Darcy's Trial (3 page)

Elizabeth straightened, shaking her head. ‘But how is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be found? No, she is lost, and our family must share in her disgrace. Henceforth no respectable person will have anything to do with us.’

‘In that case I must renounce any claim to respectability,’ Bridget returned, meeting her eye intently, ‘for I would dearly love to count you as my friend.’

Elizabeth stared at her in astonishment. ‘But last night you seemed only too eager to keep our two parties quite separate.’

Bridget lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘My brother-in-law is not altogether to be relied on. Although at root a decent man, he is prone to drink more than he should, whereupon he is easily provoked to give offence. I did consider joining your table, but having deserted my party for most of the day I felt obliged to stay with them.’

Elizabeth felt her body relax, and took a deep breath. ‘I fear we will have to leave Ambleside as soon as can be arranged, but if you agree, I would love to write to you. I have so valued our time together.’

Bridget smiled back. ‘Then write we shall.’

They heard footsteps in the hall, and Bridget rose as an anxious Mrs Gardiner entered the parlour. Wiping away her tears, Elizabeth bade her friend a grateful farewell and steeled herself to impart the bad news.

On reaching Longbourn, the travellers found the household in confusion. Mr Bennet had left for London, in an attempt to trace Wickham and Lydia’s route from Clapham, where they had been observed last. Mrs Bennet had retired to her dressing room, where she ranted hysterically over the extent of her sufferings, the folly of not permitting her to accompany Lydia to Brighton, and her conviction that Mr Bennet would be killed in a duel with Wickham, after which Mr Collins would inherit Longbourn and turn them all out.

Jane, looking pale and weary, led Elizabeth to a quiet corner of the garden, and unfolded the main part of the story. They had received a visit from Colonel Forster, who had been kind and apologetic, but unable to report any information of value from his enquiries among the other officers. He brought a letter from Lydia to Mrs Foster, now in Jane’s possession, making clear Lydia’s belief that they were to be married in Gretna Green, but giving no clue as to their present whereabouts. It was now known that Wickham had left behind debts at Meryton, and news of the elopement had spread rapidly around the neighbourhood, and no doubt further afield.

Although the situation was as hopeless as she had feared, Elizabeth was glad to be back home, where she could take some of the load off Jane. She was also relieved that Mrs Gardiner decided to stay on, with the children, while Mr Gardiner proceeded to London to assist Mr Bennet. Since enquiries at hotels had yielded nothing, Mr Gardiner had written to Colonel Forster in the hope of finding men in the regiment who might know of Wickham’s other associates. Post followed post without further communication bar a letter from Mr Collins, which Jane had permission to open. While Elizabeth had no desire to read this foolish homily from start to finish, a superficial scan revealed one or two choice phrases such as ‘The death of your daughter would have been a blessing by comparison’, and ‘Who will connect themselves with such a family?’—the latter graciously offered by no less a personage than Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

With nothing learned from Colonel Forster’s enquiries, except for fresh revelations of Wickham’s debts, Mr Bennet elected to return to Longbourn, while Mrs Gardiner, keen to return to her home, met him halfway so that he could return in his own coach. Just two days later, an express from Mr Gardiner brought startlingly good news. Wickham and Lydia had been found, and were shortly to be married. His debts were less than had been feared, and he asked from Mr Bennet only Lydia’s share of the £5000 settled on the sisters, along with a small yearly allowance. On hearing this news Mrs Bennet could hardly contain her joy. Instead Elizabeth, cringing at these effusions, wondered along with her father how much money Mr Gardiner must have secretly contributed in order to bring about this welcome conclusion.

During the following week, Elizabeth gradually recovered her health and peace of mind, as the disturbing flux of events settled down. Mr Bennet resumed his books, Elizabeth her rambles, and Mrs Bennet continued to fret on when the nuptuals would take place, and whether Mrs Gardiner had followed her recommendations in the matter of Lydia’s wedding clothes.

