Chapter 29

For a moment no one moved or spoke. Then Mr Bennet turned on his heel and left. Elizabeth half-rose to follow him then subsided into her chair. Darcy drew up a chair beside hers and took her hand. "I think you are wise, my dear," he said. "If he were willing to speak, he would have stayed. Perhaps tomorrow when emotions have calmed."

"I fear we Bennets are not displaying ourselves to advantage," said Elizabeth unhappily.

"Then it is fortunate that I am marrying one Bennet who is." He kissed the hand he held. "You must be exhausted. I do not want you to go but you really should rest. I know you will want to return to Gracechurch Street tomorrow." He paused and looked a little uneasy. "Would you like me to accompany you?"

He still held her hand, so this time she lifted his hand and gentle kissed the knuckles. "I wish you could, but we both know that no one else will want you there." She looked up at him. "Promise me we will leave for Pemberley the moment it is possible, wedding clothes or not."

"I promise." He pulled her gently to her feet and they embraced. His arms round her shoulders, hers round his waist, before she left to make her weary way upstairs. Her maid was waiting, and must have been warned of her exhaustion for her nightgown was ready, a brick warming the sheets of the luxurious bed, and she was undressed and asleep within minutes.

Next morning the Bennet sisters met in Elizabeth's room before breakfast and Jane had the unpleasant task of explaining to Mary and Kitty what had happened to Lydia. In view of their mother's reaction to Mr Bennet's comments, Elizabeth believed she had no choice but to inform them something of what had happened in that regard. Both were shocked, even Mary's moralising was silenced, and it was a quiet group who came down to breakfast a little before nine a.m.

As the butler led them to the family dining room, they heard their uncle Gardiner's furious voice as he entered the library. "For heaven's sake, Bennet," he said. "You knew what she was when you married her. What possessed you...." Then the door closed and they heard no more. Kitty began to cry and Jane led her back upstairs to compose herself.

Georgiana and Darcy were taking breakfast when they arrived and Elizabeth was deeply thankful that they were behind enough closed doors to have kept Mr Gardiner's voice from them. Georgiana said enough by way of enquiry after Lydia to reveal that she had not been told the nature of her illness and Elizabeth resolved to warn her sisters.

"I have ordered the carriage for half-past ten," said Darcy. "I hope that is convenient."

"Yes, thank you."

"Do Miss Mary and Miss Catherine accompany you?"

"They are both anxious to see Lydia and our mother. I doubt we will be back until evening. I shall send word as soon as I know what we are about."

Gracechurch Street was a happier place that it had been the previous day, if only because the children had returned and were delighted to see all their cousins at once. Amidst the clinging arms and demands for stories and insistent descriptions of their recent stay with their other grandmother, Elizabeth had some difficulty escaping to visit their mother and Lydia.

Lydia was pale and tired but, thanks no doubt in part to her youth, seemed on the way back to health. The doctor had visited already and pronounced himself pleased with her recovery and that, should her recovery proceed as expected, Lydia could leave within a fortnight. In the meantime she was to rest. Mrs Bennet, while no longer as quiet as she had been, was much more subdued than usual and seemed content to stay with Lydia and see to her comfort.

When Lydia fell asleep, shortly after luncheon and visits from Mary and Kitty, Elizabeth and Jane took their mother aside and attempted to discover her thoughts. To their horror, they found that she expected she and Mr Bennet would separate and merely hoped that, wherever she was to be settled, she would be allowed to see her daughters.

"For Mr Bennet was so very angry at how you girls were brought up that I am sure he will not want me to have anything more to do with you all."

"Oh mama. I promise you, there will be at least two daughters who will not be denied you." It was, reflected Elizabeth, something of a reversal for her to be taking her mother's part against her father, and while she did not wish her mother to feel deserted by them all, she could not deny that a part of her was horrified at the idea that Mrs Bennet might expect to come and live with her and Mr Darcy at Pemberley. She attempted to chide herself for her lack of charity and failed miserably.

It was all the more gratifying, therefore, when Mr Gardiner returned with happier news. Although he refused to discuss the details with his nieces, he gave them to understand that a reconciliation of sorts had been agreed. There would be no separation but neither would they be returning to Meryton for a while. Instead, a house had been rented in Scarborough for the period of Lydia's recuperation and they would repair there after the weddings. Mrs Annesley, who believed herself superfluous now that Mr Darcy was marrying, was to go with them to act as both governess and guide, and Mrs Bennet had undertaken not to interfere with any guidance she might give.

Elizabeth had a suspicion as to who had suggested this solution and, indeed, who was probably paying for it, since a chance remark some days ago had hinted that Mrs Annesley's services were somewhat expensive. However, in the general heartfelt relief, she did not feel obliged to ask, nor, she realised, did she greatly care.

