“Come, let us wait outside the parlour door,” she suggested.
Fifteen minutes later, Jane and Mr. Bingley emerged from the parlour, both beaming with happiness and their lips suspiciously swollen. They were immediately surrounded by Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty. Laughing with joy, the girls congratulated the happy couple.
“But not until February, of course,” Jane said, giggling with happiness.
“Does that mean you’ll have to wear black at your wedding? Or no, I suppose perhaps lavender, right?” Kitty asked.
“Yes, lavender. It will look lovely with Jane’s golden hair,” Elizabeth said.
This led to a spirited discussion of what flowers might be available in February to decorate the church. The unspoken question on everyone’s mind was whether Elizabeth would be a bride in February as well.
***
Upon his return to Netherfield, Mr. Bingley’s countenance told the story at once. “I take it that congratulations are in order, Charles?” Mrs. Hurst asked him.
“Yes, and thank you!”
“You will be a very happy man,” Mr. Darcy said. “Miss Bennet is perfect for you in every way.”
“And what about you, Darcy?” Mr. Bingley, secure in his own happiness, wished nothing more than for his best friend to have the same.
“You know my situation, I believe,” Mr. Darcy replied, gravely.
“I am sorry, Darcy. That was thoughtless of me.”
Mr. Darcy simply nodded his head. Indeed, the issue of Lydia’s absence was rarely far from his mind. He would be delighted to marry Miss Elizabeth no matter what, but he knew quite well that she might not accept his offer – again! – if it would injure Georgiana.
Chapter Forty-Six
Mrs. Hodges wants you downstairs directly,” Mr. Durston said.
Lydia thought back over the past few days and could not think of anything that she had done wrong. “Downstairs – where?” she asked.
“The drawing room; the Countess of Matlock is with her.”
“She wants me in the drawing room?” Lydia was astonished. “Doubtless something needs to be cleaned; should I bring anything?”
“She did not say so. Hurry, girl! You are wasting everyone’s time!”
Lydia straightened her skirts and checked that her hair was under her cap before making her way down the servant’s staircase and into the drawing room. There she found Mrs. Hodges, who was frowning mightily; Lady Greenfield, who was looking puzzled; and the older woman she had seen in the ladies’ retiring room at the ball, who was evidently the Countess of Matlock. She could not begin to imagine why she had been summoned, but she kept her eyes down as she curtsied to the group.
“It is Lydia, is it not?” the Countess asked.
“Yes, my lady. Lydia Lucas.” Her voice shook.
“I think not; I think it is Lydia Bennet.” The older woman spoke with great certainty.
“I am Lydia Lucas now,” she said, her voice shaking. How had she been discovered? “I trust I have given satisfaction in my work, Mrs. Hudson?”
The Countess went on. “Miss Lydia, I shall speak with you privately. Lady Greenfield, if you would grant us the use of the drawing room for a brief period?”
“Of course, my lady,” Lady Greenfield replied at once. “Anything you need.”
What was this countess doing here, and how had she known how to find her? Why would she even care? But, in any case, Lydia realised that she had been discovered, and she and her sisters were ruined.
When it was just the two of them in the room, the lady said, “Please sit, Miss Lydia.”
Lydia sat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
