Page 52

M r. Darcy considered sending a messenger to the Gardiners first, but decided that good news need not wait, particularly as it was already evening. He waited while Miss Lydia gathered up her little satchel and then handed her into the Fitzwilliam’s carriage.

As they drove, Lydia stared down at her hands.

“You are concerned, Miss Lydia?”

She looked up at him, uncertainly. “Mr. Darcy, I have done everything wrong. I would not blame my family if they wanted nothing whatever to do with me.”

“I am certain that will have a good deal to say on the subject of your behaviour, Miss Lydia, but surely enduring their censure is a far better alternative than spending the rest of your life as a housemaid.”

“I suppose it is. I have never been very good at being scolded.”

“And I would wager that you were never very good at making beds and emptying bedpans before, either.”

Lydia managed a laugh. “No, but I am now quite proficient.”

“Make up your mind to become proficient at being scolded, and all will be well.”

Lydia took a long breath as the carriage turned onto Gracechurch Street.

“Mr. Darcy, you have been most kind to me. I cannot thank you and the Countess enough, truly. I am not quite myself yet, or I should be able to express myself better. But please do not tell my family that I am found quite yet, will you? My aunt and uncle must decide what to do with me. They may think it best for me to disappear forever, given my disgraceful conduct.”

“I do not think for a moment that this will be the case, Miss Lydia, but I shall leave it all in your hands.”

Lydia held up her hands. They were certainly not the hands of a lady, reddened and calloused as they were. “It will be some time before I can go back into society, will it not?” She actually grinned at him, and he found himself admiring her spirit.

“Gloves, Miss Lydia, cover a multitude of sins.”

“My sister, Mary, could tell you what Bible passage ‘multitude of sins’ came from, but not I. Oh, there! Is that not their house?”

“It is.” Mr. Darcy knocked on the top of the carriage, and it stopped at once. Mr. Darcy leapt out, and extended a hand to Miss Lydia. She stared at it for a long minute. He waited, but she did not move.

“Miss Lydia?”

There was no response.

He climbed back into the carriage and looked at his passenger.

She was frozen in place; indeed, it seemed that she was scarcely breathing, and she was far too pale.

He took her hands in his. “Miss Lydia, without a doubt, you have behaved quite foolishly in running off with Wickham. But it took a good deal of courage to serve as a maid, rather than confess who you were and risk ruining your sisters. Come, it is time now for that courage!”

She inhaled deeply. “Very well, Mr. Darcy.”

This time, when he climbed out and extended his hand, she took it. She walked with him to the front door as he imagined French aristocrats marching to the guillotine; white-faced and trembling. He knocked on the door and waited. A housekeeper answered the door.

“Mr. Darcy to see Mrs. Gardiner,” he said.

The housekeeper glanced at Miss Lydia, and a puzzled look crossed her face, but she merely curtsied and allowed them in. “Wait here, please,” she said.

A moment later, a well-dressed woman came to the entryway. “Mr. Darcy, what a pleas – LYDIA!” she screamed. “Lydia! Oh, my dear girl, we thought you dead!” “Come in, tell me everything! Oh, heavens, I must get Henry! Lydia, you foolish child, have you any idea –“

Mr. Darcy interrupted. “Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Lydia has had a difficult day. Perhaps we might sit down?”

“Of course. Forgive me, please, my manners have entirely deserted me.” She led the way into a comfortable drawing room. She rang the bell and requested a tea tray, and then told the maid to have Mr. Gardiner join them at once.

She turned then to her guests. “Lydia, I want to hear every detail, but we shall leave it until your uncle is here. Mr. Darcy, your efforts in finding my niece have proven successful!”

“I cannot take credit for her discovery, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said. “It was my aunt’s keen eye that accomplished that.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s brows rose. “Really! The Countess of Matlock? I cannot imagine how – well, I must wait to hear the entire story.”

Lydia ventured, “Aunt, may I stay here for a little while?”

Mrs. Gardiner stared at her niece and then rushed to her side and enveloped her in a hug.

“Lydia, we are all quite upset, of course, but nothing – absolutely nothing! – is more important than you being safe at last! My dear, dear girl, you may stay here forever, but I promise you that your father and your sisters will be wild to have you back at Longbourn!”

With that, Lydia burst into tears and wept on her aunt’s shoulder until Mr. Darcy thought the girl would do herself an injury.

