12 – 31 August 1812
In the early afternoon, Mr. Bennet arrived at the Gardiners' residence, clearly exhausted and with visible anxiety etched on his face. Although the housekeeper was taken aback by his unanticipated visit, she received him without question. Recognizing the distress conveyed in Mr. Bennet's demeanor, she promptly prepared the guest room to ensure his comfort.
Once settled, Mr. Bennet sequestered himself in the room, utterly drained both physically and emotionally. His night was plagued by restless hours worrying over his daughter and the scandal engulfing his family.
The following morning, Mr. Bennet arose early and hired a private investigator. He spent an hour with the investigator, providing a comprehensive description of his daughter, and the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. Subsequently, Mr. Bennet proceeded to an inn on the outskirts of London, a plausible location for Lydia and Wickham to have stopped as they traveled to London or Gretna Green. Upon arriving at the inn, Mr. Bennet approached the innkeeper and inquired about recent guests, especially those fitting the description of a young woman accompanied by a gentleman. The innkeeper, though polite and sympathetic, had not seen the young couple. Frustrated and disheartened by the lack of progress, Mr. Bennet returned to the Gardiners' residence, his mind burdened by the continued absence of conclusive information.
The days unfolded with a relentless monotony. Mr. Bennet devoted himself to visiting various inns, each effort proving fruitless. Each afternoon, he would receive an update from the private investigator, but the news remained dishearteningly consistent: no new information had been discovered. The nights were scarcely better. Sleep eluded him, and the hours stretched interminably as he wrestled with worry. The weight of uncertainty and the unyielding quest for any clue that might shed light on his daughter's fate made each moment seem an eternity.
Several days later, as Mr. Bennet was perusing the investigator's report with a furrowed brow, Captain Denny arrived for a visit. After a brief and direct greeting, Denny wasted no time in delivering his news.
"Mr. Bennet," he began, his tone indicating urgency, "we have successfully traced the carriage that Wickham and your daughter used to escape from Brighton. The carriage was returned to an inn on the outskirts of London. From there, they hired a coach. We have already spoken with the coachman, and at this moment, two officers are actively searching them in the neighborhood where the coachman last dropped them off."
Mr. Bennet sighed deeply, his expression a blend of sadness and cautious relief. He responded in a voice laden with fatigue, "Thank you very much for the information, Captain. Could you provide me with details about the neighborhood where they were last seen?"
Denny nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "The area is quite impoverished and situated in the suburbs. If you wish, I can accompany you there and guide you through the neighborhood."
Thomas considered the offer for a moment, appreciating the Captain's willingness to assist further. "That would be most helpful," he agreed. "I would be grateful for your guidance."
A few days later, burdened by the mounting tension and exhaustion of his search, Mr. Bennet entered a squalid room at a neglected and impoverished inn, his heart heavy with dread. The room, dim and unkempt, seemed to mirror the disarray of his own emotions. The sight that greeted him extinguished the last vestiges of hope he had harbored regarding his youngest daughter's virtue. Lydia, disheveled and forlorn, lay naked on a tattered bed surrounded by old, faded sheets. Beside her, Wickham lounged in a state of disarray.
Upon noticing Mr. Bennet's entrance, Wickham sprang into action, hastily donning his clothing with an air of guilt. The urgency and discomfort in Wickham's movements only highlighted the gravity of the situation.
The anger Mr. Bennet felt at that moment was almost palpable. "Lydia, get dressed immediately. We are leaving here right now," he commanded with a firmness that belied the depth of his suppressed rage.
Lydia, upon seeing her father, went pale, her shock clearly reflected on her face. For a brief moment, she stood frozen, unable to process the gravity of the situation. When she finally found her voice, it was with stubborn defiance. "No, Papa. I am not going with you. Mr. Wickham and I are going to marry. We have already made all the arrangements."
Mr. Bennet, struggling to conceal his contempt and exasperation, retorted with biting sarcasm, "Lydia, cease your absurdities. If you were truly intent on marrying in Gretna Green, why are you still here in London?"
Wickham, adopting a demeanor of feigned calm and manipulation, interjected, "My dear Lydia, allow me to speak with your father alone. I am certain we can come to a satisfactory resolution."
Mr. Bennet, visibly repulsed by Wickham's disingenuous demeanor, cast him a look of utter disdain. He then turned back to Lydia, his tone becoming even more severe. "Lydia, get dressed at once and come with me! If you refuse, I will have no choice but to compel you to come."
"No, Papa. I will not leave without Mr. Wickham!" Lydia insisted, her voice resolute and unyielding.
