Chapter 21
What a glorious day it was! The sun was shining, Pemberley was green and blooming, and the small neighbourly party gathered by the Darcy siblings was touched and warmed by Charles Bingley’s happiness.
Her letter, too, was an addition to the enjoyment of the day. After banishing her initial alarm at receiving an express letter from Longbourn, Elizabeth was only glad to hear again from Jane so soon.
In many ways, she really wished to be at her sister’s side at this happy time, hearing all her hopes and confidences in person.
Jane must presumably feel the same way and had therefore taken the trouble and expense of sending a letter by express mail so that it might be read with her first announcement.
If they could not be together, this was the next best thing.
Sitting down on the bench and breathing in the sweet fragrance of yellow blossoms from the sprawling shrub beside it, Elizabeth broke open her letter’s seal with pleasure. The earliest paragraphs brought a smile to her face, as Jane wrote of her hopes, dreams, and guest lists for the wedding.
But Elizabeth’s contented expression evaporated as she turned the page and found that Jane had abruptly changed the subject, the neatness of her sister’s handwriting seemingly deteriorating with her frame of mind.
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth cried out, almost dropping the sheets of paper to the ground as her hand flew to her mouth after reading only a few further lines.
After looking around to make sure no one had been near enough to hear her, she set the notepaper before her eyes once more and continued to read, finding in Jane’s hastily composed lines the very opposite of the happy news she had expected.
My dear Lizzy, I must be the bearer of the most awful tidings.
An express message came for Father two nights ago, almost at midnight.
It was from Colonel Forster in Brighton.
Lydia has run away from their house and is now in residence with a theatre troupe, to which she had earlier been introduced by Mr Wickham…
“Dear God, Lydia,” Elizabeth said aloud. “How could you?! What are you at? Oh, why did my father ever let her go?”
Father set out for Brighton at once. Mother wanted to go too, but we persuaded her to remain at Longbourn, fearing that her presence there could do more harm than good.
Father and Colonel Forster have been several times to the theatre which is harbouring Lydia, seeking her return.
She has paid no heed, either to pleas, threats, or sorrowful letters from Mother, which I wish she had not written…
Elizabeth shook her head in sympathy with Jane, imagining all too easily the kind of hysterical missives that Mrs Bennet would likely have penned in her present distress.
…Lydia laughs at all of these, especially talk of ruining the family name. She does not seem to understand the attitude that society takes towards actresses, regardless of respectable origins. I fear she is too young to understand…
“You are too charitable, Jane,” Elizabeth groaned quietly. “Lydia does not want to understand what does not suit her.”
Throughout all Father’s efforts to retrieve her, Lydia has maintained her determination to go on the stage.
He wrote that Lydia finds it not enough to associate with these theatre people but insists she must become one of them!
As she has always loved singing and dancing, she says that being paid for this is a dream.
A dream for now, perhaps, but also a nightmare later.
Elizabeth could understand Lydia’s desire to follow her interests, and even to achieve some independence from her family, but that was where her understanding ended.
Lydia was barely sixteen and likely acting on a whim.
She was like a foolish child playing with fire.
Oh, Elizabeth, what will become of her? What will become of any of us? Mother says we will all be tainted by association, and I fear she is right.
“Indeed, what respectable man would ever marry an actress?” Elizabeth asked herself. “Or the sister of an actress?”
Lydia had no real talents or skills to fall back on if she did not find a husband.
Nor did Kitty. Unlike Jane and Elizabeth, they had never applied themselves to learning, and they equally lacked the temperament that makes a good companion or governess.
Mary perhaps might still make something of her life, despite limitations.
I fear what will happen when Charles Bingley learns of this, Lizzy. I am weeping now as I write these words. I cannot imagine that his sisters will allow him to overlook it.
While the depth of Mr Bingley’s joy since arriving at Pemberley made Jane’s anxiety seem baseless at first, a sneaking doubt then crept into Elizabeth’s mind.
Jane was right about the efforts that Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst would likely make to prevent any family connection to the demimonde, in which theatre-folk were generally presumed to reside.
Those ladies had tried hard enough to break up their brother’s relationship with Jane only on account of her want of fortune and connections. What might they do when they learned of Lydia’s new profession?
And what might Lady Catherine de Burgh do when she learned that her niece’s companion was sister to an actress?
Mr Darcy too might well come to regret taking Elizabeth’s side against his aunt once he heard this news.
What other family would hire Elizabeth after this?
As these wider potential ramifications of Lydia’s actions came home to her, Elizabeth was horrified all over again.
“Lydia, how could you?!” she said aloud again, and then buried her head in her hands.
“Miss Bennet, are you unwell?” a familiar man’s voice asked suddenly, and Elizabeth immediately sat bolt upright, her letter falling to the dusty ground of the path. “My sister and the other young people wish to play Pall Mall, and I thought you might…”
His words trailed off. Mr Darcy bent and retrieved the letter before offering it back with a small frown of concern on his brow.
Elizabeth looked back at him with a touch of despair.
How handsome he was today in Pemberley’s springtime gardens, how good a brother and friend he had proved himself, how fair and accommodating an employer…
Elizabeth could see Fitzwilliam Darcy clearly now, despite both their faults and all the misunderstandings of their past. She only wished to know him better. Unfortunately, any opportunity for this, and her new appreciation itself, might soon be cut off permanently.
“You look very ill, Miss Bennet. Might I fetch you anything or help you back to the house?”
Swallowing hard, Elizabeth shook her head and declined to take back the letter.
“You had better read Jane’s message for yourself, Mr Darcy. It would be wrong for me to hide my family’s misfortune from you, and my own words could be no better than my sister’s.”
Despite his obvious consternation, Mr Darcy obeyed her instruction, his expression barely changing as he read, although the concern on his brow grew deeper.
