The Library
Longbourn
Midnight
The familiar leather of his favorite armchair wrapped around him like a hug, familiar and intimate. A leather-bound volume lay open on the desk before him, an old friend summoning his attention like a siren song and behind it reared a stack of more books he wished to read. Shadows flickered against the wall behind him, the high-built fire filling the room with warm light. A glass with a measure of his favorite brandy at his right hand. Everything, in short, that usually made him perfectly happy. And yet…
Mr. Bennet felt, for the first time in his life, that he might actually faint. He heard the words, and his brain more or less recognized them, but the meaning was ... it simply ... it was...
"Impossible," he muttered. "Impossible."
The Adler twins exchanged glances, and Sophia said gently, "I fear that it is more than possible, it is likely. Miss Lydia has admitted to being intimate with Mr. Wickham, and she has not had her courses for eight weeks."
Disbelief gave way to quick anger. "You were supposed to be looking after her, both of you!"
"Sir," Phoebe said firmly, "if Miss Lydia is indeed with child, she was impregnated before we arrived at Longbourn."
Bennet dropped his face into his hands and began muttering imprecations under his breath. Eight weeks meant that, yes, the timing for conception fell in those short weeks between his trip to London and the arrival of the governesses. He remembered his frustration that the new governesses would not arrive until mid-March, but he had been such a lazy fool, as he always was! He could have restrained Lydia, he could have watched over her, but no, he had sat in his library and read his books and convinced himself that his younger daughters could come to no real harm in a few short weeks. And now Lydia had ruined them all.
"We are ruined," he said bleakly. "My poor elder daughters, to be besmirched by their fool of a sister!"
Again, the twins looked at one another, and Phoebe said, "Mr. Bennet, that is not necessarily true. No one yet knows that Miss Lydia is pregnant, if indeed she is. Moreover, even she has no idea that she might be pregnant. If we can arrange to have her taken to London on some pretext, we can prevent the scandal here in Meryton, at least. Moreover, given Miss Elizabeth's great wealth, perhaps someone could be, well, bribed to marry Miss Lydia and accept the baby as his own."
"You say she does not even suspect she is with child?" Bennet demanded. Perhaps the governesses were merely starting at shadows, if even Lydia did not think it possible.
"Mr. Wickham told her, and she believed him, that it is impossible for a woman to conceive a child until she is at least seventeen years of age," Phoebe explained.
Bennet closed his eyes in disbelief and then opened them to say, "How did I father such a dolt?"
"There is no simple answer to that, sir," Sophia said, "but I beg you to turn your intellect toward saving the rest of your daughters from scandal and ruin."
Mr. Bennet peered at them with a sliver of optimism. "Do you truly think there is a possible way out, or are you merely trying to bring some hope in a hopeless situation?"
"We spent the last hours discussing the situation at length," Sophia said, "in the privacy of our bedchamber, of course, so no one could overhear us. Miss Mary has been writing frequently to her older sisters, and it seems that both are being pursued by eligible young men. Would it be so astonishing if you decided to travel to London to see how they are doing? Or perhaps you could pretend that you received a letter from them that inspired you to visit? And given how quiet and sickly Miss Lydia has been of late, it is reasonable enough that one of us convinced you to take Lydia to call on a doctor in London?"
Mr. Bennet blew out a breath and turned away to gaze into the fire, and then he turned back and said, "You do not think she should marry Wickham?"
Again, the twins glanced at one another, and Sophia said, "Sir, it is, of course, the common view that in such a situation the lady should marry the … I will not call him a gentleman, because he is not. But given that he has seduced a very young lady, not yet seventeen, and convinced her that he would marry her, well, I fear that he will refuse unless you hand over a great deal of money to him. Moreover, he will not make your daughter a good husband."
"She is a stubborn girl," Bennet said gloomily. "She will doubtless insist on marrying the wretch."
"She is little more than a child," Sophia said sternly, "and her behavior is, frankly, on your head, sir."
"You are right, of course," Bennet said wearily. "I have been a lazy and foolish dimwit, and I deserve the scandal looming over us, but my girls do not. Very well, we will whisk Lydia off to London, though even that may prove difficult. She is bound to gloat, and she may well tell of her relationship with Wickham. And my wife is quite unable to hold her tongue."
"Mrs. Bennet and your daughters are intending to visit Mrs. Phillips tomorrow morning," Sophia said. "Lydia will almost certainly be too ill to go, and we can carry her off then."
"We?" her employer asked.
"I think one of us ought to accompany you, sir," Phoebe said. "We have not been enormously successfully in managing her, but I hope that Sophia or I can be helpful. But if you do not wish us to go…"
"I do," Bennet interrupted fervently. "I do, very much."
/
The House at Half Moon Street
The Next Day
The carriage jolted only slightly as it stopped, as the Darcy coachman was adept at his job. A footman swung down to open the door, and Darcy stepped out first, adjusting his hat and glancing back briefly as his cousin joined him. Richard was beaming with joy, a spring in his step as he mounted the stairs. Darcy trailed a half-step behind, battling to suppress his own low spirits. He was glad for Richard, of course; very glad.
But as Elizabeth Bennet's face filled his mind, his heart sank yet again. Jane Bennet, while beautiful, charming, and kindly, was not wealthy. Any man would be blessed indeed to win her hand, but there were far fewer competitors. Elizabeth could have her pick of practically any man in London. There was no reason for her to choose him.
The door opened to Richard's knock, with the butler standing aside to permit them entry. Footmen stepped forward to claim the brushed black hats and elegant canes. Darcy frowned a little as he handed over his accessories; through the man's blank mask, he could see stress; a certain tightness through the eyes.
