Page 84 of A Stronger Impulse

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Lizzy escaped to the park, not wanting to see anyone else—especially her mother or Lydia, although it was to be hoped they were too consumed with last-minute ballgown creation to visit. Her mind was in a tumult…but surprisingly enough, her first reflections were self-congratulatory.

This is what you avoided, Lizzy,she told herself. Sneers, put-downs, and cold shoulders. Choices had to be made, difficult choices. Jane had listened to her heart, taken the unequal connexion offered and look what it brought her!

But here, her thoughts came to a sudden halt.

Jane was wife to a man she loved, a man who could well support her and the child she was carrying. Irrespective of Jane’s current perceptions, Lizzy had often seen his tender regard for Jane; he did love her, he did.

The real problem was not even his shrewish sisters. It was Jane’s meek acceptance of their spite, as if it were her due. Lizzy had never noticed Mr Bingley teasing Jane excessively, but if Jane found his remarks hurtful, she must tell him. If the sisters were rude, she must put them in their places! This was her home!

Jane’s unwillingness to do so, Lizzy laid at the feet of Mr and Mrs Bennet. All her life, Jane had been taught that her only value was her beauty. It was not true. Bingley’s regard was not at issue, and Jane brought enough to the marriage—she brought herself, an intelligent, loving wife who would manage his home and mother his children with grace and kindness. Her parents always withheld affection when displeased. However, simply because she could not please his sisters was no reason to fall into despair; she still had every opportunity for happiness.

And what did it say about Lizzy’s own decisions, her own difficult choices?

I am just as good, just as worthy as Jane. Did Mr Darcy really believe I was not? Or was I so ready to accept his ill opinion that, like Jane now, I cringed away from any mention of mine or my family’s shortcomings? Have I unthinkingly accepted my father’s opinion of my value? Was there truly only one possible outcome to his declaration?

But it was too late to unsay what had been said, too late to undo the past. All she could do now was help Jane rise above her current despair; meanwhile, Lydia’s urgent situation must still be dealt with.

Lizzy had assured Jane she would reach out to their uncle—yet, what could he do? Keep an eye on Wickham during the ball, certainly, as she would be closely watching Lydia. Still, the scoundrel would certainly try again. Could he contact Mr Darcy, see Wickham run from town? Possibly, given enough time. But time was a luxury they did not have, and he had no authority over Lydia, regardless.

An unsigned letter, perhaps? But if Lizzy addressed a letter to her father anonymously, she would have no way of knowing whether he had read it. Mr Bennet was a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, who often put off reading his letters for days at a time—probably for fear of someone asking something of him or expecting the honour of a reply. Besides, who would believe the words of a nameless stranger, especially words one did not wish to believe?

To expect Kitty to confess Lydia’s proposed scheme to her parents was ludicrous—she never would. Mary, of course, would be happy to tattle. But of them all, Mary was the most like their mother. Oh, her faults were different ones, but they revealed an essential silliness—such as the deep pride she took in being virtuous whilst having no truck with charity. Like her mother, she was apt to present the problem in such a way as to guarantee Mr Bennet would not listen, even while casting the household into an uproar.

“Devil take it!” she swore, borrowing one of Mr Darcy’s curses.

“Lizzy?” came a voice just behind her, and she sighed.

“I beg your pardon, Georgie,” Lizzy said. “Please pretend you did not hear that.”

“Oh, think nothing of it,” her friend reassured once she caught up to Lizzy on the path. “I was hoping to find you here when you did not come down for breakfast. Is all well?”

Lizzy could not think how to answer; so much was wrong that it seemed like none would do.

But Georgiana answered it herself. “Forgive me, I ought not to have asked such a silly question. You need not share with me whatever is distressing you. Just know that I do have an acquaintance now with trouble’s tricks and tests. You will please tell me whether I can be of any use to you?”

Lizzy smiled, remembering that long-ago day on the windy cliffs of Ramsgate when she had asked much the same thing of Georgiana. Even if one’s friends could not assist in any meaningful way, it was a very good thing to have a friend at all and not to remain alone with one’s problems. Because of Wickham’s involvement, she had thought she should not confide in this friend, but at Georgiana’s invitation, she found herself blurting out the whole of Lydia’s reckless scheme.

“Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry,” she said, after hearing the story. “There is no question but that Wickham selected Lydia as his victim at least in part due to my connexion to your family.”

“Possibly so,” Lizzy replied. “However, his motives for villainous conduct do not change who is at fault for his actions.”

“I suppose,” Georgiana mused, but she did not sound convinced. “What will you do?”

“That is the difficulty. I cannot think of anyone who my father will listen to, excepting Mr Bingley, yet Jane is adamant that he should not be told.”

“That is unfortunate. He would be my first choice too. But even so…whatever Mr Bennet believes of your parentage, he must know of your good sense. You are absolutely certain he would not listen to you?”

Would he?she thought. He might pretend not to, but it did not mean, once she was away, that he would do nothing.

“And, Lizzy…if you think it would help him understand, please…tell him how Wickham took advantage of a young, foolish girl, importuned her to elope, and left her to deal with the consequences. You may use my name, with my permission. Mr Bennet must understand that the danger is real.”

“A part of me wishes to see my father brought low,” Lizzy admitted. “Humiliated before the town he believes himself so superior to, mortified before his neighbours and friends. His disgrace would be so satisfying.” She could hardly believe she’d said the words aloud. There was a long silence.

“I suppose you must decide if you hate him more than you love Lydia,” she said.

“You must think me awful to even consider the notion.”

“Lizzy,” Georgiana reproved, “I never would. Should you prefer I address him? I know whereof I speak.”

Dear, sweet Georgie.“No, my friend. I thank you for listening to me, but it is time I cease postponing my errand and be done with it. Even though my sister will not thank me for saving her, whether it even does.”

“Let me thank you for her then,” Georgiana said. “On behalf of the woman she might have the opportunity to become, simply because you care.”

And that was all that mattered, was it not?

“For her,” Lizzy agreed.