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“Lydia arrived at my house in Gracechurch Street early last Monday evening, alone.” Mr. Gardiner imparted the details of Lydia’s escape from Wickham. He omitted nothing, including Evan and Anna Caldwells’ opinion that Lydia had done all she could to preserve her virtue.

“Lydia. The baby. The most foolish and headstrong of the lot of them.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Let us hope she was headstrong enough to resist Wickham’s advances.”

“So it would seem.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

Mr. Gardiner looked at his watch. “It is nearly nine, and they will be abed. They are early risers. My plan is to seek a bed here, since my house is closed. And I must send word to Mr. Darcy. We can be abroad early in the morning and go to Lydia.”

“Mr. Darcy? What does he know of our troubles?”

“He was visiting us at the inn at Lambton when Jane’s letters reached Lizzy. He has been of great service already. He knows of Wickham and his evil habits, knows of his associates in London, and came here immediately to begin a search.”

“I see,” said Mr. Bennet, though he appeared perplexed. “And will he not be carrying the tale to every corner of fashionable London?”

“No, Brother. Depend upon him. We may rely on his discretion and his secrecy. He is a better friend than you know.”

The note was quickly dispatched, and Mr. Gardiner had barely bespoken his room and his supper when Darcy himself arrived.

He shook hands with both men and accepted a glass of wine.

“I am enormously relieved to hear that Miss Lydia is safe,” he began.

“I have not succeeded in locating Wickham. We found the hovel where he fled with her, but he has abandoned it.”

“You wasted no time,” commented Mr. Gardiner.

“It is a very dangerous neighborhood. Miss Lydia would not have been safe there for very long. There remains one question, Mr. Bennet. What do you want to do with him if my men succeed in finding him?”

“I should like to see him transported or hanged. Or shot down in the street like a mad cur. How many other young girls has he treated in this infamous manner?”

“Probably more than we should care to count, sir. However, we need to bear in mind that too often the innocent female suffers if these matters are brought to court, while the truly guilty person is free to go about his business as though nothing had happened.”

“Unfortunately true,” added Mr. Gardiner. “Lydia’s reputation and credit must be our first concern.”

Mr. Bennet sighed. “He is finished as far as the _shire Militia are concerned. His debts of honor and tradesmen’s debts in Brighton alone would have assured that. But Lydia was under Colonel Forster’s protection. That will not be forgotten, and he may be finished in the Army as a whole. ”

“And there are doubtless extensive debts in Meryton. My expectation is that he will shortly end up in prison if he does not turn something else up to keep himself out of it.” Darcy stood.

“If you are agreeable, Mr. Bennet, I will call for you and Mr. Gardiner tomorrow at nine in my carriage and convey you to Gracechurch Street.”

Mr. Bennet extended his hand. “You will be very welcome, Mr. Darcy.”

After shaking hands with Mr. Gardiner, Darcy bowed and left the room.

“I wonder what that was all about,” said Mr. Bennet.

“He really is a very fine young man, Brother. And his family has been grievously wronged by George Wickham.”

“I am very sorry to hear that, but not surprised. Wickham took great delight in abusing Darcy to us.” He sat down and took up a pen. “I must send an express to Jane before retiring.”

London, Gracechurch Street, Wednesday, July 22, 18__

Lydia, when called downstairs to the Caldwells’ drawing room next morning, threw herself into her father’s arms weeping noisily but not hysterically.

“There now, child. There now, Lydia.” Her father patted her awkwardly. “No need for tears. You are safe, and I am here to take you home to your mother. He cannot harm you now.”

Evan Caldwell, a tall, white-haired man, stood by, as did his wife, Anna. He tactfully ushered Darcy and Mr. Gardiner into his book room so that father and daughter might have some privacy for their reunion.

“Dry your eyes, Lydia. And try to tell me what happened.” Mr. Bennet extended his handkerchief and led his daughter to the sofa.

Lydia began her story. “He promised me we would be married. He courted me for weeks, dancing with no one but me, taking me for drives and walks, avoiding all the other girls. Then, finally, he proposed on bended knee. It was very romantic, Papa.”

“I am sure it was,” said Mr. Bennet drily.

“He told me we would go to Scotland to be married, that being the most romantic place. It took him quite some time to get the arrangements in place, but then last Sunday after church, he told me to be ready and to meet him at midnight. I was to carry only one bandbox, and we would travel north in a hired chaise.”

“Go on, Lydia.”

“We came as far as Clapham which took until morning--oh, a long time, and then Wickham said we were to change to a hackney. I wondered about that, but he said it would be easier to get through London that way.” Lydia paused as though searching her memory.

“We stopped in London, in a very bad part of London. The streets were filthy, and there were poor people and half-naked children everywhere you looked. People were lying in doorways.” She shuddered.

“We went into a filthy rooming-house of some sort, and Wickham gave his name, and the landlady conducted us to a front room upstairs.” She stopped again, embarrassed to the point of blushing.

“It’s all right, child. You are not in any trouble.” Mr. Bennet was beginning to feel distinctly out of his depth.

“It was a nasty, dirty room.” Her nose wrinkled. “And there was only one place for us to sleep. Wickham said we should lie down there, but I refused, Papa.”

