Chapter Two
ELIZABETH WAS NOT insensible to the fact that there were ways for a woman to have an illicit child without ruining her reputation. Sometimes, Elizabeth knew, there were ways to conceal such things.
Perhaps, the babe could be claimed by someone else, some family member.
Elizabeth and another female relative, who would be respectably married, would both go off for several months, and then they would come back together, after the babe had been born.
The female relative would claim to have given birth while they were away.
And Elizabeth would never be able to acknowledge the child as her own, but she would be able to see the baby grow up and it would likely be the best thing for everyone involved.
Why, if only Mr. Darcy had not interfered with Jane and Mr. Bingley, perhaps Jane could be married now, and Elizabeth was certain her sister would do that for her, would be quite happy to do what she could.
Elizabeth was certain that if Jane heard what Mr. Wickham had done to her, she would be sympathetic. She would not blame Elizabeth.
Others might.
And perhaps she ought not have angered Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth knew not. If she could but go back, perhaps she would have changed whatever it was she had said to Lydia.
But Jane was not married, because Mr. Darcy had separated Jane and Mr. Bingley, so that would not do.
Actually, now that Elizabeth thought it through, Jane would not be the right person, for that would be her first child, and what if Elizabeth gave birth to a boy child? That child could not rightly be Mr. Bingley’s heir.
No, no, she must see if there was someone else.
Her Aunt Gardiner seemed the most likely.
She had four children under the age of eight as it was, and there would be no reason she might not have another.
After the babe was born, Elizabeth could go and live with the Gardiners as a caretaker for all of the children and might then even be like a mother to her babe.
It seemed perfect.
Yes, so, what she must do was to get to see her aunt, as soon as she possibly could.
Well, she might have some time. She knew that with a first babe, it was common for a woman not to appear to be increasing until the fifth or sixth month.
At any rate, her aunt and uncle were on their summer trip to Derbyshire, now.
They would not be back for several weeks.
They had taken Jane along instead of Elizabeth, since Elizabeth had been obliged to go to Brighton.
They would bring Jane back to Longbourn on their way back to their house in London.
Elizabeth must be there when they arrived, even though she knew that the regiment would be stationed here until the end of September and Lydia had every intention of staying that long.
She tried to think of a way to get home.
Her first idea was to feign illness, but that was not a good idea because it would mean she would be confined to bed here and not able to be moved.
Her next idea was simply to beg to come home, but she was not sure if that would be adequate.
Her final idea was that something here, in Brighton, must prove to be absolutely unbearable for her, and so that she must leave immediately. And it would have to be something that had changed recently, because she had been here for so many months as it was.
To this end, she was on guard for anything she might use.
One day, happily, she found it. A family had come to let the house next door to where she and Lydia and the Forsters were staying. They had children who brought out crusts of bread to feed the gulls, and Elizabeth began to have a “reaction” to the gulls.
She would wheeze and cough and claim she could not breathe, and say that she could not abide it.
She did this for three days, each time with increasing vigor, making quite a bit of noise and throwing herself about dramatically—in this, she need only put herself in mind of her own mother, and she was quite able to perform.
After the third day, Colonel Forster suggested she might wish to be away from those gulls, and she said she did fear that it might be getting so serious that she perhaps should go home, though she had been having such a wondrous time there with them all.
Lydia protested that she was not having any trouble with the birds, and Elizabeth assured her Lydia might say, that Elizabeth would take a post coach herself, and that there would be no worries about any of it.
And this was how it came to pass, though the coach made her queasy, and though she feared she would cast up her accounts, though she embarrassingly grew so tired that she dozed on the way, slumping into the passenger next to her.
Since realizing she was with child, she had been remarkably tired much of the time.
She had already resolved that she would not tell anyone in the household that she was with child.
She had decided that such a thing would be best kept secret from everyone.
The more people that knew, the more likely it was that a secret would get out, after all.
And this secret could tarnish her entire family’s reputation.
Her mother, as conscientious of reputations as she might be, would most certainly throw a dramatic fit over the news.
She would go up and down the stairs, exclaiming that she did not understand why God saw fit to punish her, why she was forced to endure so much suffering in this world, and generally making the entire affair her own tragedy and not Elizabeth’s.
This would mean that the servants heard and this could likely mean the secret would get out.
She could trust her father, of course, but she could never speak of this to him. The thought made her shudder. She did not wish her father to think of her in that way, on a bed, her skirts pulled up, Mr. Wickham’s body inside her body. No, that was insupportable.
Jane, she would tell, but likely at the same time as her Aunt Gardiner.
So, she had only to wait at Longbourn for the few scant weeks until the Gardiners returned with Jane.
The house was oddly quiet, with only her, Mary, and Kitty there.
Indeed, Elizabeth’s father was very satisfied to have had the house down to only two daughters, saying it was a much less shrill environment, and chortling.
Elizabeth was beginning to feel real dislike for her father at times.
It wasn’t his fault she had gone to Brighton and been taken advantage of by Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth knew.
It was only that it wasn’t her own fault.
None of this was her own fault. She did not like it when her mother went about, claiming that she suffered needlessly, through none of her own doing, but Elizabeth felt that way.
She spent much of the time waiting for the Gardiners feeling rather sorry for herself. It all seemed dreadfully unfair.
She told herself that she was likely not losing out on much, even though all was ruined.
She’d had two marriage proposals in her life, had turned them both down, but there had been little hope she would ever have another, even if she had not been bred with Mr. Wickham’s babe, and being with child meant, of course, there would be no marriage for her.
