Chapter 5
Darcy had a hundred things to do immediately, this very second.
Thus, he did what he was exceptionally good at: he prioritised and he delegated.
The most urgent priority was to meet with several individuals who would be important in the next few hours and days.
Naturally, they were all people he could absolutely trust with the safety and reputation of the woman he loved: his valet, Cooper, who had been with him for a decade; his sister Georgiana; her companion, Mrs Annesley; and Mrs Nicholls, the housekeeper of Netherfield Park.
The two older ladies had proved themselves many times over in the past, and he knew he could count on them again.
He swiftly relayed the situation to the four of them, and even read aloud the letter supposedly written by Elizabeth. As he put it down on the table, Mrs Nicholls picked it up and studied it.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I will be back in less than a minute.”
“Oh, Brother, this is in all ways horrible,” Georgiana said with a single sob. “I am so sorry that something has happened! I hope Elizabeth is well! You will find her and save her; I know you will!”
When the housekeeper reappeared, she had a book in her hand. “Miss Elizabeth gave this to me as a gift, after some difficulties with…um…some leaseholders.” She blushed, and Darcy guessed she was speaking of Bingley’s sisters. “At any rate, she wrote a note in the front, and signed it.”
She turned to the page, and indeed, there was Elizabeth’s true handwriting.
Everyone compared the letter formation in the note he had received from Jane’s hand and that in the note Elizabeth had written to Mrs Nicholls. The housekeeper said, “You are correct, sir, this is a forgery.”
Georgiana craned her neck and said, “It seems to me it is a good one.”
Darcy pointed to the signature and said, “Can you see from the uneven thickness and thinness of the lines how slowly and carefully the pen was moved, in this note to me? Someone was being slow and careful because they were copying letter forms. Elizabeth’s true signature is much more flowing and easy—because, unlike whoever wrote this note, Elizabeth has written her own name many times. ”
“I see that now, William. My goodness, now that you pointed it out, it seems so obvious.”
Thanking Mrs Nicholls for proving what he had suspected, Darcy said, “The problem is, although I know that Elizabeth has not eloped with a militia soldier—”
“You can say his name, Brother.”
“Very well. I know what Elizabeth has not done: she has not eloped with Mr Wickham. As a matter of fact, I am very certain that she has not acted by herself. Something has been done to her, and that something has either been planned by her family or carried out with their assistance. I find it awful to contemplate why her beloved father and sister would act against her wishes and, I might add, against her wellbeing.”
Cooper leant forward. “You said ‘sister,’ singular, just now. But Miss Elizabeth has four sisters. I suppose the one you suspect is the one who spoke to you and gave you the note?”
“Correct. Miss Jane Bennet told me in no uncertain terms that Elizabeth had eloped with Wickham, and she handed me the forged note, saying Elizabeth had written it for me.”
“And have you questioned anybody?”
“Only a stable boy named Tom, who seemed quite smitten with Elizabeth.” Darcy summarised the little that Tom had told him and then said, “Cooper, I am hoping you can use your skill in nosing out gossip to learn if anybody saw or heard or knows something. Right now, the last sighting of Elizabeth was yesterday morning.”
Cooper nodded.
Darcy said, “Please be extremely discreet.”
He turned to Georgiana and said, “The Misses Mary, Kitty, and Lydia looked unhappy.
Lydia, especially, looked as if she might be willing to spill secrets.
I wonder if there is some way you and Mrs Annesley can arrange to be with them, here, or in the streets of Meryton?
It is possible that one or more of them will speak.
Mrs Nicholls said, “And me, sir?”
“Elizabeth visited Longbourn’s tenants, and I believe she was not only known to them, but also liked by them.
I wonder, Mrs Nicholls, if you could ask trusted servants or tenants from Netherfield to meet with them and ask if they had seen or heard anything.
