Chapter 12 #2
The fire crackled, sending sparks into the chimney. Her father said, “You make a sensible point, Lizzy. But what if Bingley changes his mind?”
“Then he can go after her. It’s but twenty miles. She’s not obliged to wait here wallowing in despair until he comes to his senses.”
Mr. Bennet looked at Lizzy a long moment. “Could this have anything to do with the fact that Mr. Darcy is in London?”
Lizzy’s cheeks warmed. Of course she hoped to see Darcy in London, but it seemed unlikely. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for Jane. Mr. Darcy shall be in Mayfair, and I in Cheapside. I doubt our paths will cross.”
Her father acquiesced, but her mother continued to fret. Fortunately, Lizzy and her father were skilled at making logical arguments—whilst her mother was less adept at refuting them. Soon, the matter was settled.
Lizzy knocked on her sister’s door, and a listless voice bid her enter. Huddled in the window seat, Jane turned from looking outside. Dark circles like bruises beneath her eyes contrasted with her pallid skin.
Lizzy sat next to her and placed a hand atop Jane’s. “What think you of a trip to London? Aunt Gardiner has extended an invitation.”
Jane seemed to ponder the idea. “Almost anything would be better than this.” A sob caught in her throat. “I’m afraid to show my face in Meryton. I tremble to think what people are saying of me.”
“The people of this town have known you all your life. Your friends know you’re not capable of what Mr. Wickham accused you of. You have no reason to be ashamed. But, as you say, it might feel less intimidating if you went away for a while.”
So they packed their trunks and left early the next morning. Jane’s spirits seemed buoyed by having something to look forward to.
After an uneventful trip, they arrived at the house on Gracechurch Street. Their young cousins clamoured at the carriage door. The Bennet sisters emerged to excited hugs.
The Gardiners had four children—girls of three and ten, and boys of six and seven. They were dark-haired, dark-eyed bundles of energy.
While the servants unloaded the trunks, Jane picked up the little girl. Lizzy took the hands of the two boys. With the help of the eldest sister, they herded the little ones back into the schoolroom. Jane and Lizzy promised to come back and read to them later.
The Bennet sisters changed out of their travelling clothes. Then, they joined their aunt and uncle in the drawing room for tea.
The elegant room was a world away from the commercial bustle of Gracechurch Street. Dove grey walls were trimmed with white cornices. Complementing a rose damask sofa were two wing chairs upholstered in a rose-and-grey striped satin.
On the marble mantelpiece sat a hand-painted cuckoo clock and a pair of elephants intricately carved in teak. Lacquered tables held white bisque figurines. Sitting atop the coffee table, the tea set was delicate porcelain, and the silverware ornately patterned sterling.
Lizzy sat near her uncle. Edward Gardiner, their mother’s brother, was nearing fifty. He shared his sister’s fair colouring. Though his hair was thinning on top, he was still handsome. His blue eyes sparkled at his nieces.
Madelaine Gardiner was in her early thirties. Her father, a merchant from India, had moved to England with his wife before Madelaine’s birth. She’d grown up in London but attended a prestigious finishing school in Derbyshire.
Dark-eyed and pretty, she dressed in the latest London fashion. The red cotton gown was trimmed with gold. On her head sat a jaunty turban adorned with an ostrich feather. Her lustrous hair was swept up, but a few dark ringlets fell and framed her face.
“We’re delighted you agreed to join us here,” she said in an accent that matched the best of London society. “Some time away will give you perspective, Jane. And you saw how excited the children are.”
“I do love spending time with them,” Jane replied. “I can’t believe how big they are!”
“They keep growing!” Mrs. Gardiner joked. “I’m half tempted to stop feeding them so they will stay little.”
“Hmm,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “Somehow I doubt that will work.”
“They are precious while they’re small,” Jane said. “But I also look forward to discovering the adults they will become.”
Over the next two days, Mrs. Gardiner took her nieces shopping and on visits to her friends. One evening, their uncle escorted them to the opera house to see Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. These excursions distracted Jane from her circumstances—if only temporarily.
On the third day, however, the situation grew more perilous. While Mr. Gardiner was at his place of business, Wickham showed up at the house demanding to see Jane. The sound of his voice sent her into a panic.
Lizzy rushed Jane to her room via the servants’ stairs, locking the door behind them. Jane sank onto the bed, shaking and crying. “How did he find me here?” she wailed. “What could he want? I shan’t marry him, Lizzy—not if he’s the last man on earth.”
