Trapped in Scandal

Chapter Thirty-Two

Elizabeth

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

4th November 1813

T he familiar sight of Longbourn came into view as Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage, the brisk breeze brushing against her cheeks. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Though she had longed for home, she felt a strange unease, as though something in the air had shifted.

As she approached the door, it opened unexpectedly, revealing her father standing in the threshold. His familiar expression brought a sense of both relief and curiosity.

“Papa!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her brow rising in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to greet me.”

Mr Bennet’s eyes twinkled with dry amusement. “I’ve only just come in from the garden. I thought I heard the carriage. But if you prefer to believe I was standing here in eager anticipation of your arrival, I shan’t correct you.”

Elizabeth smiled and stepped inside. “How have you been, Papa?”

Mr Bennet shut the door behind her, shaking his head. “My life has been filled with the usual mixture of amusement and aggravation. Lydia is thoroughly besotted with her new role as mother, parading the baby around as if he were a royal heir. Wickham, I must admit, is quite the proud father. You’d think he never entertained a single doubt about the child’s legitimacy.” He gestured for her to follow him into the parlour.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she removed her gloves. “I suppose it’s fortunate he has embraced fatherhood so enthusiastically. And Mama? I imagine her nerves are stretched to their utmost?”

Mr Bennet gave a short, dry laugh as he settled into his favourite armchair. “Quite. Between Lydia’s incessant chatter and Wickham’s posturing, she finds her nerves frayed daily though I know she is secretly relishing her new role as a grandmother. But she will stay in Newcastle for the christening, of course. Nothing would drag her away before then, not even her beloved nerves.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at his tone. “And Mr Wickham? He’s truly proud?”

“Oh, bursting with it,” Mr Bennet replied, pouring himself a glass of port. “You’d think he’d won some great victory. He is now the picture of fatherly devotion, basking in the glory of his newly solidified role.”

Elizabeth laughed softly, shaking her head. “I would not have believed it had you not seen it with your own eyes.”

“Indeed. And Lydia is, of course, insufferably delighted with herself,” Mr Bennet added, his eyes gleaming with dry humour. “She struts about with that child in her arms as though she has accomplished something extraordinary.”

Elizabeth sat opposite him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “At least she is content, and the baby is healthy.” She hesitated, then added with a wry smile, “And at least Mama can supervise them from Newcastle rather than from here.”

Mr Bennet gave her a long, knowing look. “I suspect your mother enjoys the drama more than she lets on. She’ll return in due course, claiming to be thoroughly worn out by the ordeal, though she’ll be positively glowing from all the fuss.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “You have borne it well, Papa. I hope you’re taking time to rest now that all the drama has been resolved.”

“I’m resting now,” he replied with mock solemnity, raising his glass. “I leave the fretting to your mother. It suits her far better.”

Elizabeth laughed again, feeling her earlier tension ease. There was something about her father’s dry humour that always made the world seem less burdensome.

Just then, Jane entered the parlour, her face brightening at the sight of Elizabeth. “Lizzy! You’re finally here.” She hurried forward and embraced her warmly.

Elizabeth returned the hug with equal affection. “Jane, I’ve missed you. How are things?”

Jane gave a tired but affectionate smile. “Busy, as always. Between Charles, the house, and a steady stream of visitors, there’s never a quiet moment. But we’re happy, and that’s what matters.”

Mr Bennet rose to his feet, stretching leisurely. “Now that the sisters are reunited, I shall take my leave. I’ve had enough of women’s chatter for one day.” He gave Elizabeth a teasing glance, “Enjoy yourselves. I shall be in my study, contemplating the mysteries of fatherhood from a safe distance.”

Elizabeth shook her head with a smile as he left the room. Turning back to Jane, she accepted the tea her sister poured.

“Now, Jane,” she said, settling comfortably. “Tell me everything.”

Jane laughed softly. “Oh, Lizzy, where to begin?”

***

A few days later, Elizabeth sat in the drawing room at Longbourn, her brow furrowed in thought. A delicate tension hung over her, the result of days spent grappling with doubts and unanswered questions. The crackling of the fire offered little comfort as her mind wandered over the troubling events involving Charlotte and Mr Darcy.

Jane entered quietly, her soft step and gentle demeanour as calming as ever. She approached Elizabeth with care, her eyes filled with concern. “Lizzy, dearest,” she began, settling beside her, “you have been quite out of spirits these past few days. Pray, tell me what is weighing so heavily upon you.”

