“Oh, Mr. Bennet! You must find him and make them marry,” she cried, her distress extreme, “for soon everyone will hear of it, and then what will become of us all?” She blotted her eyes with her damp handkerchief and continued. “I simply do not understand it! Lydia was always such an obedient, respectful girl. Never any trouble at all—and so popular with all of the officers, too. Surely, there must be one of them, at least, who would happily marry her if Wickham is not found!”
Darcy rolled his eyes and walked to the window to stand beside his wife, who laid a hand upon his arm in a gesture of assuagement. He gave her a searching look before raising her hand to his lips, caressing her fingers with an almost reverent kiss. It was truly beyond his abilities to understand how Elizabeth and Jane could have been born to a woman as impractical as his mother-in-law, and he found himself suddenly wishing they could depart for London on the following day, as they had originally planned. In light of all that had occurred, however, Darcy had decided to remain in Hertfordshire until Colonel Forster and his men determined Wickham was most definitely not in the area. In his opinion, such news could not come soon enough.
Elizabeth’s spirits had been low since her encounter with Wickham, and it concerned him. At her insistence, Mrs. Bennet had not been made aware of Wickham’s assault, and it was obvious to Darcy that Elizabeth’s state of mind was far from improved by her mother’s obtuse comments. He longed to take her away from the unpleasantness of the last few days and from the added stress of reliving the painful event in the antagonistic company of her youngest sister.
If he was honest with himself, Darcy knew he was really longing to take her not to London, but to Pemberley, where he felt fairly confident his wife would soon find many ways to raise her spirits as they submersed themselves in their new life together.
Mr. Bennet’s dry voice, tinged with anger, rang out from across the room. “My dear, if anyone should hear of your daughter’s indiscretion, I am certain it will be by your own mouth, as the only people who are aware of Lydia’s shameful conduct currently occupy this room.” He then made a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane, and Bingley. Colonel Forster was the only absent party. Darcy cringed. He would not put it past Mrs. Bennet and her loose tongue to advertise the scandal any more than he would Lydia herself. He briefly wondered where his sister-in-law was at the moment, as he had hardly seen her since they returned from the wedding breakfast at Lucas Lodge. Lydia, due to her shameful behavior at that house not two nights prior, had not been permitted to attend. It was now nearly teatime.
Just then, the front door to the house opened, and Lydia’s loud voice could be heard ringing throughout the front hall. Her father strode to the door and summoned her into the drawing room. Lydia immediately took in the grave faces collected there and her mother’s incessant wailing, and rolled her eyes. “Lord,” she muttered, “you are a dreary lot.”
“And why should we not be?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Wickham has gone from the country, perhaps never to return!”
With a huff, Lydia threw herself upon one of the sofas. “Oh, Lord! Wherever did you get that notion, Mama? I daresay you ought not to put stock in anything Mr. Darcy and Lizzy have to say on the subject, for they cannot possibly know anything of my dear Wickham,” she said as she readjusted a bit of lace on her gown. “Indeed, Wickham shall return for me. He must only have some very pressing matters of business, I am sure, for he dearly loves me, as I do him, and we shall be married sooner or later.” Here, she shrugged. “It hardly signifies to me when our wedding shall take place, for I know I shall someday be Mrs. George Wickham.” Then she laughed. “Lord, how droll that sounds!”
Elizabeth had heard all she could possibly bear, and with a sound of disgust, she hastened from the room, slamming the door behind her. Darcy made to follow her, but Jane placed a steady hand upon his arm and shook her head. “I will gladly see to my sister, sir. Do not trouble yourself.”
Darcy relented, only to pace before the window and quit the room himself not five minutes later. Shutting the door behind him, he stood in the hall before he discerned the sound of Jane’s voice coming from abovestairs. Not wishing to intrude upon a private moment between the two sisters, he had just taken a seat to await them when he heard the distinctive sounds of retching, followed again by Jane’s soothing voice. Taking the stairs two at a time, he soon came upon both ladies seated upon the floor of the nearest water closet.
“Elizabeth!” he exclaimed as he stood over the pale form of his wife and watched her lay her head upon Jane’s lap.
“I am well,” she whispered.
He knelt before her and stroked her clammy brow. “You are not well. I shall call for a doctor.”
“No. There is nothing Mr. Jones will be able to do for me, Fitzwilliam. Indeed, this is perfectly natural.”
Darcy studied her with an incredulous expression. “This is perfectly natural? You cannot be serious.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and swallowed several times. “Jane,” she implored.
Jane colored and, without looking at her brother-in-law, said, “I believe it is to be expected for a married woman in my sister’s condition, sir.”
Taking her meaning at last, Darcy could find nothing to say other than a simple, “Ah,” as he twisted his signet ring.
They were joined then, and quite unexpectedly, by Bingley. “So this is where you all have got to. I was—good God!” he exclaimed as he beheld Elizabeth’s pale face.
Embarrassed to have Bingley come upon her in such a state, Elizabeth attempted to rise; however, such an action only served to exacerbate her nausea, and she promptly found herself doubled over the basin yet again. Darcy insinuated himself between Jane and Elizabeth, moving to support his wife as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach. Knowing her sister was in good hands, and understanding how uncomfortable Elizabeth must feel having Bingley seeing her thus, Jane took the opportunity to lead him away.
It was some minutes before Elizabeth’s situation improved. With a groan, she leaned back upon Darcy, whose outstretched arms enfolded her, securing her against his chest. Wishing to distract his wife from her discomfort, he kissed her temple and said, “Though your sister’s cavalier attitude with regard to her behavior certainly causes me to feel ill, I had no idea it was appalling enough to actually inspire the contents of one’s stomach to revolt. I now see I stand corrected. Perhaps I should exercise caution, as well? What think you, my dearest?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wiping the back of her trembling hand across her mouth. “I think you choose the most outrageous moments to display your sense of humor, Fitzwilliam,” she said in a weak voice but with the hint of a smile upon her lips.
He kissed her temple once more. “Forgive me. I could not resist,” he said. “I realize I should not tease you so when you are in such a state, especially when this particular state of affliction is due, in part, to my own, ah, very explicit attentions to you. Tell me, are you feeling any better?” he asked, brushing several curls away from her face.