Although Elizabeth had told Jane of her visit to Dove Cottage, she was wary of elaborating on her conversations with Bridget, and her hopes for their friendship. She often recalled the scene of their final meeting in the inn, partly with embarrassment that in her distress she had revealed her family’s disgrace to a very recent acquaintance, and partly with gratitude to Bridget for her kindness. However, she worried that after cold deliberation, as well as discussions with her husband, Bridget might have had second thoughts—and so, reluctantly, she decided to let Bridget initiate their correspondence, and was upset that day followed day without any post from the Lakes.

Meanwhile, a stream of letters from Mr Gardiner kept them up-to-date with plans for Wickham’s career, details of the settlement, and arrangements for the wedding. It was decided that the couple would move to the north of England, where Wickham would take up his commission in the regulars. However, as a signal that the match was accepted by her parents, Lydia and Wickham would visit Longbourn directly after the ceremony, and remain there several days before proceeding north—thus providing Mrs Bennet with some consolation in the opportunity to show off her married daughter in the neighbourhood.

The day arrived, and by dinner-time the family were reunited. After embracing her mother in a fit of giggles, Lydia was received less warmly by her father and her sisters. Mr Bennet and Mary openly disapproved, Kitty was jealous, while Jane and Elizabeth maintained a stony silence. Wickham simpered and flattered in a manner so repellent to Elizabeth that she sought every excuse to avoid his company. On one occasion however, cornered by Lydia in the conservatory, she politely listened to an account of the wedding.

‘It was at St Clement’s, you know, because Wickham was lodged there. We had to arrive on the Monday at eleven, and my aunt accompanied me in the carriage and kept telling me how I should behave, but I heard not one word in ten because I was thinking of my dear Wickham and whether he would be wearing his blue coat. And before that, I was worried that the wedding might not happen at all, for my uncle, who was to give me away, was called away on business, and we had the church only for the hour. But luckily he came back ten minutes later and we set out in time. However, I thought afterwards that the wedding could have proceeded anyway, for Mr Darcy might have done as well.’

‘Mr Darcy!’ repeated Elizabeth in amazement.

‘Oh yes, he came with Wickham, you know. But oh Lord, I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. They made me promise so faithfully!’

‘Then I had better forget you told me, and we will think no more of it,’ Elizabeth said.

However, for the rest of the evening Elizabeth could think of little else. She wondered whether to inform her father, but having given her word to Lydia, decided on reflection that it would be better to seek further information. Accordingly, she sat down and penned a quick note to her aunt.

Almost by return, Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving a reply, comprising two sheets closely written as follows:

Gracechurch Street

My Dear Niece,

I am relieved to have the opportunity to inform at least one member of your family what has happened, but please let this go no further than yourself, or Jane at most.

On the very evening of his return, Mr Gardiner was visited by Mr Darcy, who had obtained his name and address from Colonel Forster. After introducing himself, Mr Darcy explained that he had heard of Lydia’s plight through his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and from his knowledge of Wickham’s friends, in particular a certain Mrs Younge, had managed to locate the couple and interview them separately. Lydia, he discovered, had no wish to leave, and was naively certain that they would marry sooner or later. Wickham, of course, refused to consider any such tie without financial inducement. Having negotiated a settlement, Mr Darcy wished to consult your uncle, whom he felt more able to approach than your father.

While obviously gladdened by this development, your uncle was hard pressed to understand why Mr Darcy should go to such trouble on our behalf. Mr Darcy responded that it was through his own pride, his own embarrassment over his youthful friendship with Wickham, and their subsequent dealings, that he had allowed Wickham to ingratiate himself with your family, and others in the neighbourhood, without publicising his true character. The fault was his; thus so must the remedy be. Over the following days, after my return, we begged him again and again to allow us to share the burden, or at least to tell you to whom we were indebted; but he would have none of it. At length your uncle was forced to give in, and we were left in the uncomfortable position of taking all the credit for the settlement, while bearing none of the cost.

