Upon the receipt of Lydia's first correspondence after Lizzy's marriage, a full one month after in fact, Lizzy finally heard the entire story of Darcy's search for Wickham and Lydia. Her husband's lingering pain over the situation, remorse for being unable to rescue Lydia, and hatred toward Wickham was profound. Reliving the episode was tortuous, augmented by a residual grief due to his belief at the time that Elizabeth was beyond his reach. The last pieces of the mystery were revealed. They hugged, kissed, and made love, then vowed to never speak of it again.
It was not that Darcy refused to utter Wickham's or Lydia's name or hear them spoken in his presence; he merely preferred to avoid the topic. Therefore, Lizzy chose to facilitate tranquility and impede any suffering touching her husband by hiding the letters received and never mentioning her sister. Fortunately it was not a difficult chore, but she still hated anything remotely secretive between her and her spouse.
“Quit stalling, Lizzy,” she chided herself, opening the letter with a sigh.
Dear Lizzy,
You are pregnant! Oh Lizzy, I completely forgot. I was cleaning out my desk and ran across one of your letters, how do you have the time to write so much, Lizzy? Unbelievable! Anyway, I reread it and remembered. Congratulations! You are happy, are you? You said you were and I am sure Mr. Darcy wishes for an heir. I do not think I am at all ready to have a baby. Growing fat and being sick, oh how horrible! I do hope that does not happen to you, Lizzy. Of course you are far thinner than me so maybe it shall not affect you so. The Major's wife had her third baby six months ago, three! Can you imagine? Anyway, she is still huge, poor dear. I heard she was about my size once, so I fear that could be my fate! My dear Wickham is in no hurry to have babies, so I need not concern myself yet. So are you feeling well? Have you been sick? I do pray the delivery goes well. I hear people die when having babies! Of course Mama had no problems so hopefully you will take after her. I daresay you and Mr. Darcy desire a male? Yes? I am doing fantastically! Newcastle is a huge city, Lizzy! There are so many diversions here. The parks are beautiful, the seashore is near although far too cold this far to the north, the shopping is fantastic, and the theater is amazing! Better than London, most people say. I adore all the parties. Lizzy, the dancing is frequent and so delightful. Balls nearly every Saturday! I have made so many friends. There are so many Scots here! They talk with a strange accent, a burr it is called, and they are big and sweaty usually. Scary but intriguing. My dear Wickham is busy so often, spends so many nights working, poor darling. His superiors torture him! Work, work, work all the time. He comes home at the wee hours of the morning tired and mussed up. Luckily my lady friends keep me entertained. Everyone is so kind! I never lack for dancing partners as the officers sympathize with my sweet Wickham's absence, poor baby! You would think that working such long hours would mean he is paid more, yet we barely manage to survive! He tries so hard, my dear husband, but there is only so much one man can do. He does try to win at the tables on occasion, just to augment our income, you understand, but the scoundrels cheat so here! Of course, you do not have to worry about money! So fortunate. Mama wrote about your fine carriage and jewels and gowns. My George said it is expected as a Darcy and that Mr. Darcy would have it no other way. Well, do not worry about me, Lizzy. I admit I envy you just a small bit! Nonetheless, I am happy with my friends and my dear Wickham. See, it all turned out wonderfully despite Mr. Darcy and Uncle fretting so. Oh, I hear my dear George downstairs! I must close now, Lizzy. I know you will write me soon. You are so good! I do not know how you find the time. I thought being Mistress of Pemberley would keep you occupied. My Wickham says it is probably because Mr. Darcy does all the work himself and does not trust you to do anything. I do not believe this as I know how bright you are, but do not tell him I disagree! Give my best to Mr. Darcy. I love you, Lizzy!
Your sister,
Lydia Wickham
“Oh Lydia, you silly, naïve fool,” Lizzy whispered, folding the letter slowly. She retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket to dab at teary eyes, rubbing her thumb gently over the parchment while losing herself in sad musings. With head bowed and thoughts drifting, she did not note the faint crunch of boot heels on sandy path.
“Elizabeth? Are you well?”
She glanced up, mildly startled, but recognizing her husband's voice instantly. He stood a couple feet away, the sun blocked by an exceedingly tall body thus throwing his face into shadow. The tone of concern was unmistakable, however, even without visualizing the creases between furrowed brows.
Lizzy smiled, brushing quickly at her eyes and flipping the letter over. “I am fine, dearest. What are you doing here?” She held out her hand and he approached, sitting onto the bench beside her.
“I was told you had walked here, and since my heart was breaking with my need to see your face, I decided to forego washing up or changing, hastening here to find my beautiful wife with teary eyes and sad face.” He ran his fingers across her cheek, nodding toward the letter. “Distressing news?”
“No, no. The opposite actually. I heard from Mary. She shared her blessed news with her usual aplomb, insisting I thank you specifically for the initial introduction. Mr. Daniels considers you a matchmaker extraordinaire.”
Darcy laughed. “How kind, although if I recall, I was out of town at the time and had little to do with the meeting. Still, it is an excellent match and I am very happy for her, for them both actually. Mary is a lovely girl and will make a steady, faithful wife.” He continued to caress her cheek, staring intently into her eyes all the while. “However, I sense dissimulation on your part. These are sad eyes, not happy eyes.”
Lizzy dropped her gaze, the intensity of his stare unnerving her. “It is nothing, William. Better if we do not speak of it.”
He frowned, transferring his hands to clasp both of hers, silence falling for a brief time. “Elizabeth, I appreciate that I have no right to insist you divulge all information to me. Secrets are a natural human necessity, I suppose. However, I would hate to think you felt you could not share something troubling with me. That I had somehow given you reason to conclude I was disinterested or vexed with any issue related to you. If the former, then simply say so. If the latter, then we must talk about it.”
Lizzy shook her head, actually chuckling slightly as she returned her gaze to his serious face. “William, you truly are too amazing. I could almost become annoyed at that fact alone if it was not so wonderful.” She sighed, patting his puzzled face. “I only wish to spare you pain, my love. I… It is a letter from Lydia, is all. She is well,” she hastily added, Darcy's countenance instantaneously darkening with sorrow. “Too well, in fact. Giddy with the joy of balls and friends and her dear Wickham.” She shrugged, staring into the pond. “I likely read too much in between the lines as she never relates anything but her bounding happiness. I am not sure if I am sad or thankful for her perpetual immaturity and gullibility.”