Chapter Fourteen
“No need to declare me,” Finn announced to the soldiers at the gate.
It was late evening when he rode down the inky black lane to Pemberley proper, his horse's hooves as knowing as its master's mind when it came to the familiar road.
To avoid being seen, he sent his squire into the house to fetch Jane.
He rode to the hothouse and waited there, fidgeting in his tension, until she arrived.
“My beloved!” Jane rushed towards him and threw her arms around his neck. “I am glad you are returned! I daresay battles are not nearly as romantic as they may have once been.”
“You have never thought a battle romantic, dearest.”
“Very true, but what kind of wife would I be if I did not feign pleasure in your pursuits?” She pulled away from him, her bright eyes narrowing in the dim light.
He bit back a smile. In all his life, he had never met a braver lady.
Jane, who had grown up in comfort and privilege, had taken advantage of the one weapon she was allowed: her wit, her biting wit he had fallen in love with.
But her warm, generous soul had kept him drowning within the circle of her heart.
“You are a wonderful wife.”
“Then do tell me whatever is the matter?”
“I think you should sit, for my news is unpleasant and I expect it will cause you pain.”
His stubborn wife crossed her arms, pursed her lips, then said, “Just say it, love.”
Finn sighed and ran his hand through his sandy hair.
If he finally said the words aloud, then they would be true.
“During the battle, I lost track of Lord Darcy.
I am unsure what became of him, but after all was over, we found the body of the princess's former lover, Mr. Wickham. One of the guards who was with Darcy in Meryton identified him.”
“William faced Wickham? Oh, dear. I fear Elizabeth will find this news quite upsetting.”
“It gets a bit worse, Jane. It seems Darcy has disappeared.”
“What?” Jane yelled. Her hand flew to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
“The entire brigade, including the prisoners, searched for him and uncovered nothing. I am uncertain if he is alive or dead. Wickham's sword was a bloody mess, but alas, I cannot tell if the blood was his own or Darcy's.”
“Finn, this cannot be! We must find him! Elizabeth needs him more than ever!”
“What shall we do in the meantime?”
“You must continue to search for him. Divide the troops and do whatever you need, but you must not return without news of William's fate. I cannot tell her that her husband might be dead.”
“I understand completely.” Finn wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to assure her. “I would want Darcy to do the same thing for you if need be.”
She snuggled her body against him. Finn could tell she struggled with the news that her dearest friend might have died. He tugged her closer, and they stood in that pose for an extended time.
Finally, earnest and determined, Jane gazed up at Finn. “Go find him. I shall watch the princess until you return.”
* * *
Elizabeth’s stomach was tied in knots and her mouth tasted like acid.
Sitting up may not have been a wise idea.
Jane dozed in her chair as she had done for the last six days.
Would their husbands ever return? It had been a week since the war party had left and there had been no news.
Her distraction was to the point that Elizabeth was such a bundle of nerves, she could not attend the court.
Henry Drake oversaw everything and came to Elizabeth for items that required royal approval.
Jane had been with Elizabeth during the first bout of morning sickness and had insisted on remaining by the expectant mother's side. The ever-faithful lady-in-waiting seemed to take her title quite literally. Elizabeth had taken note and was grateful.
“Jane,” Elizabeth whispered, hating how she sounded so desperate. “Jane, pray wake up.”
The lady snapped awake and at once began to fuss over her. She obliged by assisting Elizabeth as another wave of nausea hit her, then Jane cleaned her up.
“My lady,” Jane said in a soft voice. “We must consider ridding ourselves of the Bingleys as soon as possible—this is an urgent matter. Although Lord Bingley is honour-bound to the High Lord, I do not trust Lady Caroline should she find out your actual condition. I cannot quite name what is off about that woman, but I refuse to wait to find out what it may be.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jane, I no longer care about either of the Bingleys. I simply want my husband.”
Jane smoothed Elizabeth's hair as she hugged her close.
“My lady, would you excuse me for a bit? I find I need to talk to one of my maids.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied.
After she tucked Elizabeth beneath her blankets, Jane quit the room. She was such a gift to Elizabeth. Even so, she would prefer if it was William taking care of her.
* * *
A week later
“My lady, I have a surprise for you,” Jane said to the princess.
