Short chapter this week because I thought you guys might kill me if I give you a cliffhanger later ;) Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed this week! You guys make me smile :) And thanks to my betas who polished up this chapter. If y'all notice issues, please pass them along!
Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Frerichs
When Darcy returned to Netherfield, Bingley was nearly champing at the bit to call on the Bennets. Darcy would have shared his urgency had he not just spent the past hour with his beloved.
"Did you have a nice ride?" Fitzwilliam asked as soon as Darcy entered the breakfast room.
Despite Miss Bingley's presence, Darcy could not contain the wide grin that spread across his face. "Yes."
Bingley stopped his pacing. "You did?"
"The, er, weather was fair?" Fitzwilliam asked.
Darcy merely replied with an affirmative while he collected his breakfast.
"Mr. Darcy, may I have a moment of your time this morning?" Miss Bingley asked when he sat down.
Darcy suppressed a sigh as he considered her probable topic of conversation and the subsequent eruption that would follow whenever she did manage to corner him if he refused her now. "I am afraid not. Charles and I have already promised to call on the Bennets this morning." He waved a hand towards Bingley who was even now ready to leave, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway of the breakfast room. "I do not think your brother desires to wait any longer."
"I am certain you are not required for this—call," she said.
"Though I may not be required, I desire to pay this call," Darcy said shortly. "And I have already agreed to accompany Charles."
He managed to eat several bites before Miss Bingley continued her wheedling.
"Then I would desire a moment of your time after you return," she said. "I have something in particular to discuss with you."
Darcy set his fork down and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Miss Bingley, you have nothing to say which I have not previously heard and given my response to. I have already warned you of the dangers of meddling in your brother's affairs. I will not be a party to whatever schemes you may have concocted."
Miss Bingley went white, then opened her mouth, a look of rage spreading over her features.
Rather than allowing her to harangue him anymore, Darcy stood. "I believe I am ready now, Charles. Fitzwilliam, are you accompanying us?"
Fitzwilliam cast a wary glance towards Miss Bingley and then announced that he would join the two gentlemen on their call.
Unfortunately, when they reached Longbourn, they were not immediately granted entrance. A harried looking maid opened the door and did not seem eager to admit anyone.
"I will see if they are at home to visitors," she said when they presented their cards.
Darcy's eyebrows shot up. Far from expressing any other plans for the day, Elizabeth had shyly asked if he intended to call that day and had blushed when he promised to come. She had counselled keeping their courtship a secret from Mrs. Bennet lest the woman inundate them with wedding-related queries, and Darcy had bowed to her superior wisdom, promising to bring Bingley with him as a pretext for the call—not that he would have to drag Charles there. He had expected an open welcome today.
Piercing wails rent the air, and all three gentlemen exchanged uneasy glances. What mischief was afoot? Darcy's heart began to race as he tried to divine what the uproar could signal.
"Miss Elizabeth says to wait in the dining room," the maid said when she returned. She ushered them into a small dining room and shut the door.
Upstairs, hurried footsteps rushed from one location to another.
Darcy's frown deepened as worry clogged his thoughts like the sodden clothing that weighed him down as he slogged through the spring floods at Pemberley. Bingley shifted back and forth uneasily, and Fitzwilliam's stance had fallen into military lines as though he were bracing for a crisis. Darcy paced in front of the door, unable to settle.
"I apologise for keeping you waiting," Elizabeth said as she entered.
"Not at all," Darcy said, kissing her hand and studying her pale face.
Elizabeth curtsied. "Mr. Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam."
The gentlemen returned her greeting, then Bingley stepped forward. "Miss Elizabeth, is Miss Bennet all right?"
Elizabeth gave a tight nod. "Jane is fine, other than the distress we are all currently feeling." She wrung her hands, and Darcy could not recall seeing her so agitated. "Lydia has—she has run away with Mr. Wickham."
The room spun as Elizabeth's words echoed through Darcy's mind. "Is it certain?" he asked hoarsely.
"Oh yes. She left a note." Elizabeth ran a shaky hand across her face. "You may read it if you desire." She removed a folded slip of paper from her sleeve, unfolded it, and handed it to Darcy.
Dear Jenny,
Such thrilling and entertaining news I have for you—I can hardly write for laughing at the thought of it: I will be the first of my sisters to be married. Is it not a lark? I have always said that, as I am the tallest, I ought to have precedence and so I will. Tell Mama not to worry. I will send to them later for wedding clothes, and I am certain, once I am married, I will be able to put my sisters in the way of a great many more eligible young soldiers. My darling Wickham has said that, as Mr. Darcy has poisoned my family against him, we will be married in Scotland. La! Can you imagine it? Scotland! Is it not like a fairy tale?
Please wash my pink muslin as it has a stain on the left sleeve; I have hung it across my chair. And, if you have time, I should desire my blue dress to be mended before I return. I know that Mama will ensure I have the loveliest wedding clothes, but I do like that dress and should like to take it with me into my married life. Oh, and of course, you will have to tell Mama and Papa of my departure, but please delay telling them until as late as possible—tomorrow, perhaps.
Lydia
"Who is Jenny?" Darcy asked, passing the letter to Bingley.
