Chapter X

A fter a time, even Fitzwilliam grew weary of Lady Catherine's constant complaints, such that he agreed to depart before he might have liked.

"We can receive any updates on the road," said he, "so long as we do not outrun the searchers. And provided we do not deviate from our path."

"I am glad you have finally seen sense," retorted Lady Catherine, a sense of triumph filling her. "We shall make for the Great North Road and proceed at all possible speed. We shall retrieve them by nightfall, I am certain."

Fitzwilliam regarded Lady Catherine for several long moments though in the end, he chose not to reply. Instead, he turned to Darcy.

"Will you see to your carriage?"

"It already awaits us," said Darcy, "as I had it removed before you arrived. The stable hands only need to secure the horses in their traces, as I did not wish them to wait with the carriage for however long it would take before we were ready to depart."

"Good man," said Fitzwilliam. "You would make a fine officer, Darcy."

"What has become of my horses?" asked Lady Catherine. "Given the speed at which I traveled, they require rest."

"My staff saw to their stabling," said Darcy. "They will await your return."

Lady Catherine appeared to wish to say something, no doubt a repeat of her intention to see him married to Anne at once, but she refrained, for a wonder. With a nod, she left to make whatever arrangement she deemed appropriate, leaving the three men to their own devices. Darcy turned to Bingley.

"You mean to accompany us?"

"I do," said his friend with no hint of hesitation. "I shall send my carriage to Netherfield, for I mean to go there once we complete this business. For the moment, what assistance I can offer is yours."

"Thank you, Bingley," replied Darcy, nodding to his friend. "Then I believe there is nothing left to do but depart."

Leaving home for a long journey was always a large undertaking, but in this instance, there was little of that fanfare. There was no carriage of servants or belongings to follow, for they intended to make their way north with all speed, eschewing all but a few changes of clothing. With any luck they would find the runaways before the lack of personal effects became a problem.

Georgiana, Darcy noted, greeted him before he left the house, no doubt wishing to avoid their aunt, who had not spoken one word about his sister. As he could always count on her to pontificate about Georgiana as she would about any other subject, it was a testament to her concern about Anne. Darcy knew much of that concern was her wish to ensure Darcy married her, but it showed a more human side of his aunt.

"I hope you will not need to pursue them for long, Brother," said Georgiana. Darcy had informed her of the situation when his aunt had been resting in one of his bedchambers.

"I hope we shall come across them before nightfall," said Darcy. "When I return, Bingley has invited us to accompany him to Netherfield Park, the estate he leased in Hertfordshire. Do you wish to spend some time there?"

Georgiana regarded him and said: "Do you suppose Aunt Catherine will allow it?"

"With all due respect to our aunt," said Darcy, "she is not in a position to allow us anything."

"No, but her voice is piercing and her demands endless."

Fitzwilliam, who had been nearby, chortled at Georgiana's characterization. "It appears you have met the woman, Georgiana."

Georgiana gave him an impish smile and turned back to Darcy. "Let us discuss it again when I return," said Darcy. "We cannot know how to act until we discover Anne's situation."

"As for our aunt's insistence you restore her reputation," said Fitzwilliam, "that is a matter we can discuss in more detail at a later date."

Darcy peered at his cousin, but Fitzwilliam stepped forward to farewell Georgiana. It was not, Darcy supposed, the proper venue in which to raise such weighty matters, so he pushed it aside for the moment, saying his goodbyes before exiting after his companions.

"It is about time, Darcy!" cried Lady Catherine when she caught sight of him. "I was on the cusp of sending a servant to retrieve you."

"There is no need, Lady Catherine," said Darcy, unperturbed by her annoyance.

Within a few moments the travelers entered his conveyance, and the carriage set off. With Darcy's instructions, the driver attained the best possible speed they could manage in the narrow confines of London's streets, knowing they would travel more quickly when they left the city. Regardless of Lady Catherine's insistence, however, Darcy would not run his horses to the point of exhaustion. They would make better progress if they treated the animals well rather than running them ragged. Darcy made a note to himself to send a footman ahead when they left the city to arrange for changes of horses in certain locations to the north. That would be one of the chief advantages they had over those they pursued.

