She pulled her shoes back on and found her way back down the long hallway and then down the grand staircase. She immediately encountered a stern-looking butler, who stared at her for a long moment, doubtless assessing what a girl dressed in a maid’s uniform was doing in a guest room, before escorting her silently to the drawing room. As she entered, she curtsied to the Countess, who was sitting on a robin’s egg blue sofa.
“Ah, Miss Lydia, you are awake.”
“I apologise, my lady –“
“No need, no need. I have no doubt that your rest was much needed. Sit down, please. We must discuss next steps.”
“I – I thank you, my lady.”
“I have a good many questions, but let us first get you something to eat and drink. You look quite pale.”
A tea tray soon arrived, and Lydia found herself holding a cup of tea, with a plate of small sandwiches on the table beside her chair. She realised that she was quite hungry, and made short work of her food. When she finally leaned back in her chair, the Countess began. “I am astonished that I am actually looking at you, Miss Lydia, knowing that Mr. Darcy and my own son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, have searched for you for so long!”
“My lady, I am rather confused; I cannot quite make out why you are at all interested in me. Do you know my family?”
The Countess shook her head. “A good deal has happened in your absence, Miss Lydia, and I will let your family tell you of it. But let me just say that I am Mr. Darcy’s aunt, and it was at his request that my son became involved in searching for you.”
“Mr. Darcy! What possible interest could he have in me?”
“He wishes to marry your sister, Miss Elizabeth, and she could not, in good conscience, accept him until your fate had been discovered.”
Lydia’s brow wrinkled and she shook her head. “I am afraid you are mistaken; Mr. Darcy and my sister Elizabeth do not even like one another!”
“That is a story for another time,” the Countess said, regally. “For now, believe me when I say that it was Darcy who insisted that you must be found, it was your sister – Miss Catherine, I believe – who made the sketches, and when I saw you at the Greenfield’s ball, I thought you looked familiar. I could not place you at first, but that night I realised that you were the Miss Lydia that my son has been looking for all these months.”
“Your son? At Mr. Darcy’s request? I can scarce credit it! And I still cannot believe that Mr. Darcy wishes to marry Lizzy, but I will answer your questions.”
“Very well; tell me what led to you being employed at Greenfield House.”
Lydia recounted her history with Mr. Wickham, her departure from the inn, her terrifying nights alone in the city, and her good fortune in being discovered by Miss Alice.
“And you have worked as a maid all these months!” the Countess marveled.
“It seemed a far better alternative than living on London’s streets. I was certain that Mama had told everyone of my elopement, so my sisters and I were ruined. I thought if I never reappeared, perhaps they could say that I was dead.”
“The difficulty, of course, was that the neighbours would expect a body and a funeral.”
“Yes, I left things in quite a mess,” Lydia said, sadly. “Believe me, I regret – more than I can ever express! – my stupidity in trusting Mr. Wickham. I can only hope that he does not spread the story about me running away with him.”
“Oh, I can promise you that he will never do so,” the Countess said, her eyes narrowing.
“Can you? Truly?”
“I guarantee it; he is dead.”
“Mr. Wickham is dead?” Lydia’s voice rose sharply.
“Very dead,” the Countess affirmed.
Lydia was silent for several minutes. Finally, she said, “It is very wrong of me, I am sure, but I am actually quite glad to hear it.”
The Countess said, “It is not wrong of you at all; we are, all of us, just as glad. But, Miss Lydia, what would you like to do? Shall we write to your family to tell them that you have been recovered?”
“If I truly may have my preference, I should like to be with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner,” Lydia answered, after a minute’s consideration. “I am everything grateful for your kindness and your hospitality, my lady, but I think I would be more comfortable with my own relatives. They will know what is best to do.”
“And where are they?” the Countess enquired.
She hesitated. “I am not exactly certain; I know they live on Gracechurch Street, but I do not know the number.”
