Mr Bennet Takes Charge Page 3

  “But we must determine what is to be done, and to do that, I require you to inform me everything you know of Lydia’s intentions.” Bennet speared her with a look, knowing it was imperative for her to understand the potential consequences, though he did not wish to frighten her enough to prevent her from speaking. “If Lydia does elope, that will damage the family’s reputation, such that it may become unlikely you or your other sisters will ever marry. And that presupposes that this Wickham will actually marry her.”

  Kitty gasped. “You think he would not?”

  “What would an intelligent man want with Lydia? She has no dowry to tempt him, and he does not have the income to support a wife. Perhaps you should inform me how they would live, Kitty, for I do not know, unless he has some rich uncle who means to leave him a fortune when he dies.”

  It was clear Kitty missed the irony in his voice, for she did nothing more than gawp at him, slack-jawed for several moments. Bennet had not had much time for his youngest girls. They were both silly and ignorant, so much like their mother it was difficult to tolerate them. But he knew they were not unintelligent, only uninformed. Perhaps Elizabeth had been correct all these years. Of what would they be capable if taught to think properly?

  “Now, Kitty, you must inform me of everything you know. Your very future may depend upon it.”

  What Kitty knew, Bennet discovered, was rather sparse. Bennet himself knew of Lydia’s foolish desire to be the first married, and he was not surprised to learn that Lydia had boasted of it often in her letters to her sister. But there was just enough in her letters—Bennet had sent Kitty to retrieve her previous communications—to raise his alarm and inform him that to do nothing would almost certainly lead to disaster.

  “You have done well, Kitty,” said Bennet in a kind but firm tone. “What I said earlier about your prospects being damaged were not idle words. As you have come forward, we may yet avoid the calamity.”

  “What do you mean to do, Papa?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Go to Brighton to ensure my foolish daughter does not ruin us all,” said Bennet. Then a stray thought entered his mind. “As I recall, does Mr. Darcy not have experience with Mr. Wickham?”

  “He does, Papa,” said Elizabeth. She paused momentarily, seeming a little uncomfortable, before she continued in a diffident tone: “Since spring, I have reason to believe that the stories Mr. Wickham told us of his misfortunes at the hands of Mr. Darcy were exaggerated, if not outright falsehoods.”

  Bennet felt his brow rising of its own accord, and Elizabeth could not meet his gaze. There was a story of which he was not aware, but as his youngest may, at that moment, be throwing herself into the power of a scoundrel, Bennet knew it was not the time to pursue it.

  “Then it would be prudent to speak to Mr. Darcy of his nemesis. I shall write him a note, asking him to attend us.”

  The matter was dealt with swiftly, and Bennet gave instructions to his valet to prepare some clothes and other effects for an immediate departure. Bennet instructed Elizabeth to return Kitty to the sitting-room where she was to wait for him. There were certain matters he must discuss with his daughters before he departed. But to Bennet’s surprise, Elizabeth returned soon after, while he was writing an express to Colonel Forster.

  “Yes, Lizzy?” asked Bennet. “Has Kitty become hysterical in my absence?”

  “No, sir,” said Elizabeth. “She is sitting quietly with Jane, I hope a little wiser than she was this morning.”

  “Let us all hope so,” said Mr. Bennet, sealing the letter he had written to Colonel Forster and laying it down on his desk. With any luck, he would find an express rider on his way out of town. “It seems, my dear, I did not take your warning in May as seriously as I ought. Though perhaps I might entertain the notion of being missish and pretending your perspicacity did not exceed my own, I shall recognize greatness of mind when I see it. You are much to be admired, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “I believe I should go to Brighton with you.”

  Bennet was nonplussed, and his reaction was to tease her. “Why should you go, Lizzy? Would you wish to act before your sister and secure a husband before she is able?”

  “Papa,” said Elizabeth in that particular way of hers which spoke to her exasperation. “When you retrieve Lydia, you know she will be difficult to control. If I accompany you, I will be in a position to assist.” Elizabeth’s countenance became stony and resolved. “I wish for my sister to know my displeasure. You may be assured she will understand her folly when I am finished with her.”

