Page 70 of Roses from Pemberley
He left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“I do apologise, Fanny…” said Mr. Bennet weakly, as his wife continued to sob. He turned to Elizabeth. “But enough talk of me. I have to admit that I would prefer not to dwell, at present, on my impending demise.” He chuckled slightly as Elizabeth realised that his use of humour was nothing more than an attempt to make the best of the circumstance. “So what is this I hear about you and Jane being engaged? Mr. Darcy sent an express from London, you see, apprising us of recent events. But tell me, Lizzy, have you not always detested him? And was your engagement a way of sacrificing yourself for your family?”
“Papa,” she said fervently, “pray, do not speak so of my betrothed. He is an honorable man and I love him. I love him dearly.”
“Oh…” said her father weakly. “I apologise…I did not know. I was unaware you felt so strongly about him. But I can see that your sentiments…are honest.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, who had become tearful herself after all the trials of the previous day, “they are. I love him and freely admit it. Now is the time, after all, to stop prevaricating…”
Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. “Yes, you are right, Lizzy…in that we all must face reality some time. So…tell me everything. Take me out of myself, if you are able.”
For half an hour, with the help of Jane and Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth told him about everything that had happened in Hunsford and London. They told him of the kindness of the Matlocks and Lady Catherine and how, even now, Mr. Darcy was in the process of finding Lydia and Wickham. Naturally, they did not mention that the family was ostracised.
“So Mr. Darcy will find Lydia and Wickham and make them marry?” he said at length.
“Yes, I believe so, Papa.”
“I am glad of it. For it seems that Mr. Darcy is doing everything that I was not able to do. Although it will likely cost him a great deal. Wickham has many debts in Meryton, according to your Uncle Philips. But at least I can die…knowing that my family shall be cared for. It seems that I can rely on your Darcy…and your Bingley.” He smiled faintly at Elizabeth and Jane, who were now openly crying. “Do not weep, girls. For we all must pass…sometime.” He took a deep, ragged breath and continued, “But please allow me to apologise. I should have taken Lydia in hand while I had the chance. And I should have supportedyou,Fanny. I should have taken better care of Longbourn and not allowed you to constantly be worried about being left without a home...”
“Please, Mr. Bennet,” said his wife, “do not take all the responsibility onto yourself. For I should have guided our daughters better. Especially Kitty and Lydia…”
“Now, Fanny, you did the best you could…under the circumstances, and I apologise I was not there for you. Please…forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, dearest Thomas…”
Mrs. Bennet bent over their father and cried into his hand.
“Perhaps you should leave us for a time, Jane…Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. “I would like to speak to your mother in private.”
Elizabeth nodded, then left the room with Jane.
A few hours later, their father breathed his last.
CHAPTER 30 Finding Wickham
Hours after Bingley and the ladies left for Hertfordshire, Richard arrived from Kent. He told Darcy that the entire party from Rosings, including Anne and Lady Catherine, had travelled to London and were now at the Matlock townhouse. Darcy apprised him of the particulars of his plan to find Mrs. Younge, and later, Wickham. Soon afterwards they went to Gracechurch Street to collect Mr. Gardiner, and then the three proceeded to Camden Town.
“This is her boarding house,” said Darcy somberly, as the three of them looked up at the dark two-storey structure in the middle of the block. “I shall go in to see if she has any information regarding Wickham’s whereabouts.”
He stepped down from the carriage, walked to the front door and rapped on it.
“Mr. Darcy for Mrs. Younge,” he told the young servant girl who opened the door for him.
He was shown into a neat but cramped parlour and had only minutes to wait before Mrs. Younge entered the room.
She surprised him by saying, “So I take it you are here looking for George?”
“I am,” he answered impassively. “Have you seen him? And was there a young lady with him?”
“Yes, on both counts,” answered Mrs. Younge.
“And will you tell me where they are?”
Mrs. Younge eyed him suspiciously and ignored his question. “That little doxy he had with him was extremely irritating. Asking to be taken to the theatre and to the modiste and to Vauxhall Gardens!” Mrs. Younge laughed. “As if she were some great lady travelling with her betrothed. She is deluded if she thinks that George will ever marry her!”
Darcy tamped down his anger and willed himself to speak calmly. “So will you tell me where they are?” he repeated.
“And why do you care so much where they are? You do not have atendrefor that little chit, do you?”
