Page 83 of To Win Her Affections

Chapter XX

Patience, it seemed, was not one of Elizabeth’s strengths.

Though she had begun with good intentions, her attempt at activity had not lasted long before her thoughts returned to Lydia and whether they had found her. Mr. Gardiner’s housekeeper, a kind woman well acquainted with the eldest Bennet sisters, endured her attempts to assist with a patience Elizabeth sorely lacked. When Elizabeth finally returned to the sitting-room to wait for the party’s return, she did so aware that the housekeeper was grateful for her departure.

That did not pierce her thoughts, however, for she alternately sat in the window seat, inspecting the ends of the street for any sign of Mr. Darcy’s returning carriage, and pacing, trying to tell herself there was nothing she could do. She even attempted to play her aunt’s small pianoforte, hoping it would soothe her, only to abandon it ten minutes later after fumbling through a passage she could usually play in her sleep.

When she finally caught sight of the carriage in the distance, Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief and hurried out to greet them, hoping her sister was within. Any longer, and she felt she might have gone mad. Her relief only increased when she caught sight of five silhouettes within the carriage.

As the large chaise pulled to a stop, the gentlemen nearest the door stepped out, and Elizabeth had time for a quick greeting with Mr. Darcy. Then her sister stood before her. It was clear something had altered in the girl, for Lydia was not her usual exuberant self; instead, she peered at the ground under her feet with seeming mortification. Elizabeth caught her father’s eye, encouraged by the way he smiled at her.

“Welcome back to Uncle’s house, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, uncertain even now how she should address her sister.

Lydia mumbled something incomprehensible. Though she was about to instruct her sister to speak more loudly, she caught her father’s slight shake of his head. All the things she wanted to say to her silly sister died in her throat—Elizabeth decided to trust him, and addressed Lydia in a gentler tone.

“Come, Lydia. You do not appear the worse for wear, but I suspect you would benefit from a nap.”

Lydia looked up in surprise, her face saying everything; she had expected Elizabeth, the sister with the least tolerance for her ways—though Mary could also claim that title—to give her a severe reprimand. What that look said Elizabeth could not understand, but she gathered Lydia to herself and escorted her into the house, glancing back once and catching Mr. Darcy’s eye. The gentleman gave her a soft nod that warmed her heart, then she was inside the house.

Little passed between them as Elizabeth escorted her sister upstairs, set a cool basin of water before her so she could wash, and tucked her into bed. Lydia turned to face away from Elizabeth at once, not so much resolute as . . . Embarrassed might fit if the occasions she had seen embarrassment from Lydia were not so rare. Elizabeth had expected her sister to crow about being the first married or even angry she was not to marry Mr. Wickham. There was something else at work here that she knew nothing about, and she knew Lydia was in no state to tell her.

“Sleep well, Sister,” said Elizabeth, drawing the curtains before she stepped out into the hall. Then she went looking for her uncle and father.

“Lizzy,” said Uncle Gardiner when she found them in his study. “Please join us—we were discussing your sister’s adventure.”

Mr. Bennet snorted at Mr. Gardiner’s characterization, but he said nothing, instead sipping from his glass of port. With a nod, Elizabeth sat with them.

“Have Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned home?”

“They have, though they shall return for dinner.” Mr. Gardiner gave her a grin and lifted his eyebrows. “I hope, my dear, that you are willing to act in Madeleine’s stead this evening.”

“Of course, Uncle,” said Elizabeth. “I shall speak to your housekeeper after we discuss my sister.”

“Impatient to learn what we discovered, I see,” said her father with evident fondness. “We would appreciate your counsel, Lizzy—the truth is strange and entirely different from what we expected.”

Elizabeth felt confusion fall over her. “You did find Lydia with Mr. Wickham, did you not?”

“Aye, that we did,” said Uncle Gardiner. “But her status is not at all what we expected.”

“She was living with Mr. Wickham,” ventured Elizabeth, still not quite understanding.

“That she was,” said her father. “Yet it appears Lydia has an odder sense of propriety than we expected. Though she ran away with him and has lived under the same roof since leaving Brighton, we discovered that she allowed him no liberties.”

Shocked, Elizabeth stared at her father. “Then Lydia is still a maiden?”

“She is,” confirmed Mr. Bennet. “And now we must decide what we are to do.”

“This opens avenues that were not available before,” said Mr. Gardiner. “If she had succumbed to his seduction, it is much more difficult to reintroduce her into society, to say nothing of the possible complications of such activities.”

“Then Lydia is not to marry?”

“It appears not,” said Mr. Bennet. “For obvious reasons, we could not speak on the subject in the carriage, but we consulted with Mr. Darcy before he departed. Now that Wickham is in custody and your sister is returned to us untouched, it is possible to create a story to explain her activities and return her to Longbourn.”

“And have you spun such a tale?” asked Elizabeth doubtfully.

“It needs a few adjustments, but in essence, we will say that Lydia did not run away with Mr. Wickham. Wickham deserted, but Lydia left Brighton impulsively after learning he had gone, intending to return to family in London, but gossip wrongly connected the two departures. She returned to Gracechurch Street and stayed here until I arrived.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I apologize, Papa, but you will never be a novelist. That story is more than a little threadbare.”