  Chuckling, Bennet shook his head. “There is little doubt of your determination, Lizzy. But it will be a difficult journey, for we must travel quickly. It seems I must travel overnight, and I cannot say where the fatigue of the horses will require me to stop.”

  “I am quite determined, Father. My sister will require a female presence to keep her in check.”

  While Bennet eyed his daughter for a few moments, he had already decided. Elizabeth was correct, as usual, for Bennet did not look upon the notion of being stuck in a carriage with Lydia on the return journey by himself. Elizabeth’s presence would be a boon, for perhaps she could induce her sister to understand, where Bennet was uncertain he could.

  “Very well,” said he. “Give the instructions to the maid to pack your trunk, but do so with restraint. It is my intention to return to Longbourn as soon as we have collected your sister.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” said Elizabeth. She darted toward him, kissed him on the cheek, and left the room to carry out his instructions.

  Within a short time, Bennet joined his daughters in the sitting-room, noting that Lizzy was already present. Jane and Mary appeared confused while Kitty would not meet his gaze. It seemed the other girls had told Mrs. Gardiner something of the matter, for she was rather grim-faced. The problem of what to tell them all had played on his mind since he first learned of the matter, and it was with reluctance he decided there was little to be gained in not telling them all. But Mrs. Bennet must remain ignorant of the event—he had little confidence in her ability to control her tongue.

  “Jane, Mary, a matter has arisen of a serious nature which requires my immediate attention. I shall be departing tonight, and Lizzy will accompany me. It will be your task to stay and ensure your mother is suitably distracted in my absence.”

  Then Bennet explained the situation, giving them a brief understanding of what he suspected Lydia was about to do, including the measures he meant to take to deal with the situation. To say it shocked them was perhaps an understatement. Both reacted according to their own characters: Mary with a statement likely pulled directly from the pages of Fordyce—how Bennet regretted introducing her to that author, even in jest!—and Jane with dismay and a comment she that thought it to be some mistake.

  “I hope you are correct, my dear Jane. But I am not confident. Now, it is of paramount importance that your mother not learn the truth of the matter.”

  “Not tell Mama?” gasped Jane in surprise.

  “I know you see the best in everyone, Jane,” said Mr. Bennet. “But you must understand why it must be so. Can you imagine how your mother might react, what she might say without thinking of the consequences? What would happen should she speak of the matter to her sister? Would anyone in Meryton remain ignorant of the event four and twenty hours later?”

  It was to Jane’s credit she understood the reference, even as she was still uncomfortable with this less than flattering illustration of her mother’s character. Still, she nodded, though jerkily, and Bennet heaved a sigh of relief. Mary, on the other hand, showed her agreement with a serenity which informed Bennet she well knew her mother’s shortcomings. Kitty just looked confused.

  “Remember,” said Bennet, one final stern admonishment, “say nothing to your mother. Your futures may depend on it.”

  “What should we tell her?” asked Mary.

  “Whatever you will,” was Bennett’s short reply. “Inform her t
hat Lydia expressed a wish to return early if you wish.”

  “Will Lydia support such an account when she returns?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Leave that to me.”

  “I will handle Maggie,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Do not concern yourself, Brother. Concentrate on retrieving Lydia.

  Bennet gave his sister-in-law a curt, but grateful nod. There was little doubt she understood Bennet’s resolve. He could only hope that Lydia was as astute, for Bennet had no hesitation in confining her to her room until she was thirty if she did not.

  The summons from Mr. Bennet was almost perfunctory in nature. While Darcy might have been annoyed in other circumstances, his impression of the man was that he was indolent and unwilling to move himself unless required. Thus, his letter requesting their presence such a short time after he and Bingley had quit Longbourn suggested a serious matter. Thus, Darcy went immediately, accompanied by his friend.

