Chapter 24 #3
Lizzie stood, the new information overwhelming. She needed to pace. “It never added up,” she said. “Everything that happened
at Netherfield. People said it was the curse, and at first I thought perhaps it was coincidence—or you,” she said to Sally.
“What do you mean?” Sally asked.
“Getting trapped in the service door, the masonry falling, and now that chandelier . . . what if someone wasn’t trying to
hurt us but get at the treasure?”
“Who?” Sally asked. “Who could possibly know about the treasure?”
Lizzie didn’t have any answers, but something else struck her just then. “You said you took a coach here?” she asked the other
ladies.
“Yes,” Miss Jeffries said. “Why—”
“Where’s Darcy?” Lizzie asked. “I need to speak to him. If you’ve managed to find us in just a handful of days, then no doubt
Lady Catherine isn’t far behind.”
“Who’s Lady Catherine?” Sally asked. “Has she stolen the diamonds?”
“I’ll ring for Charleston,” Georgiana said. “He has to have found him by now.”
It was but a few minutes before the butler returned, looking mildly frazzled. “I’m sorry, Miss Darcy. I’ve been unable to
locate your brother.”
“What? But where is he?”
“I don’t know,” he said carefully. “No one has seen him.”
Unease pricked at Lizzie. “What do you mean, no one has seen him? Did he leave the estate?”
“He didn’t pass through the gate this morning,” Travers said.
Alarm began to settle in Lizzie’s bones, and judging by Georgiana’s expression, she was worried as well. “Would he have left
by any other route?”
“There’s a gate that remains locked,” Georgiana said. “On the north side of the estate. But it’s too narrow for a horse. If
he went that way, it would be on foot . . . but he doesn’t leave the estate on foot, ever. We’re too far from anything else.”
“When was the last time anyone saw him?” Lizzie asked the butler. “At breakfast?”
“Mr. Darcy didn’t come down for breakfast.”
Fear clawed its way through Lizzie’s stomach. He wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t leave Georgiana. Perhaps there was some reasonable
explanation.
“Don’t panic,” Charlotte said, taking her arm. “We’ll find him.”
In short order, a small army of servants was dispatched to try to locate Darcy.
It was reported that his bedchamber was empty and the bedclothes undisturbed.
His horse was still in the stables, and none of the gardeners nor grooms had seen him leave.
Panic was settling in, and Lizzie didn’t know what to do.
Where was he?
In the midst of the worried bustle, Mrs. Reynolds approached her, something small and ivory colored in her hand. “Excuse me,
Miss Bennet, but I found this on the hall table.”
Charlotte and Georgiana gathered around her as she held out her hand. It was a small note on creamy linen paper. Lizzie’s
heart nearly stopped, and she took it from the housekeeper with numb, trembling fingers. She couldn’t help but think of Lady
Catherine and every taunting threat the lady had put to paper. Was this yet another one?
But then she saw the handwriting on the note, and she let out a gasp of relief. “It’s Darcy’s hand,” she said, eagerly unfolding
it.
My dearest Elizabeth, it read. Meet me in the grotto as soon as you get this. I have something I must ask you. Yours, Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“Oh!” Georgiana squeaked. “The grotto—this makes sense!”
“What’s the grotto?” Lizzie asked, perplexed.
“It’s on the edge of the woods—I pointed it out this morning, remember? It’s one of Darcy’s favorite places. You ought to
go.”
“All right,” Lizzie said, looking at Charlotte, baffled.
“Alone!” Georgiana added.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, and Lizzie felt her heart race. Alone? Why on earth did Darcy want her to meet him in a grotto,
and why did Georgiana think she ought to go alone . . . oh. Lizzie bit her lip. Really, Darcy? Now was not the time!
“I’ll go fetch him,” Lizzie said. “Can you watch Guy for me?”
“Of course,” Charlotte said, wearing a knowing smile. Lizzie wanted to roll her eyes but managed not to. “I’ll tell them we
can all call off the search as well.”
“I’ll show you where to go,” Georgiana said, pulling on Lizzie’s hand.
Lizzie allowed herself to be led out of the house and through the gardens. Georgiana was giddy, so clearly she understood
what was about to happen. Lizzie found herself unable to push aside her anxiety about Clara and Sally’s revelations and her
fear of Lady Catherine. She felt vaguely sick, which was not at all an ideal state when one was about to be proposed to!
The grotto was an ivy-covered, subterranean stone structure with open, glassless windows. It looked secretive and alluring
from the outside, but dim. Georgiana hesitated at the top of the steps leading down into the grotto. “You should go ahead,”
she said loudly. “I’ll just . . . walk back to the house.”
“All right,” Lizzie said. “Thank you, Georgiana.”
Her heart sped up as she made her way down the steps. Inside, the sunlight filtered in through greenery and the tall narrow
windows set near the ceiling. Every surface was textured with the most enchanting designs of seashells, and under different
circumstances Lizzie would have lingered and exclaimed over the craftsmanship.
“Darcy?” she called out, expecting him to materialize around a pillar.
But she heard nothing—no footsteps, no voice greeting her. “I would have expected a few candles at least,” she muttered.
Then Lizzie heard a muffled grunt. She took three more steps forward, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw something
in the darkest far corner of the grotto. A figure, seated on the floor.
It was Darcy.
His hands and feet were bound, and he was awkwardly slumped against the rough-hewn wall. Dried blood flaked on his temple
and cheek. When he spotted Lizzie, his eyes widened, and he made a sound against his gag that she could not decipher.
“Darcy!” Lizzie cried out in alarm as she ran toward him.
“Thank you for finally joining us, Miss Bennet,” a voice from behind her said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”