Page 9 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

Lydia fled. She raced down the narrow lane, across the green, around the corner of the coaching inn, and vanished from sight.

Thomas faced the officer.

“Lydia is underage. I know you travel to London, so your intentions toward her are dishonorable. You do not intend marriage.”

The man snorted. “Marriage? Of course not. She is a poor country maid. I must marry money.”

“Then let my daughter go. She has no dowry. Release her and seek your fortune with a woman of means. You have the looks and manners to attract any lady.”

“I need money to dress the part, or I shall never attract an heiress. I also need a horse.”

“I have thirty pounds with me. You may have every penny. Only return my daughter.”

The man snorted again. “Your daughter is worth one hundred pounds to me. An elegant madam in London awaits the delivery of just such a girl as Lydia. She is young, beautiful, healthy, plainly a gentleman's daughter, and, more important still, entirely inexperienced. A virgin.”

Bennet flushed with anger. “You have lured my daughter away from her family and her home to condemn her to a life of prostitution? You are the very devil.”

Wickham drew a pistol from his pocket and fired. Thomas Bennet also drew a pistol and fired.

Lydia screamed.

Mr. Bennet collapsed to the ground, blood spreading from the wound in his chest.

She dropped to her knees. “Papa!”

George Wickham seized her arm and pulled her from her father's side. He thrust her away, and she fell to the ground. Wickham searched the fallen man, who struggled for breath. He took the bundle of banknotes, then caught hold of Lydia again and dragged her away.

Lydia's weeping reached Bennet's ears.

Why had she not run? Now he lay dying from a mortal wound, and Lydia was not saved. Her sisters would be penniless. Her mother would lose her home.

He had sacrificed his very life, but Lydia was not saved.

Chapter 4: Tattersall's

“What is it, Darcy? Bowed tendons?” Bingley asked.

Darcy ran his hand down the horse's cannon bone. “Splints,” he said. “And I can feel some heat.”

He straightened and walked away from the horse.

Bingley followed. “I say, Darcy, there is a little estate in Hertfordshire, not three miles beyond Hertford. I have a mind to purchase it.”

Darcy had already begun examining a handsome hack. Bingley fell into step beside him as Darcy walked slowly around the horse, taking in its conformation.

“The steward writes that the house is in good condition, as are the stables.”

Darcy crouched to examine the horse's hocks. Was that a spavin? He looked up at the groom assisting him.

“What is the history of this horse?”

“It is a bone spavin, sir,” the groom replied. “He has remained sound despite it.”

Darcy rose and moved on to the next animal.

“What think you, Darcy?” Bingley asked.

“Charles, I believe you would do better to lease the estate for a year or two before purchasing it. You may discover that estate management is not to your liking. Or you may decide you would rather own land in another part of the country. You might even become my neighbor if you found an estate near Bakewell.”