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A Wicked, White Cravat
by Anton M.

Chapter 10: Finding Elizabeth

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Charlotte and her mother called out to Elizabeth to no avail. A deep worry settled in Charlotte's stomach.

"Oh, dear," her mother said, but Charlotte had a much more practical mind. She turned and started running to the main house.

"We need to call for help!"

Her mother rushed after her. "But whose? Mr. Darcy's?"

Charlotte paused. "No, it needs to be Mr. Bennet. If she is—"

She dared not finish her sentence. But their intentions, although honourable, could not be fulfilled for they met Mr. Darcy in the hallway, and there was no hiding the cause for their alarm. With three long strides, he was in front of them. His face was severe as ever, and the women curtsied.

"Mr. Darcy, sir," Charlotte said. "Miss Elizabeth— we lost her!"

"What do you mean, you lost her?! Where? What happened?"

"We went to—to—" Charlotte flushed, uncomfortable with her own words, but she pushed on, "—relieve ourselves, but she never returned."

Darcy blinked in disbelief before springing into action. "Show me where!" he shouted, rushing toward to the front door quicker than the women could keep up with him.

"There, by that corner of the stable—" Charlotte replied, panting. "—there is a place there where one can…" she trailed off, flushing furiously.

Darcy barely noticed. Taking a torch by the wall, he said, "Go to Mr. Bennet, and tell him all you told me, and tell him to come to me, alone. Then, find Mr. Bingley and tell him to cover the west wing. Tell him to find men he trusts." He observed the way the houses created shadows. "Tell them I will start from the stables and move to the basement of the east wing."

"But, sir, what if others find out—"

"I do not care a whit. Make haste!"

He ran to the location they had shown, lighting up the side of the wall with his torch, and confirmed that it was empty. He questioned the footman by the front door. Elizabeth had not re-entered with anyone else, and he would have known — Elizabeth was a frequent enough guest in Netherfield. But Darcy had not expected it. He was frantic, frantic not just to find her, but to avoid thinking about the many ways she could be harmed, right at that moment. Why had Mr. Bennet not accompanied her!

He did not consider that she had just walked away on her own into the darkness. Someone had to have taken her.

Would they have taken her away on a horse and demand ransom? Out of all the options, he hoped for this one, and he did not give a tinker's damn about how much they would ask, as long as they did not harm her. But it was not likely, for the footman by the front door had not seen a horseman escaping.

Darcy threw open the doors of the stable and was met with around half a dozen men, a few servants, footmen and stableboys. The men stood abruptly, hiding beer behind them, brushing off the cards on a make-do table.

The men looked terrified of him.

Darcy recognised two men, and approached Josiah, Bingley's stableboy.

"Do you trust these men?"

Josiah swallowed, nodding. "As much as I know them, sir."

"A woman has been taken just outside this stable, and help is needed in finding her. If you are willing, the coach house, the entire stable and the coachmen quarters need searching, as well as the main servants quarters in the basement and attic."

Having confirmed that all men were willing and that no horses or carriages had been stolen, Darcy left the details of who would cover which quarters to the men and told them to find him in the basement of the east wing of Netherfield if they had any information.

When rushing out of the stables, he ran into a panting Mr. Bennet. Both men stared at each other, horrified, and neither was willing to give voice to their fears. Darcy motioned for them to run toward the darkest side of the Netherfield main building, and they split up to cover more ground.

"If you must kick down some locked doors to confirm she's not there, do it," Darcy said. "I will pay. Speed is of the essence."

Unfortunately, there was no hiding what they were doing, and Darcy questioned many a servant in his rush, until, in the sixth room he entered, two of the footmen from the stable, Mr. Wynn and Mr. Huxley, delivered a tall, brown-haired man to Mr. Darcy.

"No servant could recognise this man, sir. We found him sneaking into the back of the stable, intending to run away with a horse. He refuses to speak."

"I know this man." Mr. Darcy, who had a few inches on him, stepped so close to Lady Catherine's previous steward that it made the steward uncomfortable. "Mr. Hayward, I see that you have a lot to enlighten me about, but more important matters first." He forced the man to back away against the wall, pressing against his neck. "Tell me where she is."