When they got back to Darcy House, after dining at Gracechurch Street she found her father had already gone to bed and it was not long before Mary, Kitty and Jane went up too. Mr Darcy, however, was waiting for her and he had a letter from her father.

With some trepidation, she followed him into the sitting room, saw that all doors were closed, sat down before the fire, and opened her letter.

My Dear Child,

I cannot deny I was shocked by your words last night. I hope you know that I would never strike your mother or any lady. However, also I cannot deny I was greatly disturbed by what I found when I visited your mother and Lydia on Sunday night. In all their foolish plans, neither of them seemed aware that Lydia can never expect to marry any gentleman of fortune, or indeed any gentleman of ordinary prudence, and refused to believe me when I attempted to explain.

It was this more than anything which revealed to me the extent to which Lydia's education, (and no doubt that of Kitty and perhaps Mary too,) has failed to give her any true understanding of morality or even ordinary propriety. I was extremely angry, at your mother of course, but also at myself. As your young man pointed out, my own failure was perhaps even harder to swallow.

It is easy to make promises of amendment, although somewhat harder to do so to one's own daughter, and it is even harder to keep them. However, I fully intend to take a greater part in the education of my remaining daughters, in the hope that they will turn out half as well as you and Jane.

Your loving father,

Thomas Bennet.

She sighed wearily and handed the letter to Darcy. "Do you think he can be trusted?"

He read it and she loved that he would not rush into easy reassurances. "Indolence is perhaps the hardest habit to break but we can always intervene later should it prove necessary." He handed the letter back.

"And after all, we have a spy in the camp now." He barely had time to blush before she added, "Do not think that I am complaining. If Mrs Annesley is willing, then it is an excellent solution." She smiled. "And one worthy of my Machiavellian betrothed."

He bent over her chair and kissed her swiftly on the lips. "I prefer to think of myself as prudent."

"Cunning."

He kissed her again. "Far-sighted."

"Manipulative."

That one did bring him up short. "Do you really think so? I am attempting to abandon the habit of arranging other people's lives without their consent. I trust I have not failed at this early juncture."

"I suspect my father and uncle were well-aware of what was happening." She shrugged and watched in surprise as, for some reason, that made him shiver and clasp his hands behind his back. "And even if they were not, I must confess that I am glad of any solution that does not involve my Mama coming to live with us." She looked up at him, half-laughing, half-anxious. "Does that make me a bad person?"

He looked at he for a moment, his expression tender. Then, to her surprise, walked behind her. She twisted in her chair to look, only to blush and twist back when she saw what he was carrying.

He set the footstool before her chair and lifted her bodily, and with exciting ease, so that she stood upon it. Then, standing before her, he brushed her hair from her forehead, for in the course of a long day if had escaped its pins, took her head in his hands and kissed her once. "No, my love. It makes you human." He kissed her again. "And delightful." He kissed her again. "And if you wish continue these private interviews, please refrain from shrugging your shoulders when I am standing over you. The view is extremely provocative and I am only human too."

He laughed when she looked down to see what he meant but, when she looked up, he kissed her again and then again. His mouth was hot and wet and she twined her arms round his neck, raking the fingers of one hand through his curls. He made sound deep in his throat and pressed her closer, one warm hand in the small of her back. Heat poured off him and into her as she slid her tongue over and about his. Her legs were trembling and when one of his hands smoothed up over the muslin of her gown and touched her breast, they gave way altogether.

He caught her as she would have fallen and set her back in her chair. Then he knelt before her, gathered her hands in his and rested his forehead on them. She was breathing as though she had been running, and so was he but it was not until she began to feel chilled and shivered that he looked up. "I have not frightened you?" he said.

"I feel I ought to answer yes, but no, I am not afraid of you. I am a little afraid of us, but only because this is all so new. Is it always like this?"

"I don't know. It has never been like this before, but then it has never been love before, it has never been you before."

She considered that for a moment. "I have always known.... I mean you are a gentleman, and gentlemen are considered different, and I knew there might have been....." She paused helplessly. "I don't know any polite words."

"There are very few polite words. Elizabeth, I cannot claim that I was not as foolish as most young men. I was." He kissed her hand again. "But I was never a libertine, even at my most foolish. It was never ...." He too was groping for words. "It was never at the expense of any woman's peace of mind or future happiness. And now there is you and it will only ever be you."

"Even when I have grown fat and ugly bearing your children?"

He smiled fondly. "So you've decided we are going to have children now?"

"Not if you don't immediately reassure me that bearing them will not alter your regard."

"I promise faithfully to become more besotted with each child." His smile faded and he swallowed. "I should dearly like to kiss you again, dearest, but I think I had better not."

"Perhaps you are right." She stood up and shook out her skirts as he leaned back upon his heels and smiled up at her. "But there is no reason why I should not kiss you." So she bent down, kissed him on the nose and ran out of the room before he could regain his feet.