Lydia shot her a pleading look overflowing with desperation, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“You do not suppose you can keep this a secret, do you? Papa will return with the gentlemen before long, and he will not remain silent.”
“I knew something was amiss!” shrilled Mrs. Bennet. “Lydia, what have you done?”
“Nothing irreversible, Mama,” soothed Jane.
“But Lydiahashad an adventure this morning,” said Elizabeth. “And we had best inform you of it.”
Brevity, as the bard had expounded, was the soul of wit, and even if Elizabeth did not feel witty, she attempted to explain the matter as succinctly as she could manage. Before long, she had laid the facts of the morning’s events, the reason for Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence, and the truth of George Wickham’s intrigues. To say Lydia’s intentions horrified her mother conveyed nothing of the truth of her reaction.
“Lydia!” screeched she before Elizabeth had even finished relating the salient point. “How could you?”
“He was so very handsome, Mama,” whined Lydia.
“Attraction to a man is all well and good,” said Mrs. Bennet. “What I cannot understand is why you would maintain an interest in Mr. Wickham. Can you not see how interested Mr. Darcy is in your sister? Do you not suppose you can do much better than a lowly militia officer?”
“Mama!” exclaimed Elizabeth, feeling her cheeks heat. “Mr. Darcy has made no overtures to me.”
“Perhaps he has not,” interjected Georgiana, mimicking Jane’s earlier assertion. “But I know my brother; his wishes are not opaque. And I would not object to having you as a sister!”
Elizabeth did not know how to react, for she suspected Georgiana knewexactlywhat had passed between her and Mr. Darcy at Hunsford. Mrs. Bennet looked on, watching them all with self-satisfied contentment, though she occasionally glared at Lydia. Jane appeared pleased, while Mary and Kitty displayed various levels of curiosity and surprise.
“Lizzy is to marry Mr. Darcy?” ventured Kitty after a moment’s hesitation.
“We have no understanding,” said Elizabeth. “I beg you all to drop this subject, for it is not proper. I have no notion of what the future will hold, but at present, any such talk is highly premature.”
“That is likely for the best,” said Mrs. Bennet, the most implausible person in the room to make such a statement. “It would be best to allow Mr. Darcy to come to the point in his own time.”
Kitty giggled, and Georgiana whispered something in her ear, provoking her to even greater merriment. Ignoring the girls, Mrs. Bennet once again fixed a gimlet eye on her youngest.
“I hope you have learned something, Lydia.”
The girl scowled and pouted. “You must all think I am senseless,” grumbled she.
“For my part,” said Georgiana, “I have no room to judge. If you recall, Mr. Wickham used me as he tried to use you; that renders me unfit to comment.”
“Perhaps you have been silly, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, nodding at Georgiana. “Our most poignant feelings, however, are concern for you and relief that you have escaped a horrible fate at Mr. Wickham’s hand. Can you now understand he never meant to marry you?”
“I suppose I must,” said Lydia. “What do you think was his purpose?”
Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana, who shot her a grim look, proving she understood Mr. Wickham’s motive as well as Elizabeth did herself. “It would be better to wait for the gentlemen to return, Lydia,” said she. “I would not wish to speculate until we have all the facts.”
The girl huffed her annoyance, but she did not protest. For a time, the ladies sat together in quiet conversation, Lydia slowly gravitating to the younger girls, drawn into their conversation. Elizabeth considered all that had happened, and for her personally, the even more profound experience of speaking with Mr. Darcy that morning. While any interpretation of her feelings was impossible and much time would pass before they would provide clarity, she knew she was closer to accepting Mr. Darcy’s interest and more open to the possibility of welcoming his attentions than she had ever been before.
The gentlemen did not return until some time after luncheon, sporting tight expressions of those repressing potent emotions. The moment they entered the room, Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose in a clamor, demanding they account for what had happened that day. Mr. Bennet looked to Elizabeth, who nodded to inform him that their mother knew everything she knew, to which he shrugged his understanding they could not keep it from her.
“Yes, Mrs. Bennet, we come bearing word of the despicable Wickham. Some of what we have to say will shock you, to say the least, but we no longer need to worry about him. A transfer to the front lines in Spain is likely in Wickham’s immediate future, and failing that, a ticket to Van Diemen’s Land, with no hope of ever returning.”
Mr. Bennet paused and shook his head. “Given what I have heard of conditions in the penal colonies, he may wish he had the opportunity for a quick end in Spain if they consign him to the other side of the world.”
“Does he deserve such punishment?” asked Lydia, the timorous question so unlike her usual bravado.
“Do youstillharbor affection for that libertine?” asked Mr. Bennet, his question deceptively mild.
“No!” exclaimed Lydia. “But it is a hard thing to be sentenced to such misery.”
“When you have heard all we have to relate, you will judge differently.” Mr. Bennet regarded her for a long moment, then his countenance softened, and he said: “Itishard, Lydia, but you must understand that sometimes, a man demands justice by his actions. From what I have heard of this Mr. Wickham, his debt is such that even such a punishment as this may be inadequate.”
