Chapter 26
Only two days before the departure, which had already been announced, Elizabeth received a letter from her father.
As it had been delivered by express, she withdrew at once to her study to read it, suspecting that it might contain some extraordinary news.
Yet nothing could have prepared her for its contents.
My dearest Lizzy,
Something dreadful has occurred, and I scarcely know how to write it.
Prepare yourself for a most distressing piece of intelligence.
Lydia has run away with Mr Wickham. She left Brighton with him on Sunday night, and they are thought to have gone to London.
Colonel Forster came with this awful news to see your mother and me this morning, and I am preparing to leave for London as soon as this letter is sent.
At first, I hoped they were gone merely to be married, but no such thing appears to have taken place.
From all that Colonel Forster could learn, there was not the slightest intention of marriage on Mr Wickham’s part.
I am afraid they went to Scotland to be married, if they are not somewhere in London, where Lydia’s dishonour is, I fear, in progress.
The colonel says that Wickham has left his regiment, and that debts of honour and of another kind are pressing upon him.
Mrs Bennet is wholly destroyed. She cannot be comforted and declares that Lydia is ruined for ever, and that the whole family will be disgraced.
Nor am I myself in any calmer disposition.
Lydia’s folly drives me to despair, and the thought of the misery she has brought upon us all makes me wretched indeed.
I cannot help but fear that they will not be easily found.
I mean to visit all Mr Wickham’s acquaintances in London and to make every inquiry that may lead to their discovery.
I have also sent a letter to Mr Gardiner, whom I am certain will come to London at once.
Speak with him; his letter conveys the same intelligence, containing all that we have been able to learn.
I do not know what to advise you to do, nor whether you should inform Jane, for it is on her account that I am most uneasy. I wish we had not delayed her marriage. Yet, I trust that Mr Bingley, in this instance, will do what is honourable, whatever may befall our family.
We shall, in all likelihood, see each other soon in London.
Your affectionate,
Papa
Almost at the moment when she laid down the letter, entirely ravaged by its contents, her uncle entered, conducted by Mrs Robertson.
He still held Mr Bennet’s letter in his hand and showed it to her, while Elizabeth raised her own from the desk.
“Heavens,” she whispered in despair, “I might say that I had not expected such a thing…but it would be a falsehood.”
“Lizzy, what do you mean?”
Elizabeth breathed as one who had climbed a steep hill—or rather descended into an abyss.
“Ever since the winter, when the officers appeared in Meryton and the neighbourhood, this dreadful suspicion has haunted me…that she would do something foolish…that she would disgrace herself with one of them and bring ruin upon us all. I spoke with her, but…I believe nothing reached her any longer, save her wild desire for adventure.”
“What are we to do?” murmured Mr Gardiner, and Elizabeth felt the same deep gratitude as upon many other occasions when he had regarded the Bennets’ difficulties as his own and had acted accordingly.
“We must all hide ourselves,” she said with a bitter irony. “What else remains? Can you imagine me here, with a sister dishonoured? Let us hope, as my father also writes, that Mr Bingley will not…draw back from the marriage.
“Let us hope his sisters may not discover it, to press him anew…for this time they would indeed have reason to oppose an alliance with us.”
“Enough, my dear—let us not lament further. What is to be done?”
Elizabeth reflected for a few moments, yet her decision was already formed. They required someone acquainted with the militia officers, their habits in London, and the lodgings they frequented in town.
“There is but one man who might assist us…Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Mr Gardiner assented. He, too, had thought of that gentleman, yet knew not how they might reach him.
“I have his address at the War Office. He is Miss Darcy’s guardian, and when Mr Darcy is absent from London, he attends to her affairs.”
“The first good piece of news in this mess,” Mr Gardiner said.
“But…” Elizabeth hesitated, yet she had to speak her thoughts to the end, “What shall we do about Jane and Mr Bingley?”
The answer presented itself, for at that instant Jane entered the study like a storm, her countenance disfigured by distress, followed by Mr Bingley, almost unrecognisable from despair.
Yet to the relief of Elizabeth and her uncle—indeed, their only comfort on that dreadful morning—he scarcely comprehended what had occurred; his whole soul was occupied by Jane’s suffering.
