Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

E lizabeth spent the morning wondering what had been in the letters Darcy had sent her, wishing she had not left them behind in Mayfair. It had, undoubtedly, been the right thing to do—but had she not, she would have been able to hold in her hands the proof that once he had loved her. For days like today, it might have been a comfort.

“Excuse me, miss.” The Gardiner housekeeper interrupted Elizabeth’s stare at a book in which the words refused to form into coherent sentences. “But you have a letter.”

“Oh, thank you Mrs Miller.” Elizabeth accepted it. Her heart raced, a part of her she could not prevent wanting to see her name written across the envelope in a firm, masculine script.

Of course, it was nothing of the kind. It took her a moment to realise who had written, for the handwriting was remarkably ill—so much so, that it had been missent elsewhere, and reposted. It is from Jane , she realised, mildly curious about her sister’s loss of penmanship .

Although Elizabeth was not sorry to have stayed home, it did not mean she was pleasant company for herself and could not appreciate a good distraction. She had been disappointed not to have received word from her family earlier this week, for generally her sisters—especially Jane—wrote so often. I am happy for the interruption.

Penned some five days ago, the first part of Jane’s letter contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such usual news as the country afforded. But her eyes halted suddenly on Jane’s handwriting where it deteriorated most abruptly, and it took her some moments to make out what it said.

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. She slipped out in the middle of the night?—

At this most inopportune moment, Mrs Miller interrupted again.

“Excuse me, miss, but you have callers. Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley are come, and beg most urgently for a moment of your time.”

Elizabeth could hardly understand her. What? Miss Darcy? Now? Hardly knowing how to act, she gave a wave to the housekeeper that could have been one of refusal or acceptance. As for her own eyes, she could do nothing except hastily discover what in the world had happened to Lydia. Vaguely, she was aware of the ladies’ entry into the parlour, but nothing would or could make her stop reading. However, once she had finished the page, she dropped it in her lap, closing her eyes and covering them with both hands, wishing she had never read a word of it.

“Oh, dear Miss Bennet, I can see we have come at a terrible time,” the older woman said. “Is there anything we can do for you? Can we call your maid, or your housekeeper?”

Elizabeth opened her eyes to stare at them blankly. “No. No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from my home—in Hertfordshire.”

“We shall go now,” the older woman said. “We should not have disturbed you.”

But Miss Darcy knelt directly at Elizabeth’s feet. “Please, Miss Bennet…you do not know me, except as the girl who has ruined, perhaps forever, my brother’s happiness and caused you great distress. But I pray, if there is anything at all I can do to help, in any way, you must please allow it. My brother’s physician is most renowned. If Fitzwilliam says the word, Mr Hadley will make haste for the country.”

It took a moment, in Elizabeth’s chaotic state of mind, for her to truly understand the offer. How to explain? Her instinct was to make an excuse and let the elder woman take Miss Darcy away. Still, this young lady who beseeched her so earnestly reminded her far more of Eleanor than any wild, spoilt heiress. She was clearly hoping to make amends for her past behaviour, even though the consequences were not all her fault. There was also this: Miss Darcy, of all the people she knew in the world—and, it was to be presumed, her discreet companion—would understand.

“Miss Darcy, it is not illness. My youngest sister has eloped. She left in the night, and it was several hours before her note was discovered. To Scotland, it said, but she did not name her bridegroom. We know not who he might be, but there is a regiment stationed nearby, and my sister has been…has been enamoured of the attention she has received, from more than one of the officers.” She choked on a sob, and Miss Darcy’s companion handed over a delicately stitched handkerchief. It was some moments before Elizabeth could continue, but the women waited patiently, expressions of compassion upon both faces.

“My father went to its commanding officer, Colonel Forster, to see who might be unaccounted for, but as of the time of my sister’s letter, they have been unable to tell, for more than one man has recently disappeared, and apparently none of them told anyone anything.”

“What efforts have been made to recover her?” the companion asked, plainly hoping to redirect Elizabeth’s thoughts into a more positive vein.

“Colonel Forster has sent men after those who are missing. None, apparently, went north. They were traced as far as London, but few clues remained thereafter. They could be still in town, or they could have scattered across the countryside, or gone abroad. In the absence of any trail, Papa does not know how to act. My sister says he might come here to search himself but…Jane feels that, of the men who are missing…none of them is of the sort who can support a home or family. Or who would try.”

At her words, Miss Darcy’s big brown eyes, so like her brother’s, filled with tears. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I am grieved for you, and for your family. How-how old is she?”

“Fifteen,” Elizabeth said, the word emerging in a whisper.

Miss Darcy closed her eyes as if in remembered pain, but when she opened them, they were filled with a new resolve. “But you must be wishing to be at home with your sister, with your family.”

At this, Elizabeth could not prevent a few more tears of her own to escape. “Yes. My aunt and uncle have gone away. Not for long, but it will be a couple of days before their return. It seems so selfish to wish them back from their visit, but oh, how I wish they were here!” She covered her face with the borrowed handkerchief.

But Miss Darcy reached for her other hand. “My brother’s coach-and-four can be made available to take you home—it can be here within an hour if you like, and make as good a time as the mails. It is the very least our family can do for yours—it is our fault you are in town instead of with them. Please say you will accept this small favour. I beg you.”

The last thing Elizabeth’s pride wanted was to accept any aid at all from the Darcys, but desperation drove her to consider it. Their mother had taken to her bed, Jane said. The house was in an uproar. An overwhelming desire to be with them, to help Jane, to comfort them all, filled her. In the absence of her uncle, she might even have tried to have one of the servants hire her a carriage. This would be much easier, and besides…what had she to be proud of ?

“Thank you.” She forced the words from her throat. “I can be ready within the hour.”

“Miss Bennet needs you.”

Darcy had been startled by his sister’s sudden entry. Now he could hardly understand her words, watching numbly as she went to the closed drapes and shoved them aside. Pale winter sunlight streamed into the gloomy study.

“I can barely see in here,” she complained.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is as black as a coal digger’s grave in this room. I am allowing in some light.”

“Coal digger’s…no, not that. What about Miss Bennet?”

“I said, Miss Bennet needs you. Mrs Annesley and I called upon her this morning. She had just received a letter from home. Her youngest sister has run off with a man, just like I did, except no one has found her. She wants to go home—Miss Bennet, not the sister, I mean. I offered that we should take her. She has accepted.”

“She-she did?”

Georgiana rolled her eyes, visibly impatient. “Yes! Her relations are from town, and she has no other recourse. We must not allow this opportunity to pass!”

Darcy knew then that this could not be Elizabeth’s preference. However, there was no question but that he would do anything, anything at all to increase her happiness. Elizabeth had chosen someone else, but what did it matter? He was hers, and would put himself at her disposal, whenever he could—always.

He stood. “I shall take her, of course. But do not expect that this will change anything.”

Georgiana put her hands upon her hips. “Well, it will not if you intend to wear that day-old cravat, and arrive coatless and bearded. Do clean yourself up, Fitzwilliam! And hurry! I told her we would be there within the hour! You must have your things packed!”

“We? Packed?”

“You can hardly travel with her alone, and Meryton has inns, does it not? You do intend to offer to assist in finding her sister, do you not? We should plan on at least one night, I think.”

Befuddled at his usually meek sister’s officious manner and bewildered by the unlooked-for opportunity to be near Elizabeth once again, Darcy obediently called for his man.