Chapter 17

The carriage was tense. Lydia's fate was unknown, and though they wished for swift recovery, they almost expected ruin.

Through the curtains, Elizabeth watched as Darcy rode fast towards them. His figure was magnificent. Tall, strong, and dark, she already found him immensely attractive. His devotion to her only made her love him more. A lesser man might have ended the engagement, but he was determined to make her his. She doubted that anything could keep him from her. The Gardiners noticed as well.

"He will save your name in the end regardless, by marrying you," said her uncle. "He is a good man."

Her aunt nodded. "Do not torment yourself by worrying too much, Lizzy. It will do you no favours when nothing is likely to be done in days. You must stay strong," she said. Yet it could not be hidden that she was immensely anxious herself.

The carriage came to a stop as Darcy reached them. As always, his gaze fell on Elizabeth, lingering until he remembered to speak.

"The innkeeper has not seen them," he said. "The hour is getting late, so I have arranged accommodations for us for the night."

Mr. Gardiner spoke, "I do not know how to repay you for lending us your carriage, and now this."

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, and for a second she wondered if he was considering asking for some liberty with her. His ears were certainly red. Quickly, he shook his head and uttered something about gentlemen and duty.

The inn was relatively near, and they were able to reach it soon after the sun had gone. The service they received was impeccable, and Elizabeth noticed that the general state of the establishment was cleaner than expected. She suspected that it was her betrothed who made their stay more comfortable. From the way the innkeeper was speaking to him, she was reminded of how her cousin Mr. Collins spoke to Lady Catherine. It would have been an amusing distraction to further study the similarity of characters, but Elizabeth found that she could not feel anything but her eyes growing wet. She had hid most of her upset in the presence of the Hursts and Miss Bingley. It was coming forth now, and though she did not wish to show her pain to Darcy, it was easier to be honest with him than any other.

After their hot meal, the Gardiners allowed the engaged couple a brief moment alone together. Darcy took the opportunity to hug Elizabeth to him, strongly and firmly.

"They will be found," he said, his voice warm to her ears. "I will bring them to you."

Two days had gone when Darcy discovered the first sign of relevance. He had entered a shop in a small town somewhat close to Hertfordshire, intending to ask the owner if he had seen the young couple, when he saw a familiar piece of jewellery for purchase. It was not such a loud accessory; Darcy was only familiar with the dainty thing because he was sure he had seen Elizabeth wear it in the past. His most recent memory of it was at one of Lady Catherine's dinners, where he thought Elizabeth had dressed particularly elegant, though probably at her flatulent cousin's insistence. What it was doing away from her possession he did not know. For as glad as he was to come across it, he was affronted.

"Sir," he spoke, "how did you come to be in possession of this necklace?"

The shopkeeper's answer led him into the woods. Young Denny, apparently, could not even afford a horse. Certainly, it made things easier for everyone searching for him, but Darcy had to question it all. Was the boy a rake like Wickham and inclined to waste away all recent money on the worst vices? Or was he merely stupid, running away without being able to afford anything? Although it was no compliment of character, Darcy hoped it was the latter.

Young Mr. Denny could not afford a horse, nor could he afford a donkey. He was on foot, with Lydia Bennet nowhere in sight. Darcy spied him from a good distance, but it was remarkable how long the boy went without noticing him. Indeed, young Mr. Denny was a boy. He was tall, around Bingley's height, and perhaps on the cusp of manhood, but his boyishly pretty face still retained some youth, which was only heightened by the nervous manner in which he carried himself. The boy sheepishly shook the leaves and twigs out of his hair when he finally noticed Darcy's presence.

"Mr. Denny," spoke Darcy.

The boy startled. "You know who I am, sir?"

Darcy nodded.

Gulping, the boy asked, "Are you—are you by any chance Mr. Bennet?"

A little offended, but not wishing to make his displeasure known, Darcy shook his head and said simply, "No."

Young Denny sighed in obvious relief. "If you do not mind me asking, sir, I would like to inquire how you know my name."

"I know Mr. Bennet and his family. One of his daughters, his brother, and his brother's wife were staying in my home when we received news about Brighton," said Darcy. As young Denny paled, he continued, "My friend, Mr. Charles Bingley, was there as well."

Bingley had been told the situation and was to join the search immediately after he dealt with his family's plans. Young Denny must have known him as the man who was engaged to Lydia's eldest sister, for he flinched.

"You will come with me," said Darcy, "and you will tell me where Miss Elizabeth's youngest sister is."

