Page 8 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

“Come, Lizzy. Let us take her up to her room, lest she collapse on the floor.”

Then Jane said to her mother, “Mamma, you will lie down, and Hill shall bring up a posset to soothe you. Papa will find Lydia and bring her home.”

Elizabeth added, “And Uncle Edward will help him.”

Thomas Bennet looked at his daughter. “Kitty, what do you know of this? You do not appear alarmed or surprised.”

Mrs. Bennet stopped weeping and rounded upon her daughter.

“Tell me, girl. Where is my darling Lydia?”

When Kitty did not answer, Mr. Bennet took her by the elbow. “Do not trifle with me, Kitty. Tell me what you know. At what hour did your sister leave?”

Kitty lowered her eyes. “She meant to meet him at six this morning, but we both slept too deeply, and she did not awaken until eight o'clock. Then she had not packed, so it was after nine before she slipped out the back door and into the lane to meet him. He meant to hire a gig to take them to St. Albans, where they were to wait for the mail coach. He hoped to hire a chaise, but he had not enough funds.”

“How do you know all this, Kitty? Did Lydia leave you a note?”

Kitty reached into her pocket and handed her father a soiled, crumpled paper. “I found this in the wastebasket in Lydia's bedchamber.”

Thomas Bennet spread the paper upon a nearby table and smoothed it flat. His eyes moved down the page. Elizabeth could not decipher the writing, for the hand was exceedingly poor.

“If this man has done as he proposed in this note, they await the four o'clock mail coach at St. Albans.”

He gestured to Elizabeth. “Run to the stable and have the carriage brought round. Jane, ask Hill to pack a bag for me, and then send an express to Gardiner and explain what has happened. I must collect funds for the journey.”

As they hurried off to complete their tasks, Mrs. Bennet found her voice once more and wailed to Kitty, “My poor dear Lydia. And now here’s Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight this Mr. Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? Mr. Collins will turn us out before Thomas is cold in his grave; and if my brother is not kind to us, I do not know what we shall do.”

* * *

Thomas Bennet considered how best to effect the rescue of his youngest daughter. He took out his pistol, loaded it, and slipped it into his pocket. He prayed he would not need it.

At last, they reached St. Albans. The coachman brought the carriage to a halt, and Mr. Bennet stepped down to speak with him.

“Where to, sir?”

“Pull up farther down the street from the White Hart. If this Lieutenant and Lydia are there, I do not wish to be seen. If we find them, I must decide how I shall rescue my daughter, for I seriously doubt she will return with me of her own accord.”

“Yes, sir.”

The coachman climbed back onto the box, Mr. Bennet entered the carriage, and they set off.

* * *

When the carriage came to a halt again, Thomas stepped down.

“I shall walk the street and look for my daughter. Mead, you search behind the buildings. Perhaps they hide there. Let us meet back here at half past twelve.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two men set off in opposite directions. As Thomas passed the shops and vegetable stalls, he searched for Lydia but found no sign of her. He walked nearly to the end of the street before circling behind the buildings to search among the shadows.

There they sat.

Lydia and a handsome gentleman occupied a pair of wooden crates behind a grocer's shop, sharing bread and cheese.

Thomas stood motionless, deciding what to do. Before he could move, Lydia looked up. Her eyes met his, and she cried out a warning.

The lieutenant sprang to his feet. “Run. I shall come for you.”