The Guest | F. Darcy

Epilogue: The Journey to London

Adele rose with the dawn, stirred by the hush of early morning. The air was cool and fragrant with the promise of summer, and as she stood by the window of her guest chamber, a quiet thrill ran through her. Today, she would finally see Pemberley—a place of such renown that even those who had never crossed its threshold spoke of its grandeur. Georgiana had painted it in such affectionate strokes that Adele could not help but feel anticipation flutter in her chest at the thought of walking its halls, of seeing the gardens stretch endlessly beneath an open sky.

And then, of course, there was him.

Adele exhaled sharply, willing the errant thought away. Mr. Darcy was nothing to her. Nothing beyond a gentleman of acquaintance, a man whose regard—or lack thereof—should not trouble her. She had promised herself not to think of his fleeting glances, the way his voice softened ever so slightly when addressing her. Such musings led nowhere.

She had just begun to settle into the stillness of the morning when a rush of footsteps broke the calm.

"Adele!"

The urgency in Elizabeth's voice startled her. She turned swiftly, her heart jolting at the sight before her. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, pale and shaken, her dark eyes wide with distress. In her trembling hands was a letter, its creased edges betraying the haste with which it had been handled.

Adele was on her feet in an instant. "Elizabeth, what has happened?"

Elizabeth did not answer at once. Instead, she strode forward, thrusting the letter into Adele's hands. "Read," she whispered, her voice strained with emotion.

Adele's fingers tightened around the parchment as she scanned the words. Line by line, her breath grew shallower.

"Eloped?" she whispered, hardly believing it.

Elizabeth nodded grimly, her throat working as she swallowed against the weight of it. "With Mr. Wickham. Jane says they have gone to London, but there is no certainty that they intend to marry."

Adele's stomach twisted. She knew well the ruin such a scandal would bring. Lydia Bennet was foolish, yes—thoughtless in a way only youth allowed—but surely even she would not throw away her reputation so carelessly? And yet, the letter spoke plainly.

Adele's mind raced. "Elizabeth, if they are in London, should we not go there instead?" she asked at last. "Longbourn is too far—we would lose precious time."

Elizabeth blinked, as though the thought had not yet fully formed within her own mind. Then, with renewed urgency, she nodded. "You are right. My uncle and aunt must take me to London at once."

Without hesitation, the two women hurried downstairs, where Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner awaited them in the parlor. The letter lay on the table between them, its contents now known, its weight pressing upon the room like a storm about to break.

Elizabeth barely had time to speak before Mrs. Gardiner said gently, "We will do all we can to help. We leave within the hour."

Before further words could be exchanged, another presence entered the room.

Lady Marshall.

Though she had been in delicate health these past weeks, she had dressed and come downstairs, her posture as regal as ever, but her sharp gaze softened by concern.

"What is all this commotion?" she inquired, her eyes sweeping the room before landing on Elizabeth's drawn face.

Mrs. Gardiner answered her carefully. "Jane has written to Lizzy. Lydia has... made an imprudent decision. We must go to London at once."

A shadow passed over Lady Marshall's features, though when she spoke, her tone was steady. "How unfortunate," she murmured. Then, to Elizabeth's surprise, she stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her arm. "My dear, I am truly sorry. Lydia is young, and impetuous. But with swift action, I trust this may yet be resolved."

Elizabeth, caught off guard by the unexpected kindness, nodded, her lips parting as if to speak, but she found herself momentarily unable.

Lady Marshall turned then to Adele, her expression unreadable. "And you, my dear?"

Adele straightened. "I will go with them. Elizabeth will need support, and I would rather not sit idle when I may be of use."

For a moment, Lady Marshall said nothing. Then, with a sigh, she nodded. "You are a kind-hearted girl. But do take care of yourself as well, Adele. And if you need anything—anything at all—you must write to me at once."

Adele squeezed her aunt's hand. "I promise."

They had just stepped outside, the urgency of departure pressing upon them, when the sound of carriage wheels grinding against gravel stole their attention.

A second carriage approached the estate at a hurried pace.

Adele turned, startled, as the coach slowed and the door swung open. Colonel Fitzwilliam descended in an instant, his boots barely touching the ground before he strode toward them. His expression was grim, but when his gaze found Elizabeth, something in it softened.

Elizabeth, overcome with emotion, did not hesitate. She rushed to him, gripping his arm, the fear she had tried so hard to suppress breaking through.

"Darcy told me everything," Richard said, his voice low but resolute. He embraced her briefly, a steady presence in the chaos. Then, turning to Adele, he added, "I came as soon as I could. I offer whatever assistance I may."

Adele's breath caught, but her gaze flickered toward Elizabeth, whose tear-filled eyes shone with something deeper than mere gratitude.

Elizabeth composed herself quickly, clearing her throat. "We are leaving for London immediately," she informed him.

Richard nodded. "I know. I shall accompany you."

Adele's heart tightened.

"Richard," she said carefully, stepping forward. "A word?"

He frowned slightly but inclined his head. "Of course."

Adele hesitated only a moment before lowering her voice. "Your involvement in this matter may subject you to undue censure. Once word spreads of Lydia's indiscretion, your name may be entangled simply by association with Elizabeth. I cannot help but worry for your reputation."

Richard's lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Adie," he murmured, "your concern does you credit. But my actions are my own. I would rather be faulted for standing by Elizabeth than praised for abandoning her in her time of need."

"But society—"

"Society," he interrupted gently, "does not dictate my honor. That is for me to determine."

Adele exhaled, fingers curling at her sides. "You are a better man than most, Richard."

He chuckled softly. "I am but a man who knows his own mind," he countered. "And I have made it up to see this through, whatever the consequences." His gaze softened. "Do not worry for me, Adie. My loyalty to Elizabeth is unwavering, and I will stand by her side without regret."

Adele swallowed, knowing she could not sway him. And, truthfully, she did not wish to.

Instead, she offered him a small, reluctant smile. "Then I shall not worry."

He raised a brow. "A lie, but a sweet one."

Adele laughed softly, shaking her head as they stepped toward the waiting carriage.

As they set off toward London, the road stretched uncertainly before them, the weight of the unknown pressing upon them all.

But Adele, glancing toward Richard and Elizabeth, felt the smallest flicker of hope.

Perhaps, despite the trials ahead, they would not face them alone.