"I cannot do that at this moment, sir," spoke young Denny, bowing his head. "Miss Bennet has run away—but I will find her! I promise!"

"She has run away," repeated Darcy. "From you."

His head still bowed, young Denny nodded.

"Why?"

"I am not certain, sir."

"There must be a reason why she would want to escape you." Darcy frowned at the silent lad, whose ears were red with what seemed like more embarrassment than guilt. "Come. We have no time to lose."

"Please, sir, allow me to find her before I face punishment!"

"I am not here to punish you. However, you will play a part in finding the young lady you lost, and you will do it by coming with me. Do you seriously think that you will find her on your own, with no horse, no money, and no sense of direction?"

Understanding the wisdom presented to him, or perhaps simply intimidated by Darcy, young Denny followed obediently. He was quiet for the most part. As they hurried back to Elizabeth and the Gardiners, Darcy was unable to get him to speak more than profuse apologies. The expressed regrets were, at least, discerned as genuine. Darcy was surprised; he did not think that such a meek sort of person would have appealed to Elizabeth's loudest sister. He was not pleased with the boy for almost ruining a young lady, but he had to admit to feeling relief that he was not dealing with the likes of Wickham. The boy at least had a sense of morals, unfortunately marred by a mistake—a very grave, reckless, costly mistake.

On seeing his carriage, Darcy jumped off his horse and strode towards it.

"Do not dawdle," he called to young Denny, who had paled at the sight of people. He would have told him that Mr. Bennet was not among them, but thought that the lad needed to learn a lesson. He practically had to shove him inside the carriage. The hesitant young Denny took a single glance at Mr. Gardiner and cowered. Darcy observed this with a passive mien, though on catching Elizabeth's curious eyes, the corners of his lips lifted.

Introductions were made, and though the revelation that Mr. Gardiner was not Mr. Bennet was welcome to young Denny, he remained quiet and nervous. It seemed like the older the person who addressed him was, the more he shrivelled in his seat—a remarkable feat for someone as tall as he was. Even Mrs. Gardiner, who had been able to help Georgiana converse, could not make the boy speak.

Elizabeth, then, was a miracle. Darcy knew that she was unimpressed with the male who subjected her family to distress, but she did not show a trace of displeasure. She was perfectly arch and sweet, not unlike her behaviour with him during the beginning of their acquaintance, when she had disliked him. Young Denny knew not that she was probably cursing him in her brilliant mind. To him, she was a young face, a small creature more probable to be a friend than an executioner. He trusted her. Elizabeth managed to first uncover from him that he did not know where Lydia had went, so the carriage continued to Longbourn, where Mr. Bennet awaited them in one form or another. A few more clever lines, paired with eyes that could not be denied, made young Denny confess all.

He had been introduced to the youngest Miss Bennet when he was visiting his cousin in Brighton. His mother had wished him to go, for she was worried that he was not getting enough good air while he locked himself in his room reading medical books day and night. He thought Lydia pretty at first, but knew that she was above him and did not believe that she would like him. Indeed, she declared him a great bore in the beginning of their acquaintance. Yet the more time they spent together, the more Lydia flirted with him, and the more he felt for her. Still, he did not act. He did nothing until Mrs. Forster told him that Lydia loved him. Knowing that his feelings were returned, he decided to tell her that he loved her. Lydia was his dearest angel, and she told him that he was her angel, even if he did not wear a uniform! He was thrilled. He asked her to wait for him, so that they could marry when he was of age and had a steady income. She did not like the idea. She loved him and wanted to marry immediately. They kissed, and he felt it prudent to marry quickly after all. Lydia suggested elopement, citing that her mother and father would never approve of him. Her mother wished for her to marry a rich man, or at least a handsome soldier; her father wanted her to marry someone who had at least met his majority. Hearing this, young Denny feared for their future.

He agreed to elope. However, he was conscious of their reputations. He knew that running away together would result in negativity in any case, but he wanted to minimize the damage. He confided in his cousin, who told him that he was stupid, but was kind enough to keep the secret and give him the information he asked for. From him, he received the details of a woman who was eligible to escort Lydia as they travelled north. He hoped that the lady's presence would give Lydia some semblance of respectability, like a companion of sorts. A sennight later, he and Lydia left Brighton. They did not travel alone for long at all, for in the next town, they met with the companion he had hired. She had cost him half of his savings, but seemed very respectable, so he believed her price worth it.

