Page 64 of Such Low Connections

“I shall, of course, agree to everything,” Mr Bennet added with a shrug. “But still…”

“Write straight away, Father,” Jane urged him. “I will help sharpen you a pen if you need. Why should you hesitate at a time like this?”

“No, no. I have many pens. Do not trouble yourself, Jane. I do not hesitate over writing back and committing myself to meeting these very modest demands from a young man I understood to be of expensive tastes and unrestrained habits. I hesitate because I do not know how to thank your uncle. God knows what he has done to achieve this, or rather, what he has paid.”

“Oh, Father!” murmured Jane. “Perhaps Mr Wickham simply is not so bad after all.”

Elizabeth and her father exchanged a glance of shared cynicism and human understanding.

“Yes, he is, my dear Jane. Every bit as bad and worse. Now, you go upstairs and tell your mother the good news, and I shall go to my library and begin my reply.”

Left alone once more, Elizabeth felt a small part of the recent tension leaving her body. Snatching up her coat, she went outside to walk in the garden and breathe in the warm summer day. Lydia was found, and something might be salvaged for her future and the family’s. For a few minutes, at least, she would be content with that.

In the small orchard at the back of the house, Elizabeth hoisted herself into the fork of an old apple tree and finally took out her own letter, only half paying attention as she opened it. She smiled, although sadly, upon seeing that it was another letter from Georgiana at Pemberley.

Whatever her family managed to hide from the wider world, Mr Darcy would always know the truth of Lydia’s elopement. Her younger sister’s rescue could do nothing to repair the social chasm that must now stand between Elizabeth and Pemberley. She supposed she must write back again with the same advice as before. Once Georgiana had spoken to Mr Darcy, there would be no more letters, she was sure.

Dear Elizabeth,

I am glad to hear that you are safely home and hope that whatever family issue demanded your presence so urgently has now been happily resolved.

If my brother were here, I would naturally have turned to him as you advised before writing to you again. However, Fitzwilliam’s departure was as sudden as your own, and I do not know for certain where he has gone in London or when he will return. I have written to Darcy House, but if he is staying with friends, he might not see my letters.

I hope you will therefore forgive me for writing to you again as someone who stands so highly in my brother’s esteem. There is no one here presently whom I can trust to advise me, and I feel so very troubled.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and frowned at this rather apprehensive opening. She had enough of her own family’s problems to deal with at the present moment and likely ought not to get further involved with Georgiana’s.

Much as she liked Mr Darcy’s sister, the girl was very young and somewhat naive. What was very troubling to her might be only a trifle to older and more experienced people. Mr Darcy might also be rightfully angry if she continued her correspondence with Georgiana after Lydia’s disgrace.

Well, she might as well read the letter, even if she chose not to reply, she supposed. The distraction of someone else’s more minor problems might even prove a welcome distraction. Opening her eyes again, she read on.

In fact, I feel quite afraid, and alone. Mrs Annesley has been called away to attend her dying mother in Dublin. It is very selfish of me, but I half wish that my cousin Ludlow had not given her permission to go. Mrs Annesley herself was reluctant to leave me before Fitzwilliam returned, but the letter from Dublin was so very alarming that Ludlow arranged her travel immediately.

Georgiana went on to describe this letter, apparently from a physician who had been attending Mrs Annesley’s mother. The old lady, while almost five-and-seventy years of age, had been hale and hearty at the time of her last letter. The news of apoplectic fits and insensibility had therefore come as a terrible shock to Georgiana’s companion.

With Mrs Annesley’s departure, Georgiana’s only company now was Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, and other servants.

My cousin Ludlow, Lord Hexham, is here very often since Mrs Annesley left, and he would not like to hear me say that I am lonely or afraid, but it is so. He professes that he is very fond of me and thinks me beautiful. I wish he would not. If I am praised for one thing, I would far rather it was my playing on the pianoforte.

I do not feel as comfortable with Lord Hexham as I always have with Colonel Fitzwilliam, his younger brother, who was my guardian from when Father died. I do not like to even call him by his first name, as he has invited me to do. Lord Hexham might be angry if I said any of these things to him, but I must say them to someone.

Elizabeth was reading with greater attention, a creeping dread in her veins. Now that she thought about it, there had been something of the same apprehension in Georgiana’s first letter, although it was less explicit. This older cousin evidently made her very uncomfortable and was showing too much familiarity for Georgiana’s liking or understanding. When Mrs Annesley was there, the young woman knew she was safe.

Now, however, Mrs Annesley was gone too, and she felt unsafe enough to write to Elizabeth for help. Something was very wrong at Pemberley… After a page in which Georgiana assured Elizabeth of her respect for her older cousin and the correctness of her behaviour around him, the letter took a tangent that sparked real concern in Elizabeth’s breast.

Cousin Ludlow wishes me to accompany him on a summer tour of Scotland, a surprise which he says Fitzwilliam has agreed to. This seems very out of character for my brother. I do not want to go, especially not without Fitzwilliam or Mrs Annesley. Yet Lord Hexham is one of my legal guardians, and I cannot think to disobey him either.

He says we must leave Pemberley while the weather is good and the roads to Scotland easy. The worry of all this has made me so ill that I have been in bed these past two days. Lord Hexham says that the air in Scotland will cure me in a day. I fear my cousin might insist on travelling despite my present infirmity.

With a gasp of alarm, Elizabeth jumped from the tree, as if she could run to Georgiana’s aid here and now. The final lines of the letter were only a desperate plea for advice and assistance.

I beg your most urgent guidance on what I should do, Elizabeth. My present situation is most peculiar, and I do not feel equal to it. Please write back to me as soon as you can. I don’t think I can even try to get out of bed until I hear from you…

While thunderstruck, Elizabeth knew she must act. Georgiana’s whole future could depend on her advice, and Darcy would never forgive himself if his sister came to harm. Lord Hexham might be heir to the Earl of Matlock, but his intentions towards Georgiana were distinctly dishonourable, and the girl was alone, without the protection of friends or relatives.

It seemed that George Wickham was not the only man attracted by the prospect of a malleable young woman with a £30,000 dowry. Elizabeth even doubted that Mrs Annesley’s letter was genuine, and rather only a ruse by this cousin to get her out of the way. The poor woman might get all the way to Dublin and find her aged relative knitting happily by the fire.

Rushing to the house, she found Longbourn a hive of celebration and activity. Mrs Bennet had finally risen from her bed and was dressing, all the while loudly proclaiming her intention of driving out to tell Lady Lucas and Mrs Philips directly that her daughter was engaged to be married.