Chapter 7
“Do not forget that I shall be waiting just outside the house, and we have the footmen with us,” Elizabeth said, and Georgiana nodded as they prepared to leave. Oddly enough, both had the feeling they were embarking upon a dangerous mission and ought to take every precaution.
“We need to decide what you will ask Lady Catherine. It is important not to let her see how worried you are,” Elizabeth continued.
“That will be rather difficult to hide. My aunt knows exactly how to control people.”
With every passing moment, Elizabeth’s admiration for the young lady grew. Perhaps she was not as unprepared for life as Darcy thought.
“Yes, Elizabeth, I do observe people, and I have my own opinions. My aunt can be cruel, and she raised Anne almost like a prisoner, but those things have never affected me directly. I certainly do not feel comfortable in her presence, but I am not afraid of her. I can only imagine how she behaves towards someone she truly hates.”
Elizabeth’s bitter smile said more than a hundred words. She sighed at the memory.
“She came to see me shortly before your brother asked me to marry him and ordered me not to marry him. I still do not know how she found out…even before I did.”
Georgiana took her hand in a delicate, loving gesture to offer her comfort and to receive some of Elizabeth’s determination. They were sisters and friends, together struggling with their grief and worries.
Where are you, my love? Elizabeth cried silently as her heart hurt like a burning fire. But her face did not betray her turmoil. She spoke with confidence to encourage Georgiana before the awkward encounter.
“My dear, remain calm and try to secure her support. She has resources that we do not. She knows many influential people in London and is far more likely to obtain information…if she chooses to help us.”
At last the carriage stopped before Lady Catherine’s house. They embraced briefly, trying to give one another courage. Georgiana then stepped out and walked resolutely towards the door whilst Elizabeth followed her with an anxious gaze.
Elizabeth was far less composed than she had urged Georgiana to be.
Tormented and deeply anxious, she stood on the verge of tears.
Several long minutes passed, and her impatience grew.
For one agonising instant she imagined Darcy emerging from the imposing house.
Instead, she was horrified to see Georgiana running down the steps straight towards the carriage.
Seeing that no one followed her, Elizabeth opened the door, and Georgiana climbed inside, the very picture of despair.
Without waiting to catch her breath, she burst into tears.
“She is not here…she is not here! She was in London, but she has already left!”
Lady Catherine had been their last hope of discovering what had happened to Darcy that morning. Now the townhouse stood empty, and she had already returned to Kent.
“Why did we not come here first?” Georgiana cried.
Elizabeth forgot her resolve to conceal her despair. She gathered Georgiana into her arms and began to weep with her. Several passers-by stopped to stare, for the carriage door remained open, but the two young women, utterly consumed by grief, noticed nothing around them.
What a dreadful mistake, Elizabeth thought. Lady Catherine is an influential woman. She might have helped us if only we had come sooner. How could we have overlooked it?
She blamed herself as the pain became almost unbearable. She would willingly have humbled herself before Lady Catherine if only it had gained them some information. Now it was too late. Travelling to Kent would still cost them precious time.
The coachman, an old and devoted servant from Pemberley, climbed down to see what had happened. Like everyone else in the household, he knew his master was missing and felt it his duty to care for Miss Darcy in every possible way.
“May I be of assistance, ladies?” he asked.
Seeing their distress, however, he quietly closed the carriage door and remained standing beside it.
With a considerable effort, Elizabeth regained her composure. She wiped away her own tears before gently drying Georgiana’s face with her handkerchief. They exchanged faint smiles, each trying to be brave for the other’s sake.
“Tell me exactly what happened inside,” Elizabeth said at last.
Georgiana spoke, still unable to master her tears.
“There was only the maid who remained in the house whenever my aunt is at Rosings. Lady Catherine and Anne stayed here for three days.”
“Then it is highly probable that Darcy came here for the appointment your aunt requested. I still believe she remains our best hope.”
“What if he never arrived that morning?”
“Then we shall know with certainty that something happened to him between nine and ten o’clock.”
“And then?”
“Then, at least, we shall know approximately when he disappeared.”
Elizabeth felt a new determination rising within her.
Enough of tears and despair.
Darcy needed her, and she was ready to fight whatever dreadful circumstances had separated them. Deep in her heart she refused to believe he was dead. He might be wounded, lying unconscious somewhere amongst strangers who did not know who he was…but he was alive.
“Come,” she said. “We are going back inside together. I want to speak to that maid.”
The coachman followed them to the front door. The scene he had just witnessed had troubled him so deeply that he wished to remain close to his mistresses, uncertain what danger might still surround them.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were grateful for his presence.
They were unlikely to face any immediate danger inside the house, yet both remained uneasy.
Some unseen threat seemed still to hang over them.
Darcy was missing, and who could say whether someone had deliberately caused his disappearance?
If so, the danger might not yet have passed.
The maid was a young woman, shy and respectful.
Elizabeth felt sorry for her, imagining how difficult it must be to serve Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Her ladyship was formidable to everyone, especially servants and those she considered beneath her.
People of her own rank, such as Darcy, Georgiana, or their London acquaintances, were not afraid of her, yet few were genuinely fond of her either.
The maid looked too frightened to speak. She began to tremble when Elizabeth questioned her.
“I am sorry to trouble you, but this is a matter of the greatest importance. We must know whether Mr Darcy was here four days ago, at ten o’clock.”