  “Do you know what Mr. Bennet means by asking us to return to Longbourn?” asked Bingley for the third time as the coach pulled up onto Longbourn’s drive.

  “I have no idea whatsoever,” replied Darcy, again for the third time. “But he is not the sort of man to summon us without a good reason. We shall learn it soon enough.”

  “I hope it does not portend another meeting in his library,” muttered Bingley.

  “Grilled you over your attentions to Miss Bennet, did he?”

  Bingley glared at him sourly. “Would now be the time to remind you of your role in the matter?”

  “On the contrary,” said Darcy. “If it had been me, I would have spoken to you the first time you showed an interest to the extent you did. While it may be uncomfortable, it is a man’s duty to protect his daughters.”

  A grunt was Bingley’s only reply, much to Darcy’s continued amusement. “I will remind you, Bingley—Mr. Bennet’s request was for my presence. He made no mention of you.”

  Brightening, Bingley nodded. “Then it must be for some other reason. Perhaps he wishes to know why you have accompanied me to Hertfordshire.”

  Darcy refrained from responding, for at that moment the carriage stopped in front of the house. The housekeeper admitted and conveyed them to the sitting-room where the master of the house along with his daughters and Mrs. Gardiner were waiting for them. Of Mrs. Bennet, there was no sign.

  When perfunctory greetings had been exchanged, Mr. Bennet wasted no time speaking of the matter of Mr. Wickham and his concerns regarding his youngest daughter. Thoughts of Wickham’s attempts with Georgiana flashed through Darcy’s mind, and he wondered if he should speak of the matter. A glance at Miss Elizabeth revealed nothing—her gaze was fixed on the floor, though Darcy could not understand why she should be so reticent.

  “And that is the story of my youngest daughter’s folly, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet when his account was complete. “It is my understanding you have experience with the man in question, which is why I requested your presence. Thus, I would ask you one simple question: is Wickham capable of this?”

  “He is and more,” said Darcy shortly. “Though I wish I could give you another answer, Wickham thinks only of his own comfort. Should he desire your daughter’s presence for whatever reason, he would think nothing of taking her with him and even less of ruining her in the eyes of society.”

  Mr. Bennet’s jaw might have been chiseled from granite. Finally, however, Miss Elizabeth looked up, anguish coloring her features.

  “But why? What possible reason could he have to elope with her? She has no money to tempt him. Surely a man of his age would find such a silly companion to be irksome.”

  Though uncomfortable, Darcy was compelled to speak, not only by the conviction that these people needed to understand exactly what manner of man they were dealing with, but also because of his honor, which had been pricked because of his inaction. “There are several reasons he would take her, and none of them will give you any comfort. It might be he has lied to her, promising her marriage when all he needs is her money to flee. He has been with the regiment long enough to have accumulated many debts, and a certain number of his vices must already be known to his fellows.

  “Furthermore, there are other, less savory reasons he would wish her presence.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet hurriedly. “There is no reason to elucidate, for we understand you perfectly. Then there is nothing else to be done—we must depart at once. I can only hope we will arrive in time to prevent whatever he plans.”

  “If I might, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy, speaking on impulse, “I offer my assistance.”

  The feeling of Mr. Bennet’s gaze on him was uncomfortable, though Darcy detected no hostility in his manner. “I have already involved you more than I should, Mr. Darcy. Why should you wish to be further importuned?”

  “Because Wickham is, to a large extent, my family’s responsibility. He is what he is because of my father’s patronage, his education provided by the Darcy family’s largesse. The offenses against my family are also a consideration, and as such, my honor demands I offer my support. Not only do I know Wickham and can predict his moves, I can offer the assistance of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who will no doubt relish the opportunity to extract vengeance from him for his misdeeds. As a colonel in the army, he can also be of some use in controlling Wickham.”

  “Very well,” said Mr. Bennet. “I look forward to hearing your account of Mr. Wickham’s misdeeds, sir.”

