Chapter XXI
Darcy leant back in his carriage and let out a slow breath.
The interview at Gracechurch Street had not been unpleasant.
Indeed, it had gone better than he had expected.
Mr. Bennet had been difficult, but not unreasonable.
Mr. Gardiner had shown his usual good sense.
Plans had been made for them to see Miss Lydia, and for the first time since her disappearance, there seemed to be some order amidst the confusion.
He forced his thoughts to remain upon those practical matters.
There were enough of them. Lydia’s future remained uncertain. Wickham was still at large. The difficulties awaiting the Bennets had not vanished merely because the girl herself had been found.
Yet another reflection intruded. He was grateful that no one had asked precisely how he had discovered her.
The omission had surprised him. More than once during the conversation, he had expected the question to arise.
It would have been a natural one. Instead, concern for Lydia and anxiety about the future had occupied them all so completely that the matter had passed unnoticed.
He was thankful for it. The truth would have benefited no one. It would have wounded Lydia. It would have distressed her family. It would almost certainly have altered Mr. Bennet’s opinion of him, and not for the better. No good could come of it.
His gaze drifted towards the carriage window. The late afternoon streets slipped past in a blur of movement.
At least one difficulty had been avoided.
Yet his thoughts refused to remain there. He closed his eyes.
Elizabeth.
How good it was to see her. Just after she was not unhappy with him, she was stripped away, and he had no way of knowing when he could see her again.
Her presence had surprised him more than he cared to admit.
Not merely because she had been there, though he certainly had not expected that.
Mr. Gardiner’s explanation had been perfectly reasonable.
Lydia would wish to see one of her sisters, and Elizabeth was by far the most sensible choice.
Yet, the older gentleman seemed to understand him too well. His request for Miss Elizabeth had brought her here – for him.
But no, it was not her presence that lingered in his mind.
It was her manner. Several times during the conversation, she had looked at him as though she expected something.
He could not determine what. There had been gratitude in her eyes, certainly, and concern for her sister.
Yet there had been moments when she seemed almost… disappointed.
The recollection puzzled him. He had spent much of the journey attempting to understand it and had arrived at no satisfactory conclusion.
Perhaps he had imagined it. The possibility ought to have settled the matter.
Instead, he found himself remembering her standing beside the window, thanking him with a sincerity that had left him oddly uncomfortable.
Not because her gratitude displeased him.
Because it placed a distance between them which he had never desired.
He had imagined seeing her again many times during the past weeks. In none of those imaginings had she thanked him. The thought was so absurd that he almost smiled at himself.
Tomorrow she would visit Lydia. The arrangement was sensible. More than sensible. It was probably the best thing that could be done for the girl. Nevertheless, he found himself absurdly aware of the fact that he would see Elizabeth again within twenty-four hours.
For nearly two months, he had become accustomed to her absence. He had grown used to the idea that their paths might never cross again except by chance. Now chance – or rather Lydia’s extraordinary talent for creating chaos wherever she went – had brought Elizabeth to London.
The reflection ought not to have pleased him. The circumstances that had brought her there were unhappy enough. Yet honesty compelled him to admit that the prospect of seeing her again was more than welcome.
Darcy opened his eyes briefly. There was something deeply improper in finding comfort amidst another family’s distress. And yet, despite every effort of reason, some stubborn part of him remained grateful that she was near.
By the time Darcy reached the house, the lamps in the hall had already been lit. He handed his hat and gloves to a servant and had scarcely crossed the entrance before he noticed Georgiana and Lydia seated together upon the lower staircase.
The sight surprised him. Neither young lady appeared to be engaged in any particular occupation. Georgiana had a book resting unopened upon her lap, while Lydia’s hands were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles had turned pale.
Georgiana looked up first and immediately rose. “Brother, you have taken your time.”
There was a note of forced lightness in her voice that told him she had been waiting for his return. Darcy’s gaze shifted to Lydia.
She stood more slowly. Lydia seemed uncertain whether she ought to speak at all. Then, gathering her courage, she lifted her eyes to his.
“Did you see my father?”
“I did.”
She nodded once.
The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds, yet it was plain that she was struggling towards something more important.
At last, the words escaped her. “Is he taking me home?”