The young woman could scarcely answer.
“I am sorry, madam,” she kept repeating. “I know nothing about it. When her ladyship is here, I work below stairs. I do not know what happens upstairs.”
After a long pause, she added quietly,
“I have a family to support. I need this position. Please believe me, I know nothing.”
“So you did not see my brother come to visit Lady Catherine four days ago?” asked Georgiana in a milder voice.
The maid just kept shaking her head. She was crying and appeared to be on the verge of fainting.
“Are you saying that you did not see him, or he wasn’t here, or you just do not know? Please speak clearly!” Georgiana was pressing her to tell them the truth, but the maid kept shaking her head.
“I am sorry, madam, I do not know anything about Lady Catherine’s affairs.”
∞∞∞
They returned home with a deep sense of disappointment. With no other leads to pursue, Lady Catherine had been everyone’s greatest hope.
Mr Bennet had also met with no success. Accompanied by Parker, he had visited at least five public stables in the centre of London, but there was no sign of Darcy’s horse. The story they had presented was that a responsible stable owner would never conceal a stolen horse.
“Wherever Mr Darcy is, his horse cannot be far from him,” Mr Bennet said over dinner.
It was a sombre reunion. They ate in silence, with little news to share.
“I have been considering a plan,” Mr Bennet said at last. “We could certainly benefit from Colonel Fitzwilliam’s experience, but as Parker has told us, he is in Yorkshire.
I sent him a message the day we arrived, though I do not expect him to be here for at least another two days.
Any help is valuable under the circumstances.
I also took the liberty of asking Mr Bingley to come to London.
He will probably arrive shortly, whilst you will return to Hertfordshire. ”
Both young women wished to protest, but Mr Bennet silenced them with a firm gesture.
“Now listen to me, my dears. We need Mr Bingley because he has important connections here in London. If Mr Darcy has not returned by tonight or early tomorrow morning, we shall spread the news that he is missing. This is no longer something we can manage on our own. We need all the help we can get from Mr Darcy’s and Mr Bingley’s friends.
Mr Bingley moves in the same circles as Mr Darcy.
He will know how to involve everyone in the search for his friend.
Whilst that work is being done in London, we need you at Netherfield Park.
It is one of the places where messages or news about him may arrive.
We shall also send someone to Pemberley, in case, by some good fortune, news reaches there.
It is highly improbable, but we must be prepared for every possibility. ”
It was a sensible plan. At last, the girls agreed to leave.
“But first, Georgiana, please write again to Lady Catherine at Rosings, informing her that Mr Darcy is still missing and asking for her help. We need to know whether he kept his appointment with her that morning. At the very least, she can tell us whether the meeting at ten o’clock took place.
If your letter leaves this evening, we may have her reply tomorrow. ”
Mr Bennet fell silent for a few moments. He did not wish to alarm the girls further. He considered how much he ought to tell them, but Darcy was Georgiana’s brother and Elizabeth’s future husband. They had a right to know the extent of the search.
“Also,” he continued, “beginning tomorrow, we shall employ a well-paid group of men to search London for Mr Darcy. Every street, every alley, every dead end will be searched. It was Parker’s idea, and I believe it an excellent one.
It is in their interest to find some trace of him.
Besides their daily wages, there will be a substantial reward for the man who finds Mr Darcy or discovers any important evidence concerning his disappearance. ”
Bingley found them gathered together, every face marked by anxiety.
Georgiana ran to him, and he embraced her like an elder brother.
His face, usually so cheerful, was a picture of grief.
He bowed gravely to Elizabeth, already thinking of her as Darcy’s wife, though the marriage had not yet taken place.
To him, all that mattered was his friend’s love and his decision to marry that delightful young woman.
Her determination to find Darcy was proof enough, if any proof were needed, that she was the wife he had always hoped for.
“We shall do everything in our power to find him,” he said, his voice trembling. “You must not doubt that.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth and Georgiana whispered gratefully.
If Darcy is in London, Elizabeth thought, they will find him. Anything would be better than this dreadful uncertainty.
She refused to surrender to despair. Yet after their visit to Lady Catherine’s house, a dreadful thought she had resisted for days forced its way into her mind.
What if Darcy is dead? She banished it at once and resolved to think only of finding him, not mourning him. The plan her father had devised, and which Bingley had readily embraced, seemed their best hope. For the first time in days, their spirits lifted a little.
“What if you find Mr Darcy while we are no longer here?” she asked at breakfast, exchanging a meaningful glance with Georgiana, who silently agreed.
“You may be certain that the moment we find him, you will have news within hours. And I have no doubt you will see him soon afterwards. We shall pack him up and deliver him to your door with the fastest horses in London,” Mr Bennet teased.
He hoped his harmless joke might lighten the gloom hanging over the breakfast table, but it failed.
“Come, let us think positively and hope for the best,” he concluded, managing to draw only the faintest smiles from the two young women.
Elizabeth knew how dearly her father loved her.
During those last two days, however, she had discovered an even deeper measure of his devotion.
She was profoundly grateful that she and her sisters belonged to a family ready to fight for their happiness.
Amidst such suffering, she silently promised herself that one day she would stand by her own children exactly as her father stood by his daughters.
Then she thought of Darcy, and all she could do was hope that those children would also be his.