“You met Lord Fitzwilliam? Good grief!”
“We spent a lovely afternoon together. I found him to be very amusing.”
“Oh, he keeps his family in stitches.”
“I can easily imagine him to be a thorn in the side of his relations, but he was quite gracious to me. He was very forward in the questions, and I confided in him that I had arrived in England with little more than my clothes and a promise of a draft from my bank, which I have not received. He said that he would help me in any way, except financially, as he was broke. I told him it was my intention to support myself as a dressmaker. My father was a tailor and my mother a seamstress, and basically, I served an apprenticeship under them. As a result, I can sew anything.
“It was then that he made the most incredible offer. He told me that all of his wife’s dresses were upstairs. He explained they were estranged, and he had written to her to come get them. Her answer was that she would not wear anything she had ever worn when she was with him. In an example of supreme understatement, he said, ‘She does not like me very much.’” Christina then stood up and took off her pelisse. “This is one of Lady Fitzwilliam’s gowns, which I have remade with some additional fabric from another. Her dresses were out of style, but the material is beautiful. Is it not?” And she turned around, so he could admire all of the dress.
“It is lovely. You could easily become a dressmaker to a duchess.”
“A couturier, William. A couturier can charge more than a dressmaker, and I already have a commission. Mrs. Conway gave my name to Lady Edgemont, which is why I was late.”
“My sincere congratulations to you, Christina, and now that I have seen your handiwork, I shall certainly recommend you to others. But until you are established, I hope you will accept my cheque as my contribution to the support of an emerging artiste.”
“Thank you, William. I wish I were in a position to refuse your offer, but I am not. As for yesterday, I must explain. Because I left everything familiar behind me, I was looking for a life raft to cling to until I could make my own way, and that is why I came here. But it was so obvious you were uncomfortable, possibly for many reasons, but I am quite sure of one. You are a man in love, but I do not think all is well there. I shall not pry. I will only say I hope that whatever keeps you apart will be quickly resolved. What we had in France remains a lovely memory for me, but it rightfully should stay a memory and I shall speak no more of it.”
At that point, Mercer came into the room to tell his master that the letter he was expecting had arrived, and he went so far as to place a letter on a tray.
“It is all right, Mercer. I can see to it later.”
“Excuse me, sir, but this is the one you have been waiting for,” and he held it up as proof that it really was a letter from George Bingley. Darcy was on his feet and gave a sigh of relief when he recognized Bingley’s handwriting.
“I shall detain you no longer as you have urgent business to see to,” Christina said. “I am just happy you really do need to leave, and it was not because you were trying to get rid of me.” Darcy smiled weakly. “Go on. Read your letter. Mercer can hail a cab for me,” and she held out her pelisse, so that Darcy might help her put it on. “I hope to see you about town,” and she allowed him to kiss her hand, and then she went downstairs with Mercer.
Darcy tore through Bingley’s seal, and there were the words he had been waiting for since he had arrived in London.
Mr. Darcy,
Wickham and Lydia Bennet have been found. They are not married. Despite their having shared a lodging room, it is my belief, based on testimony from the landlady, that she is as she was when she left Longbourn. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have taken their niece home with them, and a post rider has been sent to Longbourn to advise them of our success. However, Mr. Wickham remains in my custody. I would ask that you come to my offices at your earliest convenience so that we might proceed in making arrangements that will benefit the young Miss Bennet.
Sincerely, George Bingley
By that time, Mercer had returned and poured Darcy a wine. “Lydia Bennet has been recovered and is in the care of her aunt and uncle. Her family will shortly have news that their daughter is safe. Hopefully, no matter what happens from this point on, the worst is behind us.”
“May I suggest a letter to Miss Elizabeth might be in order, sir?”
“Not yet. Not until I have all the information. But at least now the picture of her with tear-stained cheeks at the inn in Derbyshire will be replaced by that of her dancing circles in the gardens of Pemberley,” he said, smiling. “Mercer, please have a hackney out front in ten minutes. Too much time has already been lost,” and he took the stairs two at a time.
Lizzy lay quietly in the dark with her sister beside her in a deep sleep. They had talked well into the night, and she smiled at the memory of how they had laughed about Mr. Nesbitt and his inept courtship. It was a welcome respite from the tension that had descended upon the Bennet household. Surely, it was a sign of healing when one could laugh again. Now, with Mr. Nesbitt out of the picture, maybe it would be possible to remind Jane of Mr. Bingley’s many attributes. She would make no dramatic statements about true love and forgiveness, but rather talk about the times Jane and Mr. Bingley were together and their compatibility and shared memories.
Lizzy did not consider herself to be a romantic, certainly not like the ladies in a novel or a Shakespearean play, as she was much too practical for that. However, she did believe that two souls could come together, so that the one would know if something had happened to the other despite distance or war. With all of her being, she believed she had touched Mr. Darcy’s heart, and if he had stopped loving her, surely she would be able to sense that. But she had no such feeling.
The more she thought about their last time together at the inn at Lambton, the more convinced she was that he had not stepped away from her in disgust. Instead, he had already formed a plan to help find Lydia, thus explaining his hasty departure.
Again, she returned to the time they were together in the stables at Pemberley. If it had not been for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s untimely arrival, he would have kissed her, and she would have looked into his beautiful gray-green eyes and told him that she loved him.
Wherever Mr. Darcy was, she believed he was still thinking of her as she could almost feel his presence. That would not be possible if he had put her out of his mind. No, she had reason to hope, and she would cling to that until proved wrong.
Chapter 48
Even though Hannah Bingley had seven children, and was raising two of her grandchildren, she had never met anyone like Lydia Bennet. Without embarrassment, the girl had explained that she had done nothing more serious than to give her parents a fright, and nothing Hannah had said had changed her mind. Before turning her over to the care of her aunt and uncle, Mrs. Bingley thought it would be helpful if Mr. Bingley talked with her.
When Mrs. Bingley brought her to her husband’s study, Lydia wanted to chat about how much he looked like his younger brother, Charles, but without the spectacles, and, of course, Charles was too young to have so much gray hair. While Lydia chattered on and on, George said nothing. In the past, he found that silence tended to disconcert the other party, and once Lydia finally stopped talking, he could see she was growing uncomfortable.