A male voice interrupted the scene. “You called for me, Madeleine? My God! Is that – Lydia? Lydia! I know not whether to spank you or – no, never mind, you need not cry. Come here, my dear.”

And in a moment, Lydia was wrapped in her uncle’s arms.

Mr. Darcy actually felt himself in some danger of becoming teary himself, so he cleared his throat in the hopes of preventing such an unseemly occurrence.

Mr. Gardiner untangled himself from his niece and bowed to Mr. Darcy. “We are very much in your debt, Mr. Darcy.”

Mrs. Gardiner explained, “We have not yet heard the particulars, my dear; we thought it best to wait for you.”

“Very good,” her husband replied. He rose and closed the drawing room door. “Lydia, what happened? Did you truly elope with that rascal? Whatever were you thinking?”

“Uncle, I will tell you everything, but first I must ask – is it true that Mama is dead?” Her voice was tremulous.

Mr. Gardiner said, very gently, “I am sorry to tell you that it is indeed true, Lydia.”

“Perhaps it is just as well; she would not like hearing that Papa was quite right, and I really am the silliest girl in all of England.” She bowed her head. “But I shall miss her dreadfully.”

Before she could continue, Mr. Darcy said, “Miss Lydia, I think it best if I quickly explain my part in your tale and then leave; doubtless you would wish some privacy to tell your own story.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, raising her head and looking at him directly. “I am everything grateful to you.”

Mr. Darcy now spoke, explaining that Miss Kitty had made a number of drawings that had been used to try to find Miss Lydia in Whitechapel, and that the Countess had recognised Lydia from those drawings.

“Yes; she came to Greenfield House this morning and whisked me away. I still feel quite confused by it all,” Lydia said.

“So the Countess rescued you! This is everything astonishing!” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed.

“Now we must consider how to move forward,” Mr. Gardiner said.

“This is a family decision, and I shall absent myself at once,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Mr. Darcy, of course I cannot call upon the Countess, but I hope you will convey our very deep gratitude to her,” Mrs. Gardiner said.

“I shall, indeed.”

“Mr. Darcy, I must ask you for one more favour,” Lydia said, hesitantly.

“If it lies within my power, of course,” he replied.

“Please do not tell my family that you have seen me. My aunt and uncle here will decide how best to proceed. Will you promise me?”

He promised most solemnly, while wincing at the thought of keeping such important – and wonderful! – news from Elizabeth. He was then thanked warmly by the Gardiners and Lydia, and he returned to Matlock House to answer what would doubtless be a hundred questions posed by his aunt.

Once Mr. Darcy was gone and the drawing room door firmly shut, Lydia began. “You know I went to Brighton to be with my friend, Harriet Forster.”

“And Colonel Forster was supposed to take care of you!” Mrs. Gardiner interrupted, heatedly.

Lydia shook her head. “None of this is his fault. He was busy, you know, with the regiment, and perhaps he did not truly understand his wife’s disposition, nor mine.

In any case, she and I enjoyed ourselves immensely.

We went shopping, we went out for ices, we even got dipped in the ocean!

There were a good many dances, and the men in the militia attended them as often as possible.

I knew some of them from Meryton, of course, but the handsomest of them all was Lieutenant Wickham.

“He had admired Lizzy when he was in Meryton, you know, and she seemed to return his admiration for a good many weeks. It changed when she came back from Kent, though; Wickham told me that she had been listening to Mr. Darcy and had her head filled with lies about him.” She shook her head.

“In Brighton he flirted with me a good deal, and I thought – well, I felt very good that Mr. Wickham preferred me to Lizzy! I wrote to Kitty about it, laughing a good deal. Then his attentions became even more marked, and Harriet said he was certain to make me an offer. So I was not at all surprised when he said that he loved me more than anything and we should get married. Oh, I was so stupid!” She hid her head in her hands for a long minute, while her aunt stroked her hair.

“I said he must write to Papa, and he said that no, Papa was certain not to approve, and would it not be ever so much more romantic if we eloped to Gretna Green!

All I could think was that I would be married before my sisters, and would Mama not be proud of me.

So I wrote a note to Harriet, packed my little satchel, and climbed out my window at midnight; he was waiting for me in a hired carriage, as he had promised.

“But soon after we began driving, I saw that we had taken the wrong road. I asked him why this was, and he said that he needed to collect some funds from friends in London first.” She went on to describe her surprise that she did not have her own room, but that Mr. Wickham had assured her that all engaged couples slept together.