Chapter 25: A Letter Opener and An Ultimatum
Mr. Bennet was sitting on his bed with a severe frown. His body was very sore. He could now lift his legs with his arms to move them off the bed. He was starting to try to stand up with the doctor's help, but he could only do it with help, and his legs could not hold his weight for more than a moment. It was entirely humiliating. It was debasing. It was infuriating. A man like him, used to doing what he wanted, going where he wanted, and deciding every detail about his life, could not stand being minded like this. He could not even choose what to eat. He was given a plate, no seconds, no dessert, wine, spirits, or cigars. He had three meals a day.
Mr. Darcy -damn him- had made good on his promise. Since their argument, his room had indeed turned into a cell. He was not allowed to read a book. No newspaper was brought up either. No one was visiting him. There were not even maids who would treat him better. The footmen were brusque and did not care for niceties. They did not attempt any conversation. They only gave him commands as if he were a dog. And if he did not comply, they would force him. He was no longer allowed to bathe in hot water unless the doctor ordered it. And now, the Earl of Matlock had refused him. He would 'come at his leisure' was his message. All Mr. Bennet wanted was to be strong enough to punch either or both.
When he thought the man would have him waiting forever, the door was opened. The earl came inside, but then so did an elegantly dressed woman.
"I thought you would keep me waiting until tomorrow."
"I could keep you waiting forever, especially now."
"Now?"
"I had truly hoped I would never have to see you again," Lady Elinor assumed her haughtiest expression, not unlike the one she had leveled at Lady Catherine.
"I do not know you."
"Yes, you do."
"No, you have not been here once."
"Does it bother you?"
"What?"
"The scar I gave you?"
"What scar?
Elinor took her husband's cane and moved toward the bed. Mr. Bennet looked at her, completely confused.
She placed the cane's tip high on his thigh, where she knew he had the scar. He jumped in pain. No one but his wife knew he had a scar there, and he had told her it was a fencing accident from his youth. No one knew… except for-
"Elinor?"
"That is Countess of Matlock, to you."
"You… You stabbed me!" Mr. Bennet yelled.
"You tried to compromise me! Be glad I did not manage to stab any higher. I would have aimed it between your legs, but I just wanted to get away from your slimy hands as fast as possible, and before anyone heard you screaming in pain like the weakling and coward that you are."
"Be glad she only stabbed you. I would have wrung your neck," the earl snarled. "Now, I have another motive to demand you sign over ownership of Longbourne to your wife. You owe a lot of retribution to my family as a whole."
"Demand? That is preposterous. It was ages ago… In any case, Longbourne is not even mine to sign away. It is entailed away."
"We will break the entailment if and ONLY if you agree to sign over ownership to your wife once it is broken."
Mr. Bennet scoffed, "I would rather die."
"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Bennet. That can be arranged," Lady Elinor smirked.
"What?" he paled. Whatever response he was expecting was not this, and her menacing tone sent a cold shiver down his entire body.
The earl looked down on him like he was manure, "There could be a mishap with your medications. The brakes on the wheelchair could just suddenly stop working. You could slip in the bathtub and crack your skull against the marble floors."
"You would not dare to-!"
The earl cackled, "No? Whyever not? Do you honestly think you deserve any consideration? From us? From Darcy? From your family who are on the brink of ruination because of you?"
"No one wants to help you, and that is the bed you made," Lady Elinor narrowed her striking eyes at him.
The earl carried on, "You will be given a tenants' cottage, whichever is furthest from the family home, and an annual allowance until your death as long as you respect the terms of a contract that will be signed. What you do with that money is your choice. Drink it, gamble it, waste it in whatever way you prefer. Whether you want to plant the land or grow animals is your choice, but you will be barred from the family home. You can receive visitors but cannot visit your family unless it is on their terms…"
Mr. Bennet was shaking with fury.
"Additionally, you will not stand in the way of Miss Bennet's happiness with the colonel. You will also give permission to Miss Elizabeth to marry my nephew as soon as can be arranged. You will abide by Mr. Gardiner's and Mr. Darcy's plans for your daughter, Miss Lydia, who is currently on her way. And when it comes to the rest of your daughters, you will agree to them marrying whoever they choose."
