“I do not think for a moment that this will be the case, Miss Lydia, but I shall leave it all in your hands.”
Lydia held up her hands. They were certainly not the hands of a lady, reddened and calloused as they were. “It will be some time before I can go back into society, will it not?” She actually grinned at him, and he found himself admiring her spirit.
“Gloves, Miss Lydia, cover a multitude of sins.”
“My sister, Mary, could tell you what Bible passage ‘multitude of sins’ came from, but not I. Oh, there! Is that not their house?”
“It is.” Mr. Darcy knocked on the top of the carriage, and it stopped at once. Mr. Darcy leapt out, and extended a hand to Miss Lydia. She stared at it for a long minute. He waited, but she did not move.
“Miss Lydia?”
There was no response.
He climbed back into the carriage and looked at his passenger. She was frozen in place; indeed, it seemed that she was scarcely breathing, and she was far too pale. He took her hands in his. “Miss Lydia, without a doubt, you have behaved quite foolishly in running off with Wickham. But it took a good deal of courage to serve as a maid, rather than confess who you were and risk ruining your sisters. Come, it is time now for that courage!”
She inhaled deeply. “Very well, Mr. Darcy.”
This time, when he climbed out and extended his hand, she took it. She walked with him to the front door as he imagined French aristocrats marching to the guillotine; white-faced andtrembling. He knocked on the door and waited. A housekeeper answered the door.
“Mr. Darcy to see Mrs. Gardiner,” he said.
The housekeeper glanced at Miss Lydia, and a puzzled look crossed her face, but she merely curtsied and allowed them in. “Wait here, please,” she said.
A moment later, a well-dressed woman came to the entryway. “Mr. Darcy, what a pleas – LYDIA!” she screamed. “Lydia! Oh, my dear girl, we thought you dead!” “Come in, tell me everything! Oh, heavens, I must get Henry! Lydia, you foolish child, have you any idea –“
Mr. Darcy interrupted. “Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Lydia has had a difficult day. Perhaps we might sit down?”
“Of course. Forgive me, please, my manners have entirely deserted me.” She led the way into a comfortable drawing room. She rang the bell and requested a tea tray, and then told the maid to have Mr. Gardiner join them at once.
She turned then to her guests. “Lydia, I want to hear every detail, but we shall leave it until your uncle is here. Mr. Darcy, your efforts in finding my niece have proven successful!”
“I cannot take credit for her discovery, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said. “It was my aunt’s keen eye that accomplished that.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s brows rose. “Really! The Countess of Matlock? I cannot imagine how – well, I must wait to hear the entire story.”
Lydia ventured, “Aunt, may I stay here for a little while?”
Mrs. Gardiner stared at her niece and then rushed to her side and enveloped her in a hug. “Lydia, we are all quite upset, of course, but nothing – absolutely nothing! – is more important than you being safe at last! My dear, dear girl, you may stay hereforever, but I promise you that your father and your sisters will be wild to have you back at Longbourn!”
With that, Lydia burst into tears and wept on her aunt’s shoulder until Mr. Darcy thought the girl would do herself an injury.
A male voice interrupted the scene. “You called for me, Madeleine? My God! Is that – Lydia? Lydia! I know not whether to spank you or – no, never mind, you need not cry. Come here, my dear.”
And in a moment, Lydia was wrapped in her uncle’s arms.
Mr. Darcy actually felt himself in some danger of becoming teary himself, so he cleared his throat in the hopes of preventing such an unseemly occurrence.
Mr. Gardiner untangled himself from his niece and bowed to Mr. Darcy. “We are very much in your debt, Mr. Darcy.”
Mrs. Gardiner explained, “We have not yet heard the particulars, my dear; we thought it best to wait for you.”
“Very good,” her husband replied. He rose and closed the drawing room door. “Lydia, what happened? Did you truly elope with that rascal? Whatever were you thinking?”
“Uncle, I will tell you everything, but first I must ask – is it true that Mama is dead?” Her voice was tremulous.
Mr. Gardiner said, very gently, “I am sorry to tell you that it is indeed true, Lydia.”
“Perhaps it is just as well; she would not like hearing that Papa was quite right, and I really am the silliest girl in all of England.” She bowed her head. “But I shall miss her dreadfully.”
