Chapter Thirty-One

Elizabeth

30 th December 1811

E lizabeth dipped her pen in ink and pressed it to the paper with a smile, her hand steady as she began her letter to Jane.

Dearest Jane ,

Your letter was such a joy to receive, and I am more than delighted to hear that Mr Darcy’s letter inspired Mr Bingley to do the right thing and listen to his heart. For there is nobody on this earth who deserves happiness more than you. I cannot wait to see you and talk to you about it all in detail.

She wrote a few more lines expressing her happiness and then dipped the quill back in the ink before turning back to the page. It was time to tell Jane what was in her heart.

And I must confess now that I think… I think I too have fallen in love. I hardly dare put it to words, but I feel as though my affections have grown beyond my own will, and for none other than Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth paused, her heart fluttering at her own admission. She had long harboured doubts—after all, this was the same man who had interfered between Jane and Mr Bingley. But in these past weeks, Mr Darcy had shown himself to be quite different, more considerate, more tender. His care for Maggie and his respect for Elizabeth’s wishes had softened her resolve against him. I had long doubted his character,” she continued, “yet he has proved me wrong again and again. I see now a man of deep kindness and integrity—one that perhaps I had not fully understood before.

Her brow furrowed as she leaned closer to the page, her thoughts turning uncertain. And yet, dearest Jane, I am frightened. I think—I hope—that he will soon declare himself, but will we truly make a good match? What if his family refuse to accept me? I could not bear the thought of bringing him discord or hardship, though I—

A sudden sound broke her thoughts. The steady clopping of hooves echoed from outside, growing louder as it neared. Elizabeth rose, peering out the window to see a rider approaching in full gallop. Her heart quickened as she recognised Colonel Fitzwilliam’s familiar form, his tall figure and confident bearing unmistakable even from a distance.

Setting her letter aside, Elizabeth gathered her skirts and hurried downstairs, anticipation and curiosity sparking in her gaze as she went to greet their unexpected visitor.

As soon as she descended to the foyer and saw the familiar, smiling figure of Colonel Fitzwilliam, her mood lifted. Mr Darcy’s cousin, warm and charming as always, was a welcome presence for she knew he came bearing news.

“Richard! We hadn’t expected you so soon,” Mr Darcy said as they clasped hands, his expression a mix of surprise and pleasure. “You only left for Brighton three weeks ago.”

Richard returned Mr Darcy’s handshake heartily, his gaze drifting to Elizabeth with a knowing grin. “When I heard the news I’ve come to deliver, I wasted no time. I first rode to Matlock, expecting you both there alas that was a wasted journey,” he said with a pointed look.

Elizabeth and Mr Darcy exchanged glances, recalling the uncomfortable reception Lady Matlock had given them. Mr Darcy spoke up, smiling to lighten the tension, “Yes, your mother did make our stay quite… memorable. I did not wish to come to Pemberley, fearing we might be found out, but our ruse worked well and we have had no trouble.”

“We have been very fortunate,” Elizabeth added.

“I daresay that is Darcy’s doing,” Richard replied with a laugh, “No one dares disturb his house, nor should they. But to that point,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, “I have news, and it can’t wait.”

Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Something from Lady Matlock?”

Richard shook his head, glancing at Elizabeth. “Not my mother. Mama was less than pleased with me for aiding you both. But my father, sends his sincerest apologies for her actions, which he only recently discovered. He asked me to express his deep regrets to you both, and to little Maggie as well.”

Elizabeth’s heart softened at this apology, but she was anxious to hear whatever Richard had come to share. She leaned forward, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you, Richard, you mentioned something urgent. Pray tell, what have you found out?”

The three moved into the drawing room, each taking a seat. Richard’s expression grew serious as he met Elizabeth’s gaze. “I know you’ve wondered about Maggie’s origins,” he began gently. “In Brighton, I made some enquiries, and the answers were more unsettling than I’d imagined. When my superior officer heard I was asking questions about a missing child, he pulled me aside and told me something that I felt you needed to hear directly.”

Elizabeth gripped the edge of her chair, dread pooling in her stomach. Mr Darcy’s gaze never left her, his hand resting protectively on the arm of her seat, as if prepared to steady her should she falter.

“Around ten weeks ago,” Richard continued, “the family of the Laird of Buchanan, a minor Scottish noble, was travelling to Wales when their party was set upon by brigands. Buchanan, his wife, and all their attendants were slain.” Richard paused, letting the weight of this settle.

Mr Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a horrified glance, but Elizabeth couldn’t help the question that leapt to her mind. “And… was there a child?”

