Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
E lizabeth was relieved that her father had favoured her company and had let her speak of her concerns, though it did not follow that the carriage ride was congenial. For the majority of the trip, Mr Bennet feigned sleep, for Elizabeth occasionally saw one eyelid lift in her direction.
She wondered at his thoughts. What he must think of her! To speak of Mr Collins’s controlling manner and her love for Mr Darcy in one breath—she must appear a great fool. She had not owned her feelings for the gentleman to herself, yet had poured out her heart to her father.
How mortifying! What folly! To be in love with a gentleman who could never be hers! But love him, she did.
Their entrance into London brought with it much distraction, allowing Elizabeth to forget her concerns, and enjoy the sights they saw, and the people they passed. Relief flooded her being when she saw they had arrived at Gracechurch Street and would soon be in the company of her dearest family.
When Elizabeth and her father’s arrival was announced to the drawing room, it was with great shock that they found Charlotte and Lydia sitting with Mrs Gardiner.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth exclaimed and moved forward to embrace her sister.
Mr Bennet did not conceal his frustration, sighing loudly and wiping his palm down his face. “Lydia, a private word, if you please. Now,” he said without allowing for any proper greetings to be had. He waved his hand in the direction of the passageway, and Lydia immediately obeyed, following with an unusual reverence.
Elizabeth watched them exit the room and found herself confused as to what she should do. She had no interest in entertaining Charlotte—seeing her made every inch of her being seize with anger and shake with nerves, but she did not want to embarrass her aunt.
Charlotte, too, looked uncomfortable. She had been smiling when Elizabeth entered the room, but since seeing the new arrivals, had not raised her eyes from her folded hands in her lap.
Mrs Gardiner looked curiously at Elizabeth, nodding in the direction of Charlotte, as if to ask her to acknowledge the guest. She could not be obtuse—the ladies had not even greeted one another and had favoured each other with nary a glance.
Elizabeth had no interest in speaking to her old friend. She chose to sit in a large chair nearest to the window to avoid any feigned intimacy. Charlotte had wrought pain enough for Elizabeth, and she desired no more.
Mrs Gardiner gave her a hard look, narrowing her eyes, and announced she would leave to check on her children. Elizabeth pursed her lips in response but felt she would be unmoved.
Only the ticking of the clock could be heard for some time. And at length, uncomfortable with the silence, she finally spoke in a forced, polite manner, “I am happy to find Lydia is safe. She was discovered after the express was sent?”
“I found her yesterday afternoon. She was with our neighbour, Mrs Jacobson, whom you met while in Kent. The lady was kind enough to offer her carriage so that I could return Lydia to her family.”
Elizabeth nodded her understanding. “She left on her own?”
“Yes.”
“And I suppose you will feign confusion as to why a young lady would wish to escape your home?”
“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte finally raised her eyes to meet Elizabeth’s.
“Pardon you, I shall not,” Elizabeth retorted. “I am certain you found my sister’s company as dreadful as you found mine.”
No answer came from Charlotte. Elizabeth stared at her former friend who merely lowered her eyes to focus on her primly folded hands. Only a slight blush gave Elizabeth the impression that Charlotte felt anything at all.
“And why are you here? Why did you not take her back to the parsonage and send word that she was found safe? Were not your guests to travel home within the week?”
When Charlotte remained silent, Elizabeth continued, saying, “Perhaps she was no longer welcome in your home?”
Something suddenly broke in Charlotte’s cool, disconnected demeanour. “Of course she was not welcome. Mr Collins had already restricted her to her rooms, all while telling my father that she was ill. How was I going to explain to my father and Maria that I found her—escaped of her own volition? Or was I to tell them that my husband had locked her in her room?! First, your secret dalliances with Mr Darcy, and now a runaway—I have never been so utterly embarrassed!”
“Embarrassed?” Elizabeth raised her voice slightly and sent a hard look to Charlotte. “If anyone should know embarrassment, it shall be me! Your betrayal nearly ruined me! Maybe not yet in the eyes of society, but certainly in those of my father—and society may decide upon me yet! What did you think would happen when you composed an account of my most private and personal thoughts—shared with you in confidence—and then delivered them to Lady Catherine? You left it to her to decide my fate!”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you went traipsing through the woods with Mr Darcy and left little consideration for propriety!”
Anger burned through Elizabeth, flushing her hot. “You must think very little of me and our history together to threaten my entire future.”
Charlotte turned away from her.
“Perhaps you should have cared more for Lydia’s comfort—or for my reputation—than that of your husband and his beloved patroness!”
“He was never supposed to be my husband! He was supposed to be yours ,” Charlotte said with feeling. “It was you who was supposed to live with him and carry his children, not me! If not for your infinite selfishness—” She stopped at that and rubbed her hand over her growing midsection. Elizabeth had not noticed it until she saw the simple, maternal gesture. The thought of Charlotte carrying a child stunted Elizabeth’s anger.
