Chapter Eleven

Darcy

T he inn door swung open with a soft creak, and Darcy stepped inside, feeling the rush of warmth wrap around him like a familiar cloak, a stark contrast to the biting chill that still lingered on his skin from the journey. The heavy scent of spiced cider and roasting chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the faint whiff of wood smoke rising from a crackling hearth in the corner. A large pine wreath adorned with red ribbons hung above the mantle, while the faint flicker of candles that danced and sputtered as guests passed by. It was a scene of comfort and festivity, one that spoke of the festive cheer that was soon to be upon them.

For a moment, Darcy allowed himself to pause, to drink in the atmosphere, and to feel, however fleetingly, the spirit of Christmastide that pervaded the air. The hum of cheerful conversation buzzed around him, underscored by the distant strains of a fiddler playing a merry tune, while a young serving maid hurried past with a tray of steaming mince pies, leaving a trail of sweet spices in her wake. He glanced down at Maggie, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in the festive decorations, and wondered if she, too, had once celebrated Christmastide in such a place.

Had there been a family that would wrap her in warmth and kindness, laughter, and love? He felt a pang in his chest at the thought, and as Elizabeth’s gentle voice broke through his reverie, he looked to her, his expression softening.

“Mr Darcy,” she began, her cheeks flushed from the cold, but her eyes bright with curiosity, “Do you think there might be rooms available for us here?”

“Only one way to ascertain that,” he replied, nodding towards the innkeeper, a rotund gentleman with a face as ruddy as a winter apple, who bustled forward to greet them with a broad smile. This wasn’t the inn he had chosen initially when planning the journey, indeed, he’d intended to travel much further but he knew that a child as young as Maggie could not be exposed to such arduous travels. Besides, he needed to stay at an inn where he was not that well known.

“A good evening to you, sir, and to you, ladies,” the innkeeper said, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Looking for rooms, are ye? It’s a busy time, what with Christmastide so near, but I’ve got two left—though ye may have to make do, as they’re the last we’ve got.”

Miss Bennet and Darcy exchanged a quick glance. Darcy stepped forward, his voice carrying the calm authority that was second nature to him. “We shall take them,” he said decisively, reaching into his coat for his purse. “One for myself and my wife,” he nodded towards Elizabeth, who barely managed to keep her expression neutral at the fiction, “and the other for my daughter and sister.”

The innkeeper nodded, clearly unfazed by the arrangement. “Very well, sir. That’ll do nicely. We’ll have a good fire lit in both rooms, and you’ll find them warm enough for a night’s rest. Shall I send up some mulled wine and supper?”

“Thank you, that would be most welcome,” Darcy replied, inclining his head. Miss Bennet, meanwhile, seemed to have recovered from the slight shock of the booking arrangement, and as they climbed the creaking staircase together, she cast him a look that was at once perplexed and amused.

“I assure you, all shall be well, Mrs Darcy,” he said with a smile. She returned it but with a slight shake of the head. “I daresay, if one had told me this morning when I rose at Netherfield that I would find myself married and with a small child by evening, I might have deemed them quite mad.”

This elicited a chuckle from her and Maggie looked up, interested in their conversation now.

When they reached the landing, they found their rooms adjacent, Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Maggie would take the larger room together, while Darcy would claim the smaller one for himself. The arrangement was hardly ideal, but as they stepped into the first room, the warmth and comfort it offered felt like a balm against the long, tiring journey.

“It’s a snug little room,” Elizabeth remarked, as she took in the scene, a modest bed piled high with thick quilts and a roaring fire in the grate. “And Maggie will be quite comfortable here.”

Georgiana led the little girl towards the fire and began to help her warm her hands. “Are you warmer now, Maggie?” she asked kindly. Maggie nodded, her eyes darting from Georgiana’s kind face to Elizabeth’s, a little less fearful than before.

Darcy stood in the doorway, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The flames from the hearth cast a warm glow over Elizabeth’s face, highlighting the stray wisps of hair that had escaped her bonnet, and for a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of watching her. There was something about her presence—so determined and so tender—that seemed to fill the room with light, and he felt a strange yearning rise within him, one that he quickly pushed aside.

“Miss Bennet, I would say you ought to eat and rest but we must discuss matters in more detail. There is much to consider if we are to reach Northampton safely.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Would you care to enter?” she asked but he shook his head.

“No, indeed, I would not. I think we ought to speak in my room.” He leaned forward upon seeing her alarm. “Everyone thinks we are married, there is no cause for concern.”

She gulped but followed him into the hall and then into the next room as a maid passed and smiled at them, oblivious to their deception. Upon entry, he found the room smaller than the other but it was pleasant anyhow.

