Chapter Six #4
“It will not be permanent. We find her a companion. We establish the fiction. She recovers. Then she leaves.” The Colonel leant forward. “If you remove her now, the whole neighbourhood will wonder why. Sir William will wonder. Questions will be asked. Can we afford that?”
Darcy did not answer.
“We must bring Wickham to account before Georgiana returns to London. Give it a few weeks,” the Colonel urged. “Let the story settle. Then we may reconsider.”
“A few weeks,” Darcy repeated grimly. “No more than that.”
Yet even as he spoke, he knew his cousin was right. There was no better alternative. Georgiana must remain at Longbourn, surrounded by noise and impropriety and Mrs. Bennet’s indefatigable matrimonial schemes.
It could scarcely be endured.
The Magistrate
The carriage down the lane between Longbourn and Lucas Lodge. Darcy sat in rigid silence, looking out of the window without in fact seeing anything.
“You must compose yourself before we call on Sir William,” the Colonel said.
Darcy’s civility became pointed. “I am perfectly composed.”
“You look as though you wish to throttle some one. That will not serve our purpose.”
“Our purpose,” Darcy said coldly, “is to ensure Georgiana's reputation remains intact. I am well aware what is required.”
The Colonel studied him. “What passed in there? Beyond the reunion with Georgiana, I mean. You came down looking like murder.”
“Nothing passed.”
“Darcy.”
Darcy turned from the window. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The second daughter. I encountered her on the road three days before we found Georgiana. I stopped her, desperate for any word. She looked me in the face and declared she knew nothing.”
The Colonel’s expression changed. “Ah.”
“She lied to me, Richard. Whilst I was half mad with anxiety, whilst Georgiana was hiding in their nursery, she lied directly to my face.”
“She was protecting a terrified girl who had begged for help.”
“She let me suffer.”
“She did not know who you were,” the Colonel said. “For all she knew, you were the man Georgiana was fleeing. She acted as she believed right.”
Darcy made no reply.
“We have a more immediate concern,” the Colonel resumed. “Sir William Lucas. He must be brought to believe that your alarm was the result of missed communications. Can you manage that, or shall I wait upon him alone?”
“I can manage it.”
“Can you? If you enter still seething about Miss Elizabeth, he will notice. Sir William is pompous, but he is not entirely without observation.”
Darcy drew a long breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. “I will be civil.”
“More than civil. Grateful. A little ashamed of having been so easily alarmed,” the Colonel said. “I shall do most of the talking, but you must appear relieved, not angry. You found your sister safe among respectable people. All is well. Your alarm was premature. Can you perform that part?”
“I am not angry with Georgiana.”
“I know. But you are angry with some one, and it is radiating from you like heat from a forge. Lay it aside. We go to Sir William, we thank him for his concern, we explain that Georgiana was with me all the whilst and that you merely took fright when we failed to meet. We ask for his discretion. He agrees, because we have made him feel of consequence. Then we leave.”
Darcy nodded slowly.
“Save your rage for later,” the Colonel said. “At present, we protect Georgiana.”
Sir William received them with barely suppressed delight.
“Mr. Darcy! Colonel Fitzwilliam! What an honour! Do come in, gentlemen. I trust there is good news regarding your sister, Mr. Darcy?”
“There is, Sir William,” the Colonel said warmly. “That is exactly why we have come—to thank you for your assistance, and to relieve your mind.”
They were shown into Sir William's little study. Tea was offered and declined. Sir William settled himself with an air of great importance.
“You have found her, then?” he asked. “I am most gratified to hear it. Most gratified indeed. Where was the poor child?”
“That is what we wished to explain,” the Colonel said. “There was a misunderstanding. Miss Darcy was never in danger. She was with me the whole time.”
Sir William blinked. “With you?”
“We were travelling together to my family’s place in Matlock,” the Colonel explained smoothly.
“We had arranged to meet Mr. Darcy at Hatfield. But Miss Darcy was taken ill upon the road, and I was obliged to stop at Longbourn. Mr. Bennet is an old acquaintance from my university days, and I knew he would afford proper accommodation to a young lady in such a situation.”
“I see,” Sir William said slowly.
“In the mean time,” the Colonel continued, “Mr. Darcy waited for us at Hatfield. When we did not arrive, he imagined the worst. I sent word, but the messages crossed. He went on as far as Welwyn in search of us, whilst I had already turned back towards Hatfield. By the time we were at last in communication, he had visited half the posting-houses in Hertfordshire.”
