Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A great oak stood on the edge of the garden, and beneath it, Elizabeth found she could shelter herself from the sun and also from her father’s watchful eye. She saw when he paced in his book room intermittently throughout each morning, following her movements around the garden, and she resented him. He had no understanding of her experiences in Kent, with regards to Mr Collins’s imperious standards and the isolation he forced upon her.
Could her father not comprehend the treachery Charlotte had committed? To have her most vulnerable and private whisperings to a friend recorded—tangible evidence of her misguided affection and foolishness—preserved, and shared with others was unforgivable. Two weeks had passed since her return home, and still her father paced, book in hand, to keep watch of her through the window. What deviousness did he imagine her capable of? Hiding from him was childish, she knew, but she could not enjoy his oversight when he would not also favour her with some concern or a listening ear.
It was from this vantage point that Elizabeth saw the lone rider arrive at Longbourn. The man swiftly dismounted and approached the house. It was not long before she saw her father turn from his perch at the window and attend to whatever news had arrived.
At length, she heard the sound of her mother wailing and spied Jane leaving the house and walking briskly in her direction. “Lizzy, dear. Something has happened in Kent.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. “What has happened?”
“It appears Lydia has left the protection of the parsonage. No one knows where she has gone. They discovered her empty room yesterday. They believe she left sometime in the night. Our father will travel to London at first light on the morrow before journeying on to Kent to try and find her.”
“Left in the night?”
“Their cook sent a dinner tray, which was consumed, but she was not in her room when they brought her morning meal.”
Elizabeth felt her world bend and an uneasiness settle in her stomach. Taking trays in her room . She understood that preference all too well. She had made the same choice in Kent after a time. Of course, knowing Lydia and her cousin as she did, it was entirely likely Mr Collins had enforced a sequestration for Lydia’s behaviour.
Would that she knew more! It had been a foolish notion to expect that Sir William’s presence would protect Lydia. Of course Mr Collins would not allow for Lydia’s sharp tongue and childish opinions.
“I need to speak to our father,” Elizabeth said quickly, and began moving towards the house .
“Lizzy,” Jane breathed while she tried to keep up with her sister’s pace. “Our father has begged to be left alone.”
“I cannot leave this be. She is our sister. I am familiar with Mr and Mrs Collins. I can provide pertinent information. He must hear me now—he must.”
Jane stopped, out of breath, and allowed Elizabeth to continue on her way.
Elizabeth went straight to her father’s book room, stopping only to knock quickly before entering. “I must speak to you,” she said, even while she was still opening the door.
“And I must have silence, Lizzy. Leave me be.” He did not lift his eyes to meet hers, keeping his focused on the open book resting on his desk.
“I beg you to listen to me. I have just heard that Lydia has disappeared in Kent.”
“Just so.”
“You must allow me to tell you about Mr Collins—about his ridiculous demands. Each week that I stayed under their roof, I found myself under new restrictions.”
“I daresay we might have found ourselves in different circumstances if I, too, had only put restrictions on my daughters.”
“Papa, please . You must take me with you to recover Lydia. I can help find her. I am certain I can.”
He ignored this, turning his head away.
“Sir, he read my letters!”
“Perhaps I should have been reading your letters! Maybe then I would better understand you, my child,” he roared, suddenly enraged. “I will not take you to town so you can find your young gentleman once again. We have not received word of whether your scandal has been contained in Kent. You are to remain at home. I shall not be moved on this point. ”
“You cannot comprehend what Mr Collins put me through! And what he likely put Lydia through as well!”
Her father rolled his eyes and waved his hand in the direction of the door. “If I must rouse myself to travel to Kent on the morrow, I demand privacy today.”
She was wholly shocked by his disinterest, but it still stung. “As you please,” she muttered as she left the room.
Elizabeth found Kitty and Mary in the drawing room. Kitty was horrified and scared, while Mary mused that their youngest sister had likely brought it upon herself.
“Jane is attending our mother,” Kitty said between sobs. “She believes Lydia was stolen from her bed in the night. What if she is hurt or lost?”
She could be lost to them forever, that was certain, but Elizabeth’s mind was moving too rapidly to develop an explanation for where her youngest sister might have gone and under whose protection she might have landed. She could imagine no one in Kent who might have harmed Lydia, but it was likely her sister may have put her trust in the first person who would pay her any little attention, just as Elizabeth had. If only she knew who Lydia had been introduced to!