She answered calmly, “You had the same power to choose as I, Mrs Collins, and if you regret that choice, the blame cannot be mine. It was you who accepted him with such haste, knowing I had only just declined him the day prior!”
“I did not have any good choice, and you know it,” Charlotte whispered wistfully into the room. “Should I have remained a burden to my parents and then later prayed one of my brothers would take me on as well?”
“Would that not have been better?”
“Anything would be better,” she said very quietly, but something clearly roused within her, and she turned more confident eyes back on Elizabeth. “You must know—that his true measure was understood by no one. And now the entire neighbourhood will hear stories from Mrs Jacobson, and all will know that I had a guest who detested my husband enough that she was willing to throw herself from a window into the night rather than remain under our roof.” She looked defeated, a smaller version of herself than Elizabeth had ever seen, but Elizabeth could not so easily feel compassion for her.
“Why are you here in London? Why not simply send her to town on her own?”
“I had to see to Lydia’s removal from the area. She had created damage enough.”
It was then that Mr Bennet joined them in the drawing room. “Mrs Collins, thank you for returning Lydia to her family. Mr Gardiner has graciously agreed to take Elizabeth and Lydia to Longbourn in the morning. I shall escort you home to Kent. I am certain your family will be relieved to see you too are safe and well.”
Though she had initially seemed somewhat subdued, unrepentant would have been an apt description of Lydia’s attitude at dinner. She appeared greatly diverted to be in town and only wished she could stay in London longer than one night.
“Could I not stay and attend the theatre, Aunt?” Lydia begged once the ladies were settled in the drawing room after the meal. “We could host dinner parties or attend an assembly, could we not?”
Their father answered from the doorway as he and their uncle joined the ladies, “Your uncle has been gracious enough to offer to return you home, and that is where you will go. Your mother will be relieved to see you are well and safe. I shall not hear another word about it.”
Elizabeth put a restraining hand on Lydia’s and responded politely, “Thank you for your generosity, Uncle.”
It was all she could do not to ask for the carriage to be readied to return home immediately. Sitting in the drawing room with Charlotte was excruciating, and it appeared it was a strain for Charlotte as well, for she remained still and silent all evening, only responding when it was required.
Elizabeth eventually announced to the room that she and Lydia would retire early. Her sister attempted to protest, but their aunt stood to bid them both a good night.
The eldest of Elizabeth’s young cousins had returned to the nursery so that Mr Bennet and Charlotte could use the two readied guest rooms. Elizabeth led her sister upstairs to the small chamber they would share for the night, and once assured privacy, she enquired about Lydia’s experiences in Kent.
“A monstrous man that Mr Collins! I have never seen the like. As you can no doubt imagine, I told him my father would have words with him when he learnt of my treatment! He followed me about all day—watching me, glaring at me—it was amusing at first. I enjoyed trying to put him off and set about distracting him or confusing him regarding my whereabouts. But lately, I began to be frightened of him.”
Lydia’s explanation only increased her concern. She had never felt frightened of their cousin. “Did he attempt to harm you in any way?”
“No—only he eventually locked me in my room because I called him a worm! That dreadful maid would deliver my meals and then lock the door again with him keeping watch each time from the corridor. He was so pleased with himself, and it made my blood boil.”
“How did you find yourself with Mrs Jacobson?”
“Oh, one morning Cook brought my morning meal instead of Hayes, so I asked her to get a note to Mrs Jacobson. I found a response from my friend hidden in my dinner tray. Did you meet Mrs Jacobson, Lizzy? Oh, what a lovely lady, and with the most creatively decorated bonnets! We became fast friends after I met her at the milliner, and we would meet regularly while shopping in the village.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh. Yes, she was familiar with those bonnets. “Yes, I was acquainted with Mrs Jacobson.”
“So,” Lydia went on, “you see, I climbed out of my window and down the trellis that night. Mrs Jacobson was waiting for me on the nearby lane. I was never truly in danger.”
Lydia flopped down on the bed, “I wish I were a young, beautiful widow like Mrs Jacobson. She has no one to answer to and such a lovely home!”
“Lydia!” Elizabeth scolded quietly from her stance by the window.
“No, Lizzy,” Lydia insisted. “She is perfectly within her own power! She has two young children and a nanny to raise them. She gets to make her own decisions as well. I rather think it a dreamy way to live. One cannot predict becoming a widow, though, so I believe I should rather not marry at all. I could not imagine finding myself married to someone like our cousin. To think we all thought him a foolish and spineless type of a man!”
“What about your devotion to all the fine, red-coated men in fair England?” Elizabeth teased as she joined her in bed.
“No, Lizzy,” she responded seriously. “I do not believe I shall marry.”
“Nor I,” Elizabeth responded honestly. She turned over and stared into the dark of the room, breathing a sigh of relief that Lydia was well, and finding some solace in their shared disillusionment of marriage.
But of love—that pure and elevating passion—she was not disillusioned; she was only sad it would never be hers.