How could he tell a young girl about her father’s complete unconcern? His neglect was shameful—nearly criminal. When Darcy replied that Mr Bennet remained at Longbourn, Lydia’s untamed and unabashed manner returned.
“Well, since my father takes no notice of my actions, it can be of little concern to you. You are strange to appear so interested in my affairs! After all, you are not yet married to Lizzy, and neither are you, Mr Bingley, married to Jane, so if my father is happy to see me with Wickham, then what importance is it to the world? My mother will be pleased to have another daughter soon married. ’Tis what she always wanted for her girls.”
With these words, Lydia had summarised all the dangers associated with having one’s father be perpetually absent and one’s mother incapable of exertion and sense. Despite Wickham’s actions, it was clear to Darcy that Lydia would have exposed herself eventually. But he was not about to allow an indulged sixteen-year-old girl, bent on disregarding propriety, to ruin the Bennet family’s—and by extension, his—honour.
“I would have you understand that Mr Wickham is not a righteous man, and he had no intention of marrying you.” He never wanted prove Wickham’s betrayal by showing her Wickham’s letter. He simply wanted Lydia to return to her family before it was too late and without destroying her faith in the goodness of all men. “I regret to cause you pain, but Mr Wickham frequently accrues debts of honour he cannot repay. I fear he has used you to fund his escape from Brighton and will not return to marry you.”
“I have no reason to believe you. George said he loved me! I intend to wait here until he returns. It will not be long—a matter of days at the most. I shall see you both in Hertfordshire when I return as Mrs Wickham!” She crossed her arms in front of her chest with a childlike pout.
“Lydia, I have been remiss in congratulating you on your upcoming nuptials,” Bingley suddenly contributed to the spectacle. Lydia looked at Darcy with a smugly jubilant grin and thanked Bingley heartily.
“Would you not prefer to marry from your father’s house?” Lydia looked surprised and did not answer. “Your mother would be pleased to share your good fortune with the entire neighbourhood. Do you not long to have Mrs Philips, the Lucases, and all your other neighbours congratulate you and to hear yourself called Mrs Wickham?” He gave her a knowing wink.
“Yes, I suppose I would,” she said with a giggle, her ease and good spirits returning.
“Then why do you not wait at Longbourn for Mr Wickham? Since he will marry you, then he would come for you whether you were here or half a day’s journey away in Hertfordshire.”
“Wickham told me to remain here with Mrs Younge. It would not do for me to disrespect his wishes.”
Darcy lifted his eyes at the notion of anyone owing respect to that unworthy scoundrel. He was about to suggest so to Lydia, but Bingley caught his eye and shook his head. Darcy conceded, and stepped aside to let Bingley continue, resigning himself to stand by the fireplace mantel and watch the proceedings.
“I admire your desire to obey your intended’s judgment. Perhaps you might stay with your aunt and uncle here in London while you await his return.” Bingley never allowed his smile to waver. “Mr Wickham could not fault you for passing your last days as a single lady with your own family. Should Mr Wickham be delayed in returning for you, the Gardiners would return you to Longbourn in the middle of the month before their northern tour begins. When Mr Wickham returns to marry you, a carriage drive to Hertfordshire would be a small price to pay for the sake of his lovely girl.”
Lydia looked thoughtful, and Darcy was certain he had never seen that expression cross her features. As quickly as it came, it was gone, and petulance took its place.
“It would only be such fun to marry from home if I were thefirstof my sisters to marry. As it stands now, he”—she gestured her chin toward Darcy—“and Lizzy will marry before I do. I might as well stay here to wait for Wickham and come home already wed.”
Darcy felt his control over the situation was rapidly slipping, but Bingley was ready with an answer.
“That may not be the case,” Bingley said, looking pointedly at Darcy, who kept silent although his jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. “You are aware how close Jane and Elizabeth are, and perhaps they would prefer to share their wedding day. Your sister and I shall not marry for six weeks, and I am sure that Lizzy and Darcy would be overjoyed to wait until we could be wed in the same ceremony.”
Darcy could not feign pleasure at the idea of having his wedding postponed, but under Bingley’s persistent stare, he nodded once in agreement.
“There, do you not see how wonderful this might be for you?” Bingley gave her a jovial smile. “I see no reason you ought not to return to your family and marry Mr Wickham from your father’s house. You will be the first of your sisters to marry, your parents will have the pleasure of sharing your joy, and you may proudly show yourself to your neighbours as the new Mrs Wickham.”
Lydia hung on Bingley’s every word. She sent for Mrs Younge, who, under Darcy’s icy stare, promised to deliver her note to Wickham explaining where she had gone. Lydia then loudly demanded Bingley and Darcy’s congratulations on her upcoming marriage. Her ease and good spirits increased, and Bingley bore all her exuberance with a patient grace that Darcy marvelled at.
“And you, Mr Darcy, if you love Lizzy half so well as my dear Wickham loves me, I am sure you will be very happy.” Before Darcy had to give an answer that might undo all Bingley had accomplished, she capered away to oversee the packing of her belongings.
Bingley sank into a chair. “On the whole, that went not so horribly after all.”
Darcy, too single-minded to relax until Lydia was with her family, addressed the issue at hand. “We must deliver her to her uncle. We want to say to anyone who asks that she left Brighton and arrived directly at Gracechurch Street last Friday.”
“Mr and Mrs Gardiner will be made unhappy at having to receive her, but they will for the sake of their other nieces. Her aunt might help her to see the shame of what she has done.”
He scoffed. “Mrs Gardiner could speak to Lydia in the most serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done, and I doubt Lydia would repent. Only when she realises that Mr Wickham will never marry her will she change her manner.”
Bingley agreed and rose to wait in the hall, muttering as he left, “Such behaviour as hers is highly irregular. She gave herself over to Mr Wickham almost as soon as they met in Brighton. What sort of woman, even an ignorant girl like Lydia, allows herself to be ruined so easily?”
Darcy had little respect for Lydia, but Bingley was too harsh. She had genuinely thought Wickham would take her to Scotland to marry her. Her father had scorned her, and her mother’s single purpose in life was to see her married. It would have been easy for an experienced seducer like Wickham to convince Lydia he would marry her, and it made Darcy loathe the man even more. A man who would prey on the innocence and ignorance of a girl for monetary gain was a fiend.
Bingley’s words gave Darcy pause for another reason. Society would condemn both Lydia and Elizabeth if it was known they had anticipated their wedding vows, while neither he nor Wickham would be thought any less for it. Bingley might say there was no difference between the sisters if he knew the truth, but Darcy felt otherwise. Unlike Lydia, Elizabeth had the security of a public engagement, settlement papers, and an honourable gentleman who would care for her always. Still, he could not suppress a small amount of self-reproach at having committed an act that, should anyone learn of it, might allow Elizabeth to be subjected to gossip and censure.
ChapterEighteen
Elizabeth and Jane were finally able to be outside by themselves while Kitty and Mary took their turn to listen to Mrs Bennet’s complaints—and keep her from talking about Lydia to the servants. For Elizabeth, even the warm July sun on her face and the company of her dearest sister brought little comfort to the tumult of her mind. Until Lydia was safely returned to her family—without her elopement becoming common knowledge—Elizabeth was continually anxious.
They soon saw the housekeeper coming toward them. “I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but there is an express come for you from Mr Darcy. The master received it, but I see he has not sent for you, so I took the liberty of coming to tell you.”
