Chapter Sixteen
Darcy appeared to have gathered himself somewhat when they repaired inside, enough to be introduced to Mr. Gardiner without breaking down, at least. Jane escorted the newcomer upstairs to see his niece for himself, and Fitzwilliam was left staring at his cousin.
“You’ve made quite a pig’s ear of this, Darce,” he said finally, and Darcy looked up at him, hollow-eyed.
“What did Miss Bennet tell you?”
“It was more what she didn’t say, actually. Separating Bingley from that angelic creature just to remove yourself from temptation, Darcy? I thought better of you. Especially since it seems the Fates are conspiring to throw Miss Elizabeth in your path anyway.”
“I should have known you’d put it together pretty quickly,” Darcy said glumly. “I’ve made an utter fool of myself, and now Miss Elizabeth has paid the price for it. What am I going to do, Fitz?” it was a despairing, anguished cry.
“There, there,” Fitzwilliam patted his shoulder consolingly. “You just let Cousin Fitz sort it out.”
“Do you even have a plan?”
Fitzwilliam considered, head cocked. “Sort of. Part of a plan. Perhaps half a plan, at most. But there are two very intelligent ladies abovestairs who I have no doubt can help us refine it into a battle strategy worthy of Wellington himself.”
“Miss Elizabeth and…?”
“Miss Bennet and Mrs. Collins. For the sake of all concerned, it is probably best that Miss Elizabeth never recall what has happened – and therefore she should never become aware that there needs to be a plan.” Fitzwilliam gave Darcy a warning stare, and then gestured.
“Come with me. I want you to look at something Miss Bennet just pointed out to me.”
They repaired to the lane, and Fitzwilliam pointed out what Jane had noted; that Elizabeth would more likely have run to the Parsonage rather than Rosings, it being a good deal closer, unless her attacker had been between her and safety.
“Oh,” Darcy looked at the lane between the parsonage and the start of the path to Rosings. Looked at the houses overlooking the lane. “Oh… I see.”
“Let us walk back up the path, see if there is anything I missed,” Fitzwilliam proposed, but at once they saw that the imprints of Elizabeth’s running steps in the now-dried ground started immediately at the beginning of the path, where its softer surface retained the impression.
“She was already running by the time she got here,” Darcy said slowly. “This – makes no sense, Fitzwilliam. If the attack occurred in the lane, her screams would surely have been heard, because I am very sure that she would have screamed fit to wake the dead.”
“And if it wasn’t here in the lane, why did she not run to the Parsonage instead?” Fitzwilliam agreed.
“She was attacked at the Parsonage,” Darcy concluded finally.
“That’s what I thought. I wanted to see if you came to the same conclusion.”
“We will need to question the staff…”
“I think we should leave that to Mrs. Collins, actually,” Fitzwilliam cut Darcy off sharply.
“We can ask her to do so, and I think we should then visit Dr. Trent and speak with his housekeeper, and the Farleys who live at the other cottage along there. Mrs. Farley has two very young children, she’s home all day and might well have heard something. ”
They walked back, quietly discussing how best to handle the matter without advising anyone that Elizabeth had been assaulted, and eventually concluded that it would be best to let Charlotte handle everything.
They were pleased to find her waiting for them in the parlour with much the same ideas to propose.
“I think we should return to the inn,” Fitzwilliam finally suggested, and Darcy reluctantly agreed, recognising that they were imposing on Charlotte’s hospitality and indeed impeding her ability to best care for Elizabeth.
Before they could take their leave, though, another set of carriage wheels were heard in the lane and within moments Mr. Bennet was entering the house.
“Where is she? Where is my Lizzy?” he demanded at once, and then saw Mr. Gardiner descending the stairs. “Edward! What on earth has happened? Where is Elizabeth – is Jane with you? Madeline?”
“Please, brother, be at ease,” Mr. Gardiner took Mr. Bennet’s shoulder and steered him into the parlour.
Fitzwilliam and Darcy glanced at each other and made to follow – and Charlotte stepped gracefully into their path, her brows raised. “Gentlemen. I do believe this is a family matter now.”
