Lydia had made it to the dining room before Elizabeth caught her up. There was no one present and Lydia stomped from the room with Elizabeth on her heels. She bolted for the parlor but the hand of her older sister upon her arm proved an anchor to keep her from entering the room.
“Lydia, you must stop this instant! Do you not care for any of us save Lieutenant Wickham? Father will surely not wish for you to be his bride if you cannot behave in a proper manner.”
Elizabeth’s words did not seem to matter but Mr. Darcy’s voice as it boomed from down the hallway caused Lydia to shrink against her sister. “Mrs. Wickham! That is entirely enough disruption of my home. We have determined you are indeed a married woman, why do you not behave as one?”
Lydia, for once, fell utterly silent and dared not look at Mr. Darcy, for his countenance was one of searing inspection as he stood before them.
Mr. Bennet arrived behind their host and looked to Elizabeth. “How has she escaped? I expected you to take better care, Lizzy. We cannot have her run off in this storm as her husband has done.”
At this news, Lydia became as temperamental in her bearing as before. “Why did you make him leave me, Papa? Do you wish for me to be shamed before our family and friends?”
Elizabeth was unable to maintain good regulation at this silly speech. She squeezed Lydia’s arm and pulled her closer. “It is you who wished to be shamed before everyone! Why could you not behave as the daughter of a gentleman and have your scoundrel of a husband seek your hand before our father in his study as Mr. Bingley did when he wished to marry Jane? This entire disaster might have been avoided had you been able to act as though you held any sense in your foolish head!”
Lydia pushed against Elizabeth and let loose with a string of vile words that shocked all assembled. Elizabeth let her go. “I do not know who you have become, Lydia, but I no longer wish to be known as your sister.”
Elizabeth rushed to the stairs and Mr. Darcy went after her. He caught her arm and she turned, tears coursing down her crimson cheeks. “Please, sir. I cannot face you now.”
He released her though he longed to comfort the woman he had come to love in spite of her connections. As she went, he called to her retreating back. “We shall see happier times, Miss Elizabeth. It is my solemn promise to you.”
Mr. Bennet struggled with his youngest daughter as she had become incensed by Elizabeth’s words. “I do not care for any of you! I will be with George or I will die! He is my family now.”
She pushed her father away and dashed for the front doors of Fitzwilliam Manor. Lydia did not care that she was not dressed to endure a winter storm but ran from the home as though the hounds of hell were chasing her.
Mr. Darcy went after her, hoping he might catch her before she reached the lane a mile from the main drive of his home. The snow blinded him as it blew from every direction and he could not see the young lady and she did not answer his calls.
He turned back for the front door calling for the butler to see that a team of horses was harnessed to one of the wagons with larger wheels than the carriages in his stable. The wagon would be much more useful in a search for Lydia Wickham.
Elizabeth had gone to her room and closed the door. Her heart was broken over Lydia’s wild and reckless behavior. She had grown too far from her mother and father’s control and there would be no good end to this elopement with George Wickham.
There was an urgent knock upon her door but she ignored it for she did not care to see Lydia again so soon. There was not enough nerve tonic left for the both of them.
Mr. Bennet pushed the door open and Elizabeth was shocked to see his face so pale and hear the words he spoke. “Lydia has run out into the storm after that blasted Wickham! Mr. Darcy has gone after her with Captain Denny and several footmen. They have lanterns and traces to keep them tied to the wagon, but this is no weather for such a girl in only a dinner dress.”
Elizabeth took her father’s hand and led him to the bed. “Papa, you are so pale and your hand is shaking. Lie down and let me take off your shoes. I do not wish to lose you along with my sister.”
Mr. Bennet did as she asked without argument for his eyes closed and his breath caught as he struggled to draw it in. Elizabeth loosened his cravat. She soothed his brow and whispered for him to stay with her. “Do not leave me, Papa. I cannot bear the thought of it. I will go and get the tonic for you. It is in your room?”
Her father nodded, his breathing ragged and his skin shining from a sheen of perspiration. Elizabeth hurried from the room, calling for Fiona as she went. The young maid had heard the commotion downstairs from the youngest girl and knew she might be needed. “Aye, miss. I am here. What must we do?”
Elizabeth did not stop, nor linger to explain, but only sent the maid to her room with but a few words. “Please see to my father, he rests in my bed. He is not well, Fiona.”
Two hours had passed, but it seemed an eternity to Elizabeth. Her father slept and Fiona brought a pot of tea for her. “Drink, lass. You must keep up your strength. Though your father will recover, he will need to remain here for a time before ye may think of the long journey home.”
Elizabeth took the teacup from Fiona’s hand and drank deeply. She and the maid had removed Mr. Bennet’s jacket and tucked him under the coverlet that rested at the foot of the bed. Fiona had taken the tonic and sniffed it. Shaking her head, she instructed Elizabeth to wait.
“I have a much better remedy than this if ye trust me, lass. I’ve a concoction me old Gran taught me to mix. He looks to me to have the dropsy for I’ve seen it many a time.”
Fiona had gone to get the medicine she kept in the pantry of the kitchen downstairs and Elizabeth hoped the maid was correct. She had spoken of the swelling in Mr. Bennet’s ankles when they removed his socks and of the way his lungs were working too hard. There was nothing to be done but hope the maid was right.
Now, as Elizabeth sat with her tea at the side of the bed, she watched as her father’s chest rose and fell easily, just as it should. His countenance was one of peace and not distress. She looked to the maid who fussed with the coverlet. “I am most grateful for your help, Fiona. There would have been no way of reaching an apothecary tonight with this storm.”
“Aye, tis only my duty lass. I came to Fitzwilliam Manor as a child with my mother who worked as a lady’s maid for Lady Anne when she would come with young master Darcy. He has grown into such a fine lad, do you no think?”
Elizabeth was surprised by the question and startled by the realization that she had not thought to find whether Mr. Darcy and the search party had returned. Her attention had been solely for her father.
She stood and placed her teacup upon the bedside table. “He is a fine man and so kind to have helped us on this journey. I must go see whether he has returned.”
Fiona nodded. “I will stay with your father, lass. I do hope the master has come home.”