After he finished reading and folded the letter, Elizabeth expected him to walk away from her, but instead, he sat down beside her on the bench, still seeming deep in thought.
“I doubt that Lydia fully understands how deeply disreputable the theatre is as a profession for a young lady,” Elizabeth remarked bitterly. “Jane and I understand all too well how the ton will regard Lydia after this, however. We know how our family will be seen, too. I would understand if…”
“George Wickham introduced Lydia to these theatre people?” Mr Darcy interrupted her, with some bitterness of his own. “And she is only sixteen years old… By right, she should never have known them, or him.”
“I know. I wrote to my parents and told them they should not let Lydia go to Brighton with the Forsters. She is too young, and too heedless. I pleaded with my father. It was not only George Wickham who has led Lydia astray but the whole environment into which she was allowed to stray without proper supervision.”
The man beside her nodded and then exhaled as he considered his next words.
“There is something I should have told you about Wickham, a long time ago, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy told Elizabeth seriously. “By God, that man has a great deal to answer for, if you will excuse my language.”
“I would curse him more strongly still if I were a gentleman, believe me, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth returned with feeling. “I should blast him for bringing my young sister into such an insalubrious sphere, and the Forsters too, for allowing it.”
“George Wickham is not a respectable man. He is guilty of other transgressions with young women, Miss Bennet, I regret to say. I wish now that I had told you long ago, so that you might have warned your family. I held back for Georgiana’s sake, however. Last year, at Ramsgate…”
“Georgiana already told me of that,” Elizabeth spoke up swiftly before he could get too far in recounting a story that was undoubtedly painful to him and could do neither of them any good to recall now. “I am the only person to blame for not warning my family against him.”
Mr Darcy blinked.
“I had no idea. Georgiana did not tell me,” he murmured, slightly puzzled. “Nor did you.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“Your sister wished me to better understand your character and your concern for her wellbeing after one of our arguments. She loves you very much, and I do now believe that to be deserved, Mr Darcy.”
“Do you?” he asked keenly, fixing her with those thoughtful midnight-blue eyes.
It was too hard to gaze upon his countenance now, when Elizabeth felt as though she was waiting to be banished from Pemberley. There was a strength and solidity to Fitzwilliam Darcy, built on the foundations of firm principles, all elements which George Wickham distinctly lacked.
“If only my parents had kept Lydia at home this year!” she exclaimed again, turning her head. “Jane and I knew that nothing good could come of her being in Brighton. If only Mother and Father had seen things in the same light. Now, Lydia will be ruined, and the rest of us with her.”
“Miss Bennet, I must say…”
Elizabeth swallowed, waiting for the sword to fall. When he paused, it was too painful to wait for the next words, and she spoke quickly.
“Mr Darcy, I know that Lydia’s actions must mean the end of my connection with the Darcy family.
Jane fears it will mean the end of her engagement to Mr Bingley.
We are aware that respectable people will likely not be willing to employ or marry someone from a family with a daughter actually on the stage. ”
Still, Mr Darcy was silent, thoughtful, and brooding. Was he planning how he might best remove Elizabeth from the household without exciting Georgiana’s unhappiness or wrath? Why did he not speak? They both knew the obvious course of action.
“I wish I were in Brighton now!” Elizabeth burst out.
“Perhaps I am the one who can best reason with Lydia. I understand her striking out for independence better than my sisters or my parents could. Maybe I could convince her that there are other ways of asserting herself that would not ruin her entire life. She might listen to me, if to no one else.”
At this outpouring of emotion, Mr Darcy’s face finally became decided, and he rose to his feet, nodding.
“I will ready the carriage, Miss Bennet,” he said and bowed politely before striding away from her.
Was that it? Was Mr Darcy really to pack her off to Longbourn immediately with so little ceremony?
Elizabeth had no right to expect more consideration, she supposed.
He was likely now eager to wash his hands of her, removing the taint of Lydia’s impending disgrace from Pemberley as fast as possible.
Elizabeth considered finding Georgiana, if only to say goodbye, but then stayed the urge.
Mr Darcy might not want it. It would be better to let him settle such matters.
She hoped, however, that there would be a chance, however brief, for a farewell with the young woman she had come to consider with as much affection as a younger sister of her own.
Nor did she wish to speak directly to Charles Bingley.
Doubtless Mr Darcy would inform his friend of the scandal, and Jane would likely write to him.
Knowing Jane, she would offer to release him from the engagement, and matters would end there, her sister’s heart utterly broken and unlikely ever to recover.
It seemed a dream that only an hour ago they had all been looking forward to the future so joyfully.
Breaking off a sprig of yellow blossom, Elizabeth tucked it into the top buttonhole of her dress.
She would take this one small fragment of Pemberley away with her, to remember the happiness she had known here.
A very few minutes later, Mr Darcy came striding back to the bench again and offered Elizabeth his arm, his expression one of sympathy and urgency. The gesture was disarming and unexpectedly, tears came into her eyes.
“Mr Darcy, you do not have to…”
“Are you able to walk, Miss Bennet? Or do you need some further minutes to recover? I have spoken to my staff and to Bingley. We will all leave Pemberley today and go straight to Brighton.”
Elizabeth stared at him in astonishment, not quite believing her ears.
“I hope you do not think that I am intruding in private family matters, but you are a young woman alone, without resources and in a critical situation. It would be remiss of me not to assist you as far as my powers allow. Please do me the honour of accepting my help.”
“You are not intruding, Mr Darcy,” she answered, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Far from it. There is no one I would rather have at my side.”
“Well then,” he returned with a small smile. “We should get ourselves on the road south as soon as we can.”
This time, when Mr Darcy offered his arm, Elizabeth took it, her gratitude and respect for the man at her side surging as they walked back towards the house.