“Turned him down, did you?”

“I know you think I’m one of the silliest girls in England, Papa. But I did listen to what Mama told us. I paid attention to every word. I know that’s the way you get babies. And I know what happens to girls who get babies before they are married.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not very romantic.”

“You are a good girl and a good daughter, Lydia. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Well, we’ve got over the most embarrassing part, Papa.

Wickham told me we would be married the next day, but I would not listen to him.

You cannot be married without permission if you are only sixteen unless you are in Scotland.

He got very angry, and he went out and slammed the door.

He locked me in. I could not get out, and I knocked and shouted, but no one would come.

He came back in about an hour,” she dropped her voice.

“And I could tell he had been drinking. He had a bottle of something, but I don’t think it was wine.

In fact, I know it wasn’t. He poured me a big glassful and said, ‘Have some of this Blue Ruin. It will make you feel much better.’ I took the glass, but it smelled awful. ”

“Blue Ruin,” echoed Mr. Bennet faintly.

“Yes. He had a great deal of it, but I poured little bits of mine into the water pitcher. I know I should have choked if I had taken any of it. He fell asleep in the chair by the window, and I got my hat and took my reticule and ran out of there as fast as I could. He had forgotten to lock the door. I ran to the corner and found a hack, and the jarvey drove me to Uncle’s house in Gracechurch Street.

That’s where Evan Caldwell found me, and he brought me here, and Anna took such good care of me.

And there really isn’t any more to tell. ”

“Well, the Caldwells certainly have been good to you.”

“I shall write Anna a long letter of thanks when I get home. I have been here more than a week. Oh, when will we go home, Papa?”

“Too late to leave today.” Mr. Bennet stood and looked at his watch. “We will leave tomorrow and be home tomorrow evening. Now, go and make your goodbyes to the Caldwells.”

Darcy conducted the family back to their hotel in his carriage, and as the three men were shaking hands, said “I should like to wait upon you at Longbourn in a week’s time, Sir. I can inform you of any news I have at that time.”

Although Mr. Bennet thought that a letter might do as well, he said nothing. “You will be very welcome at Longbourn at any time, Mr. Darcy.”

Longbourn, Hertfordshire - Thursday, July 23, 18__

The family at Longbourn was delighted to receive Mr. Bennet’s express. Not only was Lydia quite safe, but she would be with them that very day. Mrs. Bennet, when told, decided to rest in her room until mid-afternoon, dressing and coming downstairs in time for tea, when the travelers were expected.

At about noon, they were surprised by a visit from The Reverend William Collins. Kitty fled unobserved into the recesses of the garden with her aunt and the children, leaving her three sisters to receive him.

“I had hoped to condole with your father and mother,” said he, “On the grievous affliction you are now suffering under.”

“Our father is still in London, sir, and our mother has not yet left her room,” replied Jane quietly.

“Nevertheless, having received word from Hertfordshire, I feel called upon by my situation in life and my position as a clergyman--”

“Who, I wonder, could have written to you from Hertfordshire?” Elizabeth interrupted shamelessly. “Our situation is not known outside the immediate family. The Lucases most certainly have not been informed.”

“Be that as it may, whether your sister is naturally bad, as I am inclined to believe, or whether this has resulted from a faulty degree of indulgence, her death would have been a blessing in comparison. This false step will be injurious to you all. For, as Lady Catherine has said, who will want to connect themselves with such a family?”

“Who, indeed?” cried Elizabeth, standing.

“Your Hertfordshire correspondent is missing the greater portion of the story, Mr. Collins. Our sister was lured away from her protectors by a false offer of marriage. When she understood the iniquitous intentions of her captor, she fled from him into one of the worst, most dangerous quarters of London with no thought other than to preserve her virtue. She used her last farthing to pay for a hackney to Gracechurch Street, and when she found her uncle and aunt were from home, she placed herself under the protection of Evan Caldwell, one of the most respected merchants of the City, known to all for his sterling character and his God-fearing ways. The Caldwells have cared for her under their own roof until our father could reach her. No, Mr. Collins, we are not injured by her behavior. Our sister Lydia is a shining example of a young woman willing to risk death to preserve her honor.”

Elizabeth paused for breath, overcome by the brilliance of her own oratory and its effect on their visitor. Mary astonished everyone by standing and declaring, “Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.”

Jane moved swiftly to fill the breach, also standing.

“Our father is escorting Lydia home even now, and they are expected by tea-time. I feel sure you will respect our need to receive our sister into the arms of her immediate family after this terrible ordeal.” She looked at Elizabeth.

“Our own dear Dr. Price will, I am sure, provide her with all spiritual comfort, just as he has since her infancy and baptism.”

Mr. Collins was, for once, stunned into silence. At length he bowed and said, “Please convey my compliments to your honored parents.” He then turned and left the room, and they soon heard the sound of his departing carriage.

“I don’t know when I have had a more rewarding conversation,” said Elizabeth, laughing. “We must remember every particular to relate to our father. And Mary, your Scriptural reference was the crowning touch.”

“At one point, I admired him,” admitted Mary. “But he is an odious man. And I wonder who wrote to him from Hertfordshire.”

“That bears some thinking about,” replied Elizabeth.