Lizzy sat next to her, clutching Jane’s hand. “You won’t have to marry him. The man is devious, obviously—discovering you had come to London and tracking down my uncle’s direction.”
“What if he won’t go away?” Jane asked in a strangled tone. “What if he tries to force himself on me?”
Lizzy shared Jane’s fears but dared not show it. “We won’t let that happen. My uncle can station a footman outside your door at night. I’ll sleep in your bed with a knife under my pillow if I have to.”
Amidst tears, Jane let out a little laugh. “Do you know how to wield a knife?”
“No, but I suspect my uncle can teach me a few tricks. And Wickham won’t expect me to accost him, so I’ll have the advantage of surprise.”
Jane gave her a weak smile. The two sisters leant into each other, each wrapping an arm around the other’s waist. “We’ll keep you safe,” Lizzy said in low tones, “I promise you that.”
Mrs. Gardiner joined them shortly. To their relief, she explained that the butler had sent Wickham away with the help of a footman. “I’ll talk to your uncle this evening to decide our next course of action.”
“Could we enlist the help of the Bow Street Runners?” Jane asked.
Mrs. Gardiner gave her a sad smile. “I doubt they would take an interest in this situation. No crime has been committed.”
“Perhaps my uncle could write to Mr. Darcy,” Lizzy said. “He would want to know Mr. Wickham is in town.”
Her aunt looked at her, brows arched. Confusion filled her dark eyes. “Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes. He’s a friend of Mr. Bingley. He has offered to help in any way he can. His uncle is the Earl of Matlock, so his connections might open doors.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, you mean? He’s a friend of yours?”
“Yes.” Heat rose in Lizzy’s cheeks. “Do you know him?”
“I certainly know of him. His father was still alive whilst I was in Derbyshire. From all I heard, George Darcy was a kind and generous man.”
“As is his son,” Lizzy said.
Her aunt gave her a quizzical look but said no more.
When Mr. Gardiner arrived home, he expressed his outrage at Wickham’s intrusion. Two extra footmen were hired for Jane’s protection. As Lizzy suggested, her uncle Gardiner wrote to Darcy.
“Perhaps an investigator could be hired to follow Mr. Wickham,” Lizzy added, “if Mr. Darcy hasn’t already done so.”
“If he hasn’t,” her uncle assured her, “then I shall.”
She sat next to him on the couch in the drawing room. They were alone, as Mrs. Gardiner was helping Jane settle in for the night. The candles were low, the light reflected by the grey damask curtains drawn closed against the bustling city.
“I wish I could do more,” Lizzy said, “but propriety constrains me. I dare not step a foot out of place, with such scrutiny on us.”
“You’re here for Jane. That’s enough. She needs you by her side.”
Lizzy nodded. She slept in Jane’s bed that night, reassured by her uncle’s actions. Still, she was dissatisfied. More was afoot than Wickham’s pursuit of Jane.
What was Caroline’s role? The woman was up to something. Why?
As Lizzy lay drifting towards sleep, a thought came to her. It would likely amount to nothing, but it was worth a try.
When she woke, though, panic filled her as she found Jane flushed and feverish. Whether it was a recurrence of her illness from the previous weeks, or a new malady, Lizzy couldn’t say. But Jane was decidedly more ill than she’d been at Netherfield.
To be safe, Mrs. Gardiner sent for the doctor. He expressed no alarm, but prescribed bed rest and some draughts to soothe her aches. Lizzy remained by Jane’s side day and night as her condition worsened.
Lizzy’s resentment towards Wickham grew. But indeed, she held Bingley even more at fault. Wickham knew nothing of Jane but that she was an heiress. His actions would have been as nothing if Bingley had only trusted Jane.
Bingley, by contrast, had courted her for two months. Had asked for her hand. Had invited her to love him with her whole heart. And now, he’d trampled it.
As Jane grew sicker, Lizzy grew ever more frantic. But the doctor said nothing could be done except wait for the fever to break. Lizzy prayed earnestly, quiet tears falling from her eyes.
She couldn’t fathom life without her sister. If Jane died, Longbourn would fall to Lizzy. She didn’t want it. It would be too great a burden to bear. How could she endure life as mistress of a home that should have been Jane’s?
By the third day, when Wickham called again, only to be shown off by the footmen, Lizzy had had enough. She wouldn’t allow her beloved sister to waste away in despair.
First, Lizzy would get rid of Wickham. Then, she would figure out what Caroline was about, and put a stop to it. Propriety be damned.