Page 98 of Near Pemberley

How much of the misery that followed had been inevitable? And how much had been helped along by their own family? The thought was not a comfortable one. She kept her eyes fixed upon the street below.

Gardiner rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Thomas, surely you could have impressed upon her the importance of discretion.” He fell silent for a moment before shaking his head. “No. That is unfair.”

The admission surprised everyone.

“I think we are all in error here, Mr. Darcy. By the time we reached Longbourn, the gossip must have already begun. Yet even then, I never once thought of limiting it. My thoughts were entirely occupied with finding Lydia.”

Mrs. Gardiner nodded slowly. “As were mine.”

“We were all in a panic,” Gardiner continued. “Concerned only with what had happened, and not with what people might be saying.” He sighed. “Looking back, perhaps we ought to have considered both.”

Darcy regarded him thoughtfully. “That is understandable.”

“Perhaps,” said Gardiner. “But understandable mistakes remain mistakes.”

Mr. Bennet did not reply.

Elizabeth glanced toward Darcy and was surprised to find him looking not irritated, but thoughtful. His eyes remained fixed somewhere ahead of him, and for once, he seemed to have no inclination to hauteur.

She had condemned him at Hunsford.

She had doubted him again after Lambton.

And once more, he had proved the better of them all. And in such a difficult situation, when he should not even have been there or concerned himself with the Bennets’ misery.

Darcy was silent for a moment.

He could not entirely absolve Mr. Bennet. He could not help wondering whether firmer management at Longbourn might have spared the family at least some of what had followed. Yet he could not deny that Mrs. Bennet and, if she was of similar attitude, Mrs. Phillips formed a combination against which ordinary measures might reasonably be expected to fail.

At length, he said, “Whatever might have been done then, the situation is different now.”

Mr. Bennet looked at him. “How so?”

“Because Miss Lydia has been found.”

“Indeed.”

“And because I do not believe she should return to Hertfordshire immediately.”

The room fell silent.

Mr. Bennet’s brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

“At present,” Darcy continued, “she is among people who know the truth and do not condemn her for it. I am not persuaded the same can be said of Meryton.”

“She created the difficulty herself.”

“Yes,” said Darcy.

The agreement seemed to rob the objection of some of its force.

“Her presence in Hertfordshire would only inflame the situation further. She is still unmarried.” Darcy leant forward. “She acted foolishly. Yes. But I do not believe she will benefit from becoming the object of every curious glance and whispered conversation in the county.” Then he added, “She is aware of the enormity of her mistake.”

Elizabeth stared at him. That he should speak with such compassion of Lydia – Lydia, whose folly had brought injury upon them all – astonished her. She had once believed him deficient in tenderness; now the generosity of his heart stood before her so plainly that she scarcely knew what to think.

Mrs. Gardiner nodded slowly. “I have wondered the same.”

Darcy continued. “She has suffered a severe shock. Whatever errors she has committed, she is not presently in a condition to endure public humiliation.”