"Oh Lizzie, it is too much. It is too wonderful," Jane cried, gazing upon the linens her Aunt Gardiner had brought.
Elizabeth smiled upon her sister, turning to include Georgiana in her pleasure.
Jane turned toward her writing table to translate her joy into a thank you note while the others continued their labors.
"It is well that our relations' gifts as so well chosen for Jane's tastes," Lizzie observed to Miss Darcy. "I had feared her head so turned with her Mr. Bingley that she would see nothing in pots and footstools, to say nothing of linens."
Georgiana, well-versed now with the sisters' by-play, watched with pleasure while the two shared a quick smile.
"Here is one more come today," Miss Darcy said, detangling herself from straw flowers to hand over the gift."
"But where is the note?" Jane asked with some distress, turning the package over and shaking it firmly."
"Perhaps it is tucked inside," Elizabeth offered. Jane gently opened the wrappings to find a length of tartan. She held it up for their perusal.
"There is no note, Lizzie. What an odd gift," she said.
"It will make a handsome hunting jacket for Mr. Bingley, I believe," said Lizzie.
"There is a wifely thought," Jane replied, smiling at her sister.
"And glad that there is no note for you to write, which is a sisterly," Elizabeth said, rising and laughing.
"It would be no trouble," Jane said. "Lizzie, and you, Miss Darcy, have been so very helpful. I am so lucky to have you with me now."
The three were sharing loving looks and squeezes of the hands when the sound of a carriage outside the front door came through the open window.
"Is that Lydia, so soon?" Lizzie asked, hurrying to the window. "I think it must be — there, see the school crest on the door." She turned to Georgiana. "Now, remember what I said. Pay her no heed for she is a silly thing, however improved by school she might be."
Jane had taken up Lizzie's post at the window, and frowned, looking at the carriage.
"I do not see Lydia, but the woman emerging must be a teacher — she looks so strict."
The three clustered around the window to see a rather grim-faced woman stiffly exit the carriage and stride toward the front door. The next moment they were flown down the stairs, for they had seen not a whit of Lydia in that carriage.
"Again, I am very sorry, Mrs. Bennet," the headmistress repeated herself grimly. "Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of our school. It could only have been accomplished with a great deal of money."
Mrs. Bennet screamed. "I told you she was a great heiress, did I not? Did I not tell her, Mr. Bennet?"
"I believe we informed the school that our son-in-law had made some settlement upon her, my dear," Mr. Bennet said slowly. "But to think that Mr. Wickham could bribe one of the school nurses to let him in by night. It shows a great deal more cunning than his last attempt."
"And now they have run away. Oh I knew that sending dear Lydia away was a mistake. How could you have let her go?" she cried. As neither husband nor teacher cared to claim the allegation, both let it lie.
"Father?" Lizzie asked, having braved the closed door. The headmistress took this opportunity to make her exit.
Mr. Bennet abandoned the futile attempt to comfort his wife to face his daughter.
"I'm afraid the worst has happened. Lydia has eloped from her school with Mr. Wickham. They left in the night, presumably for Gretna Green. She left a note for one of her friends." He handed it over and turned back toward the howling Mrs. Bennett.
Lizzie turned back toward Jane, and the two of them read the hastily scrawled note.
"My dear Gertrude,
It seems that I will be the winner of our little wager. You may send the five shillings to Longbourn. Do give my regards to our mutual friend — you may have his conversation all to yourself now, for I have mine own Romeo. Fate could not keep us apart. Good-bye.
Your affectionate friend,
Lydia Bennet"
"Oh Lydia, how could you?" Elizabeth moaned, dropping the note to clench her hands about her head. "After all our pains, to marry the infamous Mr. Wickham." She shook with the effort to keep her feelings under control.
Suddenly she looked up at Georgiana.
"Please, send for your brother. I must speak with him at once."
Darcy was yards ahead of Bingley by the time the two neared Longbourn. He jumped from his horse and and was in the door before the dust had settled. Elizabeth was waiting just inside, and collapsed into his arms with a sob. Darcy put his arms around her, making soft noises while searching out his sister. He was relieved to see her standing close to Jane, while the other sisters twittered about the room. He then gave all his attention to his wife.
"My dear Mrs. Darcy, I am so sorry for this blow."
Elizabeth clung to him, weeping. "The school was not so safe. I — I never thought she could elope from school. What are we come to?"
Darcy gripped her shoulders and looked into her face.
"When did they leave for Scotland?"
Elizabeth tried to answer but failed for crying.
"Last night, very late," Mary supplied.
Darcy thanked her gravely, then turned back to his weeping wife.
"Mrs. Darcy, I will catch up with them and keep this thing from happening. I must go now." He gestured to a servant.
"No, don't go!" Lizzie cried, then stopped herself. "I will go with you. I must go with you — to stop them."
Darcy put an arm about her and turned from the others.
"It will be a very hard journey. I cannot stop for anything if I am to catch up with them. We would be days in the carriage — alone."
Lizzie looked up at him. "We must go, now."
The carriage wheels clattered against the road. Elizabeth leaned against Mr. Darcy, who held her — and his silence. They had been a day and a night upon the road to Gretna Green, and had not passed many words beyond the commonplace. Lizzie roused herself to stare out the window for a few moments, then startled her husband with a small laugh.
