Prologue
Derbyshire
“I am afraid you have long been desiring my absence.”
Elizabeth received Mr Darcy’s pronouncement like a physical blow. It caught her in the chest, exactly where her heart would be, and she gasped for breath in its wake.
“Nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay but real, though unavailing concern. Would to heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress—” He shook his head as if to dispel the notion, his gaze averted.
Mr Darcy had not properly looked at her since she had finished her recitation of Lydia’s disgrace.
“But I will not torment you with vain wishes.”
Elizabeth could have laughed, cried, or both simultaneously at the way Mr Darcy’s thoughts mirrored her own.
She had already come to the miserable conclusion that her power had sunk.
How could it not when her stupid, thoughtless sister ran off with his most detested enemy?
She could neither wonder at nor condemn Mr Darcy for this, but the belief of his self-conquest was not consolatory in the least. To the contrary, she now better understood her own wishes, ones which had been slowly but steadily blooming in Pemberley’s fertile soil.
Never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him as now, when all hope must be in vain.
“This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today.”
Prodded by the necessity to speak, Elizabeth gasped out a response.
“Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible—” Her throat closed and she was forced to swallow before finishing shakily, “I know it cannot be long.”
Mr Darcy readily assured her of his secrecy, and mumbled a few polite nothings before quitting the room. The only sign he gave of lingering admiration was a single parting glance over his shoulder. A stuttered heartbeat later, he was gone from her sight.
The sob that Elizabeth had been withholding since Mr Darcy had announced his imminent departure burst free.
Then another, and another, and so many more, until she lost count and her chest heaved with the effort to merely draw breath.
Dark spots began encroaching upon her vision before she managed to gain control of herself, but she staved off the impending faint with several measured inhales.
All the while, Elizabeth’s mind focused on a single thought: stupid, thoughtless girl!
At the far reaches of her consciousness, Jane’s voice whispered that Elizabeth ought not to think too harshly of their youngest sister, that she was only sixteen and did not fully appreciate the consequences of her actions.
Such charitable appeals were overcome by the bubbling, churning anger that framed Lydia as the singular culprit of this horrible ordeal.
What could she have been thinking? Lydia, alongside her sisters, had been taught that such schemes were ruinous to one and all.
But then, Lydia had ever been reckless. It had been charming when she was a child, and increasingly worrisome as she aged.
Her worst impulses ought to have been curbed before her come-out—something which occurred well before she was ready for it, despite her enthusiasm—but their parents had never bothered themselves to make the attempt.
And then the militia had arrived in Meryton, and any semblance of good sense which Lydia might have unintentionally retained had flown right out of her head, replaced by officers and frivolity.
And look at where we are now. Lydia ruined, her sisters along with her, and all of us doomed to her fate. She has dragged us down with her.
Elizabeth knew not how long she sat there stewing in her misery, but suddenly, her aunt and uncle were there and begging to know what had overset her. In as calm and coherent a manner as she could manage, Elizabeth explained the contents of Jane’s letter, leaving them naturally aghast.
It was decided without any real discussion that they would be off immediately. Mr Gardiner descended to the lower floor to settle up with the innkeeper, whilst Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth scrambled to pack their trunks as quickly as possible.
While they worked, garments and miscellaneous possessions flying about the room, Mrs Gardiner said, “We shall, of course, take you directly to Longbourn before proceeding to town.”
Elizabeth answered without looking up from her task of folding gowns into her trunk. “I should like to return with you and Uncle Gardiner to London, actually.”
“But would you not prefer to be with your mother and sisters?”
Hardening her expression so as not to expose her disgust at the sort of scene that would inevitably await her at home, Elizabeth replied, “Jane has everything well in hand at Longbourn, and I feel that I am more needed at Gracechurch Street. Should you manage to locate Lydia, I daresay you shall require all the help you can get; her wilfulness is not to be underestimated.”
Elizabeth clenched her jaw so tightly that her molars began to ache. And I should like to slap her silly.
There was a short pause before Mrs Gardiner said, “Very well. I shall be grateful for your assistance.”
The conversation which followed related only to the necessities of travel, as well as an awkward assurance from Elizabeth that Mr Darcy was already aware of their predicament and would not require a note to excuse them from their plans.
Mrs Gardiner’s pity at this revelation was difficult to bear, and Elizabeth made herself busy to avoid it.
Half an hour later, they were on the road to London.