Mr. Hayward smelled of alcohol, and his smile disgusted Darcy. "Gladly," he said. "It was not the intention to keep her for long, you see. Just long enough."

"Long enough for what?!" Darcy demanded, but the man walked out of the room with Darcy and the two footmen behind. The man delivered them to a hidden stairway leading to an old wine cellar, and Darcy would've been beaten down the door had it been possible. It was a thick, small door with a triangle top, and when Mr. Hayward took his sweet time unlocking it, Darcy fought the urge to choke the man. His imagination ran wild, fearing what they would find, when finally, the door opened.

Darcy rushed inside. A man with a disfigured face lay against tilted shelves, covered in what appeared to be blood. At second glance, Darcy realised that it was wine. Shards of glass covered the floor.

Elizabeth stood next to the window, having clearly wrenched off a rotten plank from the window only to discover iron bars behind the wood. Her gloves were damaged on the insides of her wrists, and she held the wood as if to defend herself against anyone daring to enter. She lowered it when she recognised her future husband.

Darcy, almost delirious with relief, moved to embrace her, but when Mr. Hayward made his escape, Darcy instructed Mr. Wynn to run after him.

He told Mr. Huxley to deliver news of finding Elizabeth alive and healthy to Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bingley, and anyone else who was still looking. Darcy instructed the man to tell Elizabeth's father and her family to wait for them in the library, and Mr. Huxley left with a nod.

Once they were alone, Darcy set his torch in the sconce on the wall, and held Elizabeth's shoulders as he ran his eyes over her, terrified of what had happened to her but relieved to have found her. She looked up at him, eyes wide and searching. Her sadness was obvious, and Darcy held her tightly to himself, rubbing her back. Elizabeth felt stiff in his arms.

"Did he— did he—"

He could never get the words out, but Elizabeth shook her head.

"No," she whispered, and Darcy felt unimaginable relief wash over him. "Mr. Collins moved to— possibly— I thought he would, and I— I may have killed him."

In response to her words, Darcy moved to pick up a shard and held it against Mr. Collins' face.

It fogged up with his silent breaths.

Elizabeth was so relieved that her knees buckled, but when Darcy moved to hold her, she shook her head and took a step back. With her time in the dark cellar, she had realised the implications of her perceived loss of virtue, and the likelihood that this had been the intention of kidnapping her from the very beginning.

"If you wish to break our engagement, I will talk to my father and it shall be done," she said, voice clear but barely above a whisper. Her face was so neutral that Darcy could not fathom her words. He was desperate to hold her.

"Why would I do that?"

"Nothing happened while I was stuck here, but there is—" She swallowed, and her voice was unrecognisable. He saw, now, that she was fighting tears. "I have no way to prove it."

He, like everyone, had grown up knowing that a man's lot in life was different from a woman's, but never had the he understood the implications better than the last few weeks, and it tore at his insides. It was beyond unfair, it was inhumane.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, quietly, almost certainly knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

"No!" Her whisper was sharp and horrified. "But if you feel… I will not stand in your way if you no longer trust me to be— to have—"

He knew the words she could not say.

She let out a shaky breath and swallowed, forcing herself to continue. "A man of your station requires a wife to have unquestionable virtue. I could have everyone vouch for my character at Longbourn, but here— now— nobody could, I cannot—"

Her sharp breath ended her stutter, and she turned away her face to hide her tears.

"And you would just let me go," he said in disbelief.

She bit the inside of her cheek and pressed her nails into her palm, hurting her skin to keep composure until this gut-wrenching conversation was over. Then, she could lick her wounds for the rest of time.

"Yes," she whispered, horrified by his calmness. "You need not talk to my— I will handle it. You may— you may walk away—" She took another sharp breath. "—with your honour intact. I will pose no threat to your future, I promise you that."

Her eyes shimmered, her throat closed up, and she was barely hanging by a thread, hoping that he would walk away and end her torture and yet, horrified that once he did, she would never see him again. She would be a leaf in the wind for him.

Darcy stood still, desperate to console her but fearing that she felt so little for him that she would use this as an excuse to be rid of him, however dismal the alternative. Her words were incomprehensible.

