The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (10 page)

“My husband is dead.”

“Mrs. Bennet, I would speak to you.” His wife looked up in surprise. “In private,” he insisted.

“But we are about to depart,” she protested. “Could this not wait until later, Mr. Bennet?”

Obviously more than a bit uncomfortable with the situation, Mr. Bennet glanced across the room at the happy gathering. Dealing with his wife was one of his least favorite activities. He had very often wished, before this period of his life, that, instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for the better provision of his children, and of his wife. He now wished it more than ever. Maybe, if he had, Mrs. Bennet would not be so desperate to see to their girls' futures. If he had done his duty in that respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to Mr. Darcy for whatever of honor his son in marriage had purchased for her.

When first he had married, economy was held to be perfectly useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. The son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet's grasp of economy varied greatly with the situation; and Mr. Bennet's love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.

And all his indolence had led to this moment. He had never supposed that prevailing upon Wickham to marry Lydia would have been done with so little inconvenience to himself.
Time to pay the piper
, he thought. “I fear, my dear, that we have a prior engagement.”

His wife started to object, but he extended his hand to her, and despite her puzzlement, Mrs. Bennet accepted his hand and stood by his side. Possessively, he wrapped her arm through his.
When they had visited Pemberley at Christmastide, they had shared several moments of understanding, the first true honesty that had occurred between them in years. Perhaps Pemberley's magic would prevail once more.

Mr. Nathan stepped into the open door. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy request your presence before Pemberley. Your carriages await.”

A buzz of activity exploded. “I shall return the twins to the nursery,” the Bingleys' nurse said as she motioned a maid to follow her with Cassandra.

“Thank you, Mrs. Olson.”

“Shall William be safe?” Ruth asked Mary Joseph as they reached for their gloves and bonnets.

“I trust Mrs. Darcy to protect my son. She would not employ an incompetent staff.”

“Papa,” Kitty whispered softly. “Mr. Winkler has asked Jarvis to report to Mr. Saunders' cottage and to secure the curate's belongings. I thought it best under the circumstances.”

Mr. Bennet squeezed her hand. It amazed him how mature his fourth daughter had become under Elizabeth and Jane's guidance. Not only had Kitty managed to think of a temporary solution to the problem of Lydia and Lieutenant Wickham's housing, she had had the foresight to remove the curate's possessions from Lieutenant Wickham's temptation. “You are quite remarkable.” He glanced to where Mr. Winkler waited for her. “Enjoy your day with your young man. The gentleman has shown patience in claiming your attentions. Your mother and I will be anticipating your return.”

“Now, Mr. Bennet, please explain why we could not partake of a day of friendly travel. This is most disagreeable,” she declared.

As he pulled a chair closer to the one to which he had directed their steps, he grumbled, “Not half as disagreeable as I expect you to find it. Your manipulations, Marjory, have placed Kitty and
Lizzy and Mr. Darcy—nay, the whole family—in an awkward situation.”

“My manipulations?” she exclaimed. “What manipulations would those be, Sir? I assure you I have conducted myself modestly.”

Mr. Bennet's eyebrow rose in disbelief. His wife's actions had mortified and displeased him in no common degree. “Then you would lead me to believe that you possessed no knowledge of Lydia and Lieutenant Wickham's unexpected appearance at Pemberley?”

She was on her feet immediately. “Lydia is here. Oh, where is my dearest girl? I must see her this instant.”

“Then you must accompany me into Lambton.”

Perplexed, she turned to him. She scrupled to point out her earlier remarks, lest it should appear ill natured. “Surely you jest, Mr. Bennet. Why would Lieutenant and Mrs. Wickham not be asked to stay at Pemberley? Lizzy opens her doors to Mr. Winkler's family, as well as to the Josephs, a couple she barely knows. Would not her own blood deserve like treatment? I cannot believe Lizzy would deny Lydia the opportunity to witness Kitty's nuptials. I suspect Mr. Darcy has something to do with it. There were all those rumors in Meryton of how Lizzy's husband had treated Mr. Wickham after old Mr. Darcy's passing.”

Mr. Bennet gestured for her to resume her seat, and although she acquiesced, his wife remained agitated. “And may I ask the source of those rumors?”

“Well, I am certain that I do not care,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Everyone repeated the worst of the man. Even Lizzy,” she added defensively.

“But, apparently, Lizzy has ignored the rumors to discover a man she can revere. And among our daughters, it is Elizabeth who has the brightest mind.”

His wife objected. “Mr. Bennet, what a horrible thing to say of your other children. I am certain that any of our girls can speak as well as Elizabeth.”

He shook his head in denial. “Each of our daughters, except perhaps Lydia, has her talents. Yet, it was Lizzy's fine mind which attracted Mr. Darcy to her. Her mind and her impertinence. I have hopes for Kitty, but she is not of the same caliber as Lizzy.”

“You always preferred Elizabeth, to the others' neglect,” she accused.

“As do you with Lydia,” he countered. “But we will not argue for our share of blame. The issue remains: You invited our daughter and Lieutenant Wickham to Mr. Darcy's home.”

“It is Lizzy's house as well.”

