“Are you aware that a good many men have been searching for you since you – well, since you vanished with Mr. Wickham?” The Countess’ voice was cold.
Lydia gaped at her. “But – why?”
“Why? Why? Because your disappearance has caused an enormous problem for your family, silly girl!” the Countess hissed at her. “You are not married, you are not dead, what is your family to tell the neighbours?”
“They know I eloped and did not return with a husband, so I know my family is ruined, and I know it is my fault, so you need not remind me of it!” Lydia’s eyes swam with tears. Then she remembered to whom she was speaking, and added a rather tardy, “My lady.”
“I believe that no one except your close family knows of the elopement,” she said. “They just need you to return home and all will be well.”
“But surely Mama told everyone – ?” Lydia was very confused. “She has never kept a secret in her life, and she certainly would have wanted to talk about it to everyone who would listen!”
The Countess’ tone altered at once, and she now spoke very gently. “Miss Lydia, I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you…” she hesitated. Was there a good way to convey such news?
“Tell me what?”
“Your mother has passed away,” the Countess said.
“Passed away?” Lydia repeated, blankly. “Because of me?”
“No, no, it is not at all certain that the events are related,” the Countess said quickly, as tears began to pour from Lydia’s wide and terrified eyes.
“But she is – she is truly dead?” the girl stammered.
“She is, I am sorry to say; but she died before anyone other than your immediate family knew of your actions,” the Countess said, trying to keep her tone kind.
Lydia could only stare at the woman before her. Her thoughts had started whirling and then had stopped entirely. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
“You are in shock,” the Countess said. “I must take you out of here.” She rose and left the room in search of Lady Greenfield. After providing a quick and entirely false history of how a well-born young lady came to serve as a maid, she informed Lady Greenfield that she planned to reunite the young lady with her family at once.
“Of course, of course,” Lady Greenfield said immediately. “Certainly she cannot be a maid here any longer. She told us she was an orphan, you understand, I had no idea – but now I understand how it was that she was able to teach my daughter to dance! I will send someone to gather her things. Lydia shares a room with Edith; she will know what to pack.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lydia, her eyes still glazed over, left Greenfield house with her small satchel clutched to her chest. The wind was chill and she had no cloak, but she was too dazed too notice.
Chapter Forty-Seven
By the time they reached Matlock House, Lydia had regained her senses. Her eyes were swollen and her complexion mottled, and she asked, very quietly, if there was a room in which she might be allowed to rest and gather her thoughts.
“Of course,” the Countess replied at once. “We will put you in a guest room.” She rang for the housekeeper and had Lydia shown to a guest room at once. Lydia curtsied and thanked the Countess politely before ascending the stairs.
The Earl had joined his wife, and the two of them watched Lydia walk away. “She is not at all what I expected,” the Countess told her husband. “I thought she would be bold as brass, but she is not.”
“Possibly many weeks spent serving as a maid has done wonders for her character,” the Earl suggested.
“Indeed; I might recommend that course of action to some of our friends whose daughters have proven uncontrollable,” the Countess said, dryly.
“What is your plan, Eleanor? Will you send a message to Darcy?”
“Yes, at once.”
***
Lydia paused at the doorway of the room she had been shown to. It was decorated in rose and cream, with accents of gold; quite as pretty a room as Lady Greenfield’s. Head swimming again, shedropped her satchel on the floor and sat down on the bed. Mama dead? How was that possible? Mama was young, far too young to die! And possibly because of Lydia’s elopement! How could she face her father and her sisters, knowing that Mama had died because of her own stupidity! Perhaps she should not return to Longbourn at all; perhaps she should go to the Gardiners and help take care of the children. Surely she did not deserve to be welcomed back at Longbourn. And perhaps she would not be welcomed at all, not at Longbourn and not at Gracechurch Street, but sent away?
The revelations of the past hour and the sudden change in her circumstances had all been too much for Lydia; it was not long before had she kicked off her shoes, laid down on the bed and fallen asleep.
***
She awoke two hours later. At first, she could not quite recall where she was and how she had gotten there; then she remembered that her mother was dead and she had, somehow, been discovered by a Countess. She had a good many questions, and she very much hoped for some answers.
