Elizabeth turned sharply and caught her sister by the arm, lifting Lydia’s sleeve. A bruise darkened the tender skin where Wickham had seized her.
“He planned to hurt you, did he not?”
The girl’s face crumpled. “He looked mean, Lizzy. I was afraid of him. And then we heard you running, and you saved me.”
Elizabeth drew her into her arms. “He might have forced you into intimacy, and you could have found yourself with child.”
She pulled back and looked into Lydia’s face. “He may be diseased. Then you would be diseased, and so might your children.”
“Diseased?” Lydia whispered.
Elizabeth sighed. Her sister was still so young. “There are illnesses, Liddie. One is especially dreadful. It can kill a baby, and in time, it can kill the mother as well. Before that, it steals the mind.”
Lydia was listening to her, perhaps for the first time in her life.
“Men who have lain with many women may carry such illnesses and pass them on. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Do not meet with Mr. Wickham again. He means you harm. You would be lost to us all.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled. “Papa would be forced to find you a husband, perhaps a tenant farmer far from Hertfordshire. And if he could not, your fate might be far worse.”
She placed her hands upon her sister’s shoulders and met the child’s frightened gaze. “There are places in London where ruined girls are sent, and they are treated cruelly. Few escape them, and fewer still live very long after being sent there.” Drawing her close, Elizabeth held her fast.
“What places Lizzy?”
“Houses of ill repute, brothels. Magdalene houses, workhouses, and asylums for fallen women. In most of these places, one is made to labor long hours under brutal conditions.”
Elizabeth searched her sister’s face. The child was trembling.
“Do you promise me you will not see him again?”
“I do,” Lydia said. “I promise.”
They were interrupted when Kitty came skipping down the stairs.
“Liddie, Mamma is taking us shopping to Harpenden. We leave as soon as you and Jane are dressed.”
Lydia squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and ran upstairs to change her gown.
Elizabeth watched the Bennet carriage disappear down the drive. From the back parlor came the sound of Mary practicing the pianoforte.
Elizabeth sighed. It was best to speak with Papa and have the matter done. Perhaps, in this extremity, he would exert himself and act to save Lydia. To save them all from ruin.
She crossed the hall, pausing at the door to his study. She already knew what he would say. What would it take to get him to act? Who could save them if he did not?
Still, she tapped.
“Come in.”
Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. “Has your mother gone off to Harpenden without you, my dear?”
Elizabeth took the chair opposite him. “Yes. It is of no matter, Papa. I prefer to remain out from under her feet.”
“So, you have not come to discuss this latest affront. What is it? If your mother did not distress you, something else must have done so.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth began, “I caught Lydia in the oak grove beyond the hermitage with Mr. Wickham. He is a lieutenant and has recently joined the militia.”
Bennet’s brows lifted, but he did not speak.
