Chapter 27

Hill! Hill! Go and fetch Sarah, Miss Lizzy’s dress has a tear. We cannot have her standing up with Jane looking like a street urchin.” Mrs. Bennet was in fine form. Her bearing resembled nothing so much as a general preparing for battle; the house itself better resembled the battle’s aftermath. Elizabeth kept the thought to herself.

“I see you, Miss Lizzy, biting your tongue to keep from laughing. Laugh all you like,” said Mrs. Bennet. “One day, God willing, you’ll have daughters of your own to mind, and then you’ll see what I suffer for your sakes.”

“Yes, mamma,” said Elizabeth dutifully. “How can I help?”

“You can’t, dear,” said Mrs. Bennet absently. “Only, go and fetch Sarah. Lydia’s mussed her hair again somehow.”

Elizabeth obeyed, meeting the implacable Hill on the stairs, Sarah already in tow; she waved them on. Having executed her mother’s request, Elizabeth made her way to Jane’s room and knocked on the open door.

“Come in,” said Jane quietly. Elizabeth entered the room, pressing the door shut behind them to dampen the cacophony. Jane was seated at the vanity mirror, her face drawn tight.

“What is it?” said Elizabeth, coming to stand next to her sister. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just had a message from Caroline Bingley,” said Jane. “Bingley is not to be found this morning.”

“Nonsense,” said Elizabeth. “He’s very likely closed up somewhere praying you’re still going to say yes in front of Mr. Collins today.”

“No, Lizzy,” said Jane. “His valet woke the house at daybreak; apparently Bingley received a message during in the night. He left with the messenger and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

“I believe the Earl is in residence at Netherfield,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps he could be of some assistance.”

“Perhaps he could,” said Jane. “But Caroline adds here that he is not to be found either.” She handed Elizabeth the note.


My dear Jane—


Do not be alarmed, but my brother is not to be found this morning. His valet tells us he departed sometime in the night, alone, after receiving an urgent message, the contents of which no one seems to know.


Matlock has also gone, whither I know not. We are mounting a search of the area. Do not distress yourself. I’ll send word as soon as I have it.


Yours, etc.

Caroline B.


Heaven forbid,” breathed Elizabeth.

“You perceive, then, what has happened,” said Jane forlornly. “Bingley has enlisted the help of his friend the Earl, and has gone away.”

“Absolute nonsense,” said Elizabeth. “He loves you, Jane. Something else is afoot here. Darcy would not allow him to behave in such a manner, even should Bingley wish to do so. Which he certainly does not.”

“Darcy wouldn’t allow it?” said Jane with the barest hint of a smile. “Has he such sway over his friends, then?”

“I believe he might,” said Elizabeth. “But I think we shall have to wait to find out.” She paused. “I have an idea of where he might be. Or an idea of how we might find him, at least. Be at peace, Jane.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “I need to talk to Lydia.”


No!” said Lydia. “I shan’t tell you a thing. Not until you tell me why he came here asking for you. We are to be married. He’s not supposed to be calling on other women.” Elizabeth’s youngest sister folded her arms across her chest. The action made her look like an overgrown child, which to Elizabeth’s mind, it meant she looked her age. What on earth was Mr. Wickham thinking?

“Lydia, I promise to tell you the whole of it after today, but you must tell me where he is. It’s terribly urgent,” said Elizabeth. She’d go to their parents if she had to, but Elizabeth was trusting that Lydia’s love of Jane would persuade her to cooperate.

“I heard him talking to that man about Mr. Bingley, you know,” said Lydia. She was barely paying attention as she spoke, preferring to admire her reflection in the mirror.

“What man?” asked Elizabeth. Her stomach sank.

“I don’t know who he was,” said Lydia. “He was quite rude to me, and very low, I think. His clothes looked as though they’d never been cleaned at all, not even once.”

“Please,” said Elizabeth. “Lydia, I think he’s got Mr. Bingley with him, and if we don’t get him to chapel soon, we’ll be late starting the wedding. Think of what that will do to Jane.”