  Darcy ignored the inference he would be required to relate the fullness of Wickham’s connection with his family to Mr. Bennet. It seemed Miss Elizabeth had kept his confidence—not that he had any doubt she would. At the same time it was pointless to refuse to make the same communication to Mr. Bennet, given the circumstances.

  “Might I offer the use of my carriage? It is larger and pulled by four horses, and I believe we will attain greater speed with its use.”

  “Accepted with gratitude,” replied Mr. Bennet. Then his attention turned to Bingley. “I assume you have no desire to involve yourself in this farce, Mr. Bingley?”

  “If you believe my presence would be helpful, I should be happy to travel with you.”

  “Well said, young man,” replied Mr. Bennet. “As it stands, however, I believe I have a much better use of your talents. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to visit Longbourn tomorrow?”

  “Of course, I shall,” said Bingley, mystified by this request.

  “It is nothing so onerous or mysterious, Mr. Bingley,” said Mr. Bennet with a chuckle. “It may have escaped your notice, but my wife is neither reticent about sharing her feelings, nor temperate when she does so. I mean to keep this matter from her, at least until I return home. Considering the stir your presence raised in my home today, I have no doubt she will be distracted by your return.”

  The droll way in which Mr. Bennet made his communication in no way rendered his words concerning his wife acceptable, understandable though his feelings may be. It was for that reason Darcy had hesitated in choosing a wife, for he did not think he would fare well in a similar union to that in which Mr. Bennet found himself. Regardless, Bingley grinned and indicated his acceptance of the scheme. And, thus, their plans were set.

  Chapter III

  It surprised Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth was to accompany them on their mad dash across the country—of this Elizabeth was certain. While the gentleman said nothing initially, the widening of his eyes as he regarded her told Elizabeth all she needed to know.

  The next few moments were a bustle of activity as the carriage was prepared, and, consequently, Elizabeth had little opportunity to speak with Mr. Darcy, nor was she certain she wished to assuage his curiosity. She did overhear her father giving instructions to Mrs. Hill, Longbourn’s long-time and longsuffering housekeeper.

  “The mistress is asleep, Mr. Bennet,” said she in response to his query about his wife. “I looked in on her only moments ago, as you instructed.”

  “Good,” replied Mr. Bennet. “No do
ubt she will have questions about where we have gone, but I would appreciate it if you directed her to Mrs. Gardiner when she asks. Please ensure the servants do not gossip or speculate as to the reason for our absence as much as you can.”

  “Of course, Mr. Bennet.” Mrs. Hill paused, seeming uncertain if she should speak. “I hope whatever calls you away will be resolved to your satisfaction.”

  “As do I, Mrs. Hill.”

  With those final words, Mrs. Hill went into the house to see to supervise the preparation a basket which was to be sent with them. Elizabeth had a small trunk with a few of her dresses hastily packed within, which she gave to the footmen loading the coach. With that final task completed, she found herself waiting for the departure of the carriage. It was then Mr. Darcy finally found the opportunity to speak with her.

  “Is it wise for you to accompany us, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Darcy in a low voice.

  “As wise as it is for any of us to go,” replied Elizabeth.

  Mr. Darcy’s scrutiny on her felt less like a hammer blow and more like the caress of a feather on her skin. “Though I would not dream of contradicting your father in this matter, we must travel at speed with few opportunities for rest.”

  “Did you not know, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, flashing him an impish smile. “I am of hardy stock. After all, I walk every day, sometimes as much as three miles. I can withstand a few hours in a carriage.”

  A laugh escaped the man’s lips, seemingly of its own accord. Though Mr. Darcy stifled it quickly, Elizabeth could see she had charmed him, with no intention of doing so. “I do not suppose it would be beyond your capabilities, Miss Bennet. Indeed, it seems there is little which would be beyond you.”

  “You attempt to flatter me now, at this late date?” said Elizabeth.

  That brought the man’s amusement up short. Mr. Darcy regarded her, attempting to understand the meaning of her comment, and Elizabeth, who had not intended to censure, hastened to reassure him.