"Anything else your majesties fancy?" Mr. Bennet spat angrily.
"You have twenty-four hours to make a decision."
"And if I refuse?"
The earl and his wife shared a look, "Just like your death could be easily arranged, Longbourne could go up in flames... Hypothetically, of course," the earl smirked.
"You are a monster. You say all this to a defenseless, sick man without witnesses…"
"No, Mr. Bennet. You are the only monster here. Or did you forget you attacked a sixteen-year-old woman many years your junior in a ball with the only object of traumatizing and compromising her?" the earl growled.
"We are just conniving, powerful people who, unlike you, love our family enough to the point of crime and violence," Lady Elinor said with an angry tone. "Tick, tock, Mr. Bennet. Tick, Tock."
The earl proudly offered his arm to his wife and pulled her out of the room. She followed, feeling vindicated.
Parson Villiers stared at Miss Mary in awe. After she had spoken of all her justified anger at the Lord, life, her father, and her sister Lydia, he was not expecting her to drop all grievances immediately upon seeing her sister hurt and begging Mrs. Bennet for forgiveness to run to her aid. Now, she was applying an herb paste to Miss Lydia's bruise. He was still holding her lesson plans and a new music sheet he had purchased for her, hoping to make her feel a bit better. He did not have a chance to give it to her because the carriage arrived when he was about to tell her.
"White?" the parson called a footman.
"Yes, Parson Villiers?"
"Can you please bring these up to Miss Mary's room?"
"Of course, sir."
"I will let Mr. Darcy know I am taking my leave. If anyone else asks, I have parish business to attend to this afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Lydia had fallen asleep in the living room after telling her family everything that happened. Mr. Gardiner pulled his sister to the side and handed her a glass of wine. She took a few sips.
"What are we going to do?" Francine asked, holding back a sob.
"There are some options we have looked into, but Mr. Darcy does not want to make any final decisions without your, or Mr. Bennet's input."
"He will go against anything Mr. Darcy says."
"No, he will not."
The siblings jumped and turned. Behind them stood Lady Elinor and her husband.
"Gardiner!"
"Matlock!"
They clapped each other's backs with smiles.
Francine had curtseyed at Lady Elinor and looked at their exchange, puzzled. She was about to introduce her brother to the earl.
"Pardon me, do you know each other?"
"Yes, the earl was my first investor. Lady Elinor"
"And Gardiner has proved me right to trust his business sense," the earl smiled.
"Mrs. Bennet, we would like to talk to you and Mr. Gardiner in private."
"Of course," Mr. Gardiner offered his arm to his sister.
"And so, he has twenty-four hours to sign the agreement."
"I will never be able to look at you again," Mrs. Bennet sobbed into her handkerchief. "To know that he did that to you… I-"
"You do not question it at all."
"No. I know Mr. Bennet and… I know what he is capable of."
"Frannie?"
"Please, brother. Do not make me speak of it. I cannot."
"Mrs. Bennet, perhaps a walk around the rose garden will calm your nerves," Lady Elinor offered. "Please join me."
Francine was so stunned by this offer of continued friendship in light of the circumstances. "Really, Lady Elinor?"
"Of course, but call me Elinor or just Eli."
"Then, call me Francine, please."
Mr. Gardiner swallowed his brandy in two gulps. After his long conversation with the earl, he wanted to throw Mr. Bennet out of the window. He could guess what his sister had endured, although he was sure she would never tell. His expectations were low, and now, with everything he heard from Matlock and Madeline, his expectations were below ground. He knocked on the open door.
"Bennet."
"Edward? Finally, someone with sense! A friend! They have me locked in here like a criminal! I have no entertainment, no companionship, no spirits, nothing. And my ungrateful family will not even visit me."
"A friend… Do you think we are friends?"
"Of course."
"How exactly? What is friendly between us? The way you have abused my sister and your daughters?"
"Those are falsehoods and gross exaggerations."
"I see. What you did to Corinne is also an exaggeration, then. She did not need stitches. It was all a feverish collective nightmare."
"You did not see what happened."
