Chapter 28

"Oh Lydia! Oh, my Lydia!" wailed her mother. "My baby! Oh Mr. Bennet… We're all ruined!"

Jane and Mary scarcely grabbed her in time before she collapsed. Mrs. Hill helped usher them all through the door to the drawing room. Already bewildered and disturbed by their late visitor, this sent her reeling and into an uncontrollable fit of sobbing. The closest chair was by the hearth, dark and comfortless.

Mr. Bennet, Mr. Hill, and Captain Carter remained in the foyer, removed from the scene. Mary couldn't help but linger between both rooms. Jane stayed with their mother. Kitty hadn't moved from the staircase, looking aghast and wide-eyed at the floor.

"Captain Carter… I would offer you a bed for the night," said Mr. Bennet. "But I'm afraid we haven't a spare room. We have my wife's brother's children staying with us."

"Thank you, sir. You need not trouble yourself. I shall stay at the Rose & Crown for the night."

"I wish I could do better for you, as you've left your duties to come to us."

"Colonel Forster said he will come. I suppose it wouldn't be incorrect, by his estimation, to expect him tomorrow?"

"I believe so."

In all this, despite the chaos of the express, Captain Carter had not forgotten about her. Side glances in the candlelight were all they had for the moment. All smiles and laughter that had traveled through their own letters had been wiped away. None of those long gazes anymore. That twinkle had gone from the eye, that she had grown somewhat fond of before leaving. They'd no chance to say two words to each other before the captain made his retreat, to retire for the inn.

"Mr. Hill, will you make up some tea for a tray to be taken up to Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes, sir."

An urge to burst into tears had a strangling grip on Mary's throat. Still, she was unable to move or vocalize anything. Ruined, all of them. Lydia, how could you do this?

"Why do you look at me like that, Papa?" said Kitty. From the foyer, their father stood, breathing slow but ragged, his shoulders moving with his lungs, jaw squared, looking up at her. The frost was quickly melting.

"Did you know about this?"

"I didn't, Papa. Honestly, I did not know."

"You don't seem so shocked. Are you not shocked that your sister has run off with Wickham?"

"I… I…"

"Katherine…" Both girls were gripping wall and banister for stability. He bit his lips, licked them, continuing to breathe through gritted teeth. "Did you know about this?"

"Well, I did not know she meant to elope. They've been in love with each other some time now," answered with a shy, nervous smile. "It's not wholly unexpected; she wished to be married before she came home. Last she wrote, she hoped and prepared for a proposal. She never told me she was going to run away. Even then… it's not so bad, is it? Upon my honour, Papa, I never knew."

"Upon your honour?" he retorted. "What honour do you have left? Your sister has squandered yours as well as her own, and all her family's honour."

Kitty's lip quivered. "I promise. Lydia never confided this to me."

"How can I believe that? You two are always together in everything...everything," he seethed. "I gave you a chance to prove yourself. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, while you two were out gambling with my tenants' rent money." Two wet ribbons streamed from her pink face. "Lydia always followed her denials and deceptions with: 'upon my honour.' How do I know you're not lying now?"

Had Denny written her a letter, delivered at that moment, breaking her heart, it would not have caused half the agony as the betrayed trust of her father. Mary actually felt some sorrow as her sister gave way under such words, burying her face into a hand, and sinking down to the stair. In a fit of tears as well, he gave up trying to speak further. Mr. Bennet joined the rest of his family in the drawing room, where Mrs. Bennet had regressed from tears to full breakdown. Tears with wailing and muttering for her baby Lydia.

"Colonel Forster should be here tomorrow morning," he told them. "By the sound of things, it would be useless to pursue them until we know their direction."

"I'm terribly sorry, Papa," sighed Jane, still bound to her mother's hand. The grip was chain-like. "I hope we will hear from them soon. Perhaps, Lydia will write and inform us herself of her whereabouts."

"I highly doubt it. At least, she had the goodness to inform Mrs. Forster she was going to Scotland," was his biting rejoinder.

"Why, they may be passing within ten miles of us!"

