Page 109 of Near Pemberley

Elizabeth stopped. For one brief moment, she could not make herself move. Some weeks earlier, she had feared she might never hear that voice again.

Beside her, Georgiana squeezed her arm gently. Elizabeth drew a steadying breath; then, she stepped through the doorway.

She saw nothing except Lydia.

Darcy was standing near the window, but he scarcely registered. Her entire world seemed to narrow to the slight figure rising uncertainly from a chair across the room.

“Lizzy.”

The single word broke something within her.

“Lydia.”

She crossed the room almost before she realised she was moving.

Lydia met her halfway.

The embrace was far from graceful. Lydia threw her arms around her neck, and Elizabeth held her with a desperation that surprised them both.

They did not speak.

Elizabeth could feel her sister trembling. When at last she drew back, she immediately placed her hands upon Lydia’s shoulders as though to assure herself she was truly there. “You foolish, foolish girl.” The words emerged through tears.

Lydia gave a watery laugh, which collapsed almost immediately into sobs. “I know.”

“Oh, Lydia.” Elizabeth pulled her into another embrace. “You frightened us all half to death.”

“I know.”

“We thought…” Her voice broke. She could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

Before her uncle’s letter, she had imagined every possible disaster. She had lain awake wondering whether Lydia was cold, hungry, abandoned, injured… alone.

Now Lydia was here. Alive. Warm. And safe.

Elizabeth drew back again, only to study her more closely. Mrs. Gardiner had spoken truly. Lydia was thinner. There were shadows beneath her eyes that had not been there before she left for Brighton, and something else had changed as well. The careless confidence which had once seemed so inseparable from her youngest sister was gone.

“Lizzy, I am so sorry.”

Elizabeth blinked. She could only stare.

Lydia’s eyes filled again. “I never meant… I did not think… I thought…” Her voice faltered. “I thought he loved me.”

The confession was so simple, so utterly devoid of Lydia’s usual bravado, that it struck Elizabeth harder than any elaborate apology could have done.

“Oh, Lydia.”

“I know everyone must hate me.”

“No.”

“They should.”

“No.” Elizabeth took both her hands firmly. “You have caused us pain, yes. More than I can say. But do not imagine for one moment that we stopped loving you.”

Lydia looked away. “I have ruined everything.” The words were scarcely above a whisper. “I’m aware.”

Elizabeth felt tears rise again. For weeks, she had imagined this meeting. In none of those imaginings had Lydia sounded like this. “Everything… we shall think of that later,” she said softly. “You are my sister.”