The first minutes of their journey were uneventful, passing through vistas Darcy had seen innumerable times during his travels. There were some miles to traverse before they reached the roads heading north, and inevitably there were delays, as traffic grew heavy, or circumstances blocked their path. Despite Aunt Catherine's constant moaning because of the slowness of their progression, Darcy thought they made good time. Soon they approached the limits of the sprawling city. Then the carriage slowed, and the driver alerted them to the approach of a Darcy footman.

"Mr. Darcy," said the man, named Peters as he drew his horse to a halt and dismounted. "Word has come from Watford that a coach carrying a woman matching the description of Miss de Bourgh was seen passing through the town."

"Watford?" demanded Lady Catherine, having followed Darcy from the carriage. "That must be in error. Watford is not on the road leading north."

"It is on a road leading north," disagreed Fitzwilliam as he considered this new communication. "If I am not very much mistaken, the road to Watford leads to Meryton."

"It does," said Bingley. "I remember passing through Watford on my way to Netherfield Park last year."

"As do I," agreed Darcy.

"That would seem to firm my suspicion that we are dealing with George Wickham." Fitzwilliam turned to Peters and asked: "Was there a description of anyone traveling with her?"

"No sir," said the footman. "There was a man with her, but I received no description."

Fitzwilliam nodded and turned to Darcy, who nodded. "We cannot ignore this report."

"Of course, we can!" snapped Lady Catherine. "It is obviously in error. The most direct route to Scotland is the Great North Road. This notion of Anne passing through Watford is nonsense."

"This is exactly why we waited before setting out," said Fitzwilliam, directing a pointed look at his aunt. "While the report may be in error, it is a risk we cannot take. As I said before, the report of Anne traveling through Watford is evidence of Wickham's involvement."

Lady Catherine huffed, but she did not protest, though she could not desist without one last comment. "Very well. But if this proves to be a fabrication, and it delays my reunion with Anne, I shall hold you responsible."

So, Lady Catherine entered the carriage again, calling for them to join her so they could be on their way. The three men exchanged wry looks, then Darcy gave the instructions to the driver and footman, and they entered and were soon off again.

"Your aunt is correct," said Bingley as they got underway again. "It makes little sense for them to go through Watford, as that is a most indirect route. Do you suppose they did so to throw off any pursuit?"

"It is possible," conceded Fitzwilliam. "However, my thoughts keep returning to George Wickham. If it is he as I suspect, his purpose for going through Watford and Meryton might rest on his familiarity with the location and his former fellows."

Fitzwilliam snorted with disdain. "November is a long time for one of Wickham's ilk to stay in one place—I might have expected the men of the regiment and the townsfolk to know exactly what he is by now. He may intend to call in some favors if he was farsighted enough to accumulate such."

"By now he must have worn out his welcome," said Darcy.

"Yes, I expect he has." Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy for a long moment. "There may be some succor for him in the regiment if he has refrained from angering them, an uncertain prospect to be certain."

"I suspect we shall discover it before long," said Darcy. "Mayhap they traveled a different road from Watford, but I suspect you are correct. It is almost certain we will at least find traces of Anne's passage in Meryton, even if it does not lead us to Wickham's involvement.

"What is north of this Meryton?" asked Lady Catherine.

"Nothing but estates to the immediate north," replied Bingley. "From Meryton one may go either to the northwest to Luton, or the northeast to Stevenage. Due north from Meryton will lead to Longbourn, Lucas Lodge, and my leased estate at Netherfield Park."

Lady Catherine regarded Bingley for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "It is my understanding that you mean to raise yourself by purchasing an estate and joining the ranks of the landed."

"It is my father's particular wish," said Bingley. "He charged me with exactly that just before his passing."

