Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth didn’t enjoy sharing a room with Lydia again, especially a sulky, volatile Lydia who insisted George Wickham was a wonderful man and would come back for her.
Elizabeth had tried again to tell her little sister what she knew of Mr. Wickham’s past, and how he’d called on Miss Bingley and then both had subsequently disappeared, but Lydia refused to listen.
She even went so far as to cover her ears and sing, as if they were children again, behavior which didn’t reassure Elizabeth about Lydia’s readiness to marry.
Elizabeth gave her mother and Kitty each a candlestick and Lydia the box, with the hope that she would use it to organize her ribbons.
That conveniently meant that Elizabeth had a gift from Mr. Collins’ estate for everyone in her family in Goldfinch Cottage, since Mary and her father each received a book.
Kitty thanked Elizabeth for the thoughtful gift for her future household, while Lydia complained that Elizabeth should have given her a candlestick, because she would need it when she married Wickham.
Although Elizabeth looked forward to wedding Mr. Darcy and leaving Goldfinch Cottage’s cramped spaces, she didn’t mind sharing the larger bed with Mary, and they had many whispered conversations about what it would be like to be wed.
Through those, Elizabeth decided her middle sister had quite reasonable expectations for her married life, if some farfetched ideas for a grand future.
Still, with Elizabeth’s and Jane’s connections, Mary’s hopes for Gavin to become a sought-after furniture maker weren’t anywhere near as outlandish as Lydia’s expectations for Mr. Wickham, and Elizabeth certainly knew whose dreams she would work to help make come true.
The morning of the second reading of both their banns, she and Mary readied for church in silence out of deference to Lydia, who stamped about the room muttering.
“It’s unfair that you both got new gowns,” Lydia groused, pushing past Elizabeth to reach the wardrobe. “You’re both too short for me to borrow from, and Mary is too fat.”
Elizabeth had hung out the dress she planned to wear a few days ago, having not unpacked all her possessions.
This was partly because there wasn’t enough room in Goldfinch Cottage for her to unpack, since Lydia had managed to expand her possessions from donated items and spread them into the space that had been Elizabeth’s and Mary’s, and partly because she planned to travel again soon.
The following day, Mr. Darcy would take her, Mary and Gavin to London, because the day after that, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh would marry.
“And look at this,” Lydia grumbled, picking up a ribbon off the wardrobe floor. “Kitty forgot this. Apparently, she’s so important now that she’s Mrs. Carter that she doesn’t need a sage ribbon.”
“We could send it to her?” Mary said tentatively.
Lydia sniffed. “I’m not sending her anything. She left the ribbon, so now it’s mine.”
Mary opened her mouth to say more, but Elizabeth caught her eye and gave a slight shake of her head. She didn’t even think the ribbon was Kitty’s. It looked like one Elizabeth had seen many times in Lydia’s collection, which she’d saved from the fire.
Lydia put the ribbon in a drawer and slammed it closed.
She obstinately refused to use the box for ribbons and left it to take up space without adding to organization.
“And I won’t be left unmarried. When George hears that Kitty is married, and both of you will be soon, and I’ll be the only one left out, he’ll come for me. You’ll see.”
Elizabeth frowned, halting in reaching for her dress. “I thought you didn’t know how to reach Mr. Wickham.”
Lydia cast her a quick, guilty look. “I don’t.”
“Then how will he hear about Kitty’s wedding and our engagements?”
“He won’t. Or maybe he will. How should I know?”
“You only now said he would,” Mary said, frowning. “You sounded certain of it.”
Elizabeth marched the four steps across the small room to glare at Lydia. “Did you write Mr. Wickham?”
Lydia’s expression turned mulish.
“She probably didn’t,” Mary said, turning her back on them as she started undoing the buttons on her nightgown. “She only wishes she could write him because it looks so pathetic that she’s no way to reach her own betrothed.”
Realizing the intent behind Mary’s somewhat cruel words, Elizabeth added in a sad voice, “It is rather pathetic, isn’t it?”
“I did write him,” Lydia cried. “He gave me an address, but for emergencies only, because Mr. Darcy’s looking for him.”
Elizabeth fought down the urge to demand the address. Instead, she mustered a pitying look for Lydia, then followed Mary’s lead by turning away from their younger sister and going back to the wardrobe and her gown.
“You can make up a better story than that, surely,” Mary said, her back still to Lydia, as if she didn’t care one bit about what their little sister might say. “An emergency address,” Mary said to Elizabeth, then snorted derisively.
