps she should go to the Gardiners and help take care of the children.

Surely she did not deserve to be welcomed back at Longbourn.

And perhaps she would not be welcomed at all, not at Longbourn and not at Gracechurch Street, but sent away?

The revelations of the past hour and the sudden change in her circumstances had all been too much for Lydia; it was not long before had she kicked off her shoes, laid down on the bed and fallen asleep.

***

She awoke two hours later. At first, she could not quite recall where she was and how she had gotten there; then she remembered that her mother was dead and she had, somehow, been discovered by a Countess. She had a good many questions, and she very much hoped for some answers.

She pulled her shoes back on and found her way back down the long hallway and then down the grand staircase.

She immediately encountered a stern-looking butler, who stared at her for a long moment, doubtless assessing what a girl dressed in a maid’s uniform was doing in a guest room, before escorting her silently to the drawing room.

As she entered, she curtsied to the Countess, who was sitting on a robin’s egg blue sofa.

“Ah, Miss Lydia, you are awake.”

“I apologise, my lady –“

“No need, no need. I have no doubt that your rest was much needed. Sit down, please. We must discuss next steps.”

“I – I thank you, my lady.”

“I have a good many questions, but let us first get you something to eat and drink. You look quite pale.”

A tea tray soon arrived, and Lydia found herself holding a cup of tea, with a plate of small sandwiches on the table beside her chair.

She realised that she was quite hungry, and made short work of her food.

When she finally leaned back in her chair, the Countess began.

“I am astonished that I am actually looking at you, Miss Lydia, knowing that Mr. Darcy and my own son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, have searched for you for so long!”

“My lady, I am rather confused; I cannot quite make out why you are at all interested in me. Do you know my family?”

The Countess shook her head. “A good deal has happened in your absence, Miss Lydia, and I will let your family tell you of it. But let me just say that I am Mr. Darcy’s aunt, and it was at his request that my son became involved in searching for you.”

“Mr. Darcy! What possible interest could he have in me?”

“He wishes to marry your sister, Miss Elizabeth, and she could not, in good conscience, accept him until your fate had been discovered.”

Lydia’s brow wrinkled and she shook her head. “I am afraid you are mistaken; Mr. Darcy and my sister Elizabeth do not even like one another!”

“That is a story for another time,” the Countess said, regally.

“For now, believe me when I say that it was Darcy who insisted that you must be found, it was your sister – Miss Catherine, I believe – who made the sketches, and when I saw you at the Greenfield’s ball, I thought you looked familiar.

I could not place you at first, but that night I realised that you were the Miss Lydia that my son has been looking for all these months. ”

“Your son? At Mr. Darcy’s request? I can scarce credit it! And I still cannot believe that Mr. Darcy wishes to marry Lizzy, but I will answer your questions.”

“Very well; tell me what led to you being employed at Greenfield House.”

Lydia recounted her history with Mr. Wickham, her departure from the inn, her terrifying nights alone in the city, and her good fortune in being discovered by Miss Alice.

“And you have worked as a maid all these months!” the Countess marveled.

“It seemed a far better alternative than living on London’s streets. I was certain that Mama had told everyone of my elopement, so my sisters and I were ruined. I thought if I never reappeared, perhaps they could say that I was dead.”

“The difficulty, of course, was that the neighbours would expect a body and a funeral.”

“Yes, I left things in quite a mess,” Lydia said, sadly. “Believe me, I regret – more than I can ever express! – my stupidity in trusting Mr. Wickham. I can only hope that he does not spread the story about me running away with him.”

“Oh, I can promise you that he will never do so,” the Countess said, her eyes narrowing.

“Can you? Truly?”

“I guarantee it; he is dead.”

“Mr. Wickham is dead?” Lydia’s voice rose sharply.

“Very dead,” the Countess affirmed.

Lydia was silent for several minutes. Finally, she said, “It is very wrong of me, I am sure, but I am actually quite glad to hear it.”

The Countess said, “It is not wrong of you at all; we are, all of us, just as glad. But, Miss Lydia, what would you like to do? Shall we write to your family to tell them that you have been recovered?”

“If I truly may have my preference, I should like to be with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner,” Lydia answered, after a minute’s consideration.

“I am everything grateful for your kindness and your hospitality, my lady, but I think I would be more comfortable with my own relatives. They will know what is best to do.”

“And where are they?” the Countess enquired.

She hesitated. “I am not exactly certain; I know they live on Gracechurch Street, but I do not know the number.”

“I think it best that I have Darcy come and help us,” the Countess decided, after a moment’s thought. “I imagine he will be here by tomorrow.”

“Very well, my lady; might you ask him not to tell my family about me just yet?”

The Countess nodded. “Very well. I believe that you are still quite tired, Miss Lydia, so I will have a tray sent to your room tonight.”

Lydia thanked her hostess sincerely; both ladies were well aware that Lydia was not someone who was fit to dine with the Earl and Countess, and everyone would be more comfortable if she dined in her room.