Page 45 of Penned By Mr Darcy
“Lydia, you must not be alone with him again. Do you understand?”
“Why? Are you jealous, Lizzy? Kitty has her eye on Denny, but I’m sure there’s someone else just as handsome that you can have. I do not know where they find them but…”
“No,” Elizabeth said, her tone sharp. “That’s not it. You must promise me, Lyddie. Please.”
Lydia blinked at her, surprised by the urgency in her sister’s voice. She moved back a little, staring at Lizzy carefully, eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“I do not know. I simply have a terrible feeling. I never ask you for anything. Please, I beg you, listen to me this once.”
“I cannot just…”
“If you do this for me, I’ll forgive you the money that you owe me. Do you remember I paid for several yards of ribbon? And those new buttons you wanted so desperately?”
Lydia hesitated. Lizzy sighed, knowing that her sister would not be so easily bribed.
“And you may have my new bonnet,” Lizzy offered. “I have worn it only twice.”
Lydia mulled over this offer for a few seconds, before folding her arms and setting her jaw in that way she always did when she wanted something. Lizzy braced herself for whatever her sister was about to ask of her. She had played a poor hand in showing her concern so openly, for now Lydia knew that she would agree to whatever was asked of her.
“And your gloves. The lace ones.”
“Done,” Elizabeth agreed quickly, putting an end to the negotiations before Lydia asked for the entirety of her wardrobe.
They walked arm in arm back to Netherfield. Lydia continued her idle chatter, seemingly forgetting all about Mr Wickham.
Elizabeth could not help but wonder if she had just saved her sister from ruin.
∞∞∞
When they returned to the house – and Elizabeth had given Lydia the promised treasures – she retreated to her room. She pulled the diary free, opening it where she had last read it. She had put it away after the passage involving Mr Darcy’s poor sister, and tried to fool herself that she would return it to him without reading the rest.
How prudent it had been, after all, that she had read it. If she had not, she would never had known about this Mr Wickham, and perhaps she would have found herself charmed by his easy manners and handsome countenance. It was thanks to Mr Darcy that she had some insight to the truth of his character, and though she could not warn her sisters without explaining how she had come to this conclusion about a total stranger, she could at least see that she did her best to keep him away from them all.
What other secrets did the diary possess?
She traced her finger along the outside, her heart hammering as it always did when she looked at it. She opened it to where she had last paused; the terrible aftermath of Mr Wickham’s liberties with Miss Darcy. She could not believe that he was here – that fate had placed this diary in her hands.
We have returned to Pemberley. The journey was the most unpleasant of all my life. Georgiana is a shell of herself; she could not stop weeping, though she tried her best to conceal her grief from me. When she slept, I saw a glimpse of the girl she was – still is – before Wickham wove his spell on her. Her features are still so very young, and it turns my stomach tothink a man could look upon her and see anything other than a child.
I do not know how to document my grief.
This is my fault; if I had submitted to his request, given him the money he craved even after he squandered that which I bestowed upon him, he would have left my family alone. Even now, I have thought of offering him more in the hope that he will not tell the world of what he did. I would give anything to protect Georgiana and her reputation. Such a gentle, kind soul does not deserve the derision of the world, nor the cruelty Wickham would gladly inflict knowing that it, too, pained me.
I do not know where to turn; any shred of trust I had left in the man has gone. Any trust I had in the world or the goodness has others has gone, too, and it will never return.
Elizabeth lowered the diary for a moment. So much of Mr Darcy’s demeanour had been explained by this one terrible incident, and she could not help but wonder what he had been like before. It would be a fantasy to think he was nothing as he was now – and, she found herself thinking, she would not want him to be completely different. She was growing to understand his nature, and though he was the furthest thing from perfect, he was not the villain she had originally painted him as in her mind.
She blinked, the realisation too startling to dwell on for long.
She began to read again, flipping the pages on a little. The situation with his sister felt too tender, too raw for her intruding eyes. She knew the truth of the villain; Mr Darcy, whether he knew or not, had given her that invaluable enlightenment.
Georgiana has gone into herself. She rarely comes out of her room, and when she does, it is only to play such melancholy tunes on her pianoforte as to bring tears to my eyes. I have appointed a new governess – companion, I should say, forGeorgiana would loathe to be considered in need of a governess – who will arrive shortly. I will remain at Pemberley a week to establish her character, and ask Mrs Reynolds to keep a most careful eye on both of them in my absence. I have found some solace at Pemberley, though I have scarcely had the energy to lift a quill and write. I feel safe, and I can only hope that our troubles have ceased.
She skimmed over the next pages, pausing when he made mention of his departure to Hertfordshire.
Bingley has written to me. He knows nothing of why I have remained in the north when my plans were to go to London, and nor shall he. Fitzwilliam is the only soul I have confided in, and then only for the reason that he is her guardian as much as I am, and it will stay as such. Bingley offers an invitation to the estate he has leased in Hertfordshire. I do not know why he has chosen Hertfordshire, for he nor his family has any connections there. Indeed, I have never been to the county but I have never heard anything to endear it above any other place.