“He did. A woman named Mrs. Younge in London. I sent the letter to her.”
“If you truly did that, where is your Wickham? Where’s his letter in reply?”
“I did send the letter, and he will write back, and he will come for me,” Lydia screeched.
The bedroom door opened. Elizabeth turned to see their mother looking in.
“Girls, please, show some decorum. You’re readying for church.”
“But Mama, they’re saying George doesn’t love me,” Lydia wailed.
“Dearest, he may not. You must face that.”
“But he does love me. He’ll come back.” Lydia pushed past Mary and flung herself out on her bed, face down. A sob escaped her. “He will.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed and came in, already dressed for church. “Elizabeth, Mary, take your gowns to our room and make ready. Your father is already downstairs.” Mrs. Bennet sat down on the edge of Lydia’s bed and started stroking her shiny curls.
Elizabeth gratefully gathered up her clothing. She hurried down the hall to their parents’ room with Mary, who closed the door behind them.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “You handled her very well.”
Mary shrugged, shaking out her gown. “It’s a strategy Gavin and I have discussed. He’s a middle child too, you know.”
Elizabeth did know but hadn’t given it any thought. “You two talk about how to deal with Lydia?”
Mary cast her a quick look before stepping out of her nightgown. “Not only her. Gavin doesn’t approve of how I’ve sometimes been treated by our family. Especially by Lydia and Kitty, but lately Kitty seems to have matured.”
Guilt flashed through Elizabeth. She put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, causing her sister to look up from fastening her stays. “Mary, I’m sorry I haven’t been a better sister. You always deserved more than Jane and I gave you. I’m so happy you’ve found Gavin.”
“I wasn’t always easy to be around. I used to think I could win Papa’s favor by quoting books, and Mama’s notice by playing and singing. And then I’d be the favorite.”
“And now?”
Mary smiled. “Now I have Gavin. I don’t need Papa to think I’m smarter and more interesting than you, or Mama to think I’m prettier and more exciting than Lydia. Gavin loves me, and he doesn’t want me to change.”
A lump clogging her throat, Elizabeth hugged her sister.
They finished making ready and went down to join their father in the parlor. Time ticked by slowly, Mary appearing more serene than Elizabeth felt, until finally Mr. Bennet pulled out his pocket watch. He stood and left the parlor. His footfalls sounded on the stair.
“The carriage is waiting,” Mary said, letting the curtain fall back into place as she turned to Elizabeth. “Do you think Lydia will come with us?”
Elizabeth, seated across the room from Mary, shook her head. “I don’t know. Thank you again for getting that name from her. I’ll pass it along to Mr. Darcy.”
“Why is Mr. Darcy looking for Mr. Wickham? To make him come back?”
Elizabeth cast a quick look through the parlor door, but she hadn’t yet heard her father’s tread returning down the stairs. “Mr. Wickham went to meet with Miss Bingley, and then both disappeared.” Should she mention Mrs. Clegg as well? She didn’t wish to distress Mary.
“But why is that Mr. Darcy’s trouble? It sounds more like he should tell Papa and let him see to it, since Mr. Wickham is still engaged to Lydia.”
Elizabeth worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment.
“Mrs. Clegg, Mr. Collins’ sister who—who attacked me, she disappeared as well, at around the same time and, well, Mr. Wickham hates Mr. Darcy, and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Clegg do not care for me, so…
” It sounded a bit silly when she said it that way.
Mary looked at her with wide eyes. “You’re worried they’re conspiring somewhere?”
That sounded even more ridiculous. “I don’t know. It simply seems odd that they all disappeared, at nearly the same time, after Mr. Wickham spoke with Miss Bingley.”
“How can she disappear? What about her reputation?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Whatever she’s doing, it’s apparently more important than her reputation to her, or she believes her reputation already ruined by us exposing her forgery.”
Mary looked as if she might speak, but the staircase creaked, and they both turned to the parlor door. Outside, three pairs of shoes could be seen descending. Elizabeth and Mary stood.
As they reached the parlor doorway, Elizabeth whispered, “I’m sure it’s all nothing, but I’ll give the name Mrs. Younge to Mr. Darcy. It cannot do any harm for him to locate Mr. Wickham.”
Mary nodded, and they all went out, Lydia puffy eyed from crying, and piled into the carriage.
When they arrived at the church, Elizabeth had no time to locate Mr. Darcy. Their family had hardly enough time to enter and take their places, late as they were. Mr. Darcy did turn when Elizabeth entered, and smiled at her, but then turned back to attend the service.