The beleaguered master of Longbourn was nearly frantic with the preparations for the conversion of Miss Kitty Bennet into Mrs Katherine Chamberlayne, and finally edicted that if he was expected to finance a trousseau, his wife and half his daughters should go to London and get the miserable chore over with.
The Gardiners had neither the room nor the patience for the whole lot, so in the end, only Lizzy and Kitty joined Jane. Mrs Bennet remained to continue the plans for the wedding breakfast, but without her daughter in the house, most of the noise of that discussion happened outside of the master's hearing.
Letters were received from both sisters every couple of days, and I was astonished to find Kitty an active participant. I had previously suspected her of being close to illiterate, so it just shows what I know. It seemed that either escaping Lydia's influence or becoming engaged was good for her.
The shopping was apparently divine, save for the fact that they kept running into Mr Darcy of all people every couple of days. Lizzy was full of somewhat ridiculous theories about the coincidences. For example, in one encounter in Hyde Park (apparently near his house), she said, 'It seemed like wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her.'
I saw these notes with some alarm since I alone had some inkling of two of the stupidest people in England's feelings. Lizzy was still poisoned by being not handsome enough to tempt him, while I had overheard Mr Darcy discuss the matter with Mr Bingley about his own affections. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority–of its being a degradation–of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination.
Mr Darcy seemed like just the sort of numbskull to assume any woman would jump at the chance to be Mrs Darcy. With enough pride to sink a good size frigate, I could just imagine him saying his objections to Lizzy thinking (stupidly) that it would show the depth of his affection, and that would not end well.
I spent the next week on tenterhooks, and when all the Bennets returned for Kitty's wedding, it took but a glance to determine that the man had said something very-very-bad-indeed and been repaid in full for all the insults of the autumn. I suspected he had asked for a courtship or even an engagement, using his previous objections as the excuse for his delay. What a dolt!
It took but a few days to overhear a conversation between Lizzy and Jane. They were the two quietest women in the house (mostly because others were shameless eavesdroppers) but still no particular challenge for me.
It seemed that Mr Darcy had in fact done what I feared. I did beat my head against the wall when I heard that, but fortunately I did it softly because any more with my hearing would deafen me from my own banging (not amusing).
Lizzy mentioned that Mr Darcy had written her a letter then left London, indicating he was both dimwitted and lacked any sense of propriety or self-preservation. What did he expect? To force her through compromise to marry him and despise him until the end of time? To explain, but never give her a chance to ask questions, or seek reconciliation? To demonstrate his superior manliness by running from a girl eight years his junior and shorter than his sister?
I sighed in frustration, and wondered how much of the problem was my fault. I suspected Mr Wickham was slimy enough to have managed to remain hidden for months, so even without my intervention, Lizzy would have despised the man. We would never know, and it was water under the bridge anyway.
Naturally, I waited until she was asleep and spirited the letter away. Nothing in it surprised me. He pulled Mr Bingley away according to my own plan, though he did a good bit of whining about the impropriety of the Bennet family. It was true, but I imagine it exasperated Lizzy no end. Mr Bingley sounded slightly better in the letter than I allowed him to be, but he still was not good enough for Jane if he was lackwitted enough to listen to his sisters and Mr Darcy.
It was the explanation of Mr Wickham that really captured my attention. It made me wish I could return to that evening in Lucas Lodge and make him suffer more. I certainly did not repent his early demise after reading the letter (not that I had before).
The next month leading up to Kitty's wedding saw Lizzy staring off into space or walking distractedly enough to come back with scratches (presumably from bashing into trees or falling into ditches).
She had a few late-night exchanges with Jane, where she finally admitted that she had misjudged the man. She still did not love him… probably did not even like him, but he certainly was better than she gave him credit for, and she wished she had moderated her displeasure just enough to try to learn what he was about.
That set me to thinking about the problem. You may wonder why it was mine to solve, but if you still wonder at this point, I shall call you a simpleton indeed.
My salvation came at Kitty's wedding in the form of Mrs Madeline Gardiner. If she were a spy, we would have won the war with Napoleon already. She was everything any man could want, and Mr Gardiner had made a real bargain trading Mrs Bennet and Mrs Philips for Mrs Gardiner. She was from Lambton, five miles from Pemberley, which seemed like an essential component of any good plan. She also had plenty of contacts in London in all classes: servants, gentry, even a few in the aristocracy. If there was anyone in London who could solve Lizzy's self-inflicted misery (well, at least a-third-self-inflicted with the balance on mine and Mr Darcy's accounts), it was Mrs Gardiner.
It took some finesse to acquaint the lady with enough particulars to act but not enough to break too many confidences. She agreed to act in my stead, and I considered the problem half-solved already.
I was not intimately involved in all that Mrs Gardiner did on her niece's behalf, but since Jane and Lizzy were special to them, they left no stone unturned.
A month after she began, all was arranged as it should be. Mr Gardiner used the age-old excuse of business (which can frankly mean anything) to delay its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the present plan, were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire.
I suppose I need not beat the advantage of this plan to death, nor scruple on the sacrifice the Gardiners were willing to make in the service of their niece (though a cynical part of me asserts that having a connection to Mr Darcy of Pemberley would not harm Mr Gardiner's prospects).
Mrs Gardiner assured me that the family was to return to Pemberley for the summer, and they would do all they could to force some sort of reconciliation. I had no doubt of her success, as even without preternatural hearing, Mrs Gardiner was almost as good at making things happen as me.
The actual process turned out to be surprisingly efficient. They simply toured Pemberley a day before Mrs Gardiner's intelligence said the Darcys would return, mostly so she could scout the place and the staff to make her plans to get them together in Lambton (somehow).
As it turned out, as they toured the grounds, the master himself came around the corner and stared at Lizzy in wonder. I probably should not embarrass the poor man with this revelation, but apparently, he had been seeing her everywhere (including his dreams) for months, so he did just as he always did in his dreams. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her within an inch of her life. Apparently, the only thing that saved her was the fact that she wrapped her arms around his neck and nearly choked the poor man in retaliation.
I never in my life was so happy as the day she returned to Longbourn, engaged to Mr Darcy, and even happier than Kitty had been on her wedding day.
Mr Darcy, without the fearsome scowl he had worn on his last visit was judged the handsomest and luckiest man in the kingdom.
Back in my bed I fell easily into the dreamless sleep of the just with one last thought:
✓ Lizzy is safe.