"If I knew that for certain, I'd ride out and intercept them, but by the tone of the letter, and from what Captain Carter just told me, we might be chasing the wind if we assume it."

"I'm certain!" Jane stopped herself. "I'm certain they've not deceived the Forsters. Lydia has too much regard for her friend. Mr. Wickham…well, I will say this was most thoughtless and imprudent on both their parts. But I'm willing to hope the best. After all, this move, though hasty, does not prove anything bad at heart. Disinterested, at least."

"Pardon me, Jane. You may choose to think what you like of Wickham, but he has yet to prove his better motives, if such do exist. Your hopes will only be justified by their marriage."

Finally, Mrs. Bennet found her voice. If only she hadn't any voice left. "Oh, Mr. Bennet! If only you had taken us all to Brighton, none of this would've happened! I begged you, pleaded with you, let us all go on holiday. I should've preferred that than giving over Lydia to the charge of the Forsters. I blame the Forsters for this! They were unfit chaperones. There was some great neglect, mark my words! She'd never have done such a thing—"

"Oh no?" howled Mr. Bennet. "She'd never have done it, would she?"

"She never behaved like this in Meryton. I always had charge of her. But Mrs. Forster, she's barely older than Lydia."

"You had no qualms about the Forsters when they were here."

"I blame you for this, Mr. Bennet! I thought better of such a scheme, and I was overruled by my children, my husband, everybody!" She moaned and choked on tears for a minute. "I hope you're happy! My daughter is ruined! That worthless, blackguard Wickham! I always knew he was no good!" More throbbing cries. "Why did you ever allow officers in this house? We've been most cruelly betrayed! Our youngest child stolen from us—"

"May I remind you, Mrs. Bennet," he interrupted, "that you yourself are so fond of redcoats. After all, you were mad in love with them as a girl. May I also remind you that you hosted a number of parties, attended a number of gatherings with the officers present, in full approval of it. You let your girls run after these officers! You encouraged their silly, boisterous behaviour! You approved of Lydia's going to Brighton! You approved of the Forsters! In your own words to Lydia, as she left: 'Do not miss any opportunity of enjoying yourself.' Those were your words!"

"Mr. Bennet…"

"I assure you, she took your advice!"

"How can you be so cruel? My nerves, my poor nerves—"

"Your baby is no baby; she was not stolen from you. She ran away, of her own will! You'll blame the man, your family, the Forsters, anybody else before your own child! Even before yourself!"

He was in too passionate a state to help her back upstairs. Without another word, Mr. Bennet sought retreat in the library. Mary, Jane, and Mrs. Hill assisted her back to bed, with promises of tea to help settle her nerves. Kitty had too much anger to be any use, her father's anger and her own.

Colonel Forster called around ten o'clock, not on the first but the second morning after the express. Delays had been due to obtaining new leads. His reception was a somber one. Both he and Captain Carter had met up before returning to Longbourn. As the family had already known and heard all, Mr. Bennet declined a private interview in the library. Instead, the men were directed to the drawing room. Jane sent the Gardiner children out with their dolls and instructed they stay outside to play until the gentlemen leave.

Jane, Mary, and Kitty all filed in and closed the doors. Privacy would not preserve them long. For although a newly married man, the colonel borne as much concern in his face as any father. For he felt all the guilt that Mrs. Bennet would've gladly bestowed. Had she been well and present for this meeting, she'd have verbally destroyed the man with all the rage in her heart.

"I'm sorry to say, Mr. Bennet, that I've found no evidence that the couple have gone to Scotland."

"What!" cries echoed through all sisters.

"Are you certain?" said Mr. Bennet.

"I checked first with the coaching stations, inquiring for any vehicles that had been dispatched north. The night of Lydia's disappearance, there were only seven. Five of them were bound for London. The other two were for Bristol and the other Trowbridge. I'm very doubtful they should travel west. I traced one coach as far as Clapham, where one coach driver described a pair that fit their descriptions. It appears they had transferred from the chaise to a hackney coach, but from there, I've been unsuccessful in tracing them. I fear they've not gone to Scotland."