"And why would you let me walk away?" he asked.

"Because I love you!"

She stepped back immediately, her eyes wide and petrified.

"No! Sir, Mr. Darcy— I did not mean—"

Darcy, feeling like his heart might beat out of his chest, took a step closer while Elizabeth took a step back. His fear and hope was such that he couldn't think or breathe.

"You did not mean it or you did not mean to say it?"

Elizabeth took another step back and hit the stone wall.

"To say it," she whispered. "I do not mean to make you stay, sir—" Her voice broke. "Please forget I said anything. It is irrelevant. If you mean to be free of me, please do not— I cannot—"

Darcy took two strides and wrapped her in his winter coat. He held her tightly, feeling the warmth of her tears, kissing her hair, feeling like he could burst out of himself. He had dreaded her words, telling him that he could just walk away. She had been out of her senses to say it, but then, she was a most singular woman and must have meant it, whatever that implied for her own future.

Darcy smelled her hair, blew away a ringlet from her ear and whispered, "Elizabeth, even if you had been determined to drive me away, I could never be free of you. It is impossible, now. I am yours."

She squeezed him, sniffing sharply. "But, sir, I cannot— I cannot prove that nothing happened—"

He knew that, sometimes, a woman's virtue could be proven by a doctor, but he had no trust in it, and he would never put Elizabeth through the torture of such an examination.

"There is not a part of me that cares, Elizabeth," he said. "You are the most precious creature for me, and I trust you."

Elizabeth paused. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he replied.

Elizabeth's breathing evened out. She shifted to lift her arms and touch his face with both of her hands. Her fingers met with his smooth, shaved cheeks, and she cupped his neck, shivering from nerves, exhaustion and excitement. She rested her forehead against his lips and shut her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered.

He pressed a tender kiss against her forehead, slowly, relishing her every breath. Every fibre of his being was buzzing, like a shock without end, and he caressed the side of her face, brushing her hair away with the pad of his thumb. He pressed a kiss on her eyes, her nose (she smiled), and finally, her lips. He felt like he could burst into flames.

"You don't know," he whispered against her ear, holding her waist, half-afraid that he would wake up at any moment. "You don't know— how much I admire and love you. Never tell me to walk away from you again. I cannot. Where you go, I go. It is not a choice I can make for there is no other way for me."

Standing in his arms, she felt like nothing could ever be as dear to her as her future husband. She smiled through her unshed tears.

"William," she whispered. Darcy pressed her close, touching her forehead with his and closing his eyes, feeling her breath on his face. Slowly and tenderly, he kissed her, and Elizabeth smiled against his kiss. The excitement and rage of the evening had given Darcy enough energy to kiss her for the whole night, to make sure every inch of her knew how much she meant to him, but he knew she must be checked by a doctor and spend time with her family who would want to ensure that no harm had come her way.

Darcy picked up his torch from the wall sconce after tucking her by his side.

"We'll send a doctor to see him," he said, pointedly not looking at where Mr. Collins lay for fear of being tempted to end what Elizabeth had begun. Arm-in-arm, they walked around the building, and Darcy pressed one last kiss against her temple before they rounded the corner and met the footman by the front door.

"Would you please send for a doctor for Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

The footman bowed and rushed inside. Darcy and Elizabeth were both relieved to hear music from the ballroom, for it meant that not everyone was aware of her disappearance.

Darcy ordered the servants to find footmen who could carry Mr. Collins to an empty bedroom, and clean up the mess left behind in the old wine cellar. Darcy wished he could leave him to wither away where he was. Although he was sure they would win the murder trial if it came to that, he did not wish to spend the first few weeks they were married, in court.

Elizabeth and Darcy entered the library together. Elizabeth's family rushed to her side, asking questions upon questions. Elizabeth embraced her father, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose, and when a nearby maid took off her stained coat, it was evident that the bottom of her white dress was covered in wine. Fearing another reason for the redness, the entire room fell silent.

"It is wine," Elizabeth said, and her family let out a collective breath of relief. "I was in an old wine cellar. I am entirely unharmed."