"You lost your temper again. You threw breakable items against the wall. A maid who was only doing her job stepped on a glass shard and got injured. Is that not what happened? You did not throw those things out of joy. It was not an accident. And then you had my Frannie on her hands and knees picking up the glass without a care for her getting hurt. You have managed to insult staff, family, and even your host at every opportunity, and now you have made an enemy out of the Earl of Matlock and his wife. You do not want those enemies. You would not know how to handle them."
"What they are demanding is absurd!"
"Is it? They are giving you a house and money for survival. If it were up to me, you would be thrown into debtor's prison. Do not forget that Mr. Darcy owns all your debts, and if he demands immediate payment, your destiny is the Marshalsea. I have never been more disappointed. I thought I knew you. I thought we were friends. I thought my sister and my nieces were safe with you. You have been lackadaisical on purpose. It is as if you decided you would make their lives as hard as you could just out of spite and hatred. You are the most consummate selfish person I know."
"Selfish?"
"You have a daughter who has been lost for a fortnight! I come here, and you do not have the bare minimum decency as a father to ask about her. She has been through something traumatic. She was beaten. Her destiny could go up in flames at any point, and yet your only concern is your living conditions!"
"Please, spare me the indignation. If you did not speak of her immediately, it is because she is fine."
"She is NOT fine. Her whole face is covered in bruises. She was starved. She was not allowed to properly bathe for days. She was all alone with three grown men for all this time, only one of which cared at all about her safety and well-being. And you do not care about any of this! You have no care at all about her! You do not even care about what will happen to the rest of your family now that she has essentially ruined any marriage prospects for the rest of your daughters, but oh no! You had already done that by spending their dowries, you irresponsible, profligate imbecile!"
"EDWARD!"
"Sign the contract! Give away Longbourne! Let better-suited people make all the decisions regarding your daughters."
"Or what?"
"Or end up in prison! The Darcys may not have enough influence to send you to the Americas to serve a sentence there, but the earl does."
"I do not believe it!"
"You are willing to risk the one safety and comfort you value -meaning your own- in the off chance that the earl will be merciful?"
"Yes."
"SIGN THE BLOODY CONTRACT!"
"No."
"Fine. Die as a criminal, then. I wash my hands off you! I will be making the decisions regarding my sister and my nieces," Edward snapped, turned on his heel, and left, slamming the door behind him in an uncharacteristic frustration explosion.
Lizzie knocked on William's study. She did not want to do this, but she had to admit her aunt was right.
"Come in."
"Are you busy?" she asked, grimacing at the papers on his desk.
"A bit, but I always have time for you," he smiled.
She was glad that he was alone. She sat in front of him, "William, I want to thank you again for what you did for Lydia."
"Dearest, you do not have to. She is going to be my sister. As such, she is under my care."
"Other men would have run away and end any relationship."
"I am not other men."
"I know. Given the circumstances, I… I do not want you to think me ungrateful or afraid… But I… Oh, Lord," Lizzie covered her face with her hands.
Mr. Darcy stood up and went around the desk. He gently lowered her hands, "You can tell me anything, dearest."
"We should only be together in public."
He blinked and stared. His expression was inscrutable, "Are you… regretful?"
"No! Not at all! I just do not want to set a bad example for Gigi or my sisters."
He blushed. "Of course. You are quite right. But I do not think I can bear it."
"Will, I-"
"Darling, we-" Lady Elinor rushed in, but stopped when she realized she was interrupting. "Oh! I am so sorry, my dears. I thought Fitz was alone."
"Aunt Eli… Dearest Aunt Eli," Mr. Darcy smiled boyishly.
Lady Elinor frowned, "What do you want?"
"How fast can you plan a small wedding?" he asked while staring at Lizzie.
Lady Elinor gasped, "You did not!"
"Did not what?"
"You did not… That is to say, pardon the presumption, you do not have a reason to rush, do you?"
"Yes," Lizzie blushed but smiled.
"Have you two taken leave of your senses?!"
"No. We love each other too much and want to marry as soon as can be arranged."
Lady Elinor narrowed her eyes, "I should not prepare for the wails of a newborn in 8 months' time, then?"
"No."
"In nine months?"
"No."
"Oh, thank the Lord. You know we are good, darling, but we can also manage one crisis at a time," Lady Elinor sighed.
