Lydia emerged. Alone. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes cast low as her father took her hand to assist her to the ground. She mumbled a greeting, but did not meet anyone’s gaze, and betook herself instantly to the house.
Kitty was peering curiously into the carriage, as if expecting George Wickham to materialise. Jane and Elizabeth, however, had caught their aunt’s significant expression and held their impatience in check.
“Madeline,” Thomas Bennet greeted his sister-in-law quietly, and with more gravity than was his wont. “Perhaps you will accompany me to my study.”
It needed every shred of Elizabeth’s composure not to listen at the door. Instead, she demanded the pianoforte of Mary and threw herself into a tricky composition, one requiring her full attention and creating enough noise to drown out her clamoring thoughts. When, half an hour later, her aunt and father emerged from the study, Mr Bennet again called for his horse.
Mrs Gardiner summoned Elizabeth and Jane with silent looks which were neither intended for, nor observed by their younger sisters. In a trice, the three women had commandeered Mr Bennet’s study and locked the door.
“Well, Aunt?” breathed Elizabeth. “What is the matter? Where is Mr Wickham, and where is my uncle?”
Mrs Gardiner caught her lower lip between her teeth, then bluntly gave her news. “Mr Wickham has disappeared. It was the very afternoon of the wedding, I understand.”
“What?” Jane gasped, her hand fluttering over her décolletage. “How could he do such a thing? I had not thought him so dishonourable as that!”
“Mr Wickham knows naught but dishonour,” Elizabeth shot back cynically. “But do tell us, Aunt, how did this come about?”
Mrs Gardiner lifted her shoulders. “Yesterday afternoon, Lydia appeared on our doorstep. It seems that on their journey out of London, they had stopped at a coaching inn and Mr Wickham immediately fell into conversation with some other gentlemen who seemed to know him. Lydia had taken one of the rooms to refresh herself, but when she came out a quarter of an hour later, he had already departed. The carriage, all her clothing—all of it was gone. She had only a few coins in her reticule. It was just enough for her to take a room at the inn that night, for she was determined that he was to come back for her. When her money was nearly spent and he had never reappeared, she was obliged to travel back to us by post-chaise.”
“Poor Lydia!” Jane cried. “To be abandoned on her wedding-day, and then to travel back alone! Aunt, theyaremarried, is that correct?”
“Yes, the marriage is recorded and she even wears a fine diamond ring—if she has not thrown it under the horses’ feet. She was in quite a shocking state earlier on our journey. She persisted in her belief that it was all a misunderstanding, and ‘her George’ would be searching for her in London, but your uncle was forced at last to have some rather harsh words with her regarding that particular delusion. She has been likethat,” Mrs Gardiner gestured to the room above their heads, “ever since.”
“I should think she would be troubled!” Elizabeth rejoined. “What manner of man would abandon his wife? Oh, Aunt, if I were only a man, I should call him out!”
“And so, I fear, your Uncle may do,” Mrs Gardiner sighed in worry. “He has gone in search of Mr Wickham, but unless he joins his regiment in Newcastle, I expect he will not find him. This would certainly not be the first occasion when he has been derelict in his duties to the crown, and Mr Wickham is not an easy man to locate when he wishes his whereabouts to remain a secret.”
Elizabeth did not miss the implication. “My uncle isnotthe one who found Mr Wickham before,” she observed flatly.
Mrs Gardiner shifted uncomfortably. “No, Lizzy… he is not.”
Elizabeth was silent, and Mrs Gardiner waited tensely for another question. Unwanted information she would not volunteer, but direct questions she would answer honestly. Jane, sensing herself somewhat out of her depth, merely gazed between the two.
“Aunt,” Elizabeth ventured at last, “When was the last time you had word from him?”
“The day before the wedding, Mr Darcy came again to us.”
At this point, Jane interjected a gasp, and a whispered, “Mr Darcy!”
Mrs Gardiner spared her only a look before continuing. “Mr Darcy spoke briefly with your uncle, and even with Lydia. I believe he intended to see Mr Wickham at his lodgings again that evening. He was to stand up with him at the wedding, but we did not see him there.”
“Stand up with Mr Wickham!” Elizabeth protested. “Why would he do such a thing? I can think of nothing that could induce him to it.”
“Can you not?” Mrs Gardiner asked softly, and Jane stiffened.
Elizabeth clamped her teeth. “But you said he did not appear.”
“No, he did not. I cannot think but that the direst of needs would have called him away, though, for he seemed most inflexible on it. In his first conversation with your uncle, he insisted upon carrying all the burden himself. He felt his presence necessary to see that Mr Wickham remained true to his word.”
“Mr Wickhamdidmarry Lydia without Mr Darcy’s presence, though,” Jane pointed out.
“I believe Mr Darcy holds a great deal of power over Mr Wickham. Your uncle mentioned debts, and I am certain there are some connections through the army as well. Yesterday, however, when Lydia appeared at our door, your uncle’s first act was to call upon Mr Darcy. He was not received.”
Elizabeth straightened, her face closing into a mask of hurt. “What reason was given?”
“Only that the master was not at home, nor was he receiving cards. The knocker had been removed, but your uncle was bold enough to request notice anyway because of Mr Darcy’s late receptiveness and the urgency of the matter. He has ever proved obliging and even welcoming; moreover, he has insisted that in the matter of Lydia and Mr Wickham, all concerns must be his alone.”
Jane was watching her sister carefully. “Perhaps,” she offered slowly, “there was some pressing reason for him to withdraw.”