However, he began to feel as if they had made an awful mistake by running away in the first place. As they passed Hertfordshire, his guilt could no longer be contained. He pleaded with Lydia to change their direction for Longbourn, so that they could speak to her father and marry in the usual, honest way. She grew angry at him and locked herself in her room at the house her companion arranged for them, which he was told belonged to an old friend. He worried when Lydia did not appear for dinner, but her companion told him to be calm. She also said that she would speak with her to make her agree with his reversal of plans, and that if he gave her some money, she could use it in her methods of persuasion. After all, Lydia did enjoy gifts. He handed some over and hoped for the best. Wishing to be proper, he did not even knock on the door to her room and try to talk to her himself. It was not until the next afternoon when he realised that he was alone in the house and that someone—surely the companion and not Lydia—had stolen the remainder of the money he had in his coat.

He might have panicked for a moment, but he eventually realised that he was wasting time. He found a note in the house written by Lydia. She said that if he really loved her, he would find her and marry her regardless of her father's lack of permission. So he searched. A day passed with no development. Furthermore, no one was willing to help him get to London, where he thought Lydia might have went. She had talked about wanting to live there after they married, and he knew that the companion he had hired had a house there. He wanted to look there immediately. The first person to offer aid was a shopkeeper, who was willing to tell him the quickest path to London in exchange for a price. With no money, the only thing young Denny had on his person that the shopkeeper wanted was his beloved necklace, gifted to him by Lydia. With pain, he parted with it. He had to find her and beg her to return to him, or at least to her family; an object, however meaningful to him, was nothing compared to her real being. Immediately after handing it over, the shopkeeper laughed at him and told him he had been travelling in the opposite direction for an entire day. He was then told that the quickest path to London was through the woods, and that was where Mr. Darcy found him.

"So we are to London after Longbourn," said Mr. Gardiner, breaking his own silence. "Who was the companion you hired? Do you know which street hosts her dwelling?"

Young Denny gulped at being addressed.

"Mr. Denny, who is Lydia with?" asked Elizabeth.

Meeting her eyes, he answered, "Her name is Mrs. Younge."

They were only a small distance from Hertfordshire, but the horses needed to be changed and they had reached the area where young Denny last saw Lydia. They took the time to pause the carriage. As Darcy and Mr. Gardiner did not trust that young Denny had done the best job searching, despite his efforts, they wanted to look themselves.

Unfortunately, their only discovery was that Mrs. Younge had borrowed a horse. No one knew where she went with it.

Tired after his search, Darcy took comfort in Elizabeth's presence. Behind a large tree, he held her hand near his heart. Aware that her aunt and uncle were not paying them attention, she embraced him, pressing her face into his chest. His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer.

"This is my fault," he said. "Mrs. Younge might have never encountered your sister if Wickham had not known her through my family. I am certain that Mr. Denny only knew of her because of Wickham."

"It is not your fault. Nothing would have happened if I had been able to convince my father not to allow Lydia to go to Brighton," murmured Elizabeth.

"Your father was decided. The blame falls nowhere near you."

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes, my love?"

"How did you find Mr. Denny?"

"I entered a shop and saw your necklace." Darcy frowned. "I hope that it was not taken from you."

She was surprised when he showed it to her. "You bought it back?"

"Yes. For you."

She blushed and thanked him. Fingering the necklace, she remarked, "It is mine. It is a wonder that you recognised it."

"Of course I did. I know all of you."

"You are far too confident."

Darcy smiled.

"Did you know," said Elizabeth, "that Jane gifted this to me? When I was angry at her I put it away. Lydia must have went through my things and taken it for herself before she left."

Darcy frowned, but chose not to insult any of her sisters. Instead, he asked if she would like him to help her wear the necklace. Elizabeth shook her head.

She explained, "Lydia liked it enough to steal it, and Mr. Denny seemed attached to it. I think they would appreciate it more than I could now."

"That is more than they deserve," Darcy could not help but say. "However, you are more than this necklace deserves."

He trailed a finger down her cheek. That same finger lifted her chin so that she could meet his burning gaze.

"Will you accept jewels from me?" he asked.

Elizabeth almost forgot how to breathe. Darcy was affecting her body in many ways lately. Her mind also flustered, she spoke, a bit airy, "I suppose if I am to be Mrs. Darcy, I should look the part."

"Mrs. Darcy," he repeated. He smiled. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, husband of Elizabeth Darcy. How well that sounds."

Elizabeth agreed.

Up Next: L's at Longbourn: Lizzy, Lady Lucas, and two others!