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Freed from Lydia’s grasp, Kitty stepped back. Elizabeth did not have to hold Lydia for long, for Mr. Bennet and the servants were mere seconds behind her. Mr. Hill’s hands closed around Lydia’s upper arms, his grip firm as he pulled her away from Elizabeth.

“Get your hands off me!” Lydia cried.

Mr. Hill did not so much as flinch at her words, or the jerking motion that accompanied it. “Come now, Miss Lydia. Let us go to the carriage calmly together. There is nothing for it, as your father has given orders.”

“I will not!” Lydia’s shriek caused her sisters to wince in pain, but Mr. Hill responded only by sweeping the girl into his arms in a way one might a small child that fell asleep in the carriage.

“Put me down!” Lydia writhed in Mr. Hill’s grasp, her indignation echoing throughout the house as he carried her towards the door.

“Miss Lydia, we are descending the stairs. Pray, stop struggling, if only until we have descended,” Mr. Hill said calmly.

Lydia’s thrashing grew more desperate as they descended, so Mr. Hill ordered the footmen ahead of him, arms outstretched and walking backwards that they might break her fall should she break free. Thankfully, despite his age, Mr. Hill had lost none of his vitality and he was able to see his young charge safely to the foot of the stairs.

“Matthew, you shall remain in the carriage with me,” said Mr. Hill, as he exited the house. “James, you will ride with the driver.”

“Very good, sir,” both footmen answered as one opened the door to the carriage so Hill’s screaming burden could be deposited inside. The footman, a maid, and Mr. Hill entered after, as the coachman assisted in loading the remaining trunks onto the back.

“Papa, you are not going to see Lydia to school?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, I am not,” her father answered. “Your sister does not require an audience for her dramatics. You can be assured that Hill will see her delivered safely to the seminary.”

Elizabeth looked to where her sister sat. Tears continued to fall from Lydia’s eyes even though she had ceased to wail aloud; she looked utterly wretched. Elizabeth knew there was nothing to be done. Lydia had to be taught how to go on, lest she make fools of them all, but as the carriage rolled away, she could not help but wonder if she ought to have offered to travel with them; that she ought to have offered her sister, not an audience for her dramatics, but a friend on which to rely.

Chapter 23

“Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy. There is a Miss Bingley here to call on Miss Darcy,” said the housekeeper with a curtsy.

Mr. Darcy’s eyes immediately sought his sister’s. He knew Georgiana had never liked Miss Bingley, despite Miss Bingley’s claims of an intimate friendship between them. “I will ensure that the call is brief,” he assured his sister, before telling the maid to show Miss Bingley into the room.

Miss Bingley entered the bright sitting room with an air that better implied ownership than a morning call. She wore, as ever, a very fashionable gown with more ribbons and lace than Miss Darcy supposed she had in her entire wardrobe. Miss Bingley greeted Georgiana with all the effusion that one might an intimate friend recently returned from a journey to the West Indies. Despite the lukewarm reception she received in return from both Darcys, she was unphased. Indeed, Miss Bingley seemed, if anything, rather delighted by the reserve with which Georgiana received her, complimenting the pretty manners of the younger lady.

“How is your family, Miss Bingley?” Georgiana offered mechanically, hoping that the conversation might shift to a more comfortable subject.

“They are well, I suppose,” said Miss Bingley. “Although I fear they shall not remain so for long.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Darcy raised his eyebrows. “I wondered at your being in town. Has something gone amiss? Has someone taken ill?”

“No, all are well in the physical sense,” Miss Bingley assured them.

“Then what is the problem?” he asked.

“Surely you know, Mr. Darcy. My brother is thoroughly entranced with Miss Bennet.” Miss Bingley’s tone was such that she might well have been telling them that her brother planned to run away to Scotland with a dairy maid.

“Indeed, I am aware. Anyone with eyes could see as much when we were in Hertfordshire.”

“He is meeting with his man of business to draw up a settlement!” Miss Bingley said, her voice taking on urgency. “He means to return to Hertfordshire as soon as may be and propose to her.”

“I assumed as much,” replied Darcy. “Your brother did dance with Miss Bennet three times at the ball.”

Miss Bingley stared at Mr. Darcy, her mind spinning at his seeming unconcern. “Then you understand my alarm, sir! It is not to be borne! My brother cannot attach himself, our family, to one so very undistinguished. Miss Bennet is a sweet girl and quite pretty, but you must acknowledge that such a connection would be a degradation to our station, to any prospects my family may have to rise higher in society. You have long said, Mr. Darcy, that disguise of any sort is your abhorrence, and I disguise nothing now. I come to ask your assistance, sir, in protecting my brother from himself.”

Mr. Darcy looked to where his sister sat, eyes wide as she watched Miss Bingley’s speech. “Georgiana, perhaps you might check with Mrs. Annesley to see how she gets on,” he offered. Though having no notion what he could mean by such a suggestion, for Mrs. Annesley was at that moment writing a letter to her sister, Georgiana immediately agreed. Any excuse to leave Miss Bingley’s presence was welcome. Once she had gone, Mr. Darcy turned to Miss Bingley and spoke slowly, “I find it very abnormal, Miss Bingley, that you should think I would wish to interfere in your brother’s affairs in such a matter as this.”

“Have you not in the past? You convinced him to separate himself from Miss Wester.”

“Miss Wester cared only for your brother’s fortune.”

“Miss Bennet has less in the way of fortune and connections than Miss Wester.”