"Might there be some mistake?" insisted Jane. "There were five coaches."

"The particular hired carriage I was tracking, departed Brighton at approximately one o'clock in the morning. People traveling the roads at that time are in a race against time, or they're running away."

"Clapham," repeated Mr. Bennet, nodding, "very likely then, he has no intention."

"I'm afraid not," agreed the colonel. "After I sent Captain Carter on with my express, I called in Wickham's friend, Denny, for interrogation." Kitty blushed for him. "Denny mentioned that Wickham had made plans to leave, basically, to desert his post with the military. For it was about to come to light that Wickham was to face a suit by a Mr. Welforth, a local merchant in Brighton, for defaulted payments to his creditor. Once the lawsuit goes forward, more creditors can be called forth, if Wickham has run up debts with any other third parties. I take it, the amount owed for the total of all his creditors, is substantial. I'm afraid, to clear him of all debt, would require something in the amount of a thousand pounds... As to your daughter, when it was known that Lydia would be joining Wickham on the journey, Denny suspected he had no intention of going to Gretna Green, nor any intention of marrying her at all."

"And Mr. Denny, he told no one else?"

"No one, unfortunately. Between the time he was informed to the morning of their disappearance, it was only a matter of hours."

"Why did the man not seek to inform anyone at once?" cried Mary.

"I've asked him the same myself, Miss Mary. They're friends. He introduced Wickham to the –shire. Their acquaintance obviously dates farther back than a mere half a year, as I was originally told."

Whipping round on her sister: "I told you! I told you Denny was no better than Wickham! And did you listen to any of us?"

"Mary, please!" Jane silenced her. "Is it possible, colonel, that there might be some other explanation for this deviation in plans? Might it be some circumstance would make it more convenient for them to be married privately in town?"

The colonel's head shook. "Miss Bennet, I wish I could believe it. I am not disposed to depending on hearing of any happy news. Based on the life this man has led prior to the regiment and his present actions, I fear Wickham is not a man to be trusted."

"What is your next step, colonel? What might you advise?" asked Mr. Bennet.

"I'm off to London. I hope I might trace their route to one of the coaching stations."

"My wife's brother lives in London. He's on holiday now in the north."

"I've already written to Lizzy," informed Jane. "I'm sure they'll be along within a few days. Uncle Gardiner will be anxious to help recover her."

"Until he comes, we can go together. For I'm sure you cannot put off your regimental duties indefinitely."

"I have until the end of the week," shrugged the colonel. "Don't concern yourself on that score. If I may, I'd be willing to give Captain Carter leave to offer any assistance necessary. He'll return to Brighton today. But if needed, you may summon him, and I can procure him two weeks of leave."

"I should be much obliged to you, until Mr. Gardiner returns. Foolish girl."

"Mr. Bennet…" The colonel hesitated. "I know this is an anxious time, a painful time for all your family. I cannot convey the depths of my own regret for what has happened. I've let you all down. My wife feels very much the same."

"I'm sure, colonel."

"Harriet blames herself for having never suspected. We did see symptoms of partiality on Lydia's side, but nothing to give any alarm. We never thought it would come to anything of this magnitude. Though we are sure, whatever happens, whatever her intentions were on leaving Brighton, her intentions were not dishonourable."

"I'd like to believe that. Truthfully, after all this, I hardly know my own daughter. If I had known her better, I'd never have allowed her to go. No offense to you, sir."

Another letter was produced from his coat's interior. It was announced to be the note she had written Mrs. Forster before she disappeared. Mr. Bennet read it first, silently to himself; for a full ten minutes after, he was incapable of speech. He went upstairs to begin the process of packing. Jane was left with it, and each sister read in turn:

My dear Harriet,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him tonight. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all; and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

Your affectionate friend,

Lydia Bennet

Jane already heard the bell ringing from Mrs. Bennet's room, with maids rushing up the stairs. It was impossible to linger longer. Kitty merely left, wishful not to be alone in the room with anyone. After two nights and a day of terse words from her father, bitter accusations from her mother, she was not fit company for anyone, let alone herself. Suspicions of concealment also inclined Mr. Bennet to demand the letters from Lydia. That, too, weighed heavily on her. Though, true to her word, Kitty had not concealed anything, except Lydia's motive.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, but I thank you, Captain Carter," replied Mary.