A sound from down the corridor caught his attention; a woman's voice, pitched with distress and displeasure. For a moment his heart hammered. It sounded like Elizabeth! But no, no it did not. It was younger, a bit different in the timbre. One of the younger Bennet sisters, perhaps?
"Are the ladies in the drawing room?" Richard asked jovially, taking a step in that direction.
"Excuse me, sirs," the butler said, his face carefully blank, "please allow me to consult with my mistress. There are already some guests present."
Richard looked startled, and Darcy said, "Of course."
The butler departed in haste. Richard cast a bemused look at his cousin, and Darcy merely shrugged in return. He had no idea what was the matter, but something was, and they would find out soon enough.
The butler returned three minutes later and said solemnly, "Please follow me, sirs."
They did so and found themselves at the familiar oak door of the drawing room. The butler opened the door, passed through, and they followed him inside, where they discovered Jane Bennet sitting with a gentleman who was very familiar to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"Mr. Bennet," he said, stepping forward and bowing, "this is an unexpected pleasure."
When he straightened, he observed that Mr. Bennet was pale, with his forehead furrowed in deep grooves. He turned his attention on Miss Bennet, who was now on her feet, and she too was pale, the pupils dilated in her deep blue eyes, and there was a look of disbelief and horror imprinted on her countenance.
"Jane!" Richard said, stepping forward, his initial joy now transformed into dismay. "Jane, whatever is the matter!"
She lifted her gloved hands in protest, as if to push him away, and turned her head away, though before she did so, Darcy saw tears spilling down her pale cheeks.
"Please do not," she murmured, so softly that Darcy could barely hear her. "I fear that I will … oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, as much as it pains me, I must withdraw from our courtship."
Richard was now as pale as she, and he cried out, with more passion than courtesy, "Good God! What is the matter?"
Jane collapsed on a chair at this point and buried her face into a large handkerchief. Mr. Bennet, looking at least twenty years older than he had the last time Darcy laid eyes on him, stood up slowly and said, "Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, I fear that there is a potential of a great scandal in our family due to the idiocy of one of my younger daughters. I suggested to Jane that she continue the courtship until we could determine whether the whole matter could be hushed up, but she refused to take the chance of besmirching your family's honor."
Richard turned anguished eyes on Jane, who was still sobbing, and then said sternly, "I have no intention of giving up Miss Bennet because of a girl's foolishness. How can I help you in this matter?"
Bennet shook his head wearily and said, "I fear there is nothing you can do, sir, though I appreciate your offer. My youngest daughter has … well, she has been ruined by a member of the militia in Meryton, and our only hope is to … well, we have not progressed that far in our thinking."
"Is it Wickham?" Darcy blurted out, even as spots danced in his vision.
Bennet looked startled for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, it is."
"George Wickham?" the colonel demanded, taking an impetuous step forward. "Is that who ruined your daughter?"
"Yes?" Bennet replied, looking back and forth between Darcy and the colonel.
The military man turned on his heel and glared at his cousin. "Did you know that Wickham was in Meryton?"
Darcy swallowed hard and said, "I did. I, erm…"
"How … how could you leave Hertfordshire and not … not warn the families that they had a snake in their midst? How could you?"
"I could not," Darcy snapped back, his eyes fixed intently on Richard's. "You know why I could not. The man holds the reputation of…"
He trailed off, and Richard clenched his fists and ground his teeth. "How long will that cursed man dog our steps, Darcy? How many lives will he ruin?"
Darcy felt abruptly sick. His poor, precious Elizabeth! It must have been Miss Lydia's voice he heard upstairs, and no doubt Elizabeth was with her.
"It is my fault, gentlemen," Bennet said, his eyelids heavy with anguish. "I suspected he was not a good man, but I was lazy and did not look after my daughters. We recently acquired two excellent governesses, but the damage was already done."
"I assume Wickham is threatening to tell the world of his relationship with Miss Lydia, which would result in the ruin of the family?" Darcy asked.
Jane, who had finally lifted her head from her handkerchief, choked out, "It is worse than that, sir. It seems … it seems…"
"We believe she is pregnant with his child," Bennet said quietly and closed his eyes.
The two cousins exchanged horrified glances, and Darcy said heavily, "I am so very sorry, and I do feel responsible. I should have warned you of the man's predilections."
"It is not your shame, but ours," Jane said, suddenly hysterical. "We are ruined! We are ruined!"
Richard stepped forward boldly and pulled his love into his arms. "Jane, my love, we will overcome this, I promise. I promise."
"We will," Darcy agreed fervently. No matter what, he would protect the lady he adored from vicious scandal and rumors.
Bennet sighed deeply and said, "I appreciate your support, gentlemen. It is more than I hoped for, but I am not entirely certain what you can do. Lydia insists that they are in love and is bent on marrying Mr. Wickham, and I suppose we might buy him off, but he knows that Elizabeth is wealthy and may well demand a vast sum. It makes me almost physically ill that my poor Lizzy would be forced to pay off the scoundrel."
Darcy opened his mouth, but Richard managed to speak first. "Wickham knows about the potential child, then?"
Bennet snorted and shook his head. "Lydia does not even know about the child. She has been sick for weeks and has all the symptoms of … well, of pregnancy, but she is convinced it is impossible because, well, because Wickham … erm … misinformed her. It was Miss Adler, our governess, who only yesterday realized what was happening, and she and her sister made all the plans to whisk Lydia to London this morning. I left a letter for my wife, who had gone off to Meryton with our other daughters, indicating that Lydia's illness was concerning me and thus I was taking her to London to see Lady Appleby's physician. It will cause some gossip, but I hope that no one will guess the truth."
"So Wickham does not know that Miss Lydia could be pregnant," Darcy remarked, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful.
"What are you thinking of, Cousin?" Richard demanded.
Darcy clenched his teeth and nodded his head grimly. "I have an idea."