The nod with which Lady Catherine responded was thoughtful. "That is well then."

She turned to Darcy. "Then your friendship with Mr. Bingley is acceptable. His descent is still unfortunate, and it will take many years for his descendants to achieve full acceptance. But his intention to become a gentleman speaks well to his understanding of his family duty. While I might wish you showed a little more attention to upholding the differences between the classes, I can overlook it."

"Thank you, Aunt Catherine," said Darcy, endeavoring to show no hint of his hilarity. "I am glad you see matters as I do."

Lady Catherine offered a regal nod then turned her attention to the passing scenery while Fitzwilliam regarded Darcy waggling his eyebrows in his amusement, while Bingley appeared bemused at the rather backhanded approval he had just secured. So, the journey continued, as they finally made their way from London and out into the countryside beyond. It was not where they had expected to go, but it appeared they had at least found the trail of their wayward cousin.

"Mr. Wickham!" called Lydia the moment she caught sight of the former officer. Kitty followed along behind her suddenly hurrying sister, grumbling at Lydia's persistence. "We found your missing friend."

The man turned a charming smile on Lydia whereas a moment before Kitty had been certain he was swearing. "Thank you for your timely help, Miss Lydia," said he. "Where is she?"

"It is the most ridiculous bit of irony Mr. Wickham; I am certain you will laugh when I tell you."

"If you do not tell me at once," replied he, nothing of laughter in his voice, "that is the last thing I shall do."

Lydia took no heed of his testy words. "Why, Kitty and I saw your friend departing from Meryton on the road to Longbourn in the company of my eldest sisters. Is that not a fine joke?"

"Anne was with your sisters?" demanded he, a sudden crease marring the skin between his brows. "When was this?"

"Perhaps five or ten minutes gone," said Lydia.

Mr. Wickham appeared quite put out, and Kitty expected him to say something caustic. Whether he was or it was her misconception she could not say, for he mastered himself and turned another charming smile on them.

"I am certain it is nothing more than a bit of civility on their part. For you see, your sister, Elizabeth, made her acquaintance when she was in Kent."

"Is that so?" asked Lydia, with more than a hint of interest. "Did you see her while she was there?"

"Regrettably," said Mr. Wickham, beginning to walk down the street toward his carriage, "I arrived too late to be admitted to the pleasure of her company."

"Yes, that is unfortunate, indeed."

Kitty caught the hint of mocking in Lydia's tone, and she could not imagine Mr. Wickham had missed it either. The man made no response, however, continuing his congenial act.

"It appears I must go to Longbourn to retrieve my companion. Should you wish it, I would be happy to see you to your father's door in my carriage."

"Of course, Mr. Wickham," said Lydia at once. "Kitty and I should be happy to accept your kind offer."

This was a bridge too far, and Kitty spoke up at once. "No, Lydia, we shall not."

Lydia spun about to glare at Kitty, angry at the unexpected betrayal, but Kitty would not relent.

"It is not proper for us to ride in Mr. Wickham's carriage, Lydia. I shall not allow it."

"Surely you think better of me than that, Miss Kitty," said Mr. Wickham.

The way he regarded her sent shivers up Kitty's spine, for she did not like it at all. All the malevolence in the world appeared to have gathered in the breast of George Wickham and was now peering out at her through his eyes. The sight firmed Kitty's resolve that neither she nor Lydia would set one foot in Mr. Wickham's carriage, no matter how Lydia insisted.

"It is not a matter of what I think of you, Mr. Wickham," said Kitty. "The only consideration of any consequence is the proprieties of the situation."

"You and your sister may be each other's chaperones," said he reasonably. "I can see nothing of impropriety in the situation."

"Regardless, I am the elder sister and I have decided," said Kitty, taking no notice of Lydia's huff or her dark glare that promised retribution.

