Page 67 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Friday, December 13, 1811—24 Days after Tuesday
Elizabeth toyed with her eggs, her appetite too oppressed by the household’s sombre mood for hunger. Last night, she and Jane had talked for hours. After discussing the day’s revelations about Lydia and their concern for their parents, Elizabeth had shared the substance of yesterday’s conversation with Mr. Darcy and their engagement. Jane had been just as enthusiastic as she was. Today, though, all that happiness seemed drained out of the day. Mr. Darcy had not met her for their morning ramble. Mr. Bennet had taken breakfast in the library, and, as a result, Mrs. Bennet had breakfasted in her room. At least neither of them seemed ill or in hysterics.
“What are your plans for the day?” Jane asked her sisters, putting down her fork and looking around the table.
Lydia sniffled. “I am going to walk to Meryton.”
“I can go with her,” Kitty told Jane. Since yesterday’s explosive revelations, she had been quieter than Elizabeth had ever seen her.
Lydia made a face, ripping her cold buttered toast in half. “I do not require your company. I am perfectly capable of walking to Meryton alone.”
“I know you are,” Jane said sweetly.
Elizabeth nearly snorted. Everyone knew that Lydia could sneak off after yesterday. It was precisely why she should not go to town alone.
“But it would be safer for you to take someone else with you,” Jane finished.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. “I can walk to town with her.”
Lydia scoffed. “No. I would rather not go to town at all than take her ,” she told Jane. “I do not believe I shall ever wish to fraternise with ‘the architect of my sorrow.’ ”
Kitty pushed her. “Lydia! That was unkind. You should not compare Lizzy to Mademoiselle Saint-Vire.”
“Well, did she or did she not ruin my chances with George?” Lydia said. “I shall treat her just as Rosaline treated Mademoiselle Saint-Vire, for that is all she deserves.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Lydia, I did not ruin your chances with Mr. Wickham. Did you not hear what Mr. Darcy said? You are a bright young woman who does not deserve to throw her life away on someone like Mr. Wickham.”
Lydia tossed her hair. “Kitty, tell Mademoiselle Saint-Vire that it is my life to use as I please.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elizabeth said, standing up so quickly that her chair nearly toppled. “I am going to walk in the garden.”
By the time she reached the garden, her stomach squirmed at the thought of how she had treated Lydia. No matter how much her sister acted like a spoiled brat and regardless of the fact that she had put herself in the very position that had created her heartache, Lydia’s suffering was real. She grieved for the fantasy she had created; her swollen, bloodshot eyes bore mute testimony to that. No wonder she was hunting for an enemy outside herself. To find out that your “beloved” had been merely using you and you had been utterly unaware of the deception....
Elizabeth sank down onto one of the benches, gripping the cold stone. They were all on edge. Papa’s seeming illness. Mama’s nerves. The near-ruin to which Lydia had brought them teetering on the edge. It was enough to add cables of tension along all their shoulders. Not to mention William’s absence this morning. She had expected him, had longed to feel his arms about her, to be comforted that, even if everything went terribly wrong with her parents, she still had a haven, and he had not come.
She stood up again, her body too restless to tolerate sitting. Why had he not come? He had known the truth of her family’s behaviour long before proposing. In fact, Tuesday had been months of trying to prevent the very course Lydia had gleefully steered. He was not avoiding her due to the events of yesterday. Perhaps he was ill?
Elizabeth sat down on another bench and put her head in her hands. Jane was dealing with Mama and Lydia and she was out here in the garden fussing about William’s absence. Worrying herself to death would help no one, and William would come when he could.
In the meantime, she could at least entertain Kitty or Mary.
With that resolution, she strode back into the house.
A chill wind teased at his hair as Darcy rang the bell at Longbourn’s front entrance firmly, trying not to show any of the trepidation he felt. When Betsey opened it, he studied her face for any sign of the occupants’ well-being. “Good day, Betsey. Are Mr. and Mrs. Bennet at home to visitors?”
“The Master is in his library and has asked that no one disturb him, but the mistress is available,” Betsey said, bobbing a curtsy.
“Well, that is something,” Bingley murmured as the housemaid led them inside.
Darcy nodded, though he did not share Bingley’s optimism. Mr. Bennet had looked truly unwell yesterday.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, I am so glad to see you,” Mrs. Bennet said, curtsying as they entered the small sitting room.
The rest of the Bennet ladies were ranged around the room, apparently in the midst of needlework and hat trimming—all except Miss Lydia, who had pointedly remained seated, staring out the window.
“As are we happy to see you, Mrs. Bennet,” Bingley said, bowing over her hand.
“Indeed, it is good to see that you feel well enough to leave your chambers,” Darcy added as he, too, bowed over her hand.
She smiled distractedly. “Yes, well, I thought it might do me some good to see the outside of my room.”
Miss Lydia scoffed.
“And how is Mr. Bennet?” Darcy asked.
Mrs. Bennet looked at the ceiling as though trying to peel away the layers of house between her and her husband. “I do not know. He is locked up in his library, but he often situates himself there.”
“It does sound promising,” Bingley said. His eyes sought Miss Bennet’s. “And what of you, Miss Bennet? How are you on this fine day?”
Miss Bennet smiled. “I am well, Mr. Bingley.”
“Not feeling too cooped up? The sun is so bright that I thought you might enjoy a walk,” he said, throwing out a hand toward where the window showcased the beautiful (though chilly) day.
Miss Lydia snorted. “ She is not confined to this house. Besides, if it is with you, she would not dare refuse.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed her lips together. “That sounds lovely, does it not, my love?” she said to Jane. “Hill can attend me.”
Mr. Bingley beamed at her. “Are you certain? I would not wish to rob you of her presence if you require her assistance.”
Mrs. Bennet chuckled. “No, I shall be fine without her. I have my other daughters to help me.”
“Perhaps you would like to join us, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley suggested. “I would hate for anyone to put the wrong connotation on an innocent walk,” he added to Mrs. Bennet.
She nodded, though Darcy thought he saw a hint of disappointment on her face. He was reminded that this woman had sent Miss Bennet to Netherfield on horseback, despite the impending storm.
“Yes, please join us, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.
Mrs. Bennet glanced up at him calculatingly. “Indeed, my love, your morning constitutional was quite short today. A turn outside would do you good.”
Oh well, at least if Mrs. Bennet was scheming to unite him and her second oldest daughter, she would not be disappointed when they announced their engagement—provided that he could ever speak to Mr. Bennet about it. In addition, she would probably create plenty of opportunities for him to speak to his beloved privately.