Page 69 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“Lydia!” Jane seized her.

Charlotte looked as though she might either faint or kill someone. Possibly both.

Mr Bennet was pale as death as he examined her and took stock of her condition. “Who are you and where was she?”

The farm boy, suddenly in the uncomfortable centre of gentrified chaos, removed his cap. “Jacob Evins, sir. I found ‘er screamin’ ‘er ‘ead off in an outbuildin’ in the woods. Was chained up. We ‘id ‘er in the ‘ouse wid me mam an’ sister while we went out to lay in wait fer the villain’s return. Me father an’ brothers ‘ave the officer locked up, sir.”

Mr Bennet was aghast. “You what?”

“He lef’ ‘er fer a while. Ta deliver a note, she said. That’s when I found ‘er. Then he come back fer ‘er.”

He paused. “Da said it’s right suspicious. Said iffn ‘e was you, ‘e’d wanna deal with the feller ‘imself, so we din’t send fer the militia or the magistrate. Din’t wanna ‘urt ‘er reputation none. She done the rascal a fearful injury protectin’ ‘erself. Da said t’wouldn’t be right to let talk ruin ‘er, iffn you could see some other way.”

“Your father was correct, and he has my gratitude,” Mr Bennet said. “I must send for someone, and I would like to follow you back to your farm.”

“Thought you would,” the boy said. “Got me caught sneakin’ back from seeing me lady friend, Miss Lydia did, but glad I could ‘elp her. I got two sisters of me own.”

“Oh, thank God for considerate farmers with affection for their sisters!” Elizabeth whispered as the ladies bundled Lydia upstairs and the servants scurried about to heat water and prepare breakfast.

Darcy,

I am not to be so easily set aside. Your wretched father raised me for better than this, and has now abandoned me quite unfairly. All of those years when he refused to believe anything you said about me, all the times he chose my company over yours. I believed that he cared for me. That he loved me better. I am sure that he did, once, but you have somehow managed to turn him against me.

I am certain that he raised me to be Georgiana’s husband, but you have done something to change his mind. I always should have been for your sister. I ought to have been one of your family, after the close way that he raised me. I ought to have married her and replaced you entirely in his affections. Pemberley should have been mine. Georgiana should have been mine.

The thirty thousand I ought to have received for her will be mine, for if I do not get it, neither will you have your heart’s desire. Do not think I have not seen how you look at Elizabeth Bennet. Everyone in Ramsgate has seen it, and you cannot marry her with a ruined sister.

You will pay me thirty thousand pounds to marry Lydia Bennet and restore her reputation, and I shall have her nine thousand from her father as well. It is not Pemberley, but it shall have to be enough.

Meet me behind St Laurence-in-Thanet church in two days with a settlement in which you agree to settle thirty thousand pounds upon her, with no conditions or holds upon the money. And another settlement signed by her father, promising me her dowry. Bring also a license and a clergyman willing to perform an irregular ceremony. I will consummate the wedding in advance, obviously. You can take the girl back to her family when it is over. I will have no further need for her. She was eating out of my hand a fortnight ago, but now that I have her, she is far less obliging than I prefer.

W.

Darcy’s father demanded insistently upon seeing his godson’s letter. When he read it, in the grey light of dawn, his face turned to ash, and he handed it back to his son listlessly. “He is truly lost to all goodness and decency.”

The man seemed to shrink right in front of Darcy and his two cousins, who had moved to the cottage from the Albion the day before, after Bennet came to Darcy for help.

“Do what you must, son.” Darcy Senior turned his face away.

“With all due respect, Father, I made that decision last week when he harmed you.” Darcy’s voice was gentle.

“Of course.” Mr Darcy rose and left his study. “I shall retire, if you do not mind. It has been a long night of worry. Please, tell Bennet I am sorry. I shall never forgive myself.”

Darcy and his cousins decided that they would wait an hour or two before calling upon the Bennets. The letter only informed them of what they already knew and would only bring them more grief. There was no point in waking them with such terrible news.

A messenger met them halfway there with the news that Lydia had returned to her family. When they arrived at the Bennets’ cottage, they found the household in an uproar.

“Is she hurt?” Darcy begged Elizabeth as she rushed to him, crying.

“No, but the farm boy said that she injured him,” she said tearfully. “I am sorry, I do not mean to be such a ninny, but now that we know she is safe–”

“Do not apologise.” Darcy was quick to calm her. “I want to weep in relief myself.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked delighted.

“Well, well,” he said. “How obliging.”

The Viscount adjusted his gloves. “I do not know, brother. It is terribly hard. I was looking forward to injuring him myself.”