Darcy, who had been standing by the window, turned. “I must apologise for the disturbance, Sir William. I allowed my anxiety to overrule my judgement.”
“No, no,” Sir William said quickly. “Perfectly understandable! A missing sister—any brother would be distraught.”
“You were good to receive me,” Darcy said. “Your assistance was of the greatest use, even if it proved unnecessary in the end.”
Sir William positively glowed. “I was honoured to be of service, Mr. Darcy. Highly honoured.”
“Miss Darcy is now recovering at Longbourn,” the Colonel added. “She should, we hope, be well enough to travel within a few weeks. In the interval, Mr. Bennet has kindly agreed to continue his hospitality.”
“Most proper, most proper,” Sir William agreed. “I am delighted to hear every thing is so comfortably arranged.”
The Colonel leant forward a little. “We must presume upon your kindness once more, Sir William. Miss Darcy is very young. The circumstances of her being taken ill whilst travelling—such things are apt to be misrepresented. For a young lady of her station, any hint of irregularity might be damaging.”
“To be sure, to be sure,” Sir William said at once.
“We should be greatly obliged,” Darcy said, “if you would assist us in preserving her privacy. The fewer particulars circulated as to where she has been, or why, the better it will be for her.”
“You may depend entirely upon my discretion,” Sir William assured them. “I comprehend the delicacy of the case. A gentleman's sister—yes, yes, the utmost care must be used.”
“You are very good,” the Colonel said, rising. “We will not take up more of your time. Pray be assured of our sincerest gratitude.”
Sir William escorted them to the door, still beaming with self-importance. “I am delighted it has all ended so happily. Do present my respectful compliments to Miss Darcy. I hope she will soon be restored.”
When they were again in the carriage, the Colonel let out a breath.
“Well done,” he said. “You acquitted yourself admirably.”
Darcy did not answer. His hands were clenched in his lap. The anger the Colonel had bid him set aside still burnt just beneath the surface.
“Now you may be furious again,” the Colonel observed dryly.
“I intend to speak with Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said.
“Is that wise?”
“I do not care whether it is wise. She owes me an explanation.”
The Colonel sighed. “Very well. Only remember—she saved your sister's life. Whatever else she did, she did that.”
Darcy looked out of the window, his jaw set. “I will remember.”
They rode in silence until Lucas Lodge disappeared behind the winter-bare hedgerows. Only then did Colonel Fitzwilliam speak.
“Sir William accepted the explanation readily enough. He will have the story through the neighbourhood by evening, and no one will think of questioning it.”
“Provided Mrs. Bennet can be relied upon to maintain discretion,” Darcy said.
“Mr. Bennet will manage his wife. He appears a sensible man, beneath all that sardonic detachment.” The Colonel glanced at him. “You cannot remain at an inn indefinitely whilst Georgiana recovers at Longbourn. It will provoke enquiry.”
“I am aware of that.”
“You require an estate near at hand. Something respectable—close enough to call frequently, but not so close as to invite remark.”
“Mr. Bennet mentioned that Netherfield Park is to be let,” Darcy said. “Three miles from Longbourn. The owner is seeking a tenant for the season.”
“Excellent. Lease it. Establish yourself there as a gentleman at leisure in the country.”
“A single gentleman leasing an estate, with no visible object, will invite questions,” Darcy said. “Why should I be in Hertfordshire at all?”
“Make it a gentleman’s party. Bring Bingley—he will accept any invitation that promises new society, and never think to ask why you have suddenly developed an interest in Hertfordshire.
” The Colonel’s mouth quirked. “Hurst as well, perhaps. He will accept any invitation that promises good wine, and never think at all. Let it appear that you are in the country for sport and company. Your visits to Georgiana will then seem no more than civil calls upon a neighbour—we are, after all, acquainted with Mr. Bennet.”
Darcy was silent a moment. The plan had merit, much as he disliked the necessity of it.
“What will you do?” he asked.
“I intend to find Wickham.” The Colonel’s voice hardened.
“He fled when he learnt you were in the neighbourhood, but he cannot have gone far—not with debts unpaid and creditors upon his heels. Men like Wickham always leave traces: angry landlords, bills unsettled, women he has charmed and deserted.”
“Mrs. Younge will know where he is.”
“Perhaps. But she will not tell you. She has no inducement to assist you, and every inducement to warn Wickham should you present yourself at her door.” The Colonel paused.
“I, however, can make enquiries through less obvious channels. The army has connexions throughout London. If Wickham has taken refuge in his customary haunts, I shall discover him.”