“Have you received any letters from Kent?” Elizabeth asked Kitty, hoping for more information.
“No,” Kitty whimpered, wiping her tears away with a handkerchief. “Lydia was never much for letter writing, I suppose.”
Elizabeth patted Kitty on the shoulder and stood, agitated to the point where she was unable to sit still. Abandoning Kitty in her time of need was certainly unkind, but she had to do something—anything. Sitting by and watching this play out in front of her was impossible.
She slipped quietly into her chamber, took a seat at her escritoire, and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. Her father had not meant to introduce the notion, but Elizabeth was certain Mr Darcy would help if he knew of Lydia’s disappearance.
She felt it was her fault that Lydia had disappeared. If she had only warned Lydia more vehemently or had convinced her father to listen to the dangers of her sister being placed under the authority of a man too willing to abuse it—if she had made Mr Bennet understand. Even with his general wish to disregard his daughters, surely he had been made aware enough of Lydia’s youthful and silly manner to understand the gravity of the situation. Perhaps she could have persuaded him to retrieve Lydia from Kent before this damage was done.
Taking a deep breath to steel her courage, Elizabeth smoothed the already stiff paper and took out her quill pen and ink. Hands shaking, she dipped the pen and began making another foolish decision.
May 25, 1812
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Mr Darcy,
Be not alarmed, sir, on receiving this letter. My apprehension in penning it is likely greater than yours in receiving it. There was a time this spring when you told me that should I require assistance, you would be willing to offer it, and I write asking for aid now.
My youngest sister, Lydia, has been lately visiting the Collinses in Kent. She accompanied Sir William Lucas and his daughter, Miss Maria Lucas. An express arrived today at Longbourn informing us that Lydia has left the protection of the parsonage and her friends. She is missing, and I feel powerless to assist in her recovery. There is no evidence for where she may have gone.
I hope you will forgive my forward speech forthwith when I tell you that my father is unwilling to listen to any report I can provide about Kent. I have many suppositions about her experience staying with the Collinses, and I know you will share my concern, as you were such a kind, listening ear during my own visit. These explanations might offer some insight into any possible distress she suffered. My understanding of the area alone could be helpful. But my father will not favour discourse with me at this time.
On the morrow, he will depart Hertfordshire to assist in recovering my sister. I know not precisely what I ask you to accomplish, but I feel I must do something before she is lost to us forever. Though I cannot say why, I feel with certainty that you will not blame me for writing to you with haste. I shall finish now, so that this may reach you more quickly.
I will only add, God bless you.
EB
Elizabeth folded and sanded the letter before she could talk herself out of her daring act. She then cautiously penned the illustrious direction of Mr Darcy’s London home on the front, careful to emulate her father’s masculine writing. It did not surprise her that his direction was etched into the fabric of her mind, and she prayed he would forgive her this lapse in judgment.
Down in the hall, she quietly slipped the letter among those already collected for the outgoing post. If nothing came of her indiscretion, she would be in the same condition as she was presently—full of worry and relying on her father’s consideration alone. But if Mr Darcy took some little action to help, perhaps her recklessness would be worth it in the end.
It was a strange thing to look for someone who was determined not to be found. Charlotte was certain that Lydia had left the house on her own. She could understand the notion, frankly. But her father and sister were concerned about what mischief could have taken place, and so an organised search had commenced. She begged her father to hold off on sending the express to Hertfordshire, but Sir William stood his ground. Mr Bennet did have a right to know about his daughter’s disappearance, but Charlotte was not eager for the continued upheaval of her home. Blast that Lydia!
They had engaged the local magistrate to assist with the search, but there was an understanding that should the news of Lydia’s disappearance reach the entire parish and be shared beyond it, Lydia could be ruined. Young ladies did not leave in the night and survive it with their reputation intact.
Curiously, Mr Collins did not want to involve Lady Catherine. He was deeply mortified by his cousin’s actions and felt the scandal reflected negatively on his household. He had been most clear with the magistrate that her ladyship was not to be involved.
His long-winded speech at dinner about the evils of temptation to those of the female persuasion had been unrelenting. Even her loquacious father had found it hard to join in the one-sided conversation. It was no surprise that the entire household retired early that night .
Though she was unable to conjure the weather, when the rain had fallen persistently in the night, she had a fleeting thought that it reflected her own unrelenting suffering and distress. She had woken the next morning feeling uneasy—going through the motions of the morning but having to remind herself to speak and nod and smile. She felt beyond herself— unlike herself—as if she was watching her person from the outside but was not within her own power.