The question was so quiet that, had the hall been any larger, he might not have heard it.
For the first time, Darcy realised that she had probably spent the entire afternoon imagining what might be decided in her absence.
“No,” he said.
The answer came so promptly that Lydia blinked. “No?”
“No. You are not returning to Hertfordshire.”
The tension seemed to leave her all at once. She sat down rather suddenly upon the stair behind her, as though her legs had ceased to perform their office. Georgiana resumed her place beside her and, after a brief hesitation, slipped her hand into Lydia’s.
Lydia did not pull away. For a few moments, she merely stared at the floor. “Not ever?” she asked quietly.
Darcy crossed the hall and stopped near the foot of the staircase. “I did not say that. But it was agreed that returning home immediately would not be best.”
Lydia looked up. A shadow crossed her face. “Because everybody knows.”
Nobody answered. The silence itself was answer enough.
Darcy found himself remembering the girl he had first encountered in Hertfordshire. That Lydia would have protested the injustice of it, declared that people ought to mind their own business, and laughed at the very idea of shame.
This Lydia merely looked down at her hands.
“I swear, if I had known…” She broke off and shook her head. “If I had known he did not mean it. If I had known I was not going to marry him, I would never have gone.”
“We know,” said Georgiana softly.
“No, you do not.” Lydia’s voice trembled. “I thought I was being clever. I thought everybody would envy me. I thought Mother would be pleased.” She gave a short, miserable laugh. “I liked the idea that I should be married before all my sisters.”
The confession hung in the air.
“Now I have ruined everything.”
“No,” said Georgiana firmly.
Lydia looked unconvinced. “I have brought disgrace upon all of them. Jane. Lizzy. Kitty and Mary. Even if they forgive me, everybody else will remember.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Darcy knew enough of society to recognise that her fear was not entirely unfounded.
“Your father wishes to see you. He will see you the day after tomorrow. One of your sisters is here. Your aunt will bring her tomorrow.”
“Who? Lizzy?”
“Yes, it is she.”
“She will be angry… but I don’t care. I have missed my sisters… I brought disgrace on all of us.”
“Miss Lydia,” he said more gently, “the difficulty is not permanent.”
Her expression suggested she was not entirely persuaded. “Then what is it?”
“A difficulty for which we have not yet found a solution.”
Lydia considered this. “And what sort of solution?”
Darcy almost smiled. The question was entirely reasonable. Unfortunately, he had no reasonable answer to offer.
“If I knew that already, I should be a much happier man than I presently am.”
To his surprise, the corner of Lydia’s mouth twitched.
Georgiana smiled openly. “I believe,” she said, “that is Brother’s way of admitting that he does not know.”
Darcy inclined his head. “It is.”
The admission seemed to reassure Lydia, nevertheless.
At length, she asked, “And Lizzy is truly coming tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
This time, the smile reached her eyes.
Darcy was struck by the transformation. Nothing he had said regarding Hertfordshire, society, or the future had visibly improved her spirits. The prospect of seeing Miss Elizabeth had accomplished it in an instant.
“Lizzy must despise me,” Lydia said.
He thought of Elizabeth’s face at Gracechurch Street and felt a curious tightening in his chest.
“No,” he said. “She was worried.”
Lydia appeared satisfied with that answer.
Georgiana, however, was studying her brother with an expression that made him slightly uneasy. There were times when his sister’s powers of observation were altogether too acute.
Fortunately, she said nothing.
“Now,” Darcy declared, “I believe both of you have spent enough time sitting upon staircases for one evening.”
Lydia looked almost guilty.
Georgiana laughed. “We have only been waiting an hour.”
“Only an hour?”
“Possibly two.”
Darcy shook his head. “Then I am clearly expected to reward such devotion with dinner.”
That suggestion met with immediate approval from both young ladies, and as they rose together, he found himself unexpectedly grateful for the ordinary domesticity of the moment.
Tomorrow would bring fresh difficulties.
Tonight, however, Lydia was safe, Georgiana was smiling, and Elizabeth Bennet would be coming to the house in the morning.
The last thought followed him despite every effort to think of something else.
When at last the young ladies allowed themselves to be persuaded towards the dining room, Darcy accompanied them. At the entrance to the dining room, he paused.