Mr. Bennet sighed in exasperation. “I require that you listen to the truth—without interruption.” He paused to assure her agreement, and then he continued. “Mr. Darcy and Lieutenant Wickham do hold a long-standing contempt for each other, but the source of the disdain is not what you suspect. Lieutenant Wickham has repeatedly employed perfidious intent. While Lizzy's husband has acted honorably in his dealings with his former associate, Lydia's husband has defamed Mr. Darcy.”

“And how would you know this with any certainty?” she asked.

“Because Lieutenant Wickham had no intention of every marrying Lydia. His gambling debts drove him first from Meryton and then from Brighton; and Lydia, in her foolish naïveté, traveled with the man. Our Lydia displayed no regard for what her actions would do to her sisters.”

His wife tutted her disagreement. “Everything turned for the best.”

Mr. Bennet rose quickly. “Only because Mr. Darcy stepped in. It was never my Brother Gardiner who saved Lydia and our family. It was Mr. Darcy, who tracked Lydia to London, who arranged for the payment of Lieutenant Wickham's debts, who purchased the man's commission, and who dowered Lydia with a settlement high enough to tempt Mr. Wickham into matrimony. If not for Mr. Darcy, none of our daughters would be married. No respectable man can wed a woman with such low connections. Even you must realize how close this family came to disaster.”

“Of course, I understand the implications, but why should I hear this now—after over two years? Am I so untrustworthy?” she demanded.

“You are not known for your discretion, Mrs. Bennet. Only moments ago, you spoke of gossip and rumors. I do not censure your
opinions
; but there certainly
is
impropriety in making them public. Besides, other than from Lizzy, Mr. Darcy has no need of the Bennet family's adulation. The man is violently in love with our daughter. So much so that he spent a small fortune to save Lydia, and, therefore, to soothe Elizabeth's worst nightmares. Might I remind you that Mr. Darcy did so with your brother's permission? Nothing was to be done that Darcy did not do himself. He and my Brother Gardiner battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman or the lady concerned in the affair deserved. Eventually, your brother wore his borrowed feathers and accepted our praise because the man respects Mr. Darcy. As Darcy is Lizzy's husband, should we not do the same?”

“Then what of Lydia's husband?” Her argument had lost its impetus.

He ignored her continued protestation. “Mr. Winkler has arranged for Lydia and Lieutenant Wickham to stay at the curate's cottage.”

“Why not the inn?”

“Because the Wickhams are short of funds, and there exists the strong possibility that Lieutenant Wickham still owes several debts in the area. A more respectable, as well as more economical, habitation has been accordingly substituted. Therefore, we will be sharing a portion of your next quarter's allowance to rescue our youngest from her recklessness.”

Mrs. Bennet flustered in disbelief. “You cannot mean to ask that I make additional cuts. We are at bare bones now.”

“I am well aware of the Longbourn expenditures, Mrs. Bennet. As we were scarcely ten pounds a year the loser with Lydia's situation, by the hundred that was paid to Lieutenant Wickham, what with Lydia's board and pocket allowance, and the continual presents in money, which passed to Lydia through your hands, her expenses were very little within the sum. Of course, we will save significantly more by turning Mary and Kitty over to their husbands. We will persevere, and you will learn not to interfere where you should practice prudence.”

“I am to be punished for wanting the best for my daughters,” she accused.

“There is no
punishment
intended, Mrs. Bennet. You will apologize to Elizabeth and Kitty for creating a rift between the sisters and for tarnishing Kitty's special day. I will not accept anything less, Marjory. Now, you will gather your things, and we will call on the Wickhams at the curate's cottage to resolve this situation without bringing censure to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, Kitty, or Mr. Winkler.”

Lydia looked around the cramped quarters. “At least, it is clean,” she offered tentatively. Since Mr. Darcy's staff had ejected them from Pemberley, her husband's countenance had held nothing but his fury.

“The bastard,” he growled—his words barely audible. He turned angrily on his wife. “It is your fault. Once again, Darcy has bested me, and once again, I lay the culpability at your feet,” he fumed.

“How is Mr. Darcy's rejection my burden?” she protested. “If I had come to Derbyshire alone, the Darcys would have welcomed me to their home.” She realized her error the instant her husband's eyes turned a forbidding onyx. “I…I did not mean… mean my words,” she pleaded as she took a cautious step backwards. “Honestly…you know I…I always say things I do not truly believe.” Her bottom lip trembled when she realized she could go no further.

Her husband advanced catlike, and Lydia realized the depth of his derision. “How dare you?” he threatened menacingly. “How dare you suggest that this debacle belongs to anyone but you and that nitwit of a woman you call
mother
?”

Lydia winced when he caught her wrist and turned it sharply. “Of course,” she began. “Quite foolish of me.” Tears bubbled in her eyes as the pain shot through her arm. “Permit…permit me to apologize.”

“You will do more than apologize,” he warned. “You will plead with your mother and father to intercede in our behalf with the Darcys.”

Lydia shot a glance about the room. “Could we not just enjoy the cottage's privacy? We have spent no time alone since before our nuptials. Do you not remember that night on the London Road?”