Lydia's Just Desserts

Eliza came downstairs as the footman handed several letters to Mr. Bennett. She waited a moment as he looked through them before eagerly asking of news of Wickham or Lydia.
"As I have not had the liberty of reading these missives, I cannot assuage your curiosity. Pray give me a few moments before interrogating me?" her father replied before heading into the library.
Elizabeth dashed to find Jane and related what she had seen of the relative size of each of the letters, recounting what they knew as they abode with dread anticipation. After an eternity, their father summoned them.
His face was grave as he paced before them.
"I have news that I will allow the two of you, my most sensible daughters, to hear," he said. "But I will not have Mrs. Bennett or your sisters hearing of this until-" he broke off, looking down and swallowing hard.
"We swear, father," Jane said, taking Eliza's hand.
Mr. Bennett paced slowly toward the window. He spoke deliberately, looking out.
"I have news from an associate of your uncle in London. It seems that Wickham has left England. He sailed on a ship bound for Virginia only last night. Lydia was not with him. She seems to be still in London, though we cannot say where."
Both girls gasped and their hands clenched together.
"Perhaps he has made arrangements for her to follow. If they were married-" Jane said.
"We have no news of any marriage between Lydia and Wickham, dear Jane," he said. "She is in London still, and there she will remain. Now I must write a reply to your uncle posthaste. Eliza, I have a letter for you. It may contain more detail. I can only beg you to share none of this with anyone until we know more."
Nodding dumbly, Eliza took the letter and drew her sister upstairs to her sitting room.
Jane sat, shocked into silence, while she opened the letter. She nearly fell from her seat as she recognized the writing: Mr. Darcy's.

My dear Miss Elizabeth Bennett,
I crave your pardon for the unbearable news it has been my sorry duty to relay to your father. I cannot know how much of the terrible business he has given you to understand, but however much he has told you, I can only tell you that your sister's situation is worse than you could have dreamed, though I will not torment your conscience with the details.
I have suggested to your father that he give out that your sister was taken with cholera while in London and is confined to a ward in that city. Because no one will be expected to visit a cholera ward, this will give your uncle and myself time to find if she can be extracted from her circumstances. I pray you to let not your hopes rise too dearly. The people whom Wickham left in charge of your sister are the worst sort of debris with whom that wicked man consorted.
You may wonder at my involvement in this intimate family affair. I can only say that I am protecting my own dearest wishes, to be united with you, and am pursuing every end to nourish that goal. Please let me again extend the offer that you before so rightly refused, this time in a more gentlemanlike manner. I remain,

Yours truly,
Fitzwilliam Darcy

Jane was weeping softly when Eliza tore her eyes from this startling missive. She folded it carefully and placed it in her desk, then turned to comfort her sister.
"Our uncle will do everything in his power to bring her back," she said gently. "And we have another ally, one who will surely be able to restore her."
Jane still wept, bereft.
"How could he leave her in London of all places? What could make my father so upset? I was so very certain that he would marry her at last. What will become of our mother when she must know of this?"
Eliza soothed her.
"My uncle will have help that no obstacle may surmount. Oh Jane, Mr. Darcy is the one who is helping my uncle. He still wishes to marry me!"
Jane shook her head violently and collapsed into her sister's arms.
"Oh, Eliza. All may yet be well."