Pride and Prejudice — Chapter Forty-Six

Elizabeth had been disappointed each morning at Lambton in not finding a letter from Jane, but on the third day her worry ended: two letters arrived at once, one of them marked as having been mis-sent elsewhere. Her aunt and uncle went out walking, leaving her to read them in peace.

The mis-sent letter had been written five days earlier. Its first half held ordinary news, but the second half, written a day later in obvious distress, brought far more serious news.

Without pausing to think, Elizabeth seized the second letter, written a day later than the first.

"Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, springing from her seat the moment she finished the letter. But as she reached the door, it opened, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale, frantic look startled him, and before he could speak, she exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed."

"Good God! what is the matter?" he cried, with more feeling than manners; then, recovering himself, "I will not detain you a minute; but let me, or the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough to go yourself."

Elizabeth's knees trembled beneath her, and she agreed to let the servant fetch them. Once he left, she sat down, looking so ill that Darcy could not bring himself to leave her either. "Let me call your maid," he said gently. "Is there nothing I can get you? A glass of wine?"

"No, thank you," she replied, trying to steady herself. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am only distressed by some dreadful news I have just received from Longbourn." She burst into tears and could not speak for several minutes. At length she managed, "My youngest sister has left all her friends — has eloped — has thrown herself into the power of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connexions, nothing that can tempt him to marry her — she is lost forever."

Darcy stood fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she went on, more agitated still, "that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all too late now."

"I am grieved indeed," said Darcy, "grieved — shocked. But is it certain — absolutely certain?"

"Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London, but no farther. They are certainly not gone to Scotland."

"And what has been done to recover her?"

"My father has gone to London, and Jane has written begging my uncle's immediate help. We shall be off, I hope, within the half hour. But nothing can be done — I know very well that nothing can be done. It is every way horrible!"

Darcy shook his head in silent agreement. "When my eyes were opened to his real character — oh, had I known what I dared to do! But I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"

Darcy said nothing. He walked the room in troubled thought, his brow drawn, his manner gloomy. Elizabeth understood at once what it meant: her power over him was sinking; nothing could survive so complete a proof of her family's disgrace. She could not blame him for it, yet the thought brought her no comfort — instead, it made her realise, more honestly than ever, that she could have loved him, now that all hope of it was gone.

But she could not dwell on herself for long. Lydia — the shame and misery she was bringing on them all — soon swallowed up every private feeling, and Elizabeth covered her face with her handkerchief. After a pause, Darcy spoke again, gently but with restraint. "I am afraid you have long wished me gone, and I have no excuse for staying beyond real, if useless, concern. Would to Heaven I could say or do something to bring you comfort! This unfortunate affair will, I fear, keep my sister from the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today."

"Oh yes. Please apologise to Miss Darcy for us. Say that urgent business calls us home at once. Conceal the truth as long as possible — though I know it cannot be long."

He promised his secrecy at once, repeated his sorrow, wished her a happier outcome than seemed likely, and, with one serious, parting look, was gone.

As he left, Elizabeth felt how unlikely it now was that they should ever meet again on such friendly terms as in Derbyshire, and she sighed at the strange turn of feelings that would now welcome his company, when once she would have rejoiced to see the last of him.

She was wild to be at home — to see, to hear, to share the burden with Jane, in a household so overturned, with her father absent and her mother unable to do anything but suffer. Though nearly certain nothing could be done for Lydia, her uncle's help still seemed essential, and the wait for his return felt unbearable.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner hurried back, having been told by the servant that their niece had been taken suddenly ill. Elizabeth quickly explained the real cause, reading both letters aloud. Though Lydia had never been their favourite, the Gardiners were deeply affected, and Mr. Gardiner at once promised every possible assistance. Within the hour, everything about their journey home was arranged.

"But what is to be done about Pemberley?" asked Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for us — was it so?"

"Yes; and I told him we would not be able to keep our engagement. That is all settled."

There were notes to write to their friends in Lambton, offering false excuses for their sudden departure, and within an hour everything was ready. Mr. Gardiner settled the bill at the inn, and before long Elizabeth found herself in the carriage, on the road back to Longbourn.