“I beg your pardon?”
“I will pay the ransom for which you are being held,” said Lady Catherine. “If you agree to end your engagement to Matlock this very moment.”
“We have never met before this moment,” said Elizabeth, anger overtaking her incredulity with every breath. “Yet you would leave me in the hands of these men rather than see Darcy married to me?”
“That is one way to view it,” Lady Catherine answered promptly. “It is not in his character to behave so rashly. I suppose his mind was clouded by grief. Fitzwilliam was always rather too sentimental.”
“He said that you wished him to marry,” said Elizabeth. “You wrote him explicit instructions with regard to that fact.”
“He told you that, did he? He misconstrued my words. My instructions were to visit me at once that we might arrange plans for an appropriate match. I informed him of his duty to uphold his family name, yes. Never did I imagine he would go to such lengths to thwart me.”
“Perhaps he did not intend to thwart you,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps he had his own plans to attend.”
“Oh, now,” said Lady Catherine, her eyes glittering with anger. “That I believe too well. You think to have trapped him; you think to see yourself Countess and mistress of all that he’s to have.”
“You know nothing of my character, nor of my intentions toward him,” said Elizabeth, anger heating her cheeks.
“I know all I need to know,” said Lady Catherine. Her eyes narrowed venomously. “My offer stands. End your involvement with Matlock and I will pay the ransom at once. You will be free to go wherever you wish.”
Elizabeth raised her chin, breathing deeply so that she might reign in her fury and frustration. The woman was intolerable, yet she offered a way out.
Elizabeth had already been on the cusp of ending the arrangement when Darcy persuaded her to visit his sister in London. Even should she wish to bait Lady Catherine and her flagrant disapproval, there was still the matter of the threatening letters to contend with. The rest of England certainly contained more than a few unmarried ladies who would not weep should Elizabeth let him go free.
“I would have your answer, Miss Bennet,” said Lady Catherine. Elizabeth heard the distinct note of inevitable triumph in the tone of the woman’s voice. “I have no desire to linger in this godforsaken place.”
Elizabeth swallowed her pride and turned.
“Yes,” she said, her stomach clenching.
Lady Catherine wasted not a moment; she called for the servant, who entered almost immediately with writing supplies.
“You will write to him directly,” said Lady Catherine. “I shall have Simmons summon a hack. When you have finished writing, I shall escort my niece away from here. Simmons will accompany to the destination of your choosing, after which I expect we shall never again encounter one another.” She strode to the door. “Goodbye, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth did not speak as Lady Catherine was handed into her carriage. She sat instead upon the bed and taking the implements the man called Simmons had brought, she began to write.
“I still wish you’d have sent for us straight away,” said Mrs. Gardiner the next morning. “I shudder to think what might have happened to you in that part of town. At least her ladyship sent the servant along.”
“It was certainly the least she could do,” said Mr. Gardiner. For an otherwise genial sort of man, Lady Catherine’s callousness vexed him deeply.
Elizabeth had arrived well after midnight but was otherwise not much the worse for wear. Her aunt and uncle had given the servants instructions to set her up in her usual room; Elizabeth had been forced to beg the footman who’d greeted her at the door not to wake them on her arrival, a fact which added to her uncle’s vexation. Mr. Gardiner had threatened twice already that morning to dismiss the poor man.
“What I should like to know,” said Mrs. Gardiner before her husband could continue, “is how precisely this George Wickham came to be acquainted with the earl and Miss Darcy.”
“I couldn’t say,” said Elizabeth. It was a point of curiosity to her as well, and one to which she resigned herself. “However, it is done. Whatever part I may have had in the scheme is done.”
“I am so glad you came to us,” said her aunt. “And I am glad you have confided to us the true nature of your involvement with his lordship. I hate to see you so forlorn, Lizzy.”
Mr. Gardiner agreed. “It’s not like you, not at all, my dear. We should do something; there must be something grand to cheer you up.” He looked at his wife.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Let’s do.”
“You are too good; I thank you both, but it’s not necessary,” began Elizabeth.
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Only let me think.” She tapped a finger to her teacup a moment before continuing. “I’ve been of a mind to visit my sister’s family in the north. What would you say to travelling with us? The children are so fond of their cousins. We’ll make quite a party.”
Elizabeth had never met Mrs. Gardiner’s sister but she was not yet recovered enough to face the questions she’d receive at Longbourn. Perhaps a tour of the north was just the thing.
“And better still,” continued Mrs. Gardiner. “If the weather stays fine, we’ll let the children stay with Fanny and continue on into Scotland for a stretch. It’s too cold to see the highlands this time of year, but we’ve some acquaintance in the southern part of the country.”
Elizabeth began to smile. “I think perhaps you have acquaintance all over the world, aunt.”
Her aunt laughed. “You might be right,” she said. “It is the nature of things, as we age. The world seems smaller all the time. But what say you, Lizzy? Shall we cast off our woes and make for Newcastle?”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling a shift in the weight on her shoulders. It was not gone, but seemed to be shared with the others, somehow. She did not carry it alone any longer.