That morning, Charlotte once again spent her day making calls to the neighbours in order to gather any pertinent, related news. Her father felt calling on the neighbours would suit their purposes two-fold—in the first place, it would appear as if nothing was amiss. In the second, she could mention Lydia and watch and listen for any information that could be useful. She felt it was unimportant to the task at hand to mention to her father that calling on their neighbours would not be considered typical behaviour. She disliked the idea of upsetting him and hoped their impending departure would come before he noticed she had not one friend in Kent.
Charlotte trudged up a hill that would take her to a few small estates that lay to the south of the parish. She did not favour being out of doors, nor did she feel she was designed for walks of this length, but she would do her part to end this ridiculous situation Lydia had imposed upon them.
One could immediately know when they had left Lady Catherine’s realm, for the road conditions deteriorated significantly. The narrow lane she travelled was not well maintained, and she felt with a certainty that her half boots were nearly ruined by the mud. She attempted to step carefully, but it was no use.
Finally, she rounded a bend and saw the home of Mrs Jacobson come into view and let out a sigh of relief that she was nearing her first destination. She glanced down at the dirty hem of her favourite morning dress and grimaced. When will the Bennet family stop wreaking havoc upon my life?
There was little sleep to be had at Longbourn that night. Mrs Bennet had required laudanum to finally quiet her anxieties, and Jane, in her invariable kindness, had stayed by her side until she knew their mother found rest. Elizabeth felt Jane toss and turn in the night, and knew that she too was sleeping little.
Thoughts of Lydia alone in the world, coupled with an acute embarrassment for having brazenly sent off a letter to Mr Darcy, whirled in her head. If she thought her father was unhappy with her previous actions, the results of writing to an unmarried gentleman would carry much more weight, should he become aware of it.
She had spent most of the night unable to quiet her mind but tried to lie still, for Jane’s sake. Her thoughts ranged from desperation to an almost fitful giddiness when she imagined Mr Darcy opening her letter and finding her feminine handwriting within. What would he think of her boldness? And would he help them to find Lydia, unattached to them as he was?
When the first light of the early morning flickered into the room, Elizabeth quietly rose and escaped the house. Once in the comforting shadow of the oak tree on the edge of the garden, she released her concerns to the world and begged God to give her the strength and wisdom to be of some help to her family.
As the sun began to rise in the sky, Elizabeth watched as their carriage was readied and her father’s trunk was carried from the house. Elizabeth leant back against the tree and closed her eyes. The tightness in her chest unwavering, she had to force herself to regulate her breaths as guilt and fear and worry washed over her in equal measures.
She startled when she heard her father speak her name and straightened immediately.
His eyes brushed over her face, unconcealed concern in his eyes. She was certain she looked as weary as she felt.
“You are leaving for town?”
“Yes.” And after one more moment of hesitation, and a sigh conveying his acquiescence, he asked, “What more should I know before I leave?”
A sense of relief shuddered through her at his invitation. She stood immediately, and the words began pouring out of her in rapid succession, “Mr Collins is not the man who stayed in our home last autumn. He was demanding and overbearing—self-important. He went through my things. He read a letter I was penning to you, and when he was not pleased with what I wrote, he forbade me from leaving the house. That is why I never wrote to you. He also read my incoming correspondence—a letter from you was deemed inappropriate reading material! A letter from my own father! He also required daily religious study from me. Can you imagine? Charlotte, too, is miserable, and I am certain he has made Lydia wretched. I am convinced he has a part in Lydia’s disappearance. Did you not see in the express that she was taking trays in her room? Does that sound like your youngest daughter to hide away from society?”
His eyes grew wider and wider during her speech.
“Papa, I know I have shamed you. Indeed I have shamed myself! I cannot be proud of what indiscretions were committed and can only excuse myself by saying that I...I thought Mr Darcy held me in affection, and I thought...I think I love him, too. It matters not, not now, but only...it was not merely imprudence, or the desire for flirtation which drove me. I could not have done any such thing if I had not truly believed I loved him, and he loved me. If I have been a fool, then so I am, but I am not some libertine.”
A faint smile touched his lips when she said ‘libertine’, but Mr Bennet took a moment before he spoke to consider all that had spilled out from her.
“Pray find Mrs Hill. Tell her to assist you in packing a bag—quickly, if you please. We leave within the hour,” he responded and turned towards the stables.