"Colonel Forster will be waiting out front for your father."

"Yes."

"I wish there was something more I can do for you."

"What can you possibly do, sir? Can you find them? Can you make Wickham do the honourable thing?" Mary slowly walked to the window, feeling the blaze of the late afternoon sun against her face. The glass and window sill were hot to touch.

"Before I go, Mary, I've been charged to give this to your family also. Mrs. Forster thought it would be best. Just some of Lydia's things she'd left behind."

A small, old valise was placed on the table. Lydia had taken two trunks, borrowed from the family's stock of luggage. This old black valise that had been left behind was small enough to carry in one hand.

"Mary, please say something," he pleaded. She wouldn't turn from the window. "I'm very sorry for what you all are going through. From my heart, I wish I could've seen something, been there to do something about it."

"Well, it's too late now… And if you must know, Captain, I was right about Wickham," she declared. With acidity: "You advised me not to be hasty in my judgment. Don't call him a scoundrel, don't accuse him of wicked things; my feelings are not evidence to be proven. Was that not what you said once? I wanted to warn Elizabeth, blinded by her fancy for him. You tell me, don't do it; she knows better."

"Mary, I—"

"On our first meeting, right here in this very room, you… so self-righteous, so forward, you scolded me. 'Until you learn good manners, you've no right to look down on your younger sisters.' I remember it all." She finally looked him in the face. "Well, sir, I've held my tongue many months now. Now, I finally contradict you! I was right to trust my intuition! I was right to have distrusted my sisters, distrusted Wickham. Nobody listened! Everyone thought I was wrong, or rude, or naive. Lydia and Kitty were in love with him. Lizzy thought him the best of men. Jane thought him a gentleman. My parents, the colonel, all of Meryton—"

"Mary, you have a right to be angry. But this is taking it too far!"

"And you too! You defended him! He was doing a dishonourable thing, spreading malicious slander about Mr. Darcy and his family. We were all witnesses to that. You did nothing to stop him! You could've reported his conduct to the colonel—"

"There was nothing that could've been done then. And according to your logic, if we were all witnesses, then you yourself would be guilty too! Why didn't you speak up about his bad conduct? Mary, that's an unfair charge to hold against your whole family."

"It's true!" yelled Mary. Tears began to well in her eyes.

Captain Carter approached her, close enough to take her by the hands. He reached for them. "Mary, I—" She snatched them back, withdrew a step. "I don't blame your family. I don't think it's fair of you to blame them for ignorance. We were all deceived in him."

"I can accept that, Captain Carter. But you misunderstand! My family silenced and undermined me. You could've done me the common decency to allow me to speak from my heart!"

"Did I ever stop you from that? Mary, I've always advocated you speaking for yourself. How many times!" he snapped. "The fact of the matter is: there's nothing you could've said to Lydia that would've made a difference. There's nothing you could've said, nor Jane or Elizabeth, your mother, your father, nobody! She's a headstrong, precocious, sixteen year old girl."

"That is her excuse then: youth and stupidity?"

He had gone from red to white in the course of minutes, slowly pacing the room, struggling to contain the anger. If anger could not be contained, perhaps redirected. One remark after another, after another, made for a great difficulty.

"Perhaps we should speak no more of this," he sighed. "This is not a good time to talk about it."

"That would be agreeable... Perhaps, it's best you go." A tear streaked her cheek, which moved faster than the hand that swiped it away.

"I don't want to part like this, Mary."

"How would you wish to part?" she retorted.

"As your friend."

"… Of course, we are friends." It was a repetition of the day they met. Haughty, but with wounded pride, it was worse than that. "That's all there can be now. The scandal will be out before long. Once that happens, there's no sensible reason to return to Longbourn."

