Chapter 32
Darcy read Mrs Cooper’s brief note with astonishment, but before long a deep sense of dread filled him. The colonel had gone to London, yet they had agreed that whatever happened in Derbyshire, they would send for him. And something had happened, for the note was desperate.
Mr Darcy,
I take the liberty of begging you to come here as quickly as possible. Very alarming events concerning Miss Elizabeth, which cannot be explained in a letter, compel me to appeal to you.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs Cooper
His heart tightened painfully. Yet alarming news did not necessarily mean that anything had happened to Elizabeth.
He set out immediately on horseback, instructing the butler to send the carriage after him. Throughout the journey, he went over the note again and again in his mind, unable to imagine what further calamity could have befallen poor Elizabeth.
What could Mrs Cooper mean by alarming? Had someone insulted her?
Hurt her? He was prepared to do anything for her, even defend her reputation if necessary.
And as he rode towards Derby, he was forced to acknowledge that his love remained entirely unchanged.
If she had accepted his proposal, he would have followed the colonel’s advice and gone to the church convinced that a woman such as Elizabeth would learn to love, provided the man she married knew how to win her heart.
He entered Mrs Cooper’s drawing room before her butler had even finished announcing his name. He found Mrs Cooper alone, though traces of distress and tears were visible upon her usually serene countenance.
“Elizabeth?” he cried, looking about him, suddenly terrified that something had happened to her.
“She is well. It is not about her,” replied Mrs Cooper, motioning for him to sit beside a small table where a glass and a decanter of cognac awaited him. Without waiting for the servants, she poured it herself.
“Thank you for coming. Something terrible has happened,” she said. “To a family already so cruelly afflicted. Mr Darcy, Elizabeth’s sister Lydia has eloped with Wickham.”
Darcy immediately set down his glass, fearing he might otherwise drop it. Fury swept over him like a black veil.
“Good God! That scoundrel! That villain!” he exclaimed.
Then he turned back to Mrs Cooper, struggling to recover sufficient composure to learn more.
“How? What happened?”
Mrs Cooper picked up a letter from the table.
“The first news arrived yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” asked Darcy. “Then why did you send for me only today?”
“Because yesterday Jane added only a few hurried lines to a letter that had otherwise concerned the small events of Meryton. She was upset, but not despairing, for she informed Elizabeth that Lydia had run away with Wickham towards Scotland to be married.”
“The same scheme,” said Darcy.
When Mrs Cooper looked at him questioningly, he added briefly,
“It is not the first time he has attempted to run away to Gretna Green with a young lady. Usually, however, his targets were wealthy heiresses.”
“That is precisely what Jane writes in the first letter. She urged Elizabeth not to worry, believing they were probably in love and that it was a disinterested marriage, since Wickham knew perfectly well the circumstances of the family.”
“But matters were not so simple. The letter that arrived this morning brought very different news, far more tragic. I saw Elizabeth turn scarlet. She pressed a hand to her heart and…I do not know what happened next, only that I found myself holding her in my arms. The poor girl could scarcely speak. I took the letter. If you wish to read it, only the second page is important.”
“No. Please tell me what it says.”
“It is plainly a letter written in the greatest desperation, almost incoherent. In short, Miss Bennet writes that however imprudent a marriage between Mr Wickham and Lydia might be, it would still be an acceptable solution, since there are now too many reasons to fear that they never intended to go to Scotland at all.”
“Indeed, it would have been surprising if he had intended to marry Miss Lydia. That scoundrel is not the sort of man to fall in love or act from generosity. But please continue.”
“A Colonel Forster arrived in Meryton—”
“Yes, I know who he is. He commands the militia that was stationed in Hertfordshire.”
“Exactly. Some months ago, Miss Lydia had been invited by Mrs Forster to spend the summer at Brighton. Lydia left a short letter for Mrs Forster, giving the impression that they were travelling towards Gretna Green. However, an officer named Denny expressed to Colonel Forster his conviction that Wickham had never intended either to go there or to marry Lydia. Alarmed at once, Colonel Forster left Brighton determined to pursue them and, if possible, bring them back. He traced them easily as far as Clapham, but no further, for upon reaching that place they disappeared.”
“Clapham,” said Darcy. “They are on the road to London.”
“Yes, that is what they suspect as well. So he travelled to Meryton to tell the ladies the whole story. Mr Bingley immediately left for London to inform Mrs Bennet’s brother, Mr Gardiner, who has most likely already begun the search.”
“Mr Gardiner?” asked Darcy, for a plan was already beginning to form in his mind.
“He is also my brother-in-law. I can give you every detail if—”
“If what?”
The voice came from the doorway, and both started, for neither had heard Elizabeth enter.
“Mrs Cooper, what have you done?” she said, looking from her to Darcy with reproach.
He was the one man in the world from whom she had wished to conceal this dreadful disgrace.
“Elizabeth, be reasonable, please. Only Mr Darcy can help your family now,” replied Mrs Cooper calmly.
Darcy rose and approached her. Without a word, he kissed her hand and helped her into a chair not far from his own.
“Elizabeth,” he said, no longer caring for convention, “please listen to Mrs Cooper. Forget everything that has passed between us and think of me as the closest friend you possess. And the only person capable of finding this scoundrel, if they are indeed in London.”
“What a disgrace!” she murmured, pressing her burning cheeks in her hands. “Good heavens, how could she do such a thing now, when we had only just begun to hope again?”