Lydia could not make Kitty's life any more miserable than it was now, with her crowing over her good fortune to go to Brighton. That Kitty was now beginning to wonder if Brighton would be such an adventure as Lydia supposed was not part of the equation. Either way, Kitty had no intention of yielding, so nothing Mr. Wickham or her sister said would induce her to recant. Kitty was certain Lizzy and her father would agree with her decision when they learned of it.

"You wish to walk to Longbourn?" asked Mr. Wickham, as if the distance were further than a walk to London.

"It is a path we know very well, for we walk it several times each week," replied Kitty simply. "I cannot imagine it will defeat us today."

"Very well," said Mr. Wickham, his mask slipping, revealing more of the man behind it. "I have no need of you."

With that, Mr. Wickham turned on his heel, leaving Kitty in the street with an irate Lydia.

"Kitty!" screeched she. "What do you mean by preventing me from returning to Longbourn with Mr. Wickham?"

"Did you not hear my reasons?" asked Kitty, for once unmoved by her younger sister's displeasure. "It was not proper for us to travel in a carriage alone with Mr. Wickham. You know this."

"I know nothing of the sort," retorted Lydia. "As he said himself, we could have provided chaperonage for each other."

"Lydia, do you not suspect something wrong with Mr. Wickham?" demanded Kitty. "Did his behavior not seem off to you? Why is he here with a woman known to Lizzy? Lizzy left town with this woman in tow. Does that not tell you something about what she feels on the subject?

"I dislike the way Mr. Wickham looked at us, Lydia," concluded Kitty. "There was something altogether unsavory about his behavior today. I do not mean to put myself in his power, nor do I mean to allow you to do the same."

"What are you saying?"

Intent as they were on their argument, neither Kitty nor Lydia saw their elder sister's approach. Mary regarded them, her expression stern as it usually was, only this time it was also faintly demanding. As Mary had sometimes intimidated Kitty, she looked away, unwilling to bring the condemnation of the most judgmental of the Bennet sisters upon her head.

It appeared to be more of the silliness her younger sisters betrayed constantly. Yet it also appeared to be something more, for it was not like Kitty to stand up to Lydia in such a way.

Mary had been engaged in Mr. Lodge's bookstore the entire time of the sisters' sojourn in Meryton, though she remembered Lizzy telling her she was leaving. While Mary rarely spent so much time there, that day she found not only a piece of music that she had wished to procure for some time, but a book Mr. Lodge had promised to locate for her. In the end, she had spent much more time there than she had expected or planned.

When she had exited the shop, she noted the position of her sisters and their argument at once, for they had stopped in the middle of the street nearby. Muttering to herself at the silliness of the girls, Mary approached them, but then the importance of their argument had pierced her interest. Kitty looked away, studiously avoiding Mary's gaze, and Lydia, uncharacteristically, was not behaving much differently from Kitty, which was also a matter of interest. Knowing they did not respond to her unless she was firm with them, Mary asked her question again.

"Kitty, Lydia, I am waiting." Mary could not help but tap her foot on the gravel of the road beneath her feet. "What is this I hear of Mr. Wickham? I thought he had departed from Meryton."

"We saw him today, Mary," replied Kitty, still seeming somewhat abashed.

"Yes, and?" prompted Mary.

With a sigh, Kitty related what they had seen and done that afternoon, including Mr. Wickham's search for a young woman, and Elizabeth and Jane escorting her from the town toward Longbourn. The name of the young woman prompted some echo of remembrance, but Mary could not quite determine what it was until the mention of Kent reminded her.

"Anne, you say?" demanded Mary. "Mr. Wickham mentioned Lizzy knew her in Kent?"

"That was what he said," replied Kitty; Lydia still refused to speak.

"Then I suspect it was Anne de Bourgh. If you recall, Mr. Collins referred to her several times when he stayed with us in November."

Eyes wide, proving Kitty remembered, she nodded without saying a word.

"If Mr. Wickham came to Meryton with a woman of Anne de Bourgh's position in society, it can presage nothing good," continued Mary. "Now, what happened after?"

