Thank you for reading my story.
AN: That bundle was NOT Miss Colton's baby either. When the man said, "Do what you must, but get that babe out of there." he meant to get Elizabeth out of the Matlock's estate. The man was BRIBING Elizabeth's wet nurse to help them in kidnapping her. The bundle contained money and laudanum, in case the wet nurse had to temporarily dispose someone.
I hope this clears your doubt.
I have posted Chapter 4 of The Ward.
PLEASE REVIEW. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS MOST WELCOME.
CHAPTER 12 : MUSING
The Matlock House, London
Elizabeth gazed up at the ceiling, lost in her chaotic thoughts. It was quite late in the night, yet she could hardly bring herself to close her eyes. However, unlike other nights since she had left Longbourn, she was not contemplating the drastic changes in her life.
Her thoughts were centred around someone...a cousin of hers, Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth was unsure, perplexed with the feelings that arose in her whenever she was in his company. She had always prided herself for her sensibilty and courage. There was a stubbornness in her that refused to be intimidated by anything or anyone... till now.
Ever since she had met him that fateful night in Hertfordshire, she had found him fascinating. Over the years she had gotten her fair share of attention from men and knew that she was no ugly duckling as much as she was no beautiful swan. But, the attention that Mr Darcy paid to her, generated a frustrating tangle of contradictory emotions in her.
Confusion, curiosity, hope and most prominent of all, a strange warm fluttering and a queer giddiness which disconcerted her. She had never been a fanciful maiden, yet she was being as silly as Lydia, when there were more important matters that should occupy her mind.
Elizabeth knew that even though her new found family was tight lipped about it, she was still in imminent danger. Mr Barrows attempt at...whatever it was that he wanted to do to her and subsequent death were proof of that. Furthermore, the drastic rise in her station, her elevation from the daughter of a country squire of modest means to that of the daughter of a powerful Earl, was enough to upend anyone's equanimity...the equilibrium of life, like it had done hers.
Then there were the Fitzwilliams who left no stone unturned to show their love for her or made her feel cherished. After years of separation, the entire family seemed to gravitate towards her, showering her with affection.
But, she could not bring herself to focus on that. Her mind iteratively played every moment she had spent in Mr Darcy's company. She remembered the coal black flames that lit his eyes every time he beheld her, the warmth in his voice when he addressed her, the concern he felt for her and the unending support he lent her.
Just like the moment they had shared in the carriage when he had comforted her with a small gesture, recognising her vulnerability, he always seemed to know when she was overwhelmed, when she needed a respite. It was almost as if he could read her mind.
And as if his kindness and warmth were not enough to draw her in, his intelligence enamoured her. He was well read and astute and unlike a majority of males in the dogmatic society in which they lived, he felt no bitterness or anger whatsoever, on being bested in a debate by a lady. Mr Darcy challenged her. Even when he proved her wrong, he did it with a disarming gentility.
He was everything a gentleman should be and more.
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth realized that her heart was truly in the danger of being lost.
The Darcy House, London
Not unlike Elizabeth, Darcy's thoughts were in chaos. His object of contemplation were a pair of fine, emerald green eyes which were as enchanting as the dear face in which they were set.
Ever since their first meeting at Meryton Assembly, he was captivated by her wit, charm and liveliness. Apart from her true identity, Elizabeth's effervescence was what which drew him in. He knew that whilst they shared an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a keen intellect, they were still as different as night and day.
While he was boorish and socially inept, preferring the solitude of his home to balls and parties, she was lively and possessed an ability to brefriend anyone she so wished. She was his exact opposite, yet perfect for him in every way.
Mr Darcy knew that their lack of success in capturing the culprits who had taken her away all those years ago, meant that she was still in danger. Barrows's death was a harrowing evidence of the callousness of the perpetrator. It was a damning proof that no lines shall be left uncrossed by them to protect their identity.
Apparently, it was no good omen for Elizabeth.
Still, he could not suppress his feelings, the emotions that the said lady generated in him. And every moment that he spent with her, caused him to fall deeper, harder.
For the first time in his life, Mr Darcy had fallen in love and there was nothing he could do about it.
Arryndale, London
Mr Jeremiah Edwards reclined in his chair, nursing a glass of brandy and contemplating the unexpected development in the case he was currently handling. His shock had been great when he had first received the astounding news. He could not even begin to imagine the uproar it will cause when he delivered it to Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Earlier in the day, a woman had surreptitiously slipped in the abandoned house in Cheapside, the address of which Mrs Caruther had given to the bank. The woman had discreetly tucked the letter in her skirt and hurried away with Mr Robins following her from a safe distance.
They had never expected to succeed so quickly for they had expected to wait for days before someone came to take the letter. However, it seemed that either the woman daily checked the house for mails or she had been tipped off by someone. Whatever it maybe, she had led Mr Robins to a grand townhouse in Grosvenor Square.
And the identity of the owner was the cause of his shock.
Golden Partridge inn, London
Mr Beverly exited the seedy place, satisfied. He had accomplished his task and retrieved the required information from the man who had delivered the letter in Cheapside earlier that day.
Even though he had to spend money to ensure that the man was heavily in his cups, before getting him to spill, he was content that he had gotten the information which Mr Edwards sought.
The Matlock House, London
The next day did not bring any respite to Colonel Fitzwilliam from the tumultuous thoughts that had plagued him since his father's confession the day before. Even though he knew it was a tacitly accepted convention, a practice for most members of the peerage to keep mistresses or frequent brothels, it was still disconcerting for him to hear about his father's indiscretions, even when he had not technically betrayed Mother.
He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, trying to futilely analyse the entire situation. More so, he was also aware that the death of Emily Sutherby raised further questions.
According to Jeremiah, the trust fund was set up twenty one years ago, the year Elizabeth was born.
So, if Emily Sutherby was truly dead, then who had set up the fund in her name and why did they kidnap Elizabeth?
Neither having an answer for the numerous questions that plagued him, nor being anywhere near the truth, exacerbated his irritation.
Frustrated, the Colonel turned to the missive he had received earlier that morning, trying to gain his equanimity by focussing on something mundane. He tore the envelop and unfolded the letter.
However, it seemed that Colonel Fitzwilliam was not to have a moment of peace that day. With each word he read, his ire rose. Fuming, he rose from his seat and pocketed the letter.
A few moments later, he was on the road, spurring his horse towards Darcy's house.
They had a reprobate to deal with and hopefully send to hell!