They still had no word with regard to William, and she had begun to lose hope that she would ever see him alive again, never mind her concern for Elizabeth’s well-being without him.
“Since your husband cannot be here during your time of need, I have brought you the next best thing.”
Jane nodded to the guard at the door of Elizabeth's antechamber. He was gone for a few moments before he returned with a frail, confused-looking man. At first, Elizabeth clearly did not recognize him, and then she gasped when she became sensible of his identity.
“Papa?” she asked as she rushed to his side. “Oh, dear lord, whatever have I done?”
Jane bit her lip. She had not expected the princess to blame herself for the state of her father's ill health, though she was hardly surprised.
Perhaps, however, it would do Elizabeth good to have a purpose, a distraction from her constant state of expectation.
If she could restore Mr. Bennet to his former health, mayhap the princess would be drawn from her perpetual melancholy. Jane could only hope.
“Eliza? Is it ye? Why, my child, you have grown round! What has that bird-witted nurse been feeding ye?”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her father's neck for a moment and brushed a kiss over his wrinkled forehead. She pulled back and offered him a warm smile. “Papa,” she said gently, “I no longer require a nurse. I am a married woman now.”
“Married? To Mr. Wickham, no doubt. Aye, but ye are a charming couple, so bright, so happy. He is a fine lad. I do not regret our ruin.”
“Ruin?” Elizabeth glanced at Jane, dread in her eyes.
“Had I sold ye into marriage with the Blackheart, ye would have never forgiven me. I am thankful I came upon my senses at the very last.”
“But—”
“Mrs. Wickham, I should think your Papa would like to see his chambers,” Jane interjected. “Guard, pray escort him.”
The guard gingerly took the unsteady man's elbow.
“See to his comfort,” Elizabeth called after them.
When the door was closed and they were alone, she wrenched her hands together and moaned.
“My husband is off at war, and I walk with a swelling belly. My papa is mad and believes me married to a man who my actual husband may very well be fighting. I cannot stand the sight of butter or eggs. I have a single friend. And Lady Caroline Bingley still sleeps beneath my roof! Jane, I do not think I can bear another thing!”
Her heart aching for the princess, Jane embraced Elizabeth firmly and ran her hands over her friend's back.
She whispered words of comfort to the frightened and apprehensive girl while she led her to the sofa.
Once she had her sitting, Jane ordered tea and, after it arrived, nearly force-fed the overwrought mother-to-be.
Jane was sturdy and could help, but this pain affected her to her soul.
“Matters will work out how they are supposed to, my lady. Your papa may seem distressed now, but you may be the very solution he needs to put his world right again. I am convinced that he should very much prefer to find himself well enough to welcome his grandchild.”
Elizabeth nodded her head and nibbled at a small water biscuit absently while she stared out the window.
As if revelling in a new thought, she said, “Perhaps you are right. If I can get Papa well, maybe my luck will change, and my husband will return safely, and I can finally be rid of the Wrong Dishonourable Lady Caroline.”
Jane giggled at the unflattering soubriquet. “Concentrate on the tasks at hand, my lady. Mind your papa's health and that of your babe. The rest shall fall into place.”
Elizabeth nodded and ate another water biscuit with care. Jane was careful to watch her as she waited a few moments, making sure she would not be ill again. Then the princess sought the company of her father. Jane released a heavy sigh. When William came home, all would be well.
* * *
Caroline had known better than to think George would survive the battle.
In fact, had bets been taken, she would have wagered against him.
He was more useful to her dead than alive.
And, after scrying, she could be confident that he was dead as well as she could write her own name.
She could not, however, determine whether or not Darcy was still alive.
She had scried; she had uttered incantations and burned incense; she had mixed herbs and offered blood, but to no avail. The Fates were no longer listening. It did not matter. The witch still had power.
“Where are you?” She called to them.
“Daughter, you have acted treacherously.” Three disembodied voices rolled together in a perfect harmony of rage and disgust. “You have spilled innocent blood, and that is an unforgivable sin. You are interfering with plans that were in place before your soul was weaved into existence. For this you must be punished.”
Caroline’s power faded away like a candle flame trapped beneath a jar. Her heart began to beat faster at the sensation of loss deep within her.