Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE SEARCH
Eventually, as Darcy regained his breath and composure, the whole of the story came out.
Miss Bennet had been visiting Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle from London.
As their travels took them near to Pemberley, they decided to visit that great house, being assured that the family were away.
However, Darcy had ridden ahead of his party to deal with some business pertaining to the estate, and he had encountered Miss Bennet and her relations as they toured the grounds.
“You can imagine my shock!” Darcy settled his coffee cup onto its saucer with an audible clink, as if to punctuate his statement.
He had taken the time to wash his face and brush his hair into submission, and both looked and sounded like his usual self, although the pain in his eyes remained.
“I had quite reconciled myself to never seeing her again. After all, she had refused me quite soundly and with considerable abuse in Kent.” His features clouded at the memory.
“I have tried to push her from my mind, but I love her still and always shall. But that is another topic.
“There she was, like a vision from my imagination. I believed myself to be dreaming at first. She must have thought me quite mad; I was struck dumb when I saw her. I almost lost her again, but I found my tongue in time to invite her to walk, and she agreed. Oh, my heart, Richard! I am not a man to wax poetic, but knowing she would talk to me was a balm for the pits of despair where I have lived these past months. I visited her at the inn where she stayed and even introduced her to Georgiana! We had begun to have real conversations. I see now where I went so wrong before, imagining her retorts to be flirtatious. No, she is not a flirt. We talked as sensible people, and she delighted me all the more. I had quite set my mind to offering for her once again. My heart could not be swayed!”
Oh, what a lucky man you are, Richard thought. You can love your sweetheart openly, even if she does not love you back, and you can make her an offer because she knows you love her. Whereas I, so intimate and close to the love of my life, dare not speak a word!
“But what occurred next? I can only assume that if you offered and if she accepted, you would not be here with this dreadful look upon your face. Did she refuse you anew?”
Darcy groaned and rubbed his eyes. “No. Worse, far worse.” He paused and placed his coffee on the small chest by the door.
“I rode out to Lambton to speak to her and was delighted to find her alone.
She had received letters from home and had asked to remain at the inn to read them.
But my joy was short-lived, for the letters contained the terrible news.
“Her sister Lydia, the youngest of the five, had been invited by Mrs Forster to spend the summer with the militia in Brighton. This lady is wife to the regiment’s colonel—”
“John Forster. Yes, I know him slightly.”
“That is he. This was Wickham’s regiment, which had been stationed in Meryton over the winter.
There had been no sign of particular affection between Lydia and Wickham, but one night they both disappeared.
It was Saturday last, the first of August. She left a note, laughing about what a joke it was.
But Richard, this is no joke! She has quite ruined the family. ”
Ruined. Richard sucked in a sharp breath at the word. What catastrophe had this child wrought? Ruined. The whole family ruined. His heart broke for the young woman he had befriended at Rosings at Easter.
Emily’s distress and ruination were real enough, but they were private, matters known to her and her parents and nobody else, other than him. But this—a disappearance and elopement—could hardly be hidden. All of Meryton would soon know it, to the detriment of the other sisters.
“But it grew worse still!” Darcy had risen from his creaky wooden chair and started pacing the small confines of Richard’s bedchamber.
“A subsequent missive from Colonel Forster suggests they did not elope to marry at all but are living in London—unwed. You can only imagine the shame this brings upon everybody.”
Darcy’s words struck like a hammer on a bare foot.
This was disaster, indeed. How could the other sisters ever marry well now—if they could marry at all?
Poor Miss Bennet! She was such a bright spot in the world.
The thought of her being brought so low by the actions of another was beyond distressing.
“This is where I need you,” Darcy continued, his words faster, his voice returning to some of the desperation that had marked his entrance earlier.
“I need to find her… to find them. I have spoken to Colonel Forster, hoping to learn if he had any news, anything to relate.
He knew nothing other than that Lydia had developed a tendre for the cad.
To his credit, he traced them as they rode, to Epsom, and then to Clapham, but he could not trace them past London. There they surely remain.
“And the girl? Was she expecting to marry the man?”
Darcy nodded and pulled something from a pocket. It was a folded sheet of paper. “Here. Read this. Mrs Forster copied it before committing the original to the Bennet family.
Richard accepted the paper and read out loud.
“My dear Harriet—”
“That is Mrs Forster,” Darcy supplied.
You will laugh when you know where I am gone…
I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love…
You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them and sign my name ‘Lydia Wickham.’
He scanned the letter. There was little more of import, other than the surety that foolish Lydia Bennet was certain she would be married, and that she thought it all a great joke.
“This is a sorry affair indeed! But if they are wed…”
“I spoke to one of his friends there, a certain officer named Denny.” Darcy shook his head in despair.
“He intimated that Wickham had no intentions of marrying the girl, that this elopement was merely another of his seductions and a convenient means to escape yet more creditors.” He took another large drink of his coffee.
The expression on his face suggested he wished it were brandy instead.
“If I can find Wickham, I can force him to marry her. I own enough of his debts. I can offer him the choice of matrimony or a life in debtor’s prison.
If I can save her reputation, even to a small degree, and thereby help Elizabeth, I must act. And this is where I need you!”
“I would do anything. Miss Bennet was a great favourite of mine, and I will not let her suffer her sister’s sins without doing what I can to help. Let me dress and pack a small roll. We can talk further as we return to London. Your horse…”
“From the inn ten miles down the road, at Redhill.”
“Indeed. I shall ensure he is returned there when he is rested. We can take the carriage. Let me call for it.”
There came another knock at the door. At Richard’s beckoning, Thomas entered. “The post, sir. I thought you might wish it in here.”
“Good man.” He accepted the pile. This missive could be put off to his secretary, that could be left to a later date. But…
“A letter from Lyons!” He broke the seal and scanned the contents. “I can make no promises, Darcy, but I might know where to start our search!”
They arrived in London long before noon.
Richard had the driver take them directly to Lyons’ rooms, then Darcy bid him take their luggage to his house in Mayfair.
As the carriage rolled off, Richard led his cousin down the narrow laneway, then up a steep flight of stairs, to knock at Lyons’ door.
To his relief, the investigator was at his desk and not chasing down some missing pug somewhere.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” He gestured to a chair.
“And Mr Darcy!” he added with the spark of recognition.
“Please, sit. Let me get another chair.” He disappeared into what looked like a closet for a moment and returned with a second seat, which Darcy took with thanks.
“It is a delight to see you both, but I presume this is not a social call. How may I help?” His broad Scots accent was somehow comforting.
“I received your letter this morning,” Richard pulled out the missive. “You say you have found Weekes.”
“Aye, just so. We have never lost him, having been watching him since he was discovered in Brighton, but we have an address now for his new establishment, which seems to be permanent. He took up residence only two nights ago. I wrote as soon as I had word, just yesterday.”
“Indeed. I thank you for your prompt action. Now I have another task for you, which might be related.”
The Scotsman nodded. “Speak on. I shall do what I can.”
At Richard’s request, Darcy recounted the tale of Lydia Bennet’s elopement with George Wickham.
He did not speak of Miss Elizabeth, but confined himself to the particulars, as he knew them, of the case.
“For my own reasons, which have little to do with the lady herself,” Darcy concluded, “I must find them and see them marry.”
Lyons pursed his lips. “Colonel, you suggested this might have to do, somehow, with Jared Weekes. How is this so?”
Richard cleared his throat. “I saw the two in close conversation in Brighton, when first I wrote to you about discovering Weekes. I did not, at first, deem the association to be of more than cursory interest. Now I am wondering.”
Lyons sat silent, but turned his gaze to Richard, who continued.