Chapter 8
Elizabeth closed the door softly behind her and tiptoed down the hall to the stairs.
It had been a long night full of tantrums and tears, and her head felt like the drum her younger cousins beat, but Elizabeth longed to know if her uncle had received any news.
She was disappointed in herself for falling asleep as long as she had.
The parlor was fuller than she had anticipated. Aunt and Uncle sat on the settee in front of the window, looking more rested than they had the day before when she and her father had arrived at Gracechurch Street. Papa and Colonel Fitzwilliam occupied the chairs opposite.
Her uncle greeted her. “Lizzy, I had hoped you would join us soon.” He nodded as the colonel rose from his seat to bow, and added, “I believe you know Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Elizabeth smiled at the colonel. He looked as tired as she felt.
She had always liked his company, but this proof of his devotion to his cousin raised him all the more in her esteem.
“We met in Kent last spring. It is a pleasure to see you, Colonel, though I wish it were under more agreeable circumstances.”
“I do as well, Miss Bennet.” His smile did not reach his eyes, and she knew that whatever news he had come to share was not good.
“How is Lydia?” Papa asked.
Taking a seat in the empty chair beside the colonel, Elizabeth gratefully accepted the tea Aunt poured while she pondered how best to adjust her reply to suit their hopeful expressions.
“Lydia’s hysterics cannot last much longer.
Either she shall wear herself out or she shall tire of being so much in her room, and calm herself enough to venture out. ”
She heard multiple sighs. It was not what they would have preferred to hear, but it was the truth, gently delivered.
Uncle set his cup and saucer on the table. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has been kind enough to keep us informed of his progress regarding Lydia’s impending nuptials and Mr. Darcy’s whereabouts. Both your father and I intend to assist as much as we can.”
Aunt touched his hand. “My dear, might I suggest that you allow the colonel to communicate what has transpired to Lizzy while you begin making arrangements? You have many business contacts in town, as well as Bennet’s university chums, to alert.”
“Yes, we shall be writing and sending messages for most of the day.” Uncle patted her hand in turn. “There is no time to lose. Brother, shall you join me in my study?”
Without protest, Elizabeth’s father departed from the room with Uncle. Papa’s indolence had caused a great deal of suffering to their family, and while he had vowed to take a more active role as the head of their household, it pleased Elizabeth to see proof of his determination.
Aunt motioned to her sewing basket at the table and chair behind the settee, facing the window to allow Elizabeth and the colonel a degree of privacy. “I shall be right here if you need me.”
Elizabeth clutched her hands together. “Have you received any word of Mr. Darcy?”
The colonel’s smile disappeared completely.
“I see.” She spared him from having to say the dreadful words. “What has been done to recover him?”
“I have been to Bow Street and to the morgue, a trusted friend is making inquiries with the River Police, and my father has hired several men to assist us.” Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke quickly and precisely, like a military commander. “It is only a matter of time.”
Before he is found alive … or otherwise, Elizabeth completed his sentence in her mind. She swallowed hard, a notable tremor in her voice when she spoke. “Do you have any reason to believe he has come to harm?”
“I do not know. Thus far, I have seen no evidence to indicate Darcy is in imminent danger.”
She appreciated his delicacy, but she needed the truth. “Nor have you evidence to imply he is safe.”
The colonel nodded.
Elizabeth chewed on her lips. “Does Mr. Darcy have any enemies?”
“Gentlemen such as Darcy always have enemies—people who resent their privilege.”
“Such as Mr. Wickham?”
“If you are asking if Wickham is responsible, I do not think so. To believe him capable of elaborating such an extravagant plan would be to give him more credit than he deserves. He has always been one to exploit opportunities that fall into his lap, but I have never known him to exert himself to create those opportunities.”
As tempting as it was to peg a crime on a man whom she held in contempt, Elizabeth had to agree. “What of the press gangs? We often hear shouts of protest coming from the market or down by Uncle’s warehouses. All of his apprentices carry letters on their person.”
“My father met with the First Lord of the Admiralty, who has agreed to send dispatches to his commanders. Such a measure takes time, but if a captain is disinclined to believe Darcy is a landowner, Melville shall sooner convince him than Darcy shall.”
Lord Matlock must be a powerful man, indeed, to have the freedom to gain an audience with the viscount on such short notice. And to think, she had refused his nephew…
Refusing to dwell on a past she could not alter, Elizabeth asked, “What about a kidnapper? Or the Resurrection Men?” She swallowed hard, her heart beating in her throat.