His face, like the day they met, with one exception. The sunlight caught a slight glistening in the corner of his eye. "Is that what you really wish?" he murmured.

"Yes," replied Mary, nodding.

"Then…" He breathed deeply, like a he'd been struck a blow and winded. "Then, if you wish to continue to correspond with Dr. Reis directly, it's a good thing his address is in that first letter. You need not write through me." He said so more for himself than her benefit. "Goodbye, Miss Bennet." One quick bow, and he was gone. Her father left shortly after with Colonel Forster in a hired chaise. Captain Carter rode off on horseback alone.

Nobody else had much interest in the valise, except for Kitty. A few random items that wouldn't be missed if lost or needed immediately were entrusted to Mrs. Forster. Understandably then that the couple should not wish to wait for Lydia to send for it. Mrs. Bennet had too much anger with Colonel and Mrs. Forster to feel for their own shame. That slit in her gown, to be mended by Sally, was included among these possessions. The slit was not mended. There were some trinkets, bouncing about loosely; second and third favourites of her personal collection, without value except sentiment. A single bonnet. Ironically, it was the last bonnet they had quarreled so viciously over. Lydia had plucked it from Kitty's bandbox, tore it apart and fixed it up with the roses and cherries. It had been tossed around and slightly deformed by mistreatment inside the valise.

There was an old shawl, one she'd borrowed from Jane. A couple of fans. A pair of gloves. Two novels. And beneath all of it, Lydia's diary. Kitty couldn't help the gasp of her surprise. Her most precious, guarded belonging was left behind! Up until then, Mary been laying silently in bed, having blown it out her candle early, waiting for Kitty to blow hers out. With whispered bidding, Kitty stirred her to turn over. Even Mary became suddenly awake and wide-eyed.

"I don't believe it!" Kitty was shaking her head. "She was so protective of this thing. Now she left it?"

Mary sat up. "I wonder if Mrs. Forster has perused any part of its contents. Kitty? Are you going to read it?"

"I never dared to before." Both sisters felt and looked at each other oddly. It was almost like fear that Lydia would walk into the room any moment. "I feel as if I shouldn't."

"Kitty, that's ridiculous!" protested Mary. "Lydia is missing! She's left her friends and family. It might possibly contain useful information to her whereabouts, or something. After all she's done, really, she's not entitled to privacy."

"You once scolded me for reading personal letters."

"This is different, Kitty. Especially after all Lydia has done to you personally, you don't owe her this respect."

Suddenly, the room lit up in a blinding flash, causing both girls to jump startled. Even more so, when thunder rattled the house and inside their heads. A couple screams echoed from the opposite side of the house, from the room of the young Gardiners, which had Jane running down the hallway to attend them. A second flash, and a third—and even louder thunder. Mary hurriedly closed the window.

"Oh dear, last time we had a lightning storm like this, we had that terrible fire that burned five miles outside of Meryton." A shudder came with the memory of it.

"Mary? Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"But you're crying," noted Kitty.

"I'm not crying, Kitty. I've a terrible headache," she lied. A headache did throb in her temples, but headaches alone didn't cause tears. "Well, we likely won't get to sleep right away."

"True… As long as we can't sleep, then, Mary, do you want me to read anything?" The diary was opened. "Is there something I should look for?"

Kitty had been on the floor with her candle, rifling through this pile. Mary joined her, bringing her own candle to relight. "Perhaps, look for the entries when she first left for Brighton."

One video that also inspired some of these scenes and those to come was a video called: Why did Wickham elope with Lydia? by Dr. Octavia Cox. I believe one of you already mentioned watching that video. It's interesting because I started playing the video thinking the answer seemed pretty obvious. She dissects some of the events following up to their elopement, what Wickham's financial circumstances were really like, and should Lizzy have really been surprised? It comes out of the blue to her and other people, but should we really be taken by surprise? It's a good lecture. I think you all would enjoy it.

Now we come to the fallout at home. What do you make of it? Does Captain Carter stand a chance? And Lydia's diary...