Please understand, Lizzy, that despite Mr Darcy’s stubbornness, your uncle would never have relented had we not suspected
another motive
. I can only guess what this motive might have been, but since (or so I am informed) you were often in Mr Darcy’s company during your stay at Rosings, you may have insights into this enigma that are not available to me.

Be that as it may, the settlement was duly implemented, and the couple wed. I cannot favour you with an exact figure, but with Wickham’s debts paid, his commission purchased, and who knows what else, the expense must have been considerable—and all at Mr Darcy’s account.

The children have been awaiting a bedtime story for the last half-hour, so I must close now, with our best wishes as always.

Yours very sincerely,
M. Gardiner

In trembling shock, Elizabeth folded the letter and put it out of sight. What disgust and humiliation Darcy must have suffered, in addition to the expense he had born, merely in order that her foolish and irresponsible sister should be married, and her family thus restored to some measure of respectability. Transparently he was under no obligation to act thus: the motive must lie elsewhere. Yet if he had done it for her, if he still had hopes of winning her hand, what possible interest could he have in furthering Lydia’s marriage to
Wickham
, of all people? To be brother-in-law of Wickham! Every fibre of his being must revolt against such a connection.

Still, however inexplicable Darcy’s actions, they were unselfish and noble to an extraordinary degree, and it pained her that her family might never know to whom they were indebted.

A week passed in comparative normality, except that the house seemed unnaturally quiet after Lydia’s departure. Elizabeth took up
Lyrical Ballads
again, finding a new fascination in the poems now that she had seen the landscape that was their inspiration, and even touched the hand that had first set them down on paper. Sometimes she read them aloud to her father, in the privacy of his study, hoping in this way to distract him from the guilt she knew he must feel. For the rest, she enjoyed long walks with Jane, in which to the relief of both, any mention of Bingley, or his sisters, or his friends, was carefully avoided.

On returning from such a walk, Elizabeth learned that a letter had arrived for her from London, and ran excitedly to her room to open it in privacy.

Cavendish Square.

Dear Elizabeth,

We are finally back in town, and my Georgie has flourished in my absence, which makes me happy, yet declares he has missed me sorely, which also makes me happy.

My husband, who is empowered to decide such things, has informed me that we are to remain in town another month. I complain just to tease him, but between you and me I am glad, for there are exhibitions by Gainsborough and Turner that I wish to see, and a new production of Hamlet at the Theatre Royal.

This also means that we will be
available for visits
, should you wish to flee the slings and arrows of o.f., or indeed come to town for whatever reason.

My thanks again for your company on the ramble, which was the highlight of my tour, and I hope that the little problem mentioned at our parting has proved more tractable than it seemed at the time.

with best wishes, Bridget Beaumont

After reading this, then re-reading it to make sure, Elizabeth surprised herself by performing a jig round the room, such was her delight. After reflecting often on the outing to Dove cottage, she had come to understand better what drew her to this new friend. Most obviously, they had enjoyed one another’s company, sharing a boisterous sense of fun, and predilection for teasing, as well as a love of books and long walks. But more subtly, Elizabeth sensed in Bridget a route to a different social circle, animated by ideas that were at once exciting and shocking. It was as if she had passed her whole life in a room that represented the totality of all her possible futures, and that now the door had opened a smidgen, revealing unexpected options outside.

Once she had calmed down, Elizabeth’s first impulse was to take up paper and quill, and recount all the momentous twists and turns of the past few weeks. But having covered four sides in half an hour she paused, another plan germinating in her mind. Taking up a fresh sheet, she composed instead a much shorter note, not to Bridget but to her aunt.

Three days later, a hackney delivered Elizabeth to Darcy House, which was located in Mayfair on the edge of Hyde Park. Before knocking, she tried to calm her nerves by walking a few yards down Grosvenor Street towards the park, far enough to get a view through the trees to the Serpentine. Since the afternoon was cool and overcast she had brought her spencer jacket and Mrs Gardiner’s pocket umbrella, planning later to proceed on foot to the Beaumont town house just a few hundred yards distant.