“There has been no ransom note, and I have yet to receive word from the men I sent to the Royal College of Surgeons with a miniature of Darcy’s likeness.” He dropped his voice and leaned toward her. “Does this concern for my cousin’s welfare signify that he has redeemed himself in your estimation?”
Elizabeth’s exhale quivered. “He never deserved my poor opinion to begin with. For several months I have considered Mr. Darcy with nothing but the most profound respect.” She looked down at her hands and blinked and blinked.
“I am glad to hear it. Especially after that fine speech he made at Hunsford Cottage.”
Her gaze whipped up to his. “He told you of that?” Oh, what she would give to erase that scene from her memory. She prayed Mr. Darcy did not dwell on it as much as she did.
“His remorse was great.”
Elizabeth groaned. If it had been possible to defend her family’s shameful conduct, her indignation at the time would have at least been righteous. “He said nothing which was not true.”
“But his manner speaking of it was unfortunate. It is no wonder you called him out.”
Her face burned with shame. She did not deserve the colonel’s understanding when there was no excuse for her cruelty. “I lashed out in anger. Not a day goes by that I do not wish my spiteful words unsaid.”
“A sentiment Darcy has also voiced. I do not mean to chastise, Miss Elizabeth, but rather to reassure. I hope Bingley’s return to Hertfordshire shall appease your mind.”
Mr. Bingley was to return to Netherfield? Any other day, such news would fill Elizabeth with boundless joy, but the timing was terrible. “Jane will not feel herself in a position to accept him should he make an offer. Lydia’s scandal—”
“If Bingley’s resolve is not firm enough to withstand this trial, then he does not deserve to marry her.
From what Darcy has told me, she has everything to recommend her.
As for the potential for scandal … Bingley can afford to weather society’s scorn when he stands to win a wife who shall rise above it. ”
Elizabeth hoped so. Jane had suffered more than enough senseless heartbreak lately. This reminded her of another lady who would be devastated to learn Mr. Darcy had vanished. “Have you told Miss Darcy?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted in his chair. “She is coming to stay with my mother and sisters at Matlock House. We felt the news would be best delivered in person.”
Elizabeth nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“It is possible we will find Darcy before she arrives.” The tenderness in the colonel’s tone made her look up. He continued, “Between our efforts and the further assistance your father and uncle are willing to provide, we will find him.”
Elizabeth could not blink fast enough to contain her tears, which spilled over her cheeks.
When she had learned he had arranged for Lydia to marry—thus saving her and her sisters from certain ruin—the small spark of hope in her heart had kindled into a flame that burned for Mr. Darcy.
She loved him more than she had dreamed possible for her to love anyone.
And now, she must face the grim reality that she might never see him again.
The colonel cleared his throat and handed her his handkerchief. “How fares Miss Lydia?”
Dabbing her eyes and taking a sip of tea, Elizabeth was grateful for the change of topic. “I do not suppose the vicar has had a cancellation and the wedding could take place sooner?”
Aunt had told her all the details, relating that the colonel looked perilously close to piercing Wickham through when he refused to wed Lydia immediately. Elizabeth almost wished he had, for all the trouble the rake had caused her family and the Darcys.
“I fear we must wait until Friday.”
Three days hence. Elizabeth sighed. As long as the previous night had been, three days sounded like an eternity.
Colonel Fitzwilliam continued, surprising Elizabeth by describing the adjustments he had made with Mr. Darcy’s man of business—matters gentlemen did not usually discuss with a lady, much less a lady who was not family.
In conclusion, he stated, “There is nothing for Wickham to object to. They shall wed, and any talk of ruin shall be squelched before it can begin.”
If only it were so simple. Elizabeth said bitterly, “It is only Lydia who needs convincing now.”
The colonel sat forward in his chair. “What is this?”
“She threatened to swallow poison rather than marry Mr. Wickham. My aunt, her maid, and I must keep watch over her constantly.”
He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.
“Hardly a promising beginning.” When he looked up again, his eyes were intense, his voice deep and sincere.
“Would that we could turn back time—undo the senseless damage which separates two people who would otherwise be happy. I spoke out of turn that day at Rosings, and caused you and Darcy pain. I beg your forgiveness.”
Not a moment had passed since reading Mr. Darcy’s letter that Elizabeth did not wish the same.
She could no sooner fault the colonel for his honesty and openness than excuse the real villain for his false charm.
She had been completely taken in, and while Elizabeth could easily forgive Colonel Fitzwilliam’s loose tongue and Mr. Darcy’s interference, she could not forgive herself for her ignorant prejudice and stubborn pride.
“You have it. Only, find him. Please.”
If she ever saw Mr. Darcy again, she would seize the chance to make amends.