Elizabeth was not surprised; her aunt’s plan would give Kitty both instruction and distance from her mother’s influence. Without Lydia at home, there was little confidence that her father would attend as diligently as he ought to such matters.
“It is very unfair that I must go to school when Kitty will go to London and Mary is going to Derbyshire,” Lydia said from her place between her aunt and uncle at the table. She had been quiet up to this point, but apparently hearing that her sister might be invited to London while she was obliged to go to school was too much for her to bear in silence.
“You went to Brighton when Kitty did not,” Mr Bennet interjected.
“And you nearly ruined the family with your foolishness,” Kitty muttered quietly, but not so quietly that her words were not easily understood.
Lydia flushed deeply and pushed back her chair slightly.
Mr Bennet’s expression lost some of its earlier amusement. “You may consider it unfair, Lydia, but you will go. It is the only sensible course left to us.”
Aunt Gardiner spoke before Lydia could reply, her tone calm, although not without firmness. “Lydia, my dear, you must understand that each arrangement is made with your particular advantage in view. You willbenefit far more from a little time at school than from any other plan that might be proposed. Kitty will sit with the children during their lessons and will be expected to behave appropriately while she is with us.”
There was little conversation after that, with Lydia looking somewhat mollified by her aunt’s words, and Kitty appearing only contemplative. At last, the meal came to an end, and the family was finally free to disperse.
Elizabeth rose with the others, immediately accepting Fitzwilliam’s arm as he led her from the dining room. The entire party moved into the drawing room, although Mary and Georgiana went directly to the far end of the room, where the pianoforte stood, partially screened from the rest of the company by the open folding doors.
As the Gardiner children were to remain with the family for a short time, Lydia had been permitted to stay downstairs. Elizabeth observed her for a moment and saw that she appeared decidedly displeased that Kitty had chosen to sit upon the floor with her young cousins rather than beside her. With that in mind, she led Fitzwilliam over to where her youngest sister sat.
“How are you, Lydia?” she asked, once they had taken their seats.
“I do not see why I alone must be treated in this way, as though I am a child,” Lydia replied at once. “It is not as though I did anything so very terrible.”
“The colonel of the regiment wrote to Papa because he refused to house you any longer after you planned to elope with one of his officers,” Elizabeth said plainly. “It is only by chance—a fortunate bout of illness—that you were prevented from running off with a man who had no intention of marrying you, but meant only to use you as a convenient means of escaping his debts.”
All of this had been explained to Lydia before, and though the girl might still protest, she had been made to face the truth—particularly after her confrontation with one of the servants Wickham had wronged before she left Brighton.
Lydia shifted in her seat, her brow darkening. “Well, I do not see why everyone must make such a fuss about it. Nothing even happened.”
Elizabeth drew a breath, even though she hardly knew what answer could reach a mind so determined not to understand.
“Then you made a very fortunate escape,” Fitzwilliam said smoothly. Then, turning to Elizabeth, he added, “Would you like to go for a walk? It is a very pleasant day.”
“I would love to,” Elizabeth replied with a broad smile. She turned towards her eldest sister. “Jane, would you like to join us?”
Jane nodded at once, as though she had expected the invitation.
The invitation was extended more broadly, but none accepted it. Before long, they had collected their outdoor things and made their way into the garden.
“Miss Bennet,” Fitzwilliam began before they had gone very far, “forgive me for being so blunt, but I would like to know exactly what Miss Bingley has written to you. If at all possible, I would like to see the letter she wrote to you last November as well.”
Nodding, Jane withdrew both letters from her pocket. “I suspected you would ask, and I withdrew both from my dresser this morning. Elizabeth must have told you what she wrote regarding Mr Bingley and Miss Darcy?”
It was Darcy’s turn to nod, but his jaw was tight. He took the offered letters and moved a little distance away, his expression tightening as he read. After a moment, he sat down, and Elizabeth turned to Jane.
Elizabeth clasped her hands together before her, searching for words. For the first time in their lives, she did not know what to say to her sister, and the ease that had always existed between them seemed, for the moment, entirely absent.
“Jane…” Elizabeth began, the word coming more hesitantly than she had intended. “Thank you for allowing Fitzwilliam to see the letters. He means to write to Mr Bingley regarding what his sister has said, so that she does not spread her gossip any further. He has also written to his aunt and uncle—the Earl and Countess of Matlock—to inform them of our engagement, but not of all the circumstances attending it.”
“Do you truly think that Miss Bingley would spread gossip about you?” Jane asked.
For a moment, Elizabeth could only look at her in disbelief. At length, she gathered her thoughts, resolving to answer in a manner that would not too greatly distress her sister.
“Certainly she would—for is that not what she has done with you?” she replied. “I can only suppose that little in that letter is true, and that it was written chiefly to create difficulties between us. She saw at Pemberley that her brother was still interested in you, and while I do not know what may have passed between Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley before he left, I am certain we were not named as the cause. No—her purpose was to drive a wedge between you and me, and to persuade you that Mr Bingley would have returned and offered for you, had it not been for me.”
“But why?”
“Who can say, Jane?” Elizabeth said, a hint of exasperation creeping into her tone. “Only that her intentions cannot have been good in writing such a letter. It is not the first time she has misled you.”