“And this must not end,” said Mrs Cooper firmly.
“How? Do you think this dishonour will not affect my sisters’ suitors?”
Darcy shook his head, “Of Bingley I am certain. He wrote to me as well about his engagement, and there was a firmness in his words that did not exist before. He has gone to London, but his good intentions are not enough. Only the colonel and I can find them.”
“How can you undertake such a thing?” she murmured, still uncertain about accepting his help.
“How can I not?” replied Darcy. “You told me yourself that you had begun to know me. Do you believe I could remain quietly here while such a tragedy unfolds beside me? Even if I were not your friend, I should already be riding to find that wretch. He is my greatest enemy, and once again he is spreading misery wherever he goes.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily and, for the first time since entering the room, looked directly at him.
“I am so ashamed,” she whispered, almost as though the words were meant for him alone.
“Please do not be. Remember that you know his other villainies as well. He knows exactly how to obtain what he wants.”
“He can gain nothing from Lydia.”
“Unfortunately, he can,” said Mrs Cooper.
Elizabeth blushed once more, understanding immediately what she meant.
“I am leaving for London at once,” said Darcy. “The carriage has most likely arrived already, and I shall write a note for my valet to follow me.”
“I have packed my things as well. I intended to go to London,” said Elizabeth, perhaps hoping they might travel together.
“There is no purpose in that,” said Darcy firmly, though gently.
“Nor do I wish to lose time by taking you to Meryton myself. You must go to your family and help calm the ladies, whilst I shall travel directly to London. There are already enough of us searching for them. I shall send Bingley back as well. He should be with the ladies and calm them. One thing is certain: no one must know anything.”
He looked directly at Elizabeth as he spoke, evidently thinking of Mrs Bennet and the society of Meryton.
“No. My mother only spreads good news concerning our family. Not a word will leave that house until we know the truth.”
“Whatever the truth may be, the longer it remains secret, the better it will be for all of you.”
“Poor Kitty,” said Elizabeth.
Tears began to run silently down her cheeks, though her face remained unchanged. She resembled a marble statue down which tears slowly fell, her despair deeper than if she had given way to lamentation.
“It breaks my heart to see you thus,” said Darcy.
For the first time that morning, Mrs Cooper smiled faintly. The devotion of this gentleman was rooted in something deeper than friendship for Elizabeth or hatred of Wickham.
“My father’s death affected us all,” said Elizabeth, as though seeking some excuse for Lydia. “But whilst the rest of us became more responsible, Lydia…”
She could not continue.
Darcy quickly wrote a note for his valet. Then, looking at her one last time, he said,
“I shall find her, or I shall find a way to ensure that none of you suffer more than you already have.”
His words lingered in the room long after he had departed, for neither woman spoke for some time.
At last, Elizabeth rose.
“Rose has prepared everything. I do not know how to thank you for what you are doing. I should like us to leave as soon as possible, even if we do not travel many miles today.”
Mrs Cooper instructed the servants to load Elizabeth’s luggage into the carriage, yet she would not allow her to leave immediately.
“There is something I wish to tell you, but I need to speak to the rational Elizabeth, with not the slightest trace of pride or prejudice.”
“Alice!”
“Exactly that tone is what I do not wish to hear.”
“I cannot accept anything,” murmured Elizabeth.
“Yes, you can. You shall accept from me a sum sufficient to allow you to act freely in whatever becomes necessary. That is not open to discussion. But there is something else I must tell you, something far more difficult. A few days ago, I examined the cameo Mr Darcy gave you.”
Elizabeth was immediately on her guard, but Agnes was determined that she should accept every possible form of assistance.
“Please look at me differently.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly and nodded, evidently accepting the request.
“You are right. I must look at matters from the perspective of our present situation. Pride is of no use.”
“Yes. There are moments in life when accepting help is not weakness but wisdom. Where is the cameo?”
“In my trunk.”
“I want you to wear it around your neck and keep it concealed beneath a scarf at all times.”
“You are frightening me,” said Elizabeth.
“That is exactly my intention. In my opinion, and I know something of such objects, your cameo is extraordinarily valuable—”
“Oh! He gave it to me deliberately,” she whispered.
“Yes. I am certain he did. He gave it to you so that you might be free from anxiety for some time, and you must regard the gesture as one of extraordinary generosity. Do not allow foolish notions born of pride to enter your mind. You and your family may need money, and you must not hesitate to sell it if doing so becomes necessary to help Lydia.”
Those were the magic words.
At once, Elizabeth accepted the idea without protest. If nothing else, Lydia’s folly had at least achieved that much: it had persuaded Elizabeth to accept help.
“Yes, that is sensible,” she said. “But how much can it possibly be worth?” she added, with a trace of apprehension.
“A great deal. Here is the name of the London jeweller who can value it properly and offer you a fair price.”
She handed Elizabeth a slip of paper bearing the name Mr Darcy had given her, but in her writing, not his.
Then she called for the children, both of whom were weeping bitterly at the thought of losing Elizabeth. Only after she promised that they would meet again, whether in Derbyshire or in London, did they finally allow her to leave.
Once inside the carriage, Elizabeth closed her eyes and drew the cameo from beneath her shawl. Holding it in her hand, she thanked him silently.
At last, she believed herself loved in the manner she had always dreamed of being loved. Yet she wondered whether she would truly be able to sell the cameo, or keep it forever as a remembrance of a love she was certain she would never feel for another man.