"The only problem will be my father."
"He may not be."
"What? Why?"
Lady Elinor sat on the empty chair beside Lizzie, "Darling, you know we care for you. Yes?"
"Yes, Lady Elinor."
"We may or may not have indirectly threatened your father with harm and financial ruination if he does not sign a contract agreeing to the terms Fitzwilliam and the earl had discussed in advance. With an additional stipulation."
"What?!"
"He now has… nineteen hours left to sign."
"Aunt Eli, what did you and uncle do?"
"I will explain, but before I do… If the contract I mention is signed… I would need a week to throw you a beautiful, intimate wedding."
Lydia drifted in and out of sleep. Jane kept her warm and embroidered while she waited. Mary was caressing Lydia's hair as she prayed with tears in her eyes. Jane would pause at times and reach out to squeeze her hand supportively. Mary did not know this, but Jane had heard her diatribe with Parson Villiers. She heard all about Mary's frustration, anger, and all the pain she had suffered at the hands of her family. Jane decided to be a much better sister to Mary and Lydia. She had been gathering flowers to bring to her mother and aunt to cheer them up. Neither party noticed her presence, and she did not know how to bring it up. Mary was unlikely to appreciate having been heard in such an uncharacteristic moment of weakness and warranted selfishness.
Jane was sad to hear how Mary felt and how she saw herself. She felt guilty because she had never considered asking Mary whether she liked any gentleman or offering her advice. With all the pain inflicted on her, it was quite understandable that her sister was not happy with anyone in her family. It had hurt to hear Mary say she hated Lydia, although she knew those were words spoken in anger. From her reaction to Lydia's condition, it was clear as day that Mary loved her younger sister. Jane had also heard Lady Elinor's conversation, and when Miss DeBourgh offered to buy her a dress as a thank you, Jane had talked to her mother, Lizzie, and Aunt Maddie. They had pitched in to buy her another beautiful dress.
Lady Elinor had, naturally, found out. Unbeknownst to all the Bennet ladies, she had placed a very significant order at the modiste with Georgie's and Mrs. Reynold's help. Lady Elinor ordered a riding habit for Jane, keeping in mind that it should be a tad longer than Georgiana's and a couple of dresses. She ordered three dresses for Miss Elizabeth in what she could tell were Fitzwilliam's favorite colors on her. The modiste had already sent back Mrs. Gardiner's maternity dresses.
Lydia moaned in pain. All the terrible nights were catching up to her body. The first thing she felt as she tried to open her eyes was a hand on her forehead. She freaked out, slapped the hand away, and jumped up, agitated.
"Sweetie, you are safe. You are in Pemberley. The hand was Mary's."
She struggled to breathe and started scratching her borrowed dress. Mary rushed to undo her dress buttons so she could loosen her stays and corset.
"Deep breaths, Lydia."
She inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. "I am s-sorry, Mary. I thought you were someone else."
"No worries. Are you in any pain?"
"I am just sore all over... But I will be fine. I just need some rest."
There was a knock on the family room's door.
"Enter," Jane turned to face the door.
"Hello, I was wondering if Miss Lydia would want to relocate to her bedroom. I think she could benefit from a hot bath for her soreness. She can also change and be more comfortable. We can have supper served in her room if she would rather sleep. The beds are much more comfortable," Georgiana said all this a bit nervously.
"Who are you?" Lydia asked.
"I am your hostess, Miss Georgiana Darcy," Gigi attempted a smile.
"Oh… Thank you. I would like that."
"Of course. You are very welcome. Please follow me."
Lydia could not sleep. She kept thinking about Mr. King and whether he was really healthy. Just because he had refused to be the solution to her problem, it did not mean she resented him. Quite the opposite, really. She shuddered to know what would have happened had he not been there. The way Wickham looked at her had her feeling dirty, still now. She put on her robe slowly and put on a shawl as well. It was really cold here. She was glad her mother, who was sleeping next to her, did not stir.
She walked aimlessly. She moved slowly. The house was not completely dark, but she was unfamiliar with the layout, so she walked in the middle of the hallway and took the stairs, trying to be quiet. She was hoping to find the kitchen. She wanted something hot. Her feet were freezing even under the heavy, warm blankets, and sharing the bed with her mother. She reached the end of the stairs and crashed against something tall and sturdy.