“She cannot have done such a thing! That mad girl will destroy us all!” cried Jane, in a fury such as Elizabeth had never before witnessed.
Gazing at her sister, she beheld for an instant an image of herself when she had cried out at Mr Darcy in the Parsonage.
But Jane, who had ever been the embodiment of calm, even through months of sorrow, had hitherto remained free from anger.
This, however, was too much even for her.
“Now? When our lives were at last proceeding so happily…you,” she said, pointing towards Elizabeth’s elegant desk, “and I—”
“You nothing!” said Mr Bingley incoherently, yet firmly.
“We are disgraced,” said Jane. “I am so as well.”
“You care not what your sister does. In a month, you shall be my wife, and upon my honour, we care not for any of them. What? Will the Regent refuse us dinner?”
They all looked in astonishment at Mr Bingley, so resolute was he, and something of Elizabeth’s burden lifted from her heart. Jane would not be affected…but herself? Mary?
In the meantime, Mary arrived, accompanied by Mrs Gardiner. They read the two letters, and the others in the room waited in silence, for they needed to reflect, and that silence was a moment of calm in that terrible storm.
“She is utterly insane,” Mary said at last. She disappeared for a moment and returned with Kitty. It was evident that she had informed her on the way, for Kitty’s countenance expressed a terror unspeakable.
“Heavens, Kitty…you knew!” cried Elizabeth, then realised that if she wished to learn the truth, she must not do so by shouting.
Mrs Gardiner took the poor girl in her arms and rocked her as if she were a child. Kitty had changed, yet if Lydia had written to her, she could not bring herself to betray her sister.
With much difficulty, they discovered only that Lydia had written of Mr Wickham and of the affection between them.
“Why did you say nothing?” Jane spoke in a gentler tone, though full of reproach.
“I never imagined she would do such a thing. From what she wrote, I believed they were coming to Longbourn.”
They forgot Kitty, who sat upon an armchair and began to weep in silence.
“Lizzy shall go to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I shall accompany her,” said Mr Gardiner. “We depart within half an hour.”
“And I shall go to Mr Darcy—”
“No!” cried Elizabeth, more desperately than before.
“Yes!” said Jane. “This is no time for delicacy regarding the past. Mr Darcy knows him best, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is a man of the army; it is a good decision to ask him for help. Charles shall go to Mr Darcy, and we others shall go to my aunt Gardiner in London. We shall meet there.”
Elizabeth looked at her in astonishment. Thus did Jane appear when defending the life she had dreamt of and was determined not to lose.
“I remain here,” said Mary. “Families are still expected…”
“Thank you,” murmured Elizabeth, taking Mary into her arms. Jane approached and joined their embrace, and for a few moments they remained thus, united in silence.
When Kitty, her face bathed in tears, looked towards them, Elizabeth stretched out her hand in invitation, and she hastened to be with them.
“And what shall we do about Mr Clinton?” Mary finally asked.
“For the moment, the matter remains among ourselves,” said Mr Gardiner, and as he was the senior in that room, no one objected. “When it becomes necessary, we shall inform him.”
Elizabeth and Mr Gardiner set out from Hampstead soon after their meeting.
The day being fine, she ordered the Academy’s small carriage to convey them into town, resolved to call upon Colonel Fitzwilliam at Whitehall, where he was employed in the War Office.
The distance was not great, and she hoped to arrive at the Gardiners’ around three o’clock, as they had discussed.
They were the most grievous five miles of her life. Yet above all the misfortune that had fallen upon them, she bore in her heart the immense shame that Mr Darcy would learn of it…for, in the end, the family on whose account she had refused him was, in part, such as he had once perceived it to be.
“He must go to Mr Darcy, my dear,” her uncle said. “Your father cannot find any man who knows that scoundrel.”
“I suppose he must,” murmured Elizabeth, her eyes fixed upon the window as she strove to calm the pain now accompanied by nausea.
She felt physically ill, yet before the War Office she recovered herself.
Assisted by her uncle, she alighted and walked beside him with determination, for there was something they must do, regardless of what they felt.