Elizabeth took the letter. “Aunt Maddie, it felt so wrong to deceive my dearest sister, yet what else could we do? Jane, nor any member of our family, must ever learn of Lydia's elopement with Mr. Wickham.”
“Yes, I felt it as well. I did not like deceiving my niece.”
Elizabeth opened the letter and began to read. “They have already arrived in India?”
“Yes. The voyage required six months, but they arrived in good health.”
Elizabeth found Lydia's handwriting difficult to decipher. “I cannot make sense of the paragraph written by my sister.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “She writes of their lovely home, and she has formed friendships with many of the other women residing in the compound. She also mentions balls and card parties, and that the weather is excessively hot.”
“Lizzy, now that we know they survived the voyage, we believe it best to speak openly of their marriage and journey. Do you think you shall manage to keep secret her elopement and the actual date of her marriage to Adams?”
“I must, Aunt Maddie, for the sake of our respectability. Oh, how I wish I did not know. How am I to keep such a thing from Mr. Darcy?”
“Lydia did not actually lie with a man, Elizabeth.”
“But she did run away with one. Oh, Aunt, if I tell him and he breaks with me, I shall die of a broken heart. Yet if I conceal it and he ever discovers the truth, he will never trust me again.”
Mrs. Gardiner answered with gravity. “Only you know what ought to be done, Elizabeth. You know him, and I do not. I am not in a position to offer advice.”
The carriage drew up before Matlock House. Elizabeth returned the letter to her aunt, then threw her arms about her neck.
“Aunt, think of me, for tonight I must decide what I shall do. I lean toward telling him, and I fear he may cast me off. For how could a man of his rank and consequence stoop so low?”
The carriage door opened, and Elizabeth was handed down. Elizabeth was taut with emotion. She would tell Mr. Darcy all, and perhaps this very night, he would cast her off.
Darcy stood waiting to greet her. “You have returned. I was concerned. I do not know whether Dunwich has men watching the house and following you about. Did you observe anything?”
“No, sir, nothing. Perhaps he has forgotten me already and moved on to his next conquest.”
“We should prove so fortunate, Elizabeth. That man resembles a bulldog once he fixes his attention upon a woman.” He offered his arm. “Come. I shall escort you to your chamber. There is barely enough time to change for dinner.”
They climbed the stair in silence. She was stiff with tension and could not bring herself to look at him.
“Elizabeth, is something amiss? You appear downcast. Did my ill-timed remarks concerning Dunwich distress you?”
“No, sir, though I would speak with you privately if you are able.”
“Now?”
“Yes, sir. We shall have no opportunity later, for Lady Helen keeps close watch over us both.”
“Come then. There is a sitting room beside my bedchamber.”
He led her there, and they seated themselves in the darkened room.
“What is it, Elizabeth? You appear exceedingly grave. What has happened?”
“Sir, I have five sisters.”
“Yes, I know.”
“One of them, the youngest, ran away with a man this past March.”
She saw him stiffen. Dropping her eyes, she hurried on with her account.
“I encountered her walking down the lane early one morning just after sunrise. She carried a satchel in each hand, and farther down the lane, perhaps a mile distant, stood a carriage. Then a man approached her. His name is Mr. George Wickham, sir.”