Lady Catherine, Earl Henry and Countess Margaret stood behind the table, observing the warmth and love of the Bennets and the Gardiners as Elizabeth told the story of what happened. Her family, and especially her sisters, were beyond relieved that no damage had been done to her virtue.

"And the engagement?" Lady Catherine asked after Elizabeth had finished her story.

"What about the engagement?" Darcy replied, pretending not to understand.

"You know very well of what I speak. Miss Elizabeth was locked in a room together with a man for an extended period of time. A man who was not you."

Mr. Bennet listened intently, fearing above all else that Mr. Darcy would break the engagement over the incident.

"Did you not hear what Miss Elizabeth said?" Darcy replied. "Had you seen the man in question, you would, no doubt, agree with me that he could not have done any harm to Miss Elizabeth. We left him unconscious, and his severe injuries confirm Miss Elizabeth's story."

"So your engagement is intact?" Lady Catherine said in disbelief, face reddening.

"Of course," Darcy confirmed to the collective happiness of more than half of the room. He squeezed Elizabeth's shoulder, concerned for her bruised wrists but relieved that she had no open wounds.

"It is unheard of that a man of your station would tie himself to a woman with questionable—"

"I shall send the doctor to look at you next, aunt, for your hearing may be damaged. There are no questions about Elizabeth's virtue."

"But she spent—"

"You are intelligent enough to know that my word, and only mine, matters here. If I, as her fiancé, am ready to proceed with the engagement, everyone will presume no real harm was done to her, which is, in the end, the truth."

"But Mr. Collins—"

Elizabeth snapped her eyes on Darcy's before she stood up and walked over to Lady Catherine. "I never said the man was Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said in a voice so cold even Darcy had not been on the receiving end of such icy tone. "I never said his name. It is curious that you have intimate knowledge of the men who had the intention to harm me."

"I— I—" Lady Catherine stuttered, and when she failed to form words, Mrs. Bennet walked directly to the woman and slapped her across the face so hard that the entire room held their breath.

"How dare you!" she shouted. She started to turn but unexpectedly faced Lady Catherine again, and slapped her a second time. "How dare you!"

Darcy had been brought up taking pride in his station and family honour, but he realised that this was the first time in his life that he had seen an example of it that was not just held for social protocol, and it was coming from the members of the family he had resented becoming connected to!

Bingley locked eyes with Darcy, and both men had to turn away their faces, for they could not hide their smiles in spite of the situation. Bingley had once told a horrified Darcy that he felt the Bennets to have more family honour than both of their families combined, and Darcy had scoffed at the idea.

Bingley had been right.

Men of high rank and station, when faced with a moral dilemma, could afford to — and often did — do the wrong thing due to having the connections and the money to buy themselves out of scandal. A country gentleman such as Mr. Bennet, and his daughters, could only rely on their own honesty and virtue when faced with a moral dilemma, and they certainly could not afford to make the wrong choice without severe consequences.

If his aunt had been a man, Darcy would have invited her to a duel, but since that was not the case, he walked over to the door, closed it, and walked Elizabeth back to the chair she had sat on. He leaned against the side of her chair, touching her bare hand, uncaring of any social protocol that considered this to be an act of impropriety.

"It appears that you have something to tell us, aunt," Darcy said.

Lady Catherine rushed toward the door, but Countess Margaret stepped in front of it and refused to move.

"I admit I felt sorry for your dilemma, Catherine, and your fear that Darcy's future wife would dishonour the family name felt acute. But other than a less-than-conventional engagement, an exceptional concern for the welfare of their daughters and a smaller dowry than men of high rank hope for, I admit I have not yet seen anything to discredit Miss Elizabeth. I cannot give you the privilege of a private audience for I feel that the Bennet family deserves to hear you more than we do, but please. Tell us, how did you know that the man in the wine cellar was Mr. Collins?"

Lady Catherine, like a cornered dog, backed away against the wall, jaw set but eyes revealing her fury.

"I am most eager to hear your thoughts, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth said.

Darcy had already figured out that his failure to locate Mr. Collins was due to the fact that one of the men he had hired, the old steward Mr. Hayward, had to have been in full knowledge of Mr. Collins' location and hiding it, or was made to hide the location by his aunt.