It was more of their inability to behave themselves, for it was Mary's firm opinion they should have rebuffed Mr. Wickham's request. When Kitty recited Lydia's insistence on telling Mr. Wickham what they had seen of Elizabeth and Anne, she turned a scowl on her youngest sister, which the girl returned in equal measure. The final bit of crowning glory of Lydia's foolishness was her wish to accompany Mr. Wickham in his carriage to Longbourn.

"You did well to refuse to even entertain such a notion as traveling in Mr. Wickham's carriage," said Mary, smiling at her younger sister. "It was, as you noted, improper in the extreme to even consider going with him."

"We would have been each other's chaperone!" exclaimed Lydia, throwing her hands up and stalking about in a temper. "Why can you not see that?"

"Yet it is still improper," maintained Mary. "I would not have thought you so blind, Lydia."

"Do not lecture me, Mary. I know how to behave."

"And yet you rarely betray this knowledge to anyone else."

Lydia glared, but she did not respond, curious as the girl rarely allowed anyone else to have the last word in an argument. Mary ignored her in favor of Kitty.

"Where is Mr. Wickham now?"

Kitty frowned and looked down the street. "His carriage was there," said she, pointing at a position perhaps halfway between the southern and northern edges of town. "He must have departed while Lydia and I argued."

There was little enough they could do. Mr. Wickham would go to Longbourn and if he did not reach Lizzy and her guest before they reached the safety of the estate, Mary could not imagine her father handing the woman over to his care. Though indolent, her father was no fool. What might happen should he come across them before they reached Longbourn Mary did not wish to consider, for she could not imagine it would go at all well for them. Or at least for this Miss de Bourgh—Mary did not suppose Mr. Wickham had any interest in Elizabeth, not if he meant to make his escape with Miss de Bourgh.

Then again, thought Mary with a grimace, she also could not imagine Elizabeth allowing the man to leave with Miss de Bourgh without a fight. Mary had the firmest reliance on Elizabeth's determination when she thought she was in the right, and there was no question Elizabeth would believe herself correct in such a situation.

"How long before Mr. Wickham departed did you see Elizabeth and Jane escorting Miss de Bourgh toward Longbourn?"

Kitty turned to Lydia who only scowled.

"Perhaps ten minutes?"

Mary quickly calculated the distance and relative speeds of the carriage against the walkers. "Then I suspect they will reach Longbourn before Mr. Wickham can arrive. That is for the best."

"What do you mean?" asked Lydia with a frown.

"For heaven's sake, Lydia!" exclaimed Mary. "Use your head for something other than a place to carry your bonnet! Mr. Wickham has brought Miss de Bourgh here for some purpose of his own, but his overall objective must be marriage to control her dowry. If Elizabeth somehow convinced her it was not wise and hurried her to Longbourn, do you suppose Mr. Wickham will be content to allow her to escape his clutches?"

"I never thought Mr. Wickham so bad as this," said Lydia, every other feeling giving way to shock.

"As I know little of the man," retorted Mary, a little more sharply than she intended, "I cannot say. What you told me suggests he is not a man to be trusted, regardless of the front he presented to the community when he was here."

"Then what should we do?" asked Kitty.

"We should make for home at once," replied Mary. "Though I have little notion that we may assist, it would be best if we put ourselves behind Longbourn's walls as soon as may be."

Mary began to walk, hearing her sisters' footsteps hurriedly approaching a moment later.

"Do you suppose he might turn to one of us?" asked Kitty, a little of her fretful nature coming to the fore.

"We have not much fortune to give," said Lydia. "Not next to the wealth Miss de Bourgh must surely possess."

Mary, however, was considering other stratagems, ploys that a libertine might employ to advance his designs. Would Mr. Bennet, for example, continue to protect Miss de Bourgh if Mr. Wickham had one of his daughters in his clutches? Mary could not say Mr. Wickham was so morally bankrupt as all this, but she was not about to test the theory either. Thus, Mary hurried her sisters along.