“Oh,” said Lydia. She bit her lip. “I should so like to see my dear Wickham before the ceremony. Perhaps I’ll talk him into escorting me there this afternoon after all! And he’ll wear his regimentals; I do so love the look of a man in regimentals. Alright, Lizzy, I’ll show you. Come on, then.” Lydia stood and made for the door.

“I’ll meet you at the door,” said Elizabeth.

Lydia rolled her eyes but continued down the stairs. Elizabeth dashed into her room, opened the tiny case she kept for jewelry and removed the letter she’d hidden inside. She tucked the folded pages into the sleeve of her dress, then quickly made her way down to the door.

“Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked her sister.

“He’s staying with the Mr. and Mrs. Goring,” said Lydia. “Though I’ve told him before I don’t like him to. I think old Mrs. Goring fancies him. Not that I’d worry about Wickham, mind, but she’d too old to be swooning over a man almost half her age.”

The Gorings were pleasant people. Mrs. Goring was a pretty woman of about forty years of age. Mr. Goring was a great deal older than his wife; in public he was indulgent, but inattentive. Lydia’s instincts regarding Mrs. Goring were likely well founded.

As Elizabeth’s interests lay in finding Bingley as quickly as possible, she kept these observations to herself.

“If you’d rather stay behind, I can go myself,” she said instead.

“No,” said Lydia. “I want to see Wickham. He’s not answered but one of my letters this week, and I’ve been quite put out with him.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly as they walked quickly in the direction of the Gorings’ home. She’d have to find a way to retrieve those letters from Wickham, if she was to see her family safely through this mess.

Would that the man hie off to bedevil another continent. Van Diemen’s Land might do.

Presently, they arrived at the Gorings’ home. It was a pretty place just at the edge of town, smaller than Longbourn but quaint.

“I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Goring have gone out,” said the woman who answered the door.

“That’s alright, Betsy,” said Lydia. “We’re here to see Mr. Wickham.”

“Oh, but miss,” said Betsy. “Mr. Wickham has asked not to have his party disturbed.”

“It’s a matter of some urgency,” Elizabeth said. Lydia cut her off.

“I’m his fiancée,” said Lydia, pushing past the servant. “He’ll want to see me, surely.”

Betsy protested, but Lydia was already moving up the stairs. Elizabeth winced as she realized not only had her sister somehow become familiar with the Gorings’ home, she knew the precise location of Mr. Wickham’s rooms.

“His room is here,” said Lydia proudly as they approached a door at the end of the hall. She knocked loudly. “Wickham? Wickham! I need to speak with you!”

They heard shuffling footsteps, then the door opened.

“Lydia,” he hissed. “I told you

The presence of two women at his door registered in his mind.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said.

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, as sternly as she could manage. “Where is Mr. Bingley?”

“Miss Elizabeth?” The voice coming from deep within the room sounded surprised.

It was Mr. Bingley.

Wickham glared at Lydia and stepped back, allowing the women to pass.

“How on earth did you know to find me here?” asked Bingley. He was standing at the back of the room near a window overlooking a small garden. “I told no one where I was going. Your poor sister,” he said, regret plain on his face. “She must be quite upset. Is she upset?”

“Jane is well,” said Elizabeth. “But I think she will be in far better spirits if we can get you to church.”

“I cannot leave yet,” said Bingley, an unfamiliar sneer developing on his handsome face. He gestured to Mr. Wickham. “This person is bent on blackmail and if I leave before my man arrives with his ransom, he will expose Darcy’s scheme to the world.”

“What scheme?” asked Lydia. Elizabeth met Mr. Bingley’s gaze and knew that Darcy must have confided their pretense to his friend.

“You,” said Elizabeth, turning to Mr. Wickham. “You come here and speak to me of apology, of making amends. You assured me that you intend no harm and yet, once again, my family is hostage to your dishonor and debts.” Clearly the depths to which this man would sink knew no bounds.

At least this time she was prepared for battle.