"I found out their intentions by accident," Lady Catherine defended. "I tried to stop them, but—"

"You are a dreadful liar," Darcy interrupted. "Had that been the case, why would you not have warned us all of this possibility? Is it because you planned it together with your old steward to make me break off my engagement to Miss Elizabeth so that I would fulfil your fantasy of getting engaged to your daughter, a woman in such ill health that she might never bear children, and use my wealth to pick up the pieces of Rosings?"

After everything he had heard tonight, his guess was laughably easy to make, and Lady Catherine turned white as a sheet.

"My question is, how would you have paid your old steward given how deep in debt you seem to be? Unless—" Darcy's face cleared, and he let out a humourless laugh. "I was to pay it after getting engaged to your daughter, wasn't I? It was my money you put on the line."

Lady Catherine's face turned so red that Darcy almost, but not quite, worried for her health.

"And it would've all worked, too, had it not been for this country chit for almost killing my parson!"

Even Mrs. Bennet couldn't move as quickly as Darcy, who backed his aunt into the wall so decisively that Lady Catherine's lips started to quiver. "You are to never visit Pemberley, or acknowledge me, my future wife or our family in public or private, am I understood?"

"But— but—" Lady Catherine looked precariously close to tears, but Darcy had not an inch of sympathy left for his aunt. "Do not be so rash, nothing happened—"

Darcy looked so furious it seemed like he was about to hit his aunt, but he merely stepped closer, towering over the old woman.

"I do not forgive you," he said, voice low and menacing. "I will never forgive you for what you caused my future wife to go through."

"Think about your family—"

"You are not my family!" Darcy's shout silenced the entire room. "She is my family now. You've removed yourself from the privilege."

Darcy walked to the door and opened it.

Lady Catherine's pleading eyes followed her brother and his wife, but neither made eye contact with her. Pleading, she said, "Please, you are making a mis—"

"Leave," Darcy interrupted in a razor sharp voice. "I never wish to see you again."

"Please—"

"Do not forget your low-life accomplice, Mr. Collins. It would be a shame if something happened to him."

After Lady Catherine had left the room, Darcy shut the door and walked in front of the table. His hands were shaking, but he bowed, and his face was grave.

"I can never make up for what happened to Elizabeth," he said, his voice and eyes revealing his pain. "The worst was prevented only by her own sharp mind and quick actions, but I will never forgive myself for not preventing it entirely."

Elizabeth stood up to hold his hand, but her mother reached Mr. Darcy ahead of her.

Mrs. Bennet put her stubby fingers on Darcy's cheeks, nearly too high to reach, and squeezed them, saying, "Mr. Darcy." Immediately, she hugged him, and Darcy awkwardly patted her back, forgetting his self-blame and anger, unsure of how to behave in such a moment. "Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet repeated, taking a shaky breath before she removed herself from him.

"Come, girls," she said, in an entirely different tone. "Lizzy is in good hands, now. There are many a man in uniform in want of a dancing partner!"

With that, she left the room with Kitty, Lydia and Mary in tow. The Gardiners and Jane and Bingley took their leave after the doctor appeared, and the Earl and Countess soon followed with promises of a longer discussion.

When Dr. Linfield observed the room and the lady he was to see, he sighed. "Good evening, Miss Bennet. You have entirely too much misfortune for a lady who is to be happily married so soon."

Elizabeth smiled as an apology. During his examination, Elizabeth was acutely aware of Darcy's concerned pacing in front of her, and when the doctor announced her to only be bruised around her wrists, Darcy kissed her on the cheek in full view of the doctor and Elizabeth's father.

"Dr. Linfield, there is a man in the servants' quarter who was left unconscious by a blow to the chest. The footman behind the door will guide you to him, if you would be obliged."

Dr. Linfield bowed to them and left. Darcy absent-mindedly remembered having sent Mr. Wynn to catch Lady Catherine's old steward, but he could not bring himself to depart from Elizabeth.

Mr. Bennet leaned on the edge of the table, pinching the bridge of his nose, and took a breath. He drew it long, and breathed out longer, as if all the worries of the world had gone through the man.

