Page 41 of A Mismatched Compromise

The door opened and Georgiana’s smiling face appeared, the smile faltering a little as she entered and took in Elizabeth’s appearance. Elizabeth knew she did not look well, but felt it more heavily as she watched Georgiana’s dark eyes — eyes that so resembled her brother’s — widen in alarm. She felt tears rise again at the concern on her friend’s face and suspected that her composure was more fragile even than she wanted to admit. She opened her mouth to try to speak, to smooth over the moment, but Georgiana spoke first.

“Elizabeth,” Georgiana said softly, and even at this moment Elizabeth was pleased by the ease with which the other girl now used her first name. There had been a slightly awkward adjustment period, but it had gone quickly, as a real friendship had grown between the two. “What has happened? Are you unwell?”

The ability to manufacture easy reassurance, like so much else, seemed entirely beyond Elizabeth’s grasp at the moment. Unable to form any more graceful answer, she simply shrugged and gestured toward the chair nearest hers.

Georgiana came and sat beside her, and they sat quietly for a few minutes. To Elizabeth’s profound relief, the younger girl did not press her for answers. “I brought you a letter,” she said gently after a time. She handed over an envelope. “The maid was going to bring it up, but I thought I might do so instead, as I wished to speak to you. Have you already received other news? Is something amiss?”

All questions she could not answer, or perhaps could not bear to answer. Elizabeth took the envelope and broke the seal. “Would you stay while I read it?” she asked quietly.

The request was not really logical. Elizabeth could not have said why she asked, other than perhaps a desire to not be alone, to enjoy Georgiana’s steady company for a little longer. Likely she would not see the girl again once she left Pemberley, a thought that made her want to break down into tears yet again.

“Of course,” Georgiana said simply, pleased that her presence was requested.

Elizabeth unfolded the letter and turned her attention to it for a moment, hoping that there would be something within that would make this day less of a disaster. It was addressed from Longbourn in Mary’s carefully even hand.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I write to you first to share news which I believe you will find encouraging. The gossip surrounding your engagement, which has occupied so much of everyone’s attention these past months, appears at last to be waning. I have found that fewer people seem to be discussing the circumstances of your betrothal, and even Mrs Long did not bring it up once today when she called on us. One could view that as a sign that your plan is working, and your removal from Meryton has helped to accomplish what time alone could not.

However, it is possible that the cessation of discussion regarding your situation is the result not of a change in feeling toward your engagement, but rather of a new situation that has arisen and is replacing it as a source of great interest. The militia left for Brighton these few days past, as was expected. What was not expected was for us to discover that Lydia had departed as well. She left a note that said that she had gone with Mrs Forster on a “grand adventure” and that we should not worry about her. Mama immediately sent a letter to Colonel Foster, asking for her return. She has just received a letter from him saying that Papa had made it very clear to the Colonel that Lydia had been expressly forbidden to accompany his wife, and that he would never have permitted her to disregard Papa’s wishes and come with them. If Lydia is not with Mrs Forster, then she is not with any companion approaching respectability at all, and we do not, in fact, know exactly where she is. Mama is currently having hysterics, and alternating between calling for Papa to return and demanding that none of us tell Papa what has occurred.

I thought I would inform you, and then I am not disobeying her. I cannot help but fear that this is an event rather worse even than what occurred at Netherfield, and I am ashamed to admit it, but I do not know what to do, Elizabeth. I thought you should know at once.

Your loving sister,

Mary

Elizabeth read the letter twice, unable to comprehend it at first and caught up in the relief of Mary’s report that the gossip was dying down, only to understand gradually that it was dying down because it had been replaced by something far more disastrous. Lydia had left Longbourn, had run away without a chaperone or permission or any sense of self-preservation.

“Elizabeth?”

She looked up slowly to find Georgiana watching her with growing concern. “Elizabeth, are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.”

“My sister,” Elizabeth said, and her voice sounded strange to her ears. “My youngest sister. She has followed the militia to Brighton. Probably. She’s gone, and they’re gone, and she has left with no proper chaperone and she is not with the woman whom her note said she was travelling with.”

Georgiana’s hand, which had been resting on the arm of Elizabeth’s hand, tightened visibly. “Your youngest sister is…gone?”

“Yes. My sister Lydia. She is only sixteen, and I cannot fathom what she was thinking. I…Oh, God, what if she went to Wickham?” Elizabeth said, almost to herself. That would be disastrous. Lydia would be in danger, and Darcy would be proved right about everything he had said about her family. Elizabeth was unsure whether she could bear both of those things happening at once.

“Wickham!” Georgiana repeated, her voice rising with a sharp note of alarm that Elizabeth had never heard from her before. “George Wickham?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, a little startled by the strength of Georgiana’s reaction. “He…he did grow up around here, did he not? Do you know him?”

Georgiana’s colour had faded entirely. She rose from her seat and turned away, her hands clutched together so tightly that Elizabeth could see them shaking even when she crossed the room.

“Georgiana?” Elizabeth rose as well, alarmed at the girl’s distress. “What is wrong? Did something —” She couldn’t even think how to finish the question, a terrible suspicion rising at the sight of Georgiana’s distress.

After a long moment, Georgiana turned back to her, and Elizabeth was horrified to see that her eyes were filled with tears. “You cannot put any trust whatsoever in him,” she said, her voice trembling as much as her hands. “Elizabeth, please, you must listen to me. You cannot put any trust in him. He is not what he appears.”

Elizabeth stared at her friend, remembering Mr Darcy’s early warnings about Mr Wickham. “I… I have heard that he is not, but…” Elizabeth trailed off, trying to make sense of her friend’s deep fear. “But Georgiana, why…why are you so concerned? What is it about Mr Wickham that…that frightens you so?”

Georgiana was silent for a long moment. Elizabeth could see her internal struggle, and it made her chest ache to see the girl who was so gentle and kind struggle to speak of something that obviously wounded her deeply.

“Last summer, when I was fifteen,” she began finally, her words slow with the effort it took to speak them, “he convinced me to…run away with him. To elope. He was charming, and I was so very foolish, but… I thought he cared for me, Elizabeth. My brother stopped it and caught us, and ensured that Wickham would never speak of what he convinced me to do. He saved me, and he has never blamed me, but I have blamed myself every day since for being so foolish and ungrateful and devoid of decency. There is no excuse for my behaviour, but Elizabeth —” she looked her in the eye finally, and her voice was desperate. “Mr Wickham’s charm is a weapon, and he uses it as one. He finds girls like me, girls who are silly and young and do not understand how their actions can be used against them. Your sister is in danger, Elizabeth,” she said, her voice shaking again. “She is sixteen, and if she is with him, she is in dreadful danger.”

Elizabeth felt as though the world had tilted and resettled at a new angle, and was vaguely aware that this had happened more times today than was at all reasonable. She didn’t know for a fact that Lydia was with Wickham, but the sheer dreadfulness of the possibility was too much to overlook. There was only too much reason to fear it was true. Wickham had been near the library that night. Lydia had spoken of him incessantly before the ball, but suddenly stopped. Then there was the day in the field, when she was standing by the treeline in her bright coat, talking to someone unseen…

It must have been Mr Wickham who had arranged to meet Lydia that night, and Mr Wickham to whom she had been talking in the field, and Mr Wickham with whom she had run away from home. And Mr Darcy had known that it had been Wickham behind the note, and had known where this was leading, because the same charming soldier had led his own sister along the same path.