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E lizabeth never could recall much of the journey home. She had vague memories of inns, of watching the landscape outside the window, of her aunt comforting her husband, who was grieving the death of his sister, and both of them trying – oh so very kindly! – to engage her in conversation.

Her first clear memory was of their arrival at Longbourn. Mrs. Hill rushed out the door the moment she spotted the Gardiner’s carriage. “Miss Elizabeth! I am so very glad – “

Elizabeth gave Mrs. Hill a quick hug, averting her eyes from her black cap, and then ran into the house. “Jane? Jane!”

Jane appeared at once and ran into her sister’s arms. “Oh, Lizzy,” she wept. “I have no words to tell you how very glad I am to see you.”

“Tell me at once, Jane. What happened? Where is Papa?”

Further discussion was interrupted by the appearance of Kitty, Mary and the three Gardiner children, ages three, four and six.

The children, having no idea of the drama unfolding around them, had no hesitation in expressing their delight at seeing their parents again.

Elizabeth did what she knew she must and hugged them all, promising them a story later that night if they behaved themselves.

Mrs. Gardiner immediately took charge of her little ones, leading them up the stairs to the nursery as they regaled her with tales of their adventures while at Longbourn.

Kitty and Mary came to hug Elizabeth, but they did not speak.

“Where is your father, Jane?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

“He is in his study.”

“He did not go to London?” Mr. Gardiner asked.

“He was ready to go, but then Mama –“ Jane stopped as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“What happened to Mama, Jane?” Elizabeth whispered. “What did Mr. Jones say?”

“That it was likely a stroke of some sort.”

“And where is she now?”

Jane could not reply; it was Mr. Gardiner who explained. “It is August, Lizzy.”

“So she has already been buried,” Elizabeth realised, tears starting in her eyes.

“There was no choice. We wished to wait for you, but it is so very hot,” Jane said, tremulously.

“I understand, of course.” Elizabeth’s voice was wooden.

“Kitty, go and get your father,” Mr. Gardiner said. “Let us sit together in the parlour so that we might decide what to do next.”

Kitty nodded and vanished.

Mary said, softly, “Mama’s service was lovely, Lizzy. There were flowers, and hymns, and Aunt Philips cried like anything.”

“I am so sorry that I was not here, Mary.”

“I kept thinking that now Mama need not worry about the hedgerows,” Mary said, and then she burst into tears, her shoulders shaking.

Elizabeth put her arms around her sister, whispering that everything would be all right, they would all be well, but neither she nor Mary believed a word of it.

Mr. Bennet emerged with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth’s eyes widened; she had never seen her father in such a state.

His hair was uncombed, his clothes stained, and his eyes bloodshot.

She ran to him and put her arms around him.

She felt him squirm uncomfortably. “I am a mess, Lizzy,” he murmured. “I do not wish to dirty your dress.”

“It does not matter,” she replied, and held him tighter. Finally, he relaxed into her arms. “Oh, Lizzy, you have no idea…”

“No, I do not, but you must tell me.”

Mr. Gardiner herded them into the drawing room. “Is there a maid who can stay with the children? I would like Madeleine to join us.”

Mary stood up. “I will arrange it.” She left the room and returned in ten minutes with her aunt beside her.

Mrs. Gardiner said, “I stopped in the kitchen to ask for a tea tray, Jane.”

Jane flushed. “I am sorry; I should have thought –“

“No, no, Jane. You have a good deal on your mind just now, and I am here to help you. Please allow me to do so.”

This kindness brought tears to Jane’s eyes again. She wiped at them impatiently. “All I do is cry!”

“And no one can blame you,” her aunt assured her. “Now, tell us everything that happened. Start at the beginning.”

Jane took a deep breath. “As Lizzy knows, Lydia was invited by Mrs. Forster to go to Brighton with the regiment.”

Mr. Bennet sighed. “Lizzy warned me against letting her go, but I did not listen. All I could think was that Longbourn would be a good deal quieter with Lydia gone.”

“I should have told you what I knew of Wickham,” Elizabeth said, bitterly.

“What did you know of him?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Mr. Darcy told me –“ she faltered, and then began again. “Mr. Darcy explained that Mr. Wickham had a very poor character, particularly where young women were concerned. But I did not imagine that Lydia could be in any danger, as money was Mr. Wickham’s primary interest and Lydia has none. I should have told you, Papa. I blame myself entirely.”

“Why did Mr. Darcy not tell the rest of us of Wickham’s character?” Mr. Bennet demanded. “Why did he leave all of us here in Meryton so vulnerable?”

“He had his reasons, Papa,” Elizabeth said, heavily. “His knowledge of Wickham involved the reputation of another young lady, so he did not speak in order to save her character. I may not say more.”

