Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth's feet hurt. She felt as though she had spent most of the last twenty-four hours exploring Falmouth on foot, and this was no pleasurable stroll around a seaside town.
She had accompanied her husband into every draughty warehouse, every cramped shipping office and every smoky, low-ceilinged bar where sailors shouted obscenities at one another and sucked on filthy-smelling pipes.
William would not have had her accompany him, of course.
In fact, he had been vehemently against the idea, but she could not sit idly by while her husband travelled every part of the town in search of their daughter.
Lydia's home was very much Lydia's home, which meant that while it was cheerful and comfortable, it was also chaotic and loud.
She owned more possessions and fripperies than Elizabeth thought could fill Pemberley's grand ballroom and, kind as Lydia was, her kindness was not the quiet sort.
Her girls appreciated the fussing attention of Lydia and her friends, the unusual but very thoughtful Mrs Gossling and Miss Blaine, but Elizabeth found it increasingly difficult to bear.
She had to think clearly and rationally.
If she allowed herself to be caught up in the emotional confusion of Lydia's world, she feared she would simply fall to pieces.
She had always been very fond of walking, but at that moment she would happily have accepted the services of a grand old-fashioned sedan chair if it would take the pressure off her multiplying blisters.
They had made very little progress. There were rumours and whispers, but it seemed no one in the town was particularly keen to speak to them.
Most appeared scared to death. Silas Trevethan seemed to have an unusual degree of influence over many of the residents, particularly the working people in and around the docks.
The church bell sounded seven and Elizabeth felt another twist of dread.
Time was running out. At nine they would be required to hand over the ransom, an amount that had been obtained with no little difficulty and was now under armed guard in Lydia's attic.
It was an amount of money that even Pemberley could not bear to part with comfortably and all of their futures would be affected by the loss—with no guarantee that it would restore Bella to them.
They had perhaps another half an hour, an hour at most, in which to search before the failing light forced them to abandon the attempt.
William had said very little throughout the day.
She would have been surprised if she had heard five complete words from him.
He simply kept moving, kept looking, kept following up each new lead.
He had barely eaten or slept and she wondered just how long he could bear the strain of their daughter's second disappearance in as many weeks.
The lines on his face seemed deeper than they had before, and more than once Elizabeth had wanted to take his hand and tell him that they would find her.
She had not. They had both had all of the comforting words they could stomach. They needed Bella.
They rounded another corner on their way to a warehouse on the edge of town.
It was a property mentioned by a small boy at one of the taverns they had visited.
He had wandered by their table and imparted the information under his breath before melting into the crowd before either she or William could ask a single question.
It was a thin lead, but it was something, and the group consisting of Elizabeth, William and several local men employed to aid in the search trudged into another road lined with modest houses.
Elizabeth stopped short. A man and a woman stood beside a low stone wall, both filthy and dishevelled, kissing in full view of the road.
The woman's hair was loose and wild and the man's face was bruised, while both of their clothes were streaked with dirt.
For one passing second, Elizabeth took them for a dockworker and a woman of easy virtue, albeit one who had begun plying her wares very early in the evening.
Then she noticed that beneath the muck, the clothes were fine. She took another step and stopped again. One of the men beside her gave an uncomfortable cough. The woman shifted and Elizabeth caught sight of her face and a familiar gold locket. "Bella," she breathed.
She looked towards her husband and had never seen so many emotions pass over his face so quickly. Wonder became joy, joy became worry and worry became righteous fury in the blink of an eye.
"MISS ARABELLA JANE DARCY."
Their daughter leapt apart from the young man as though she had been burned.
Elizabeth barely had time to register the face of the gentleman who took a few stumbling steps away from Bella before William was moving.
She reached for his arm, realising at once that he was about to explode in incandescent rage, something Darcy did so rarely that she believed she had witnessed it only once or twice in the whole of their marriage.
The material of his coat slipped through her grasp and she suspected he had not even noticed her touch.
William crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and seized the young man by the front of his already torn shirt, dragging him forwards until their faces were only inches apart.
"You have detained my daughter, sir, involved her in Lord knows what danger and now I find you laying hands upon her in the middle of the road. Give me one good reason why I should not call you out on the spot, or better still, wring your presumptuous neck."
"Mr Darcy, I can assure you, sir, that whatever you may think, I have done everything in my power to keep your daughter safe."
"Papa!" Bella reached William before Elizabeth did and caught hold of his arm, clinging to it despite his efforts to shake her off.
"Please let George go. That is, please let Captain Harwood go.
He helped me escape. I could not have gotten away without him and he has been most gentlemanly.
Please do not harm him or call him out. I beg of you. "
William blinked twice, seeming to come back to himself, and slowly released the young man, who immediately took a step backwards and regarded him warily.
Then her husband appeared to see his daughter properly for the first time.
He looked over her face reverently, brushing at a smear of dirt with his thumb, and whatever remained of his anger vanished.
He said nothing, only swept her into his arms and held her so tightly that her slippers lifted from the ground.
Bella buried her face against his chest and by the gentle shaking of her shoulders, Elizabeth knew she was weeping.
When she raised a hand to her own cheeks, she found them wet too.
She went to them and wrapped her arms around her husband and daughter, letting out a shuddering breath as she held them both as tightly as she could.
Bella was safe. She was filthy, and there would most certainly have to be a discussion about what they had just witnessed, but she was safe and whole and they could take her home.
When the three of them finally drew apart, William's eyes were glassy. He kept one of Bella’s hands tucked firmly through his arm, as though he feared she might disappear again if he let go.
"Come, sweetheart. Let us return to your aunt's house and see to you.
You are limping. Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? "
"It is only a bruise, Papa. The only person who hurt me was a door bar when we were making our escape. I truly am well. I know I must look and smell atrocious, but I promise you I am well."
William frowned as though he did not entirely believe her, but took her arm and began to lead her back in the direction of Lydia's house.
Bella looked over her shoulder at Captain Harwood and Elizabeth saw the look that passed between them.
It was brief, but unmistakably tender, and she feared the complications attached to their eldest daughter's flight were not over yet.
Elizabeth slowed and turned back towards the young man.
He looked uncertain, but when she approached he bowed.
She took his hand in hers. "Captain Harwood, we owe you a great debt for the safe return of our daughter and I thank you on behalf of my husband and all our family.
Will you not return with us so that we may see to your injuries? "
Darcy made a scoffing sound from several paces away but continued walking with Bella.
"I would not wish to impose upon your family, Mrs Darcy," Captain Harwood said in a low, slightly unsteady voice.
William stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his expression grim. "You will call upon me tomorrow, young man. We have much to discuss. Now, I believe Collector Brown of the Customs Office would like a word with you."
???
Their return to Lydia's home with Bella sparked immediate chaos.
Mina flung herself at her sister and began crying so hard that nothing she said could be understood.
Kate said almost nothing at all, but wrapped both arms around Bella and held on to her like a vice.
Lydia reached her last, kissing her cheeks and alternating gentle scolding with effusions about her safe return.
"This is too much," Elizabeth said at last, raising her voice enough to cut through the chatter. "Bella needs quiet. We need to make certain she is well, and she needs clean clothes and rest."
"I've already requested the hot water, Mrs Darcy," Clara called from halfway up the staircase.
"Very good. Clara, please go to Bella's room and prepare a clean nightgown. I will bring her to you directly."