A few days into their journey, Elizabeth’s general malaise cleared long enough for her to discern that the scenery around them was beginning to change. Her aunt and uncle had secured quite the caravan to transport them all northbound, and while she enjoyed the company of her aunt and the two eldest children with whom they travelled, the perils she’d left behind in London played over in her mind.
She wondered whether Darcy had already read her letter; she wondered what he thought. Elizabeth hated to disappoint him. She knew he’d relied on her in his time of need, in his grief, and she’d failed him. Without even the courage to reject him to his face, too; that point stung her. He’d deserved at least that, but Lady Catherine had been most insistent. She’d taken Elizabeth’s letter with her, presumably to Darcy’s home at Pemberley where she was also to deliver Georgiana.
The thought of Darcy’s sister caused another pang. Elizabeth had not said goodbye, and their shared ordeal did not necessarily acquit her of that small propriety; therefore she could not write. She must wait to hear from Georgiana first.
When hills began to rise and fall outside the window, it finally occurred to Elizabeth to ask.
“Where are we?” she asked quietly. This question she directed at her aunt, whose attention was currently unoccupied as both children had fallen asleep after their stop for luncheon.
Mrs. Gardiner leaned toward the window to observe the scene around them.
“Why, I do believe we are nearly upon Lambton,” she said with a smile. “I grew up very near here.”
“Lambton,” said Elizabeth. “In Derbyshire?”
“Why, yes,” said her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner gasped. “It had quite escaped me before, my dear. Of course. Lambton is not five miles from Pemberley.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth.
“Are you quite alright, dear? We can perhaps find an alternate route north,” Mrs. Gardiner offered.
“No, please,” Elizabeth laughed. “Surely this is the fastest road. And I do not think Darcy – that is, his lordship – would forbid me passing through the county on the main road.”
“Of course,” said her aunt. There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “Lizzy, I hate to see you like this. Forgive me the question, but I must ask… Did you love him so very much?”
“Love?” said Elizabeth, startled. “I scarcely knew him, aunt!”
Mrs. Gardiner hummed at her reply.
“In any case, it does not signify, whatever I felt or did not feel. Our arrangement was merely for show, and I expect any cordiality between us has been vanquished by the manner of its ending.”
“There I must contradict you,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “If he is a man of any feeling whatsoever, and surely he must be if you held him in such esteem as to have your name thus linked to his – if he has any sympathetic feeling at all, he will not resent your withdrawal after your ordeal in London. In fact, I shall be rather surprised if you do not hear from him soon.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth began. She’d not yet found words for the thought she wished next to express when the carriage jolted hard. The children woke from their sleep, shrieking as they were jostled, shaken about like so many pennies in a jar. With a final sharp drop, all other motion ceased.
“Come, dears, let me see you,” Mrs. Gardiner was saying, untangling the children from the pile they’d made on the floor. She clucked and cooed over them as Elizabeth pressed open the carriage door.
“Alright, miss?” asked the coachman.
“Yes,” she replied. “I think we are. Are you alright? What happened?”
“Wheel snapped clean off,” he growled. “’Twas near new-bought, too.”
Elizabeth helped her aunt and the children out of the carriage. Mr. Gardiner’s carriage had been in the lead and was already out of sight around a bend. The coachman set off on horseback to stop them leaving Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth, and the children to make do until he returned with the other.
“I should walk back to the village we passed awhile ago,” said Elizabeth. “We cannot be far.”
“Alone, on this road? I would have you do no such thing,” said Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth perceived she was already nervous about being left without any protection. “We ought to have brought more of the servants,” muttered Mrs. Gardiner. “Mr. Gardiner said so, but I didn’t want to go to the expense. Oh, and I shall never hear the end of it now.”
Elizabeth found herself smiling for the first time since she’d travelled to London.
“Really, aunt,” she replied. “I can keep out of sight if need be, and I do not mind the distance. We only passed that town a few miles back, I am sure of it.”
“Be that as it may,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I would have you stay here with us. We’ve food enough to get by, and Peters should be back at any moment with the other coach, if they’re able to turn. I expect Mr. Gardiner has already sent a messenger ahead to arrange for someone to come fix the carriage. No, dear; better that we keep together.”
Elizabeth wanted to press the point, especially after nearly an hour passed with no sign of anyone up or down the road.
The children were amusing themselves in the grove behind a large tree some long minutes later when Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner heard hooves galloping toward them. They’d barely made it to their feet when the rider came into view.
“Oh, hello,” called Mrs. Gardiner. “Can you please help us?”
The rider caught sight of them and began to slow.
“Good God,” breathed Elizabeth.
“What’s wrong? Lizzy, you’ve gone pale. Whatever is the matter?”
“It’s him,” she whispered. “That’s the Earl of Matlock.”