“His little donkey. Such a tired, old thing. If I had a mint of money, I would see Bill retired in a nice pasture with a shelter and carrots and all the hay he could eat. Of course, I would see Mr. Parch with a little something to keep him body and soul together too. I never saw anyone kill a rabbit before, and when we had to sleep under the potato cart, I wondered how that man had lived to such an age.”
Good lord, had she really slept under a potato cart? “He—he did not importune you then?”
“Mr. Parch?” she asked incredulously. “He kept as far away from me as possible and told me half a dozen times a day he did not want a wife.”
“Were you hurt at any time you were…away?”
“Well, no, not really. I mean Mr. Wickham treated me horribly, but”—she looked down at her hands—“there are those that would say I deserved what I got from him. Leastways he threw me out of the coach before anything really terrible happened. Anyway, some carters chased me, but I ran deep into a field of barley and lay down so they did not find me. And then the farmers chased me off, and no one would take me up until Mr. Parch came by. Nobody in Cowfold would help me either, though I asked everybody.”
“I found them to be a very unhelpful bunch.”
“Why, so did I, Mr. Darcy! We even went to the monastery, and the monk sniffed at me and said they were Carthusians and sent me away. What is a Carthusian, sir?”
“They are literary monks. They sit in their cells and copy out manuscripts.”
“I suppose it is just as well I did not end up thrown on their mercy then, but I do not know how writing a letter to my father would have hurt anybody.”
“Nor do I. What did you make in the workhouse?”
“Gloves, sir. Linen gloves for the shop girls and such. I got better at it as I went.”
“Did you?”
“Well, I was taught as a child to sew at least, and Matron had no cause to dock me for poor stitches. But she did dock me for talking back to her twice, and I learned to bite my tongue. Mr. Perkins said I could buy paper when I earned enough and he would send my letter by the penny post. But I could never get the fee because, you know, Dora needed a salve for her elbow, and that was that.” She stopped speaking abruptly and looked across at him with a look of self-consciousness. “I am prattling on and on, Mr. Darcy. I had thought I learned not to be such a chatterbox, but after the first two hours of my freedom, I am myself again.”
“I am glad to see you are. I wonder whether I might coax you to chatter a little more. Why do you wish only for your sister Elizabeth?”
“Oh, well, I think Lizzy is the only one of my sisters who understands me. There is something I must say to her as well, which is that she was very right and I was very wrong. Will you really fetch her?”
“I shall if your father will give me that privilege, yes.”
“Well, if you do go to Longbourn, would you tell my sisters that I long to see them too, only I think Lizzy will scold me properly as I deserve, and that I had rather get that over with before I go home. I am afraid Jane will be very sweet to me, and Mary will give me a neat little sermon to try to redeem me, and Kitty will be glad to see me, and Mama will be overcome with happiness, and I will be crushed to death by their kindness. Even Papa will likely tell me I am the stupidest girl he ever knew and leave it at that. Only Lizzy will say what is true, and that is what I most want to hear.”
Who is this girl?Darcy wondered. And more to the point, how would he explain to Mr. Bennet that his Lydia was so altered? At least, he had not found her in the morgue or in a brothel. Perhaps God was occasionally in the mood to dispense a boon even to someone as undeserving as a rich man.
***
Darcy had left Horsham with Lydia Bennet at nine-thirty in the morning. They had stopped once for a meal and arrived late in the afternoon at Mr. Gardiner’s house in Cheapside.
“If you do not mind, perhaps I should go in first and tell them you are with me?”
“Oh, yes, pray do so, Mr. Darcy. I want a moment to compose myself. I am afraid I shall burst into some very noisy weeping, and I do not want to upset my uncle.”
“Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Gardiner said from the hallway. “What is afoot? I did not expect you until Sunday.
“I have your niece. Forgive me for not sending an express. Only I was so out of my mind, first with worry and then with relief—”
“You have her?”
“She appears to be whole and only a little the worse for wear.”
Mr. Gardiner swept past Darcy and ran to the curb, and Lydia opened the coach door and fell into her uncle’s arms. Despite her efforts otherwise, she broke into sobs of joy and severely discomposed the entire household who had streamed out of the house to witness the homecoming. Everyone was sniffling and wiping their eyes, and when Mrs. Gardiner ran out too, the scene was enacted all over again.
Everyone spoke all at once and finally Darcy, seeing that Sally Watkins looked to be shrinking in the background, went and stood next to her and directed her into the house. Eventually Mrs. Gardiner noticed that Lydia was not alone.
“Oh, Aunt,” Lydia said wiping her eyes, “this is Sally Watkins. Mr. Darcy brought her with me for comfort, and she has been very kind to me. Might she stay the night, ma’am?”
“You are very welcome, Sally, and yes, Lydia, she may stay for as many days as you like. Are you hungry?” She took the women away and left Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy standing in the parlor.
