Mrs. Bingley’s Sister (The Austen Novels)

Chapter 41

April 1820

Sedgwick House

Derbyshire

Elizabeth walked out into the slightly chilly March air, the morning early and bright. They had moved in just days before, and she was already feeling like this could be home. The grounds and the landscape, it all reminded her of Pemberley, and she was glad to be so close to Darcy. She allowed herself to wonder when he might come to call on them.

"Lizzy!"

A voice called for her. Lydia. Strangely enough, Lydia had surprised her sister by often accompanying her on her morning walk many times while they have been at Netherfield.

Elizabeth turned and waited.

"Good morning, Lydia.”

"Are we not but a few miles from Pemberley?" she asked.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow but answered, "Yes, we are. I believe it's only five miles away."

"Wickham used to talk very fondly of Pemberley. I'd like to see it."

Elizabeth always had to ignore her own angry feelings that arose whenever she heard that man's name. Lydia seemed to sense this as she said with a laugh, "Oh, you mustn't feign niceties with me. I know the man I married was a scoundrel."

"Why, I—"

"You needn't say it, but we both know it's true. Wickham was beguiling me when he ran away with me. He never meant to marry me at all. Do you want to know why he married me? Since we are talking about Pemberley and Mr. Darcy..."

Elizabeth was puzzled at Lydia's mention of Darcy, but she said, "I believe I already know all about how your marriage came to be."

"You do?" Lydia looked let down. "Oh. Then I must ask you, if you already knew about Darcy paying Wickham, did you not ever question his purpose behind it—"

"I beg your pardon, what about Darcy?"

Lydia gave her a funny look. "I thought you said you knew?"

"I knew Bingley paid Wickham to marry you."

"No, that he did not. He merely took credit for it."

Elizabeth stopped and stared. Lydia went on, seemingly quite pleased to be telling the tale.

"Darcy tackled Wickham to the ground when he found us," Lydia said with a giggle. Elizabeth gaped incredulously.

"He what?"

"He ran after him and tackled the man to the ground. Wickham was trying to run away, but Darcy stopped him, quite physically. I didn't get to see more that that, however, because Bingley hurried me away into a carriage. It was quite exciting, now that I recall it."

This was nearly unbelievable to Elizabeth, but with thorough questioning, she learned what happened as far as Lydia understood it. It had been Darcy, not Bingley, who paid for Wickham to marry Lydia. It had been Darcy, not Bingley, who found the two of them in the first place. It had been Darcy, not Bingley, who protected the Bennet sisters' reputations.

If only Elizabeth had known that eight years ago.

She and Lydia walked and walked, and soon the sun was high up in the sky, and they made their way back to Sedgwick House. But just as they were to enter, they could hear a carriage making its way up the path. They stopped and turned. Elizabeth recognized it

"That's Mr. Darcy's carriage," she muttered to Lydia, who was suddenly very intrigued.

"Let us greet the man," Lydia said, going back down the steps to wait. Elizabeth followed, as she wanted to see him too. She couldn't comprehend the meaning of his interference in the Lydia/Wickham affair all those years ago.

Hadn't he been been so angry with her after her refusal? Why would he make himself so miserable to help her, after the abominable way she treated him in Hunsford?

The carriage came to a halt, and the footman opened the door. Out came Darcy.

He looked very handsome, as well as he did the last time she had laid eyes upon the man. She watched as his eyes found hers. She curtsied. He bowed.

"Mrs. Wickham, Miss Bennet," he greeted them properly, but his eyes did not stray from hers. "How do you like Sedgwick House?"

Elizabeth's mouth suddenly felt dry, and as she realized she was letting too many moments go by without an answer, she heard her sister say, "Sedgwick House is a nice house. Large and spacious enough for all of the children." Lydia paused and then added, "Mr. Wickham died, as you might have heard."

Elizabeth stood frozen, startled at her sister's bluntness. Darcy, too, looked uncomfortable as he uttered, "I heard. My condolences, madam."

Lydia waved a hand dismissively. "He was a fool, and he likely deserved what came to him. He barely did right by me—I suppose he could have abandoned me but never did, though; so, for that much I am grateful, however difficult our lives were." Elizabeth saw Lydia shrug out of the corner of her eye. "I shall take my leave of you both—I need to tend to my youngest child this morning."

Lydia was up the steps and inside before anyone could say a word. Darcy looked at Elizabeth and offered his arm.

"Shall we go in? Would you—would you like to show me the house?" he asked awkwardly, his face red.

Elizabeth found herself moving and taking his arm as she answered slowly, "I'd like that."

And so they went inside, and they began a slow meandering walk through the house, though there were still plenty of things to be moved about—furniture and such, Bingley's things as well as some of the Bennet furniture that Mrs. Bennet had no room for in her new home—and there were servants all around, here and there, uncovering items and putting things away.

"As you can see, we have only just arrived," Elizabeth said, "but very soon we shall be right at home, I suspect."

They made their way into a long gallery hall of the house—the paintings belonged to the estate—and Elizabeth told him honestly, "I have yet to know all of these.”

Darcy nodded and said some little thing or other about fine paintings inhabiting great houses. Elizabeth felt as if she were about to burst, however—

"Mr. Darcy, I need to speak with you."

They came to a halt. She looked around and noticed they were completely alone in the gallery. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, still on his arm. His eyes seemed to pierce hers. She looked away, feeling a little uneasy.

"I must know the truth of the matter. It has been revealed to me that you were the one responsible for Lydia's marriage to Mr. Wickham," she said, still avoiding his eye, "and if that is the truth, sir, why then, let me thank you, again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble and bear so many mortifications for the sake of discovering them."

Darcy was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I did not think Bingley was so little to be trusted."

She finally looked at him pleadingly and said, "You must not blame him! Lydia is the one who tells me, and I assume it must be the truth—for why would she create such a tale?”

She paused, and then said, “I thank you, and I know the rest of my family would thank you, even my father, if he were here to know it."

Darcy answered her in a soft voice.

"If you will thank me for the service done so long ago," he said, glancing at her before looking away, "Let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I only thought of you."

Elizabeth watched him as he said these words and saw how his cheeks flushed. She looked away, her heart warming at the realization that he did all of that for her, without ever coming forth to claim credit. He saved the Bennets from catastrophe because of his feelings for her.

This changed everything—he loved her even then—

"Darcy, is that you?"

Bingley's voice rang out through the gallery, and Elizabeth and Darcy, pulling away from one another awkwardly, both turned to see him coming toward them. He smiled jovially.

"I see Elizabeth is showing you the gallery! Isn't it marvelous? This house is much more suitable than Netherfield was—although that was indeed a good house—Sedgwick House shall do well for us, I believe. Come, come, let us go to the breakfast parlor! You do want to see Lizzy, do you not? She will be pleased to see her godfather again—"

And so they were led away, and Elizabeth's heart was still beating from the revelation of Darcy's words.