Again, even with trusted servants and tenants, it should not be even a little bit apparent that Elizabeth is missing or that I am working hard to find her. ”
“In the meantime, I will write to Colonel Forster, stationed in Brighton. He is in charge of the militia regiment in which Wickham serves, and I will ask if the man still serves there. I will write to my cousin, the colonel, to beg for help in finding Elizabeth, and to Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle, the Gardiners, to apprise them of the situation and ask if she had reached out to them.
I will write to my investigator and tell him what I know, little though it is.
Finally, I will send some orders to Darcy House—in case we need to relocate to London to follow a lead or escape from the people who are working against Elizabeth. ”
“To reiterate, we should keep the situation and our goals quiet, so as not to ruin Miss Elizabeth’s reputation,” Cooper stated.
“That is correct. Let us understand one another—if there seems a good reason to tell someone something in order to materially help Elizabeth, or to aid in the recovery of Elizabeth—that recovery, discovery, and help comes first. However, as much as you can, keep things as discreet as possible. I will find her, with your help, but ideally I will find her before whoever arranged this—whatever this is—finds out I am attempting to do so. And before there are rumours about Elizabeth, or me, or Wickham.”
Everyone nodded and murmured agreement, and then they all swiftly left to do their own parts, leaving Darcy to his correspondence.
Having written and sent an express to Brighton and several letters for a private courier to take to London, Darcy decided to go into the nearby market town to enquire about Wickham’s debts.
The man always ran up debts he never paid, wherever he went, and Darcy assumed that Meryton would be no different.
The Bennets had linked Elizabeth’s name with Wickham, when dealing with Darcy; in case they had done so outside of their house, as well, he might learn something—anything—by speaking about Wickham.
He asked Travers, one of the footmen, to trail well behind him wearing unmarked clothing rather than livery.
He was to linger in shops Darcy had left to see if there was any chat about Wickham after Darcy left.
Naturally, Travers was not told anything about Elizabeth.
First, Darcy went to the haberdashery shop.
The shop owner, a Mr Wilson, seemed quite agitated about a debt of two-and-thirty pounds; apparently, Wickham had promised to pay the debt several times in the month of May, before the regiment left town.
“I believed him,” Mr Wilson said. “Lieutenant Wickham said that two officers had not yet paid him their debts of honour, but he assured me that they were good men, from wealthy families. He said that they were waiting for funds from home, and he was therefore having to plead with every shop owner to wait as well.”
“I am happy to purchase his debt, as long as you can provide a formal receipt proving I have done so,” Darcy told the man. Mr Wilson seemed vastly relieved to have repayment from someone and gladly provided a written receipt.
Darcy said, “I am surprised that Lieutenant Wickham did not send word. You have not seen him nor heard from him since late May, when the regiment left town?”
“Nary a whisker nor a whisper. But you should not be surprised, sir. I have heard since they left…from the bootmaker, the tailor, the wine merchant, the owner of the inn…. Almost every shop owner in town has an unpaid debt from the man. None has heard from him.”
Darcy left the shop with formal receipt of a debt paid, the haberdasher’s gratitude, and absolutely no information that might help him find Elizabeth. On the other hand, he supposed it was a good thing that the man had not spoken of gossip unflattering to Elizabeth.
Proceeding to visit every shop in Meryton, Darcy eventually paid more than one hundred pounds of debts. No one reported seeing or hearing from Wickham, of late, and no one alluded to gossip about Wickham and Elizabeth. Darcy returned to Netherfield to wait for Travers’s report.
Georgiana asked to speak to him briefly, in private. Darcy led her to the study and closed the door. “What is it, Georgiana?”
“Mrs Annesley and I came up with a plan. We will try to co-host with Mrs Philips, whom I have heard about from Elizabeth, to put on a bonnet-trimming party tomorrow afternoon. That should interest the younger girls more than Miss Bennet. If you approve this idea, we will hurry out to buy supplies now and then to speak with Mrs Philips. I believe that Mrs Annesley will be able to convince the Bennet ladies’ aunt that we are kindly but know few people, and that we wish to host the neighbourhood so we could make friends. ”
“Everything you do seems like it would necessitate trust, and I am afraid it will take too long to build trust. But, on the other hand, it is best to start in case other methods do not work.”