Richard nodded, his expression grave. “Their daughter, Cecilia, was with them—but she wasn’t found with the bodies. She’s been missing ever since.”

“Cecilia? That is the name the man used, the one who came to Longbourn who caused all of this to begin with,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“But Cecilia — why does she favour the name Maggie?” Mr Darcy asked, then paused and turned to Elizabeth, “You said that your mother tried various names and the child appeared to respond to Maggie, is that correct? One would have thought she would prefer a more refined appellation, something similar to her own Christian name.”

Elizabeth nodded, “My mother tried many names, but Maggie was the one the little girl seemed to respond to.”

“I think I can answer that question,” Richard said. “Her full name is Cecilia Magdalene Buchanan. I suspect her family called her Maggie.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught, and her heart beat painfully in her chest. “Then… then Maggie…That means she saw her family slain? She saw that dreadful horror and…” She couldn’t finish, the realisation too overwhelming to put into words. Mr Darcy’s hand covered hers, giving a firm, reassuring squeeze. He too was visibly shaken, though he kept his voice steady.

“If this family was of noble birth, why haven’t we heard about it sooner?” he asked, voice tight with anger and disbelief.

Richard looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched. “Because the incident was hushed up. It seems the officials decided it was better not to publicise it and risk unsettling the London season. Buchanan was, after all, a minor noble with limited social ties in England. His wife was distant cousin to a member of the Prince Regent’s privy council and they kept a home in Newcastle but beyond that, there were very few connections. Still, they were noble enough to alert the higher ups as I like to call them. Rumours were quietly discouraged, and the entire incident was passed off as an unfortunate accident.”

Elizabeth’s face paled. “So… a child went missing, her family slaughtered, and it was… ignored?”

“There was a private search,” Richard assured her, though his tone was tinged with bitterness. “A thorough one, in fact, but nothing was found. The few witnesses from the scene said there was no sign of the girl, and with no leads, the search was abandoned quietly. There was a desire to keep the entire affair quiet because the Christmas season was about to start and they did not want to discourage other nobles from travelling to London. There is already enough danger between the child snatchings and the highway men.”

Mr Darcy scoffed. “Of course, we cannot have the bon ton disturbed on account of a child and her not-noble-enough parents.” He shook his head. “Now, what of Maggie’s remaining family? Is there anyone?”

He met Elizabeth’s gaze, sympathy etched deeply in his expression. “Her only family left now are an aunt in Scotland and a grandmother abroad. To them, as painful as it must be, Maggie is presumed dead.”

A quiet disbelief washed over the room. Elizabeth could barely comprehend it all. Maggie’s wide, innocent eyes, her playful laugh—she was the last living member of her family, stolen away and forgotten and why? So as not to unsettle the bon ton?

“She was not significant enough to risk disturbing the balls and revelry of the London season,” Elizabeth whispered, feeling the words like a wound. “Is that why there was no wider search? Or was it because she was a girl and not a boy? If she were the heir to the family line, I am certain there would have been a to do about it.”

Richard nodded grimly. “As much as it pains me to admit, you are correct. Being a minor noble family, her case was hardly a priority, and her being a girl—well.”

“This is preposterous,” Mr Darcy muttered, his voice simmering with anger. He caught Elizabeth’s gaze, and she saw the fierce loyalty in his eyes—a determination to protect Maggie that mirrored her own.

Elizabeth finally spoke, her voice soft but firm, “I am glad we know Maggie’s true identity.” She looked at Richard. “You said there is an aunt?”

“Yes, in Scotland. Aberdeenshire. Lady Buchanan is the heir to the family’s estate by way of her son.”

“How so?” Darcy asked.

“Well, Lady Buchanan was married to the Laird of Buchanan’s younger brother, Angus. Her husband died some years ago, and she lives on the estate with her son, Gordon. When the Laird and his family were killed, the estate passed to Gordon—and his mother will be the one to guide his hand until he reaches his majority.”

“So Maggie had no brothers?” Elizabeth asked, feeling oddly more connected to the girl because of it.

“She did not. Only her aunt and cousin, and the grandmother, although I understand she has been in Italy for some while.”

“But they did not look for her?” Mr Darcy asked.

Richard shrugged. “The aunt did. It was Lady Buchanan who funded the search after the authorities gave up. I believe she has continued the search using private means.”

“So she will want to see Maggie, I am certain,” Elizabeth said, unsure how to feel about this.

“Indeed,” Mr Darcy replied. “I must write to her at once.”