“Now? When our lives were at last proceeding so happily…you,” she said, pointing towards Elizabeth’s elegant desk, “and I—”
“You nothing!” said Mr Bingley incoherently, yet firmly.
“We are disgraced,” said Jane. “I am so as well.”
“You care not what your sister does. In a month, you shall be my wife, and upon my honour, we care not for any of them. What? Will the Regent refuse us dinner?”
They all looked in astonishment at Mr Bingley, so resolute was he, and something of Elizabeth’s burden lifted from her heart. Jane would not be affected…but herself? Mary?
In the meantime, Mary arrived, accompanied by Mrs Gardiner. They read the two letters, and the others in the roomwaited in silence, for they needed to reflect, and that silence was a moment of calm in that terrible storm.
“She is utterly insane,” Mary said at last. She disappeared for a moment and returned with Kitty. It was evident that she had informed her on the way, for Kitty’s countenance expressed a terror unspeakable.
“Heavens, Kitty…you knew!” cried Elizabeth, then realised that if she wished to learn the truth, she must not do so by shouting.
Mrs Gardiner took the poor girl in her arms and rocked her as if she were a child. Kitty had changed, yet if Lydia had written to her, she could not bring herself to betray her sister.
With much difficulty, they discovered only that Lydia had written of Mr Wickham and of the affection between them.
“Why did you say nothing?” Jane spoke in a gentler tone, though full of reproach.
“I never imagined she would do such a thing. From what she wrote, I believed they were coming to Longbourn.”
They forgot Kitty, who sat upon an armchair and began to weep in silence.
“Lizzy shall go to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I shall accompany her,” said Mr Gardiner. “We depart within half an hour.”
“And I shall go to Mr Darcy—”
“No!” cried Elizabeth, more desperately than before.
“Yes!” said Jane. “This is no time for delicacy regarding the past. Mr Darcy knows him best, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is a man of the army; it is a good decision to ask him for help. Charles shall go to Mr Darcy, and we others shall go to my aunt Gardiner in London. We shall meet there.”
Elizabeth looked at her in astonishment. Thus did Jane appear when defending the life she had dreamt of and was determined not to lose.
“I remain here,” said Mary. “Families are still expected…”
“Thank you,” murmured Elizabeth, taking Mary into her arms. Jane approached and joined their embrace, and for a few moments they remained thus, united in silence. When Kitty, her face bathed in tears, looked towards them, Elizabeth stretched out her hand in invitation, and she hastened to be with them.
“And what shall we do about Mr Clinton?” Mary finally asked.
“For the moment, the matter remains among ourselves,” said Mr Gardiner, and as he was the senior in that room, no one objected. “When it becomes necessary, we shall inform him.”
Elizabeth and Mr Gardiner set out from Hampstead soon after their meeting. The day being fine, she ordered the Academy’s small carriage to convey them into town, resolved to call upon Colonel Fitzwilliam at Whitehall, where he was employed in the War Office. The distance was not great, and she hoped to arrive at the Gardiners’ around three o’clock, as they had discussed.
They were the most grievous five miles of her life. Yet above all the misfortune that had fallen upon them, she bore in her heart the immense shame that Mr Darcy would learn of it…for, in the end, the family on whose account she had refused him was, in part, such as he had once perceived it to be.
“He must go to Mr Darcy, my dear,” her uncle said. “Your father cannot find any man who knows that scoundrel.”
“I suppose he must,” murmured Elizabeth, her eyes fixed upon the window as she strove to calm the pain now accompanied by nausea. She felt physically ill, yet before the War Office she recovered herself. Assisted by her uncle, she alighted and walked beside him with determination, for there was something they must do, regardless of what they felt.
Chapter 27
They were asked to wait for the colonel in an austere chamber on the ground floor, under the guard of a soldier. Though they longed to speak, it was impossible; Mr Gardiner took his niece’s hand in his and whispered, “Perhaps it would have been wiser to seek him at home.”
“No; when Mr Darcy gave me his direction, he stated very clearly that the colonel was more often at his office than at his lodgings,” she said.
They looked at one another with the same sadness in their eyes. London was an immense city, and it was not difficult to conceal oneself there if concealment was one’s design.