It was undeniably true and they had no choice but to gracefully concede the point and depart, thanking Charlotte and imploring her to contact them immediately should she uncover any intelligence that might lead to the identification of Elizabeth’s attacker.
An hour later, sitting in a private room at the Inn in Sevenoaks, discussing possible ways in which they might expose Elizabeth’s attacker, they were somewhat surprised by a knock on the door and the innkeep coming in, apologising profusely for the interruption.
“Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but there is a Mr. Gardiner here asking if he might have a moment of your time?”
“Absolutely, pray show him in,” Fitzwilliam replied immediately, standing up to greet Mr. Gardiner as he entered the room.
“I apologise for the intrusion,” Mr. Gardiner said once the formalities of greeting had been observed, “but I plan to stay here the night, since the Parsonage lacks space, and I insisted that Mr. Bennet should be the one to remain with his daughters.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Darcy agreed, gesturing for Gardiner to pull up a chair, “and you are not intruding, we are very glad to be in company with any family member of the Miss Bennets.”
Fitzwilliam glanced at him askance, thinking, That’s not what I’ve heard.
I’ve heard there are ‘serious objections’ to their family.
But he could hardly call Darcy on his contradictory remark in front of Mr. Gardiner, so he too smiled welcomingly and offered their guest a glass of brandy, inviting him to share the meal the inn staff would be bringing them shortly.
It wasn’t until after they had dined that Mr. Gardiner settled back in his chair, eyed them both thoughtfully as he tamped a pipe and lit it, and finally said;
“My niece Jane told me that I should ask you for the real story.”
Both younger men stared at him, then at each other.
“I thought so,” Mr. Gardiner said quietly and rather sadly. “Do you know who the culprit is?”
“No, but… pray do not think the worst,” Darcy said hastily.
He and Fitzwilliam almost talked over each other, trying to reassure Elizabeth’s uncle that she had escaped serious injury according to Charlotte and the doctor, that mercifully she wasn’t even aware that she had been assaulted, and that the two of them intended to do everything they could to both protect her and to find and suitably punish the cur who had dared to lay hands on her.
Mr. Gardiner listened, occasionally holding up a hand to slow them down when they were both talking at once, asking incisive questions to clarify certain points. At last, they ran down and just looked back at him as he considered them both silently.
“And which one of you is in love with Lizzy?” he asked at last.
“Him,” Fitzwilliam pointed at Darcy.
“I’m…!” Darcy began, saw Mr. Gardiner’s eyebrows rise in exactly the same arch manner that Elizabeth had turned upon him so often, and sighed. “Yes. I am.”
“And are you willing to marry her anyway if this episode leads to her reputation being compromised, even though Elizabeth herself has not been?”
Darcy’s eyes widened. Neither Mr. Gardiner nor Fitzwilliam could know the thoughts that ran through his mind.
I would have Elizabeth under any circumstances, but she will not have me…
unless it is possible that with her memory loss, she has forgotten my disastrous proposal?
That would be the answer to many of my prayers, that I could have a second chance, that I could show her my true character, tell her of Georgiana’s sorrow and Wickham’s perfidy, gain the opportunity to change her mind about me…
“I would be very willing. Yes. Should Elizabeth herself consent, of course.”
Mr. Gardiner drew on his pipe, giving Darcy a long, thoughtful look, before asked “Is there some reason for her consent to be in any doubt? Perhaps I should tell you that my wife Madeline spent some years in Lambton in her youth, Mr. Darcy. I am well aware of your situation, and that you could look far higher than my niece for a wife.”
Darcy’s lips tightened, and he glanced at Colonel Fitzwilliam briefly before saying “Some members of my family would undoubtedly agree with you, sir, but for myself, I can think of no higher honour than to make Elizabeth my wife. That said, I would not have her under any circumstances other than with her own whole-hearted consent.”
Shrewd brown eyes that very much resembled Elizabeth’s own surveyed him for several moments more before Mr. Gardiner cracked a smile.
“You’ll do, son. You’ll do.”