"Our maid." Elizabeth threw her hands in the air. "Lydia did not even have the courtesy to leave a note to our parents but told our maid."
"How long ago did they leave?" Fitzwilliam demanded.
"I do not know. She was seen entering her bedchamber at the usual hour last night, and Jenny discovered the note some thirty minutes ago."
"What is being done?" Darcy asked.
Elizabeth's lips trembled. "I have asked the stable hands if they noticed her leaving—they did not. Jane is trying to comfort my mother who is inconsolable that Lydia would deny her a wedding."
"A wedding?" Bingley asked, looking up from the letter. "She believes Wickham will marry Miss Lydia?"
"Lydia said she was eloping with Mr. Wickham, and I do not believe Mama has even considered the alternative," she said in a low voice, her gaze seeking out Darcy.
Darcy clasped her hands, trying to still their fidgets and provide strength. "We will find them. They cannot be far."
"They may be some hours ahead," Elizabeth said shakily.
"Did Miss Lydia's letter say where they intended to go?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"Scotland. It is the only place where they could get married without parental consent. I am certain Lydia would think it an adventure beyond anything to marry at Gretna Green."
"If Wickham intended to marry her," Fitzwilliam said darkly.
A sob broke free from Elizabeth, and Darcy glared at Fitzwilliam.
"She has no money, no prospects," she choked out. "I do not understand why he would have done such a thing."
"Nor do I," Darcy said grimly. "But we will put things to rights." He drew Elizabeth into his arms as though she were Georgiana, trying to comfort her. "What does your father intend to do?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I do not know. I hardly know what can be done."
"We will find them, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said fiercely.
Elizabeth stepped out of Darcy's hold. "Perhaps you would desire to speak to my father."
"If that is all right," Darcy said gently.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand as though trying to assure him wordlessly that she would be all right. After she led them to Mr. Bennet's study, she excused herself to go assist Miss Bennet with their mother's distress.
Upon entering the room, the three gentlemen found him for once without a book, staring blankly ahead.
"Ah, have you come to condole with me? Or perhaps tell me that you were correct?" Mr. Bennet said lightly.
"Not at all, Mr. Bennet," Darcy said. "We have come to see what has been done and how we can help."
Mr. Bennet sighed. "I hardly know what may be done. I have confined my wife to her rooms in hopes that she will not spread the news of Lydia's indiscretion immediately. Were she to speak to her friends, there will be no chance of concealing the truth."
"Miss Elizabeth said she had spoke to the stable hands but none recalled seeing Miss Lydia," Darcy began. "Has anyone ridden after them?"
Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I do not know who I can send to follow them. I must do so, of course, but I dare not set out on such a journey without proper preparation. My man is packing my things as we speak."
Darcy almost snarled at the man. His daughters' lives were at stake, and if something was not done at once—not after preparing for a lengthy journey—a lengthy journey would be necessary.
"We can split up the roads going north and ride out now," Bingley suggested. "We may be able to overtake them and bring Miss Lydia back before nightfall."
Fitzwilliam nodded. "I will speak to Colonel Forster before I leave. Wickham is either absent without leave or he has spun a tale for the Colonel. Perhaps it may give us a clue as to his location, and even if it doesn't, it shall provide us with the necessary leverage if we catch up to him," he said grimly.
"Very well," Darcy agreed. "Mr. Bennet do you wish to join us?"
"I will prepare for the journey north," Mr. Bennet said.
Darcy opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it as he noted the trembling in Mr. Bennet's hands. Perhaps the man felt it more than he seemed to. With a flash of worry, Darcy recalled Mr. Bennet's end Before. He would have to tread lightly lest he precipitate that which he had resolved to prevent, and, if he had the opportunity, perhaps he would try to help Mr. Bennet see that his detachment was merely adding to his stress rather than assisting him with it.
After mapping out the possible roads Wickham and Miss Lydia might have taken and assigning tasks, they took their leave.
"I hate to say it, but this is the misstep you have been looking for on Wickham's part," Fitzwilliam said to Darcy as they mounted their horses.
Darcy nodded but did not reply. If only he had done something sooner.
He had expected Wickham to follow the timetable of Before, expected that they had plenty of time to wait for Wickham's mistakes to give them enough leverage to deal with him. Elizabeth's white face haunted him. He was responsible for hurting her family. Perhaps Wickham had caught wind of their impending courtship somehow and had hurried his timetable for the sake of injuring Darcy.
Would Elizabeth ever forgive him? He had been able to push the thought down, press it below consciousness while in her presence, and focus on reassuring her, but now, away from her clear-eyed gaze, he could not avoid it. His inaction had caused this.
As was his habit, he imagined what Elizabeth would tell him if she were able to speak to his actions at the moment. The scathing tone of her bitter recriminations regarding the "injuries" he had inflicted on Wickham Before filled his mind. But the imaginary Elizabeth wavered, replaced instead by the more recent memory of her earnest belief that Wickham was to blame for his own behaviour. No, his Elizabeth was right: he would not compound his mistakes with Wickham by taking responsibility for the man's actions.
Darcy straightened in the saddle and urged Apollo onward.