Page 57 of Grief and Grievances
“Elizabeth,” Lydia panted, her eyes wide with terror, “what if he catches us?”
“Keep running!” Elizabeth urged, her voice firm despite the tremor that threatened to betray her anxiety. “We must reach Longbourn. He cannot harm us there.”
As they continued their flight, Elizabeth’s thoughts raced wildly. How had she allowed herself to be so easily deceived by Wickham’s charm? She could not help but wonder how different things might have been had she recognized the truth sooner.
“Look!” Lydia cried, pointing ahead through the trees. “Longbourn is in sight!”
“Thank heavens,” Elizabeth breathed, tears of relief welling in her eyes. With one final surge of determination, the sisters emerged from the woods, the familiar sight of their family home offering a sanctuary from the nightmare they had narrowly escaped.
Lydia’s tear-streaked face, a picture of remorse and vulnerability, greeted Elizabeth as they tumbled through the door into their family home. The wild terror of flight had given way to the sombre stillness of safety, and Lydia’s sobs echoed softly in the empty hallway.
“Elizabeth,” she hiccupped, “I am so dreadfully sorry! My foolish obsession with Wickham... I should have seen him for what he was.” Her eyes, red-rimmed and watery, met her sister’s gaze imploringly. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“Dearest Lydia,” Elizabeth replied, her voice gentle but firm as she took her sister’s trembling hands. “Your courage today speaks volumes of your character. You came to my aid without hesitation, and for that, I am grateful.”
“Truly?” Lydia sniffled, hope flickering in her eyes.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, offering her a warm smile. “It is not every day that one’s sister rescues her from such an unsavoury encounter. How did you even come to be in the woods?”
Lydia shrugged. “I was walking into Meryton when I spied a red coat among the trees. I wondered who it was, and when I saw Wickham there, he looked like he was waiting for someone. It wasn’t me because he didn’t know I was coming, so I hid and watched, and then I saw you.”
Elizabeth frowned. Something about that account troubled her. “Would Wickham perhaps have been waiting for you in such an isolated spot, if he had known you were coming?” she queried, her eyes narrowing.
“Maybe.” Lydia shuffled her feed and looked sheepish. “I… I fancied myself in love with him,” she murmured, almost inaudibly. “But when I saw him grab you—he was going to hurt you!”
“Have you allowed him any liberties?” Elizabeth pressed, almost frightened of the answer, but she had to know.
Lydia shook her head, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she whispered, embracing her sister.
“Then you will not tell our father?” Lydia asked hesitantly, her lower lip quivering.
“Your secret is safe with me, dear sister,” Elizabeth assured her. “But let this be a lesson to us both. We must not judge others by mere appearances, no matter how charming they may seem.”
“Thank you, Lizzy,” Lydia whispered, clinging to her sister like a lifeboat in storm-tossed seas. “I promise I shall never be so reckless again.”
“Let us hope not,” Elizabeth murmured, her thoughts turning inward as she held her sister close. If not for Lydia’s timely intervention, who knew what terrible fate might have befallen her?
Elizabeth found Jane fortuitously alone in the parlour, sitting by the window with her embroidery in hand. Taking a seat beside her, she prepared herself for what she must reveal to her sister.
“Jane,” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I must share something with you—a matter most serious and troubling.”
“Dearest Lizzy, whatever is the matter?” Jane asked, concern etched upon her lovely face as she reached for her sister’s hand.
With a deep breath, Elizabeth recounted the entire episode, sparing no detail of Wickham’s crude suggestions and vile intentions. As she spoke, her voice grew more resolute, betraying the anger and disgust that simmered beneath her composed exterior.
“Can you imagine, Jane? To be so brazen and wicked, all in the name of revenge against Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes flashing with indignation.
“Indeed, it is a shocking revelation,” Jane replied, obviously deeply shocked. “What do you intend to do, Lizzy?”
“I am uncertain,” Elizabeth confessed, biting her lower lip as she contemplated the situation. “Part of me wishes to expose Mr. Wickham’s true nature to the world, but I am wary of the scandal it might bring upon our family. And then there is Mr. Darcy...”
“Ah, Mr. Darcy.” Jane’s expression softened, understanding dawning upon her gentle features. “You must tell him, Lizzy. He has a right to know, both as your suitor and as Mr. Wickham’s enemy.”
“Yet I am loath to bring such unpleasantness to his door,” Elizabeth protested, her brow furrowing with anxiety. “Surely he has suffered enough at the hands of that man.”
“Perhaps,” Jane conceded, “but consider the consequences of remaining silent. If Mr. Darcy is to be your husband, he deserves to know the truth. And who better to handle such a matter with discretion and wisdom? Will you let Wickham get in first, with an account that paints you in the worst possible light?”
Elizabeth hesitated, her mind awash with conflicting emotions. She knew Jane’s counsel to be wise, yet she could not shake the fear that revealing Wickham’s actions might irrevocably damage her relationship with Darcy.