Ever. But that had likely been the case, anyway, she knew. So, there was nothing lost there.
If she had never been with child, she would have likely had to live out her days at Longbourn until her father died, and then they would have to go God knows where. Unless one of her sisters managed a decent marriage, all the Bennet women’s future was precarious.
But now, Elizabeth would be with the Gardiners, which would be lovely. Her babe would grow up in a respectable home, a legitimate child, and she would be there, seeing every moment. It was actually a better life, in many ways, than whatever had been taken from her.
This she tried to assure herself, but at night, often, she found herself sobbing into her pillow.
This was not supposed to have happened to her.
She would never have acquiesced to Mr. Wickham, not if she had been awake.
She would cry broken sobs, trying to muffle them so that no one else would hear. She felt as if the world had gone off its axis. This was not the way things were supposed to have happened. She had never, in all her life, thought this would be the way things went for her.
THREE DAYS BEFORE the Gardiners and Jane were due back, word came that Mr. Bingley was expected back at Netherfield. He had quit the place last year in late November, and it was now almost September, and it was quite a surprise.
When Jane got out of their aunt’s and uncle’s carriage, Kitty was bursting to tell Jane of the news, but Jane did not react to it, for she had quite given up on Mr. Bingley after the chilly reception Jane had gotten from his sister in London last spring.
Miss Bingley had clearly not wished her brother to be united in marriage with the Bennet family.
It took some doing to get Mrs. Gardiner to come on a walk. Elizabeth tried to get Jane to come, too, but Jane expressed exhaustion and would have none of it. Elizabeth would tell her later.
Mrs. Gardiner said they would not stay, that they would be going to collect their children, who had stayed with Elizabeth’s other aunt and uncle, the Philips, who lived close by.
Originally, when Elizabeth had been going on the trip with them, the children were to have stayed at Longbourn with Jane, but with both Elizabeth and Jane gone, that left only Mary and Kitty to be companions to the children, and the children did not care for Mary, and Kitty was too flighty to be trusted with children, so alternate arrangements had been made.
However, pressing her aunt that it was of utmost importance they speak, Elizabeth got Mrs. Gardiner to come along, and they walked together in the late summer afternoon, on the grounds of Longbourn.
“Heavens, Elizabeth,” said her aunt, “what could possibly be so important?”
“A very bad thing has happened,” said Elizabeth, “and I need your assistance with it desperately.”
Her aunt’s expression changed. “Good Lord, Elizabeth, you have me thinking you’re with child or something.”
Elizabeth felt her face tighten, and tears sprang to her eyes.
Mrs. Gardiner stopped walking, seizing Elizabeth. “That can’t be.”
“He put laudanum in my drink,” said Elizabeth faintly. “I was asleep and I woke up and he was on me.”
“What?” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Who? That man must be strung up.”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “No, no, if I tell, it will mean my babe can never have a chance of legitimacy. I was hoping that you… we could go somewhere, and that I could—”
“Oh, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner, her voice full of regret. “Would that I could. I am four months gone with our fifth, even now. It is one of the reasons we decided not to go to the Lakes, you see.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, her face falling. Well, that would never work. For a moment she thought—twins—but there would be too much of a gap. No one would believe the babies were twins, and it would all be too difficult.
Mrs. Gardiner began to walk again, her expression fierce. “All right, all right, we must think.”
Elizabeth fell into step with her.
“Who have you told?”
“Only you,” said Elizabeth quietly.
“You’ve been keeping this all to yourself? You poor child.” Her aunt reached over and took one of Elizabeth’s hands. She squeezed it. “You poor, poor child. Who was that man?”
Elizabeth’s face twisted. “Mr. Wickham.”
“No,” said her aunt. “But I thought that you were sweet on him.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not anymore. I think he took that badly.”
Her aunt grimaced. “Oh, I well know that tendency within a certain kind of man. That’s appalling. But I also see why you don’t wish to say. There is a connection between you. People will not believe that you did not go to him willingly.”
“I did not,” said Elizabeth. “I was not even awake. I don’t even really remember it.”
“Appalling,” breathed her aunt. “Absolutely appalling.”
They walked in silence for some time.
Her aunt spoke again. “All right, I do have an idea. Allow me to write to my friend Mrs. Jacoby. She and I were married the same year, and she has no children of her own, despite desperately wanting them. Then, I shall put out to everyone that I have a strong inclination to give birth in Lambton, for my family has a cottage there where we could all go. I’ll bring the children.
You will come to assist. And Mrs. Jacoby will also suddenly be with child. She will come there, too.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth.
“I know.” Her aunt squeezed her hand. “It will not be as good, for you must give the babe up, but Lizzy, you must think like a mother. You have nothing to offer this baby, not on your own, and you must make a sacrifice for it to have the best life it might possibly have. Mrs. Jacoby will dote on your babe. She has wanted nothing but a child for many years now. She will lavish everything upon your own one. And perhaps we will be able to allow visits of some kind, now and again.”
Elizabeth bit down on her bottom lip. She did not know why she was already so attached to this babe that was growing in her, but the thought of abandoning her own child to someone else, it was devastating.
However, her aunt was, of course, right.
She must think of what would be best for the baby, and this did seem like it would be the best thing.
“All right,” Elizabeth said faintly. “All right, it is not what I had hoped, but it is the best that can be done, I think.”
“You poor child,” said her aunt. “You poor, poor child.” She squeezed her hand again.