Page 59 of Near Pemberley

The girl stared at him without recognition for one bewildered second. Then her eyes widened.

“Mr. Darcy?”

Lydia Bennet.

For an instant, neither moved.

Then, Lydia gave a broken sob. “Oh, God!”

Before Darcy could recover sufficiently to speak, she crossed the room almost blindly and caught hold of him.

For one astonished moment, he could only stare, but then instinctively, he steadied her. The gesture appeared to cost her the last remains of her composure.

Tears burst from her. Not the theatrical tears of wounded vanity to which Miss Lydia might once have resorted in girlish distress, but genuine, terrified weeping which shook her whole frame.

The trust implicit in the action struck him almost painfully. Miss Lydia Bennet, whom he had always known as noisy, heedless, and absurdly fearless, clung to his sleeve as though he were her last refuge in the world.

“She said… I did not know what to do… he promised he would come back…” Her hands trembled violently where they clutched his sleeve.

Then all colour vanished from Lydia’s face. She stepped back.

“I am here to entertain you.” She quivered uncontrollably.

He shook his head. “Miss Lydia,” he said quickly, lowering his voice at once, “you must compose yourself.”

Tears burst from her with such violence that the words became almost intelligible.

“He said he would come back! He promised me…”

“Who?”

“Wickham.”

The name struck him almost like a physical blow. Darcy stared at her. For one dreadful moment, he could not properly comprehend what he had heard.

Wickham.

Miss Lydia.

Here.

Then everything began assembling itself with terrifying rapidity.

Lambton. Miss Elizabeth’s sudden departure. The unanswered silence afterwards.

Her crying.

His hand tightened so violently upon the back of the chair that the wood creaked faintly beneath his grasp.

Good God.

Darcy looked at the terrified girl before him and felt something cold settle heavily in his chest.

Wickham has done it at last.

With dreadful clarity, he saw the catastrophe as Elizabeth herself must have seen it. Lydia fled. No marriage. A family threatened with disgrace from which there might be no recovery.

Oh, Elizabeth.