“I am here only to tell you that Wickham is dead.” Mr. Darcy took the newspaper clipping from his pocket and offered it to Mrs. Gardiner.
She nodded. “I read the paper every day, Mr. Darcy, and I suspected that to be Mr. Wickham. What does this mean in terms of our search for Lydia, do you think?”
“Nothing, really; he had already abandoned her. But it does show us…” he trailed off.
“How unlikely it is that Lydia is alive, given that she went into Whitechapel,” Mrs. Gardiner said, quietly. “Nevertheless, I shall not yet give up hope.”
“I understand. But I do want to delay having the Bennet’s neighbours learn anything about her as long as possible.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, eagerly, “If it begins to seem unlikely that Lydia is still ill, have it put about that she is here with us, at Gracechurch Street. That would give us another few months of time, will it not?”
“That is an excellent idea,” Mr. Darcy said. “We would say that she could not bear to return to Longbourn, given her mother’s death, and you offered her a home.”
They congratulated each other on a superb plan, and Mr. Darcy promised to convey this plan – along with the bundle of cloth Mrs. Gardiner was gifting her nieces – to the Bennets.
***
The following day saw Mr. Darcy and Georgiana in the Darcy carriage, headed for Meryton. Georgiana was thrilled to be visiting Miss Elizabeth – at last! – and then reminded herself that her friend had just lost her mother. It would not do for her to look too happy.
“Georgiana, there is a good deal I must tell you before you see the Bennets,” Mr. Darcy began, once the London traffic had been left behind and they were on country roads.
“I know that Miss Elizabeth’s mother is dead,” Georgiana began.
Mr. Darcy scratched his head. How far back did he have to go? To the beginning, he decided. “When I first met Miss Elizabeth, I was not very kind to her. No; in fact, I was downright rude.” That, he thought, was the true beginning.
It took an hour for him to tell the full story, as Georgiana had many questions and even more ejaculations of shock. She could scarcely believe that her brother had been rude to her friend. She gasped in horror upon learning that her brother had separated Mr. Bingley from Miss Elizabeth’s eldest sister. Then she shook her head over her brother’s unbelievably insulting proposal. When she learnt that Miss Elizabeth’s youngest sister had eloped with Mr. Wickham, tears formed in her eyes. Upon hearing that this Miss Lydia had been abandoned by Mr. Wickham in Whitechapel, the tears slid down her cheeks. “And then Mrs. Bennet died! Of a stroke from learning of her daughter’s elopement? Oh, Brother, I can hardly imagine such tragedy visited upon one family!”
“You must remember at all times that Miss Lydia is ‘officially’ ill in Brighton,” he cautioned her.
“But soon you will be saying that she is visiting her relatives in London; is that not right?”
“Yes, but not yet. You will be informed of the change in the situation when it occurs.”
Georgiana’s forehead wrinkled. “There is a good deal to remember, is there not?”
“There is, yes, and everything depends upon us remembering correctly.”
“And you do plan to make Miss Elizabeth my sister?”
“I do.”
“Then I shall be very certain to remember everything exactly right.” She settled back in the carriage.
“There is one piece of good news,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Wickham is dead.”
Georgiana’s hand flew to her mouth. “But – how?”
Mr. Darcy gave her a rather edited version of the story, and he watched her face closely. He saw surprise, dismay, and finally – yes! – relief.
“I need never worry about him telling my secret,” she whispered at last.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mid-September 1812