He indicated for the chair and noted that she had removed her cloak and gloves in the other room. He hung his top hat on a hook behind the door and his great coat beside it before pulling out a chair for her.

Elizabeth managed a tight smile as she sat down, her fingers fiddling absently with a stray thread on her sleeve. “How fortunate that your plan has so far succeeded, Mr Darcy,” she replied with a touch of dry amusement, “though I must admit, I have never encountered such a circumstance before.

Darcy’s lips twitched, almost but not quite forming a smile. “Nor I, Miss Bennet. It is, as you say, rather… unusual.”

For a moment, neither spoke, and the only sound was the occasional snap from the fireplace. Darcy watched as the firelight flickered over her face. He cleared his throat, determined to address the matter at hand.

“You mentioned before,” he began, his tone more serious, “that you were determined to discover who these men are who pursue Maggie.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, her expression sharpening. “It is of the utmost importance. Whoever they may be, they are clearly not the child’s family. Why else would they prowl about in the dead of night, like thieves?”

Darcy nodded, considering her words. “You may be right. But there is another possibility that we must consider—an uglier one, I fear.”

Elizabeth’s brows drew together in concern. “What do you mean?”

“There have been… rumours,” Darcy said, choosing his words carefully. “Reports of late that have spoken of children being taken, sometimes in broad daylight, more often at night. Most have been the children of labourers, of peasants… but even some of the more well-to-do have not been spared. The practise has grown in recent years, with some being sold into labour, I trust you have heard of the climbing boys?”

“The poor lads cleaning chimneys in Town and are forced to sleep on coal? I have, it is quite dreadful.”

“It is. Some of those boys have been taken from their homes. Little girls also.” He trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. “But that is monstrous! How can such a thing happen in England? And yet… you believe Maggie might have been taken for such a purpose?”

“It is possible,” he said gravely. “If they thought her an easy target. They may have seen the posters the constable put up and thought they could claim her easily and take her away if she was a child alone—”

“But she was not alone,” Elizabeth interrupted, shaking her head in disbelief. “She was with us. Also she indicated that she had seen that man before. I wonder if—do you think perhaps they took her once before but she escaped?”

“That is a possibility. Perhaps they were worried she might tell someone, unaware she cannot speak. Or perhaps they knew she cannot speak and that is why they wanted her. A mute servant is sometimes considered a novelty among—certain circles,” he said, not wanting to mention that is own aunt had raved about a mute servant she had come upon not long ago. It was shameful, shameful indeed to use people as though they were nothing but a novelty.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened further as a dreadful realisation settled over her. “I cannot help but worry about my family. My uncle will have arrived in due course but what if they did something to them? There were others, two men. They were in the garden when I left with Maggie. They did not see us but it was clear they were waiting for the man inside. What if they have overpowered my uncle?”

The fear in her voice was palpable, and Darcy instinctively reached out, his hand covering hers where it rested on the arm of the chair. He could feel the delicate bones beneath her skin, the softness of her hand against his own. For a moment, he did not think, only felt—the rapid thudding of his heart, the warmth that radiated from her touch, even as she trembled with fright.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I swear to you, I will see to it that your family is safe. Whatever may come, I shall not allow any harm to befall them.”

Elizabeth’s eyes, wide with unshed tears, met his, and for that brief moment, it was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, as though nothing else existed beyond that small, candlelit room. She took a breath, steadying herself, and whispered, “Thank you, Mr Darcy.”

They sat there in silence, his hand still resting over hers, the firelight casting shifting patterns on the walls, until Darcy became acutely aware of the fact that he had not let go. He drew back with some reluctance, his heart still racing, and rose to his feet.

“I shall hire a messenger at once,” he said briskly, eager to regain his composure, “To ride to Longbourn and ensure your family is safe. I know a man in town—a reliable one. He will see it done, you have my word.”

Elizabeth nodded, watching him with a strange expression, something between gratitude and… something else, something unspoken that lingered in her eyes. “You are very kind, Mr Darcy.”

“I am simply doing what must be done,” he replied, though he could not quite meet her gaze. “Please, try not to worry. You have my protection. Now, shall I escort you to your chamber?”

“Yes, please,” she said and rose. He walked her to her door and paused before bowing.

“Good night, Miss Bennet,” he murmured, and without waiting for her response, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him.

Once alone, he took a steadying breath, his heart still pounding with a force that startled him. It was a strange thing, he thought, as he made his way downstairs to find the messenger, how one’s heart could feel so heavy and so light all at once.