“I agree. Should I introduce myself as Miss Darcy or use another name?” Georgiana asked.
“I believe it is best to go by your true name, because it is already known by the Bennets, at least, that I am here and that I brought my sister. Also, if Miss Lydia wished to get a message to me, she would know to speak to you.”
“Miss Lydia?”
“Yes, she is the sister who looked rebellious rather than embarrassed or angry. It is possible that either Miss Mary or Miss Kitty would speak of what happened—if the younger girls even know anything—but I believe Miss Lydia is most likely to talk to you or me about whatever is occurring.”
Having gained permission to go forward with their idea, Georgiana and Mrs Annesley took one of the Darcy carriages towards Meryton.
Only minutes later, Travers arrived, ready to tell Darcy what he had experienced in the same town.
“I heard little gossip about Wickham,” Travers reported.
“A few of the usual sorts of comments—a gent saying that soldiers ought not be able to use credit, if this is how they treat merchants, a shopkeeper saying that he was grateful to you, a young lady opining that Wickham is ‘the handsomest man in the country’ but feeling sorry that he turned out to be an ‘awful wretch.’ Nothing unexpected; no other names, and no mention of Wickham being here after the militia left.”
Once again, Darcy’s feeling of relief that nobody was saying horrible things about his intended warred against the dejection that he had absolutely no leads with which to work.
Cooper and Mrs Nicholls had not yet appeared, and although it was not particularly likely that any of them would turn up a lead, as long as they were striving to discover a hint of what had occurred, he still had some hope.
In the meantime, Darcy tried to work. He had brought some reports from Pemberley, but he found he could not keep what he read in his mind. Instead, he found himself reliving his first kiss with Elizabeth….
Elizabeth in his arms was the perfect height and the perfect build to nestle into his own body. He had always scoffed at his aunt’s words—her claim that his cousin Anne and he were “formed” for one another—but that wording described what he experienced with Elizabeth.
He gently lifted her chin so that he might kiss her.
She did not seem frightened, but she suddenly seemed vulnerable…
uncertain, and quite young. He so admired her intellect and her courage—her impertinence when she teased and her spirit when facing ill treatment—he so admired all of that, he almost saw her as someone his age.
However, he was seven years her senior, and as a gentleman, he was encouraged to entertain certain experiences she was firmly kept from.
Giving her time to respond—to pull away if she wished to—he slowly lowered his head.
When he finally brushed her lips with his own, she clinched him a little tighter with her arms, and she made a little sound in the back of her throat, and she must have lifted herself slightly on her toes, because there was another brush of lips that he had not instigated.
All Darcy’s intentions to be slow and gentle with his intended disappeared without leaving a trace.
Her response was so unexpected, so inflammatory to him, that he suddenly felt uncertain.
He had, in fact, never actually kissed a woman he loved before—because, in all of his seven and twenty years, there had been no such woman.
He was a novice at expressing his love in a kiss, but vague things he had read and heard before inspired Darcy to increase the pressure of his lips and to gently use his tongue to open her mouth—and after that, he was guided by her responses, her breaths, her gasps.
It may have been a kiss like any couple who knew what they were doing, or it may have been an innovative kiss unlike any other—it mattered not at all to him, nor to her, he suspected.
It was a first for both of them, and they let their bodies be the guide to what was moved, opened, thrusted, suckled, gently bitten… .
“Sir?”
The Netherfield butler, Mr Seymour, came in with the day’s post.
Darcy reached for it and murmured his thanks even as he gave a little shake of his head to disperse the memories.
He felt determination surge in his body.
He would find Elizabeth! If he had to search for her the rest of his life, if he had to spend every pound of his fortune, he would succeed, and he would wed the only woman he had ever loved.