They were standing in the workroom with Mr. Perkins and an audience of thirty women at least. Lydia Bennet appeared a little dazzled, and thinking to give her a little time to adjust, he said, “I shall hire a maid at my hotel to go with you, unless Mr. Perkins has someone he can recommend.”
“Take Sally,” someone called from the work tables.
“Oh yes, Mr. Perkins. Might I borrow Sally Watkins for a few days?” Turning to Darcy, she said, “I had to have my hair cut off—well, perhaps I should not explain it, only Sally is very gentle and she is a comfort to me.”
“Mr. Perkins, I would be very glad to engage Miss Watkins for an indeterminate period of time. Might I also have a word in your office? Miss Bennet, do you have things you need to collect?”
She looked obediently at Mr. Perkins who called up Sally and sent them to the ward for their things. Darcy meanwhile went to Mr. Perkins office, pulled out a handful of bills and put them on the table. “A donation, Mr. Perkins. And I would be very glad to have any paperwork related to Miss Lydia Bennet. You understand her family will expect complete discretion on your part?”
Mr. Perkins wordlessly reached into his desk, and after a moment he pulled out the information he had written about Lydia and handed it over. “She has been treated well here, sir,” he said primly.
“I most certainly hope so,” Darcy said with narrowed eyes. He could hardly account for the observable changes in Lydia Bennet and thought she may have been beaten into submission. “I shall certainly hear her account of things just as soon as may be.”
Lydia returned before more could be said in that vein. She had a small bundle wrapped in her apron as did the woman who came with her. Another woman in a white cap and black dress stood behind and said, “Miss Bennet, I am glad to see you restored to your family. They must be good Christians to have you back.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hart,” Lydia said meekly, and then with an enormous grin, she looked up and said, “I am ready to go, Mr. Darcy.”
Chapter 20
The London Road…
Darcy could hardly conceive of a more affecting scene. He sat on the rear facing seat and looked on as Lydia Bennet, dressed like the meekest Methodist maiden, held the other Methodist’s hand. Miss Bennet was not getting comfort from her companion; rather, she was comforting Sally Watkins through the reassurance of touch.
Eventually Lydia saw that Mr. Darcy had noticed their clasped hands, and she said, “Sally has not been to London before, sir. She is a little worried she will not know how to get back to Horsham.”
“She will get back the same way she came, Miss Bennet. I shall have my driver take her personally, if you would like, and see her safely back to Mr. Perkins.”
“Oh, I knew you would be kind, Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said gently. “Do we go to my Aunt Gardiner?”
“Yes, and I am delighted to restore you to her care.”
Lydia looked out the window and blinked, but she did not say anything in response, and so Darcy said, “Is there anyone from home I could bring to you in London? Your mother, perhaps, or your father? Your sisters? I could bring them all to you as soon as may be.”
She turned back with a startled look on her face. “I—I would like Lizzy to come to me, sir, though I do not know whether she will want to see me.”
“Of course she will want to see you. She was beside herself when she heard you were lost.”
“Beside herself? For me?”
“I was half afraid she would make herself sick.”
“Do you—” The girl looked at her companion as if to gather reassurance. “Do you think they will want me to come home, sir?”
“What? Of course they will! I know they will. They will be celebrating very shortly if I am not mistaken. As soon as you walk through your uncle’s door, I shall write an express to your father. I should have done so in Horsham, but I was very anxious to get you to London.”
“I have been gone for some weeks, sir. I think an afternoon cannot matter so much to them.”
“A minute of not knowing what has happened to you matters a great deal to your family. Of that I can assure you.”
After half an hour of silence, Lydia spoke again.
“How did you find me, sir?”
“Your uncle and his retainers combed London for you, while I went to Hickstead and spoke to everyone I could find. I believe the man’s name was Parch? He said he had taken you to Horsham.”
To Darcy’s astonishment, Lydia’s face brightened, and she spoke joyfully. “Mr. Parch? You spoke to Mr. Parch? I was so put out with him for leaving me, but I owe my life to Mr. Parch, I think, though he could hardly afford to offer me anything. He gave me food, even though he was hungry, and went for two whole days off his route. Poor Bill”—she sighed—“he had the worst of it.”
“Bill?”