She gazed up at him. "Oh Mr. Darcy, here we are upon the road to Scotland. Was it not enough for us to elope once?" A smile played at the corners of her mouth. Darcy could not resist, he found his mood lightening and his own face realizing into a smile. The abrupt transformation tickled her and another laugh escaped, this one not so small. The laughter soon escalated between them into raucous roars.
Darcy wrapped his arms around his wife as she settled back against him. This was bliss.
"How far behind them do you reckon we are now, Mr. Darcy," she asked, the edge of laughter still in her voice.
"Half a day, perhaps. It seems Mr. Wickham's resources do not extend to the very fastest horses at each stop," he said with little satisfaction. "But how a man goes from debtor's prison to hiring horses and bribing nurses, I do not know," he mused.
"Who would help such a man, for he must have had help," Lizzie said. "Col. Forrester would never take part in such a notorious plot. And the blackguard must have exhausted every other resource long before this."
"That was ever his way," he agreed. He inhaled deeply, the scent of Elizabeth's hair filling him with an all-encompassing peace. A moment later, she jolted upright.
"Miss Bingley," she declared.
A moment passed. "Miss Bingley?" he asked weakly.
"She is an heiress, and quite unhappy with us both. She knew of Mr. Wickham and Lydia's attachment. Who else could have done this?"
"Miss Bingley was ever careful with her resources," Darcy explained. "She laid out carefully and was never extravagant. This would have pressed her means more than she would have liked. I cannot think she dislikes me enough for such waste."
Lizzie threw herself into the cushions, stumped. Darcy's arms ached in her absence, but she was too absorbed by this puzzle to notice. He turned his mind toward the puzzle, hoping to being back her laughing mood.
"Lady Catherine could well afford this. I cannot imagine her thinking of such a thing, but I do not think she was ever so upset at the day I announced our marriage to her. She has perhaps never experienced so thorough a trouncing as you delivered unto her."
"Lady Catherine and Miss Bingley," Lizzie mused sourly. "And so money married to spite have Jane and Mr. Bingley standing waiting at the alter while Lydia and Mr. Wickham are on the road to Scotland—" she stopped abruptly.
"What is it, my love?" Darcy asked anxiously.
"The tartan. The very day Lydia disappeared, a wedding present with no note came to my sister. It was three yards of tartan. Whoever arranged for the elopement must have sent it. What a cruel jest at my family's expense."
Darcy took her hand and looked at her beseechingly.
"We will catch them, Mrs. Darcy. Please do not worry."
She looked at him, shaking away tears.
"I know no better judge of horses than you, Mr. Darcy. Thank you so much for making this journey. And for letting me come. I know I should be going mad if I must wait at home, to hear if Mr. Wickham was to be my brother."
"This and much more would I do for you, Mrs. Darcy."
She sank back down next to him, her cheek upon his breast. He gently stroked her hair, the other hand cushioning her against the jolting of the carriage. She relaxed slowly, melting against him, her hands cradled against him. He wanted to crush her to him, but contented himself with gentle caresses. The unceasing motion jogged them together, and a great warmth slowly rose within them both.
Lizzie had thrown herself into Mr. Darcy's arms without thought, and now could not bring herself to let him go. His strong frame spoke comfort to every part of her, and she allowed the movements of the carriage to urge them closer together.
Darcy held Elizabeth in gentle amazement. This period of repose seemed a quiet blessing after the wild moods that had seized her by turns. Her hands clenched his coat and his heart sped with the sensation. The soft curve of her waist trembled under one hand while his other traced patterns through her hair. After some time, both their breathings slowed to match, and the quiet darkness claimed them both.
She couldn't be sure when dreams became waking. Elizabeth could not remember ever feeling so protected, so secure. Darcy was leaning back into one corner of the carriage, and she was half-reclined, held against his warmth, both arms firmly clasped about her while her hands rested against his firm jaw. Her head was nestled into the hollow of his throat, and her every inhalation brought his scent to her. She nestled her cheek against him for a moment then turned to look up at him. His eyes slowly opened and he looked at her with exquisite fondness, with aching tenderness. Gradually, his lips came to rest against hers. Elizabeth scarcely felt her hands reach to cup the back of his neck, nor her form stretch upward against him, feeling only her whole self yearning towards that touch of his lips against hers.
Her warmth seemed to burn his hands through the thin muslin. He was suffused with joy, the touch of every inch of her dear form a powerful balm.
At length, he drew slightly away. Her eyes fluttered open and he caught her gaze then drew her up to his knee, kissing her brow fervently, murmuring her name. A sudden jolt of the carriage banged her head into his nose, and she felt him lurch slightly before righting them both.
Sliding herself closer, she wrapped an arm around him, using the other to hold the side of his face while she examined him. Satisfied, she kissed his nose.
"You are unharmed, Mr. Darcy," she said, a smile dancing on her face.
"You could never bring me harm, Mrs. Darcy," he replied, entranced, brushing her hair back with tender strokes of his hand.
She smiled shyly and ducked her face toward his.