"Miss Lydia?"
"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed and curtseyed.
"Are you well? Are you… lost?"
"No… I…"
"Miss Lydia, is there anything I can get for you? Anyone you want me to call?"
"Why are you so kind to me?"
"You are not the first victim of Wickham's… ways. I do not think it is acceptable for one poor decision to determine every outcome of your life."
"I am so sorry for all the trouble I have caused and all the expenses."
"Forget about it. I would have done the same for my sister, and that is what you will be soon."
"I will be very glad to call you my brother."
Mr. Darcy stared at her strangely, almost fondly. "I am happy to hear it. Do you need anything?"
"I was hoping to find the kitchen."
"The kitchen? Why?"
"It is really cold here."
"Oh, of course. Follow me."
Soon enough, Lydia was staring in awe at a man… not just any man, but at Mr. Darcy, heating milk and making her hot cocoa. She almost thought she was dreaming. Surely, the man she thought was an unfeeling, haughty ogre would never be making her a hot drink in the kitchen of his grand home.
"I am surprised you even know how to turn on a stove, sir."
Mr. Darcy chuckled, "Why?"
"I… You… You are a man."
"Miss Lydia, I… My sister was three days old when my mother passed away. My father passed away when I was fifteen, and she was still a young girl. She is twelve years my junior. I had to take on a father role for her. I would sometimes heat some milk with honey and lavender to help her sleep. For some time, she would only allow me to do her hair… So, I am no stranger to domesticity. I have yet to meet a stove I cannot work"
"I had no idea. I am sorry for your losses."
"Worry not. It happened many years ago," he handed her a steaming cup. "While that does not make the situation less painful, it helps put life into perspective. I do not presume to have the slightest understanding of living life as a woman, and you do not have to tell me anything about what you have been through. All I can tell you is that I intend to keep you a part of the negotiations regarding your future and that your choice matters..."
"I do not think I should make any more decisions, Mr. Darcy," she took a couple of sips.
"Tell me, Miss Lydia, how do you choose which dress to wear?"
"Sir?" she blinked.
"I promise I have a point."
"Uh… I guess it depends on the ball. If I know there will be a lot of dancing, I try to go for one that is not too heavy, and that is not likely to be stepped on by other dancers. If I am walking to town, I need something light and airy that does not get too dirty at the hems, and I bring a fan. I always wear dark shoes when walking into town. If I am going to visit my aunt or to a ball with my family, I choose something fun."
"Why?" he asked as he rinsed the pot and the spoon he used and placed them in a bucket.
"Why do I choose something fun?"
"Yes."
Lydia thought for a while; after a sip, she said, "Because I am safe."
Mr. Darcy nodded, "And if, say… something happened to your dress like a spilled drink or mud, could you fix that?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I know my neighbors and my family would help me deal with the problem."
"You sound very sure of that," the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile.
Lydia felt deep sadness in the pit of her stomach. "I am… My neighbors are kind, and my family l-loves… loved me."
"Do you really think that your family does not love you anymore?"
"I would not love me if I were them."
"And yet, you trust them to help you get out of an embarrassing situation like a ruined dress."
"A ruined dress is not a ruined person…"
"Miss Lydia, all I can say is that if you trust the people who care about you to help you with something as simple as a dress, you should trust them to take care of your future in the same way."
Lydia sobbed against the napkin he handed her. Mr. Darcy placed his big hand over her small one. He just let it rest there. He did not squeeze. Lydia was shocked. Every time a man so much as looked at her, she felt like she needed to run and kick and scream to get away. Yet, the weight of his warm hand on hers was reassuring.
"Everything will be well… eventually. I was going to come see you early tomorrow, but while you are here, let me tell you. I will be meeting with your parents and Mr. Gardiner to discuss how to get out of your dilemma. I would like it if you were present so you can weigh in."
"No! Mr. Darcy, please! I cannot! I cannot face my father! He will be so angry, so disappointed."
"Miss Lydia, I still-"
"Sir, please! You do not understand! Do you not see?! I proved him right!"