"I know you said so, son, but I now need peace of mind more than anything in this world. Please confirm to me that under no circumstances do you intend to break off your engagement to my daughter."

"Nothing short of our death or her refusal will prevent me from marrying her now," Darcy said. "And if you doubt me, do not forget, you can sue me for breach of contract for thirty thousand pounds."

He could feel Elizabeth's sharp eyes on the back of his neck, but she did not say a word. Mr. Bennet took another deep breath, squeezing Darcy's shoulder and pulling him into a hug with one arm. "You are a man of more depth and honour than any other I have known. Thank you."

"Thank your daughter," Darcy replied with a soft smile. "I fear she is the cause of this change."

Elizabeth stood up, leaving her ruined gloves by the side of the armchair, and smiled at the two men dearest to her heart.

"I would like to stay here a little longer, if that is all right. Papa, will you stay to accompany us?"

Mr. Bennet stood, arms folded in front of him, eyeing Darcy, who shifted under his gaze.

"I can do you one better," Mr. Bennet replied. "Darcy, do you remember what I told you a week ago in my library?"

Darcy tore his eyes from the fireplace. "Yes, sir."

"And do you promise to abide by my advice?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have seen you to be a man of your word," Mr. Bennet continued, starting to walk toward the door. "Just remember, if you are to be carried away, that I will be just behind the door in the hallway."

"Papa, you need not go," Elizabeth said.

"I disagree," Mr. Bennet said, and his smile was sad. "As much as I would like to stay, after the events of before, you need time together more than I need time with you. We will talk tomorrow. For now, I can give you no more than fifteen minutes, and do not take advantage of my good will."

"Yes, sir," Darcy repeated, and Mr. Bennet left the library door ajar as he left, but his footsteps did not take him far. He stood by the balcony at the end of the hallway, holding his port, looking at the winter sky.

Elizabeth stared at Darcy, and he recognised the question in her eyes.

"I will tell you some other day," Darcy said before his eyebrows drew together in his worry and care. He took her hands in his. "How can I ever make amends for what happened to you?"

"You need to feel responsible," Elizabeth replied. "You could not have known what her intentions were."

Darcy cupped her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her temple, drinking her in. She leaned her head against his palm, humming, before pulling him to the couch by the fireplace.

Darcy poured them both some tea for Elizabeth had not had enough to eat to feel comfortable with wine, and she ate some of the bread that the maid had brought them. There was so much to say and ask and discuss, and all she wanted was to lie in his arms and not yet think too much about the night.

"I have many questions, and I will let you say whatever you wish or think I need to hear, but for today, may we simply sit and enjoy each other's presence?" she asked.

Darcy had never been happier to oblige a request, and he pulled her against him, lifting her legs over both of his in a most improper position before tucking her tightly by his side. She rested her head on his shoulder, and started playing with his shirt. Darcy caught her hand in his, and caressed each of her fingers. His touch was tender but she could feel the roughness of his skin, and she hummed against him.

She kissed his shoulder. "I love you."

Darcy smiled and held his lips against her forehead. "I will never grow tired of hearing that."

Elizabeth shifted closer to catch his lips in a kiss, and he held her neck as he deepened it. He was careful to be silent, and caught her soft gasps in his mouth. When she whispered his name, Darcy nearly pulled her in his lap, but instead, he held her cheek against his as he caught his breath. Kissing her made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. She was so dear to him, so beautiful and passionate and lovely, and it was entirely too easy to get carried away. Elizabeth let out a small laugh against his ear, and Darcy pecked her cheek before he tucked her by his side again.

"You are entirely too precious," he said, pulling some food toward them. They sat, by the fireplace, not yet ready to discuss the evening, sharing food and thoughts that mattered little, and it was delightful. When Mr. Bennet joined them, it was decided that Elizabeth was to sit in the corner of a drawing room and play Hazard or Pope Joan to avoid scandalising the entire ballroom with her wine-hemmed dress. There was no containing the rumour of what had happened, but Darcy's most steady presence by her side would remove any doubts about her virtue, and it was as good a solution as any against ill-natured rumours.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your kindness!