Chapter Sixty-Seven
Once the carriage was pulled up to the front door, Mr. Darcy handed Elizabeth in and then jumped in behind her. Mr. Bennet followed him.
They were off at once; Elizabeth called out directions to the coachman, and in a very short time, they had arrived at their destination. Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet jumped out of the carriage the moment it was still.
But there was no sign of anyone.
“I cannot tell if they were even here,” Elizabeth said, her voice shaking. “Poor Georgiana!”
Mr. Darcy looked for some sort of track, anything that might show where they had gone, but the ground was dry, and he could find nothing.
“Call for her,” Elizabeth urged.
“Georgiana!” He called at the top of his voice. “Georgiana!”
There was no response.
But Elizabeth saw something – someone? – on the road, and she shaded her eyes with her hand to get a better look. Was that Kitty? She had entirely forgotten that Kitty and Lydia had gone off together. “Kitty?” she called out.
“Lizzy! Oh, thank God! You must help us!” Kitty pulled up her skirts and began to run toward them.
Mr. Bennet was already running toward his daughter. “Kitty,” he gasped out when he reached her. “What is wrong?”
“Georgiana is – is hurt, Papa,” she whispered. “But we cannot let anyone see her.”
“Oh, my God,” Mr. Bennet breathed. “Where is she?”
Kitty pointed, but Mr. Bennet could see nothing. “Darcy!” he called out. “Come on!”
Mr. Darcy ran up the road to join Mr. Bennet and Kitty, Elizabeth behind him. Kitty led them into the field behind Netherfield, and soon enough they could see Lydia standing guard over Georgiana.
“I am glad you are here,” Lydia said, gravely, as the newcomers ran to her. “She has not moved for some time. I covered her up with my pelisse, but her clothes are…ruined.”
Elizabeth, hearing that, feared the worst; tears ran down her cheeks.
Without a word, Mr. Darcy picked his sister up in his arms and carried her back to the carriage.
Elizabeth, Kitty and Lydia piled into the carriage with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet and an unconscious Georgiana. It was a tight fit; Kitty was in Lydia’s lap and Elizabeth was on the floor. “Take her to Longbourn,” Elizabeth said, looking up at Mr. Darcy. “Not to Netherfield.”
“Why?” Mr. Darcy demanded.
“Mrs. Hill can be trusted implicitly; she will make certain that none of the servants even know Georgiana is in the house. The coachman is her son; he will not speak. We cannot be guaranteed of the same privacy at Netherfield.
Mr. Darcy could only nod his thanks.