"What?"
"I proved him right! I proved my father right! I proved that I am a stupid, ignorant child who left with the first red coat who smiled her way. I swear I only wanted to check for myself that what Mary said in her letters was true! I did not want to be taken!"
"Miss Lydia, why? Why not trust your sister?"
"Mary… Mary exaggerates a lot of the t-time. She sees s-sin everywhere!" Lydia crossed her arms around herself.
"And you do not see it anywhere," Mr. Darcy frowned.
Another sob wrecked Lydia. She hugged her legs to her chest. Now, she understood Mary's weariness of men and strangers.
"I am not trying to scold you. Lord knows I have no right. I just need you to understand that your family has your best interests at heart. More than anyone else."
"But I let th-them all d-down!"
"Miss Lydia," Mr. Darcy sandwiched her hand in his own. "You are alive. Your bruises will fade. You have learned. You are not with child. There is much for you to be thankful for."
"Mr. Wickham... He... He was so unkind! He called me a whore. He… He was going to sell me to a Madame. He said I was no gentlewoman and that I was… He said I was one strong wind away from falling in bed with my legs spread wide open!"
Mr. Darcy sighed. Every single time he thought Wickham could not get worse, he outdid himself.
"And I started thinking… Do all men think of me that way? Do they think I am so… so easy?" Lydia was shivering.
Mr. Darcy took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Miss Lydia, it matters not what other people think. However, if it bothers you too much, the best thing you can do is live in a way that is so opposite to people's perceptions of you that they cannot reproach you at all."
Lydia put on his coat and felt much better and warmer, "So, be more like Mary, essentially?"
Mr. Darcy shook his head, "I did not mean that, necessarily. But would that be so wrong? Miss Mary is a wonderful young woman. She has been through a lot lately and I have yet to hear a cross word from her lips. I know she is in pain and sad, but she does not let that deter her from helping others."
"She should hate me... I know my father will."
"Miss Lydia, it is not my place to speak of your father. All I will say is that he has earned the fury of all your sisters here. I would not put too much stock on what he thinks or says."
"He will be so mean."
"Probably. How about this? Stand in front of me in the room tomorrow. If you cannot take it anymore, reach behind you with your right hand. I will excuse you and escort you out."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."
"Thank you!" Lydia hugged him, and he froze. He then awkwardly patted her upper back and her head. "I know I do not deserve your kindness and your patience, but I thank you all the same, Mr. Darcy."
"You are welcome. I will walk you to your room."
"Yes, please. I was dreading trying to find it again."
Mary yawned as she finished her letter to Catherine. They had sent an express that Lydia was with them and safe, but she wanted to explain some things. She turned to organize her lesson plans and saw there was something on top. A large envelope simply labeled 'Miss Mary.' She blinked, confused. She opened it carefully. She pulled out a set of music sheets.
"Miss Mary,
Worry not, your eldest sister, Miss Bennet, read this note beforehand. I would have asked your mother for permission, but she was indisposed at the time. It did not seem wise to bother your aunt.
I know you have been struggling with all the recent circumstances. It saddens me to see you so hopeless. I wanted to give you these in person, but when I was told Mr. Darcy was likely coming back today, I knew I probably would not have a chance to do so… I purchased these hymns for you. It is my hope that you will become acquainted with the organ at the church. Mr. Darcy has already ordered a piano for the parish so the children can learn to play if you are willing to teach them. I know you love playing the piano, and when we learn things from people who love those things, those teachings stay with us and touch us more profoundly than those from people who teach because they have to but do not enjoy what they do.
I hope you do not feel I am being disrespectful. I know we have not known each other long. But I want you to know that listen when you talk. I believe you will accomplish great things and that you can indeed make all your dreams come true, even those that you believe are far from reach.
I hope your heart feels a bit more peaceful and less broken tomorrow.
Parson Alexander Villiers"
Mary sat on her bed and cried. She rarely got any gifts that were picked out for her, considering her likes and dislikes. That he had asked Jane before slipping her a note meant he valued propriety and that he did not want to cause her any additional unnecessary stress. She knelt and prayed to thank the Lord to have found such a good friend.