“Let us not assign blame,” Mr. Gardiner said. “It is entirely useless. Go on, Jane.”

“Well, Lydia left on the twenty-sixth of May in Colonel Forster’s coach. She was to be gone for several weeks.”

“Did she write?” Elizabeth asked.

Mary broke in. “You know how Lydia is! She wrote about balls and gowns and Captain Denny and Captain Carter and Lieutenant Wickham and every man in the regiment.” She sniffed in derision before turning to her younger sister. “But Kitty knew more than the rest of us.”

All eyes turned to Kitty. The tea tray arrived at that moment, but as soon as refreshments had been handed around and the maid was gone, Mr. Gardiner prompted, “Well, Kitty?”

Kitty sighed and her shoulders slumped. “She wrote to me saying that she and Lieutenant Wickham were in love.”

“When was that?”

“I think she began writing about it in mid-July; I recall that it rained a good deal and I had little to do but read the letter again and again.”

“And you did not tell your father?” Mrs. Gardiner demanded.

“She begged me not to tell anyone, saying that it was oh-so-romantic, like a secret engagement.”

“Foolish Lydia!” Mary exclaimed. “And foolish Kitty, for not telling anyone!”

“Mary,” Mrs. Gardiner said, softly. “This is not helping.”

“Helping? There is no helping! We are ruined, all of us, and it is Lydia’s fault and Kitty’s as well!” Mary was torn between fury and indignation.

“And you may as well assign blame to me,” Mr. Bennet said, resignedly.

“Oh, I do, Papa,” Mary said, bitterly. “And to Lizzy, too, for not telling us what she knew. My chances of marriage were always slim; now they are nonexistent.”

Elizabeth blanched.

“Mary!” Mrs. Gardiner’s voice was censorious. “Ephesians 4:32 tells us that we must be kind to one another, tender hearted, forgiving of one another, does it not?”

Mary whirled on her aunt. “How convenient it must be to use the Holy Bible to keep me from expressing my thoughts, Aunt.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes widened in shock at such an unexpected attack from Mary, but before she could respond, Elizabeth broke in. “You have certainly done exactly that to everyone in your family often enough, Mary.”

Mary reddened and turned away.

After a moment’s silence, Jane picked up the tale. “On the second of August, late at night, a messenger came from Brighton. It was from Colonel Forster, saying that Lydia had eloped to Gretna Green with Mr. Wickham, and that Colonel Forster was in pursuit of them.”

“But they did not go to Gretna Green,” Mary put in. “Colonel Forster overheard Captain Denny saying that it was Wickham’s intention to go to London rather than Scotland.”

“And Mama?” Elizabeth asked, still unable to believe that her mother was not upstairs in her room.

“After the message came from Colonel Forster, she went into her room and refused to come out. We brought her trays and took turns sitting with her. And then two days later, I went in with a tray and she –“ Jane could speak no more.

Mr. Bennet said, “Lydia was her favourite, you know. Parents are not supposed to have favourites, I suppose, but Lydia was so like her when she was young that she could not help herself. In any case, we had to act quickly. Lizzy, you know that when someone dies in the summer –“ He stopped.

“I know, Papa,” Elizabeth said. She well understood that a body could not be kept for long in the heat of the summer. “But what of Lydia?”

Mr. Bennet avoided her gaze. “What of her?”

“Do you not mean to go after her, Papa?”

“I had intended to, of course, but your mother’s passing delayed immediate action. Then I realised that going to London was a fool’s errand. There are over a million people living there; how would I find her? She could be anywhere!”

“But to do nothing to recover her?” Elizabeth could not believe this.

“She has made her choice, Lizzy.” Mr. Bennet’s voice was flat.

“Jane?” Elizabeth turned to her sister.

“I have tried to talk to him, but he will not be moved,” Jane said.

Elizabeth stared at her father. “Papa, if nothing is done for Lydia, then Mary is right. We are, all of us, ruined.”

“You need not remind me of how utterly I have failed my family,” Mr. Bennet replied, softly. “I am well aware of it.” With that, he rose and left the room, leaving his daughters to stare after him in bewilderment.

It was Jane who finally realised that her Uncle Gardiner had suffered a loss as well. “Uncle, I am so sorry; you must be grieving Mama as much as we are.”

“My dear Fanny!” he said softly, looking away. “She loved you girls dearly, you know.”

“Yes, we know,” Jane said, going to sit beside him. “And she loved you as well.”

“She was never clever, not like your father; I do not think it was a good match in that respect. But it produced five very lovely girls, so in that way it was very much a success. In any case, I must see my sister, Mrs. Philips, before I leave Meryton.”

“Oh, Uncle, must you leave us?”

“I have been away from my business for weeks; yes, Jane, I must go. I depend upon you to write to us often to tell us how you get on.”

“I shall, Uncle, I promise.”