Going to London was the last thing Elizabeth wished to do when she was enjoying Mr Wickham’s attentions so well. She had been anticipating spending more time with him once her sister was gone to town. “Why?”
“I need you to call on your mother at Mrs Randall’s establishment.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Could Jane not do that?”
“Yes, and I am sure she will. But Jane cannot report to me her mother’s situation, as I hope you will.”
“Why do you need me to report Mama’s situation? And why could not Jane?—”
“Jane has not your good sense. And before you contradict me, I do not mean that she is deficient in understanding. But we both know she is too apt to see the good in everything, and I do not need a roseate view of matters. I need the truth.”
“Goodness, what do you fear the truth might be that warrants such clear-sightedness?”
Mr Bennet sighed quietly. “I am sorry to give you any anxiety, Lizzy, but I am afraid it cannot be avoided. Before your mother went away, she was quite out of sorts. Recent events had made her more than commonly fretful.”
Elizabeth winced. “My refusal to accept Mr Collins distressed her a great deal.”
“You cannot be held responsible for your mother’s nerves, child. They are an entity unto themselves. The point is, she did not depart in a convivial state of mind. We had words.”
“If you will pardon my saying so, that is not entirely uncommon. It is unfortunate that she had to go away before you resolved your quarrel, but I am sure it will all be forgotten by the time she comes home.”
He shook his head. “This was different. Your mother was not herself when she left—and now she is not responding to my letters. Her note to Lydia that she had arrived safely and wishing you all a happy Christmas is the only correspondence she has sent.”
Elizabeth smiled indulgently. “She has not been gone very long. How many letters haveyouhonestly sent to her?”
She knew she must begin to take the matter seriously when Mr Bennet answered “Three.” Her father loathed correspondence: not even the most urgent communication could usually induce him to reply within a month. That he had written to Mrs Bennet at all was indicative of his concern.
“I beg you would not worry, Papa. Her friend cannot remain ill forever. She will be back before you know it.”
“I thought she would be back within a few days, Lizzy. I did not want her to go and foolishly believed refusing her enough money to make the visit comfortable would stop her. She took what funds she had left over from this month’s housekeeping and went regardless, but it was not much. Unless she has suddenly discovered a sense of frugality that has entirely eluded her for the last quarter of a century, I would have expected her to run out by now.”
“Why have you given no indication that you suspected anything was amiss? You have seemed perfectly at ease with her absence.”
“And so I shall continue to do until she comes home. You must comprehend the damage it would do to our reputation if it were to be discovered that my wife has…” He looked down at his desk, his complexion turning ruddy and his voice gruff as he concluded, “…left me.”
“Oh, Papa! That is surely not even a possibility. ’Tis much more likely that Mama is simply too busy looking after her friend to write. I expect a letter will arrive in the next few days.”
“And if that happens, I shall send the carriage directly to bring you home. But if you do not go with your sister tomorrow, then another plausible excuse for you to go to London may not soon arise.”
“Would it not be better for you to go yourself?”
“It would only draw attention to her absence. Your uncle would certainly ask questions.”
“You cannot mean to keep this from him?”
“I have every intention of keeping this from him! I cannot have your uncle think his sister is so unhappy that she has left her home and all her family. And as for Jane, her beau hasalready hied off to London without her. Imagine her dismay to discover her mother has done likewise.”
“But what of my sisters? You will have to involve yourself in their activities far more than you are used to if you hope to keep them in check.”
He looked somewhat dejected at the suggestion but did not recede. “I am sure Mrs Philips will help should any matter arise that requires a woman’s wisdom.”
This was little consolation to Elizabeth; wisdom was not a concept one commonly associated with her aunt Philips. “I would ordinarily say you would do better to ask Charlotte for help, but of course, she will be gone to Kent with her new husband.” The thought gave Elizabeth pause, and she added, “I would miss her wedding if I left tomorrow.”
Her father grunted dismissively. “You will never convince me that you would enjoy watching your friend shackle herself to my nincompoop of a cousin.”
Elizabeth laughed softly, resignedly. “No, I do not think I much would.”
She did not relish the prospect of giving up Mr Wickham’s company to travel to London on a fool’s errand either, yet her father would not be moved, and she had no choice but to accede. She could only hope her assurances that she and her mother would very soon be home were correct.