Lydia went downstairs as soon as the sun came up. A maid guided her to the dining room. A woman was there, holding a baby, as she tried to make herself a plate. Lydia rushed to help her with the plate. If she were the woman, she would not hand her child to a stranger.
"Thank you so much."
"Do not mention it. Just tell me what you want, and I will help you."
Once the plate was served, Lydia served herself some tea. She still was not hungry, "Is it a girl?"
"Yes."
"She is beautiful."
"Thank you."
"I can hold her while you eat if you want."
"I'd appreciate it, Miss-?"
"Lydia Bennet," she smiled.
"Esther," she took her fork and started to eat.
Lydia found it odd that she did not offer a last name, but she did not say a word, "It is a pleasure."
"I heard about what happened," Esther said in between bites.
"Pardon?"
"You were Mr. Wickham's latest victim. Right?"
Lydia blushed. "I was. Who told you?"
"Nobody. Not directly. It is just that everyone was so affected, and they rarely noticed if I was in the room."
"You must think the worst of me."
"No. On the contrary. I envy you, Miss Lydia."
"Envy me? Why?"
"Because you will be saved... I was not as lucky."
"Excuse me?" Lydia was stunned.
"Mr. Wickham is the father of the girl you are holding."
Lydia was glad that she was reclining against the back of the chair. Otherwise, she would have fallen with the baby.
"Oh my God!"
"I am what you could have become, Miss Lydia. My parents disowned me and my sister. We were thrown out. Mr. Darcy is the only reason I have a home… Or that I am alive. He gave me a tenant's cottage and some money to buy what I needed to start producing eggs. That is how I live now. My delivery was very difficult. He spared no expense in making sure I survived and even gave me a room here for me and my sister while I recover from the delivery and nurse my daughter."
"I am so sorry!" Lydia exclaimed with teary eyes.
"Be grateful, Miss Lydia. You were rescued from a bleak future."
"I was indeed… Mr. Darcy is so kind. I do not understand it. I was never even polite to him when we met."
Esther ate the rest on her plate before she replied, "Miss Lydia, Mr. Darcy is one of the best men I have ever met. He is responsible, kind, loving, and extremely loyal to his family and friends. Anyone who gains his favor should consider themselves fortunate. I lost my family and any possibility of being a respectable wife. I know they will probably have to marry you off. Please know that Mr. Darcy will find you the best husband he can manage. He will make sure your husband does not hurt you or make you feel unsafe. He will make sure your husband is kind. I know that getting married at your age seems daunting, but when we make poor decisions and trust the wrong people, well, it follows that the consequences are not pleasant."
"I know. Thank you for telling me all this. I am sorry you were not as lucky."
"So am I, and I will be sorry for the rest of my life because I ruined any possibility of a good match for my younger sister."
Lydia sighed. She looked into the baby's eyes. She had Wickham's eye color in her small irises. Lydia waited until Esther dabbed her mouth and handed her the baby. She had to wait by her father's door.
Anne had been hoping to catch Mr. Walker alone. She waited outside until he returned from a morning ride. He jumped when she called out for him.
"Miss DeBourgh, good morning. How can I help you?"
"Good morning, Mr. Walker. The more appropriate question would be how can we help each other?"
He noticed she was carrying a picnic basket. "I do not understand."
She smiled, "Fancy a walk around the garden so I can explain?"
He blinked, "Uh, sure."
She took his arm and handed him the basket. They walked toward the rose garden.
As they were about to go into Mr. Bennet's room to discuss Lydia's future, a carriage was approaching Pemberley as fast as it could go. Lydia had gone downstairs to get Mr. Darcy, mainly because she was too nervous to wait still for their meeting. Mr. Darcy frowned as he looked outside the window that faced the road into his property.
Richard groaned, "She cannot have circled back so soon!"
"Who?" Lydia asked from the door.
"Lady Catherine, Miss Lydia."
"Do you recognize that carriage, Darcy?"
"No. It cannot be our aunt. Her carriages are very… visible."
"I do not see anything I recognize."
Lydia went around both men and looked at the carriage. Her eyes widened. It could not be. Could it?
"Miss Lydia?"
Lydia fainted and was barely aware of four hands that caught before her head hit the ground.