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Thomas Bennet felt the crushing weight of despair pressing down on him. The search for Lydia had been both lengthy and exhausting, and he was acutely aware of the urgency of the situation. It was likely that Lydia was with child, a development that would only complicate matters further. Moreover, the reputations of his other daughters would be severely damaged if Lydia did not marry Wickham.
With a heavy heart, Mr. Bennet closed his eyes momentarily, reflecting on Elizabeth's earlier warnings about the dangers of allowing Lydia to go to Brighton. Shame and regret overwhelmed him as he realized how profoundly he had failed by not heeding his daughter's concerns.
Exhaling deeply, Mr. Bennet made a difficult decision. "Mr. Wickham," he said, his voice a mixture of sarcasm and grim determination, "I expect you at the tavern downstairs in five minutes. We shall discuss how to resolve this situation there."
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Frustrated and enraged by the unfolding situation, Mr. Bennet descended the stairs to the tavern and took a seat at a secluded table tucked into a dimly lit corner. The establishment's murky atmosphere only heightened his sense of disquiet. Shortly thereafter, Wickham arrived and joined him at the table. The two men exchanged scrutinizing glances in silence, each waiting for the other to break the uneasy quiet.
At last, Mr. Bennet spoke, his voice edged with tension. "I am listening, Mr. Wickham."
Wickham, adopting an expression of false sincerity, began, "Mr. Bennet, I assure you that I have a deep affection for your daughter—"
Mr. Bennet cut him off sharply. "Mr. Wickham, I am not stupid. Spare me the pretense. Neither you nor I believe that drivel."
Wickham slumped into his chair, inhaling deeply before continuing. "Unfortunately, I require financial support to marry your daughter and provide for her properly."
Mr. Bennet's frown deepened. "Lydia's dowry is £1,000 upon her mother's death."
Wickham met his gaze with a blend of cunning and resolve. "You know that sum is insufficient to adequately support a wife of Lydia's stature. I require £10,000 to proceed with the marriage."
Mr. Bennet shook his head decisively. "No; that is out of the question. Let me remind you that Colonel Forster is extremely displeased with your conduct. You abandoned your post without authorization and eloped with a young lady under his protection."
Wickham's face grew paler at the mention of Colonel Forster's displeasure. He was acutely aware of the severe consequences he might face. He took a deep breath and responded, "You may be right about Colonel Forster's anger. However, if Lydia returns to Longbourn without marrying me, her reputation will be irreparably damaged, and the scandal will reflect poorly on her sisters as well."
Mr. Bennet's expression hardened. "Do not concern yourself with the future of my daughters. I am confident that many suitors will come forward for them, even for Lydia."
The conversation continued for half an hour, with Mr. Bennet systematically attempting to negotiate a lower sum while Wickham maneuvered to secure as much money as possible. Eventually, they reached an agreement: Mr. Bennet consented to provide Wickham with £5,000 as Lydia's dowry and to pay off his outstanding debts, which amounted to £130.
The following day, Mr. Bennet accompanied Wickham to procure a special marriage license to expedite the ceremony. To secure the £5,000 and cover Wickham's debts, Mr. Bennet was compelled to take out a loan. He could not access Mrs. Bennet's settlement without the signatures of Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Phillips.
Subsequently, Mr. Morrison drafted the marriage contract stipulating that Wickham would only be able to access the £5,000 upon Lydia reaching the age of twenty-one. Until then, he would only have access to the interest on the amount. Despite several protests, Wickham eventually signed the contract.
On the day of the wedding, despite the simmering anger and frustration he felt, Mr. Bennet made a concerted effort to maintain a façade of composure. Following the nuptials, Lydia and Wickham withdrew to a modest lodging where they would spend three days. Then they were set to journey north with Colonel Miller's regiment, an acquaintance of Colonel Forster.
Exhausted from the events of the past days, Mr. Bennet returned to Longbourn the day after the wedding. As he crossed the threshold of his home, he was met by his wife, who appeared visibly agitated and pallid.
"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling and hurried. "There has been a terrible accident, and Lizzy is gravely injured."
A surge of panic overwhelmed Mr. Bennet. His heart raced uncontrollably, and a sharp, intense pain in his chest began to suffocate him. Before he could fully grasp the gravity of the situation, the pain escalated to an unbearable level, making him feel faint and weakened. His legs gave way under him, and in a moment of desperation compounded by exhaustion, he collapsed onto the floor.
Mrs. Bennet, alarmed by the sudden collapse of her husband, rushed to his side. "Mr. Bennet, please!" she cried out, urgently calling for the servants to come to their aid.