Elizabeth hesitated, her fingers tightening around the embroidered cushion in her lap. She had kept her turmoil to herself for too long, but Jane’s quiet persistence made her resolve waver.

“I hardly know where to begin,” she murmured. “It concerns Charlotte.”

Jane’s brow knit slightly. “Charlotte? What of her?”

Elizabeth drew a deep breath, steadying herself. “I fear Charlotte may not be the person I believed her to be. She left Abigail’s party claiming she was visiting Miss King, yet Miss King insists Charlotte never called upon her that evening.”

Jane’s eyes widened, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “You are certain of this?”

Elizabeth nodded gravely. “I have questioned it from every angle, but there is no other explanation. And there is more—Mr Darcy involved himself when I expressly asked him not to. He wrote to Miss King’s uncle, seeking confirmation of her account. He suspected Charlotte and, despite my protests, conducted his investigation in secret.”

Jane appeared startled. “Mr Darcy? But surely, he acted out of concern?”

“Concern or not,” Elizabeth replied, her voice tight, “he disregarded my wishes. I asked him to trust me, Jane, to leave it be. Instead, he saw fit to take matters into his own hands.”

Jane considered this carefully. “Yet surely, Mr Darcy believed he was protecting you?”

Elizabeth gave a short, bitter laugh. “Protecting me? By undermining me? He should have trusted that I could manage this myself.”

Jane reached for Elizabeth’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I understand why you are hurt, but men often believe they must act decisively when perhaps all we need is their understanding. Charles is much the same—he often blunders in his attempts to fix matters without first listening.” She paused thoughtfully, “Do you truly believe Mr Darcy wished to harm you?”

Elizabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No, not harm, but he has shown no faith in my judgement. And Charlotte—Charlotte, of all people. I cannot fathom that she would deceive me so grievously.”

“Have you considered,” Jane asked carefully, “that there may yet be some misunderstanding? Perhaps she did not intend deceit but acted from fear or confusion.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It is not merely the lie—it is that she allowed me to remain ignorant while whispers abound. And if she would so easily let me be taken for a fool, can she still be my friend?”

Jane looked at her sister with sympathy. “What do you mean to do, Lizzy? You cannot let this fester. Will you speak to Charlotte?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I do not know. I am torn between confronting her directly and wishing to avoid her altogether. How does one speak to a friend who has betrayed them?”

Jane pondered this before speaking. “Perhaps you need an occasion where she cannot evade you. Something neutral yet grand enough that there will be no cause for suspicion. An invitation to a social event may suffice.”

Elizabeth’s brow lifted slightly. “A social event? What do you propose?”

Jane smiled gently. “Charles and I are to host a masquerade ball at Netherfield in December. It will be a splendid affair, and everyone of consequence will be there. Charlotte and Mr Collins could hardly refuse such an invitation. You will have your opportunity to speak with her in confidence, without it appearing deliberate.”

Elizabeth’s eyes brightened with reluctant intrigue. “A masquerade ball? That is an idea I had not considered.” She paused, then added thoughtfully, “It could allow me to observe her without her knowing my intent. Perhaps I may learn something more before revealing my thoughts.”

Jane nodded. “It would also give you time to prepare yourself—and to speak with Mr Darcy, if you wish. You must be forthright with him, Lizzy. If you truly believe he acted out of concern, then tell him how his actions hurt you.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose I must. I have been too proud to admit how deeply this has wounded me. Perhaps Mr Darcy could not know my heart because I have kept it too closely guarded.” She gave a rueful smile. “You are right, Jane. I shall speak with him, but first, I will write. I need time to collect my thoughts before facing him.”

Jane’s face lit with approval. “A letter is wise. It will allow you to express yourself clearly, without the heat of emotion clouding your words. Mr Darcy cares for you, Lizzy. I am certain he will listen.”

Elizabeth’s heart felt lighter, though her path was still fraught with uncertainty. “I shall invite Charlotte and Mr Collins to the ball,” she said, her voice steadier. “And in the meantime, I will write to Mr Darcy. It is time to seek clarity—for both our sakes.”

Jane embraced her warmly. “You are stronger than you think, Lizzy. Whatever comes, you will manage it with grace.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly, a glimmer of determination returning. The road ahead would not be easy, but she was resolved to face it with courage.