Elizabeth took a deep breath and quickly told him of the events of the night before: the arousal of her suspicions while listening to Georgiana play on the pianoforte after dinner, her ploy to hide in the music room, and her eventual confirmation of the girl as the player of the ghostly music.
“My sister, Georgiana, has been the mystery performer on the pianoforte?” said Darcy incredulously.
Elizabeth nodded. “She does it in her sleep. She is not aware of her actions, nor of her whereabouts. ’Tis is a common phenomenon for those who engage in such nocturnal wanderings.”
“But why should she be exhibiting this behaviour?” Darcy frowned in bewilderment.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. My previous study on the subject suggests that it can occur during times of great emotional turmoil.” She paused, thinking hard. “Mrs Reynolds mentioned that the eerie music began early last week—on the Monday, to be precise, just after the piano was delivered from London. And…”
She paused, remembering Georgiana’s anxiety and discomfort during their first conversation, when Elizabeth had mentioned the big change in her life last Monday. She had meant the arrival of the pianoforte, but perhaps Darcy’s sister had misunderstood her and thought she was referring to Wickham’s arrival? That could explain her strange, nervous reaction…
Elizabeth sat up excitedly, as something dawned on her. “I have just recalled the maid at Lambton Inn saying that Wickham is believed to have arrived in Derbyshire last Monday as well! It would not be unreasonable to assume a link between the two events. Perhaps Georgiana caught a glimpse of the highwayman while she was in the village that day to await the arrival of the instrument and the shock of seeing him again could certainly be sufficient to cause these nightly disturbances.”
“Wickham?” Darcy’s brows drew together even further. “What does he have to do with this affair?”
Belatedly, Elizabeth realised that Darcy still had no knowledge of his sister’s renewed involvement with the highwayman. She would be obliged to break her word to Georgiana now—though she attempted to salve her conscience by reminding herself that ensuring the girl’s safety was a worthy reason for breaking a confidence.
“Caroline Bingley’s source was correct in stating that a young lady met with Wickham in the rockery the day before yesterday,” she said softly. “But that young lady was not me. It was your sister.”
“My sister?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes. I am sorry to have to give you pain, but it appears that Miss Darcy renewed her acquaintance with Wickham upon his return to Derbyshire.”
Slowly, she recounted all of the events that had occurred without Darcy’s knowledge, including the whole of her conversation with Georgiana in the rose gardens.
“I was bound by an oath of secrecy,” she concluded. “I gave your sister my word not to speak of the matter, though I did urge her to confess the whole of it to you. She was resistant to my advice, but I had hoped that, upon further reflection, she might yet follow it… In any case, I did not feel that I could betray her confidence.”
Darcy’s face was ashen. Elizabeth hoped he would realise how much he had wronged her now. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the door to the study burst open. Miss Annesley stood there, her eyes wide with worry.
“Mr Darcy, I apologise for the intrusion, but I must speak with you at once! Some of your sister’s belongings are missing from her room. It appears that she has packed a small bag, including clothing and other personal items suitable for travel.”
Darcy sprang up from his desk. “You think she has left Pemberley?”
Miss Annesley nodded miserably. “Though in whose company, I cannot say.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and, as their eyes met, she knew that he was thinking the same thing she was. There was one man who had already induced Georgiana once before to leave her family and run away with him. There was no doubt now that George Wickham was attempting an elopement again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The household flew into a flurry of activity as Darcy gave terse instructions to all available footmen and other male staff to launch a search for Georgiana. The grounds of Pemberley were extensive and would require several searchers on horseback to cover the area, but he was well aware—as Elizabeth knew—that they may not be fast enough.
“Wickham could be gaining ground along one trajectory, whilst we search fruitlessly in a completely different direction!” Darcy said, slamming his fist onto the table in frustration.
“We must attempt to trace their route of escape,” said Elizabeth. “It is our best chance of determining their likely direction and gaining on them.”
“But what do you propose?” said Darcy impatiently, turning to pace his study again. “I already have all my men searching the estate. There is no other means of gaining information on their departure.”
“There is one who may have more intelligence than we realise,” said Elizabeth suddenly. “Summon Tilly the maid.”
“Tilly?” said Darcy in puzzlement.
Elizabeth nodded eagerly. “That morning you witnessed me encountering Wickham outside the carriage house… he had just come to see her and the babe. He is the father of her child and her dealings with him may have bearing on this affair.”
“Tilly is a trusted member of my household,” said Darcy, frowning.
“Oh no, I do not believe that she would intentionally betray you,” Elizabeth said. “But she may provide us with some useful intelligence on Wickham’s intentions for coming to Derbyshire.”
Tilly was duly summoned and she appeared in the study, pale and trembling. She glanced sideways at Elizabeth and clasped her hands nervously in front of her.
“Please do not be alarmed, Tilly,” said Darcy kindly. “You are not in any kind of trouble. But you may be able to assist us. What I am about to tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence, but I believe that you are one who may empathise with the situation more than most. My sister, Georgiana, has absconded—and we believe that she may be in the company of Mr Wickham. Indeed, we believe he may have persuaded her to an illicit elopement.”
Tilly’s hands flew to her face in alarm. “Oh, Mr Darcy—!”
Darcy gave a grim nod. “Yes, I am sure you understand the gravity of the situation. Were Wickham a gentleman from a respectable family, such an event would still be enough to cause scandal and ruin for Georgiana—but with his position as a highwayman and his immoral propensities, there is grave concern for my sister’s welfare.”
He leaned forwards. “I have men seeking them now, but it would help greatly if we could narrow the scope of the search, perhaps trace their intended route. Is there anything that Wickham said during his time with you which may give some clue as to his intentions regarding Miss Darcy?”
“N-no…” said Tilly. She frowned, trying to remember. “He did ask me a lot of questions ’bout Miss Darcy, such as when she arose an’ when she had her daily walks about the grounds… Oh…” She brightened and looked up. “He did ask once ’bout the music room.”
“The music room?” said Darcy sharply.
Tilly nodded. “Aye, he asked if the fire screen was still there as he remembered when he was a boy.”
“Did he explain why he was asking?”
Tilly shook her head. “No, he didn’t. I explained that Miss Darcy’s portrait has taken the place of the screen in coverin’ the fireplace now, an’ he seemed content with that.”
“Thank you, Tilly. You may go now.”
Elizabeth thought back to her first visit to Pemberley, when she was with her aunt and uncle and Mrs Reynolds the housekeeper, admiring Georgiana’s portrait in the music room. She closed her eyes, trying to remember. The portrait had stood on an easel in front of the old ornate fireplace. Presumably, the screen would have covered the same structure in the olden days.
“We must go to the music room at once!” she said, opening her eyes and looking at Darcy. “Wickham
would not be asking such information for an idle reason.”
Without waiting to see if Darcy followed her, Elizabeth left the study and hurried to the music room. She paused in front of Georgiana’s portrait and peered behind it.
“What do you search for, Miss Bennet?” said Darcy, walking into the room after her.
“Do you recollect my theory about a concealed entry to the house?” said Elizabeth. “Well, I believe there may be one leading into this very room. Do you have any memory of such a discovery from your boyhood?”
Darcy shook his head. “I confess, I had little interest in music during my youth and rarely came into this room. Wickham, however, was treated as a member of the family and given free run of the house. He would have had ample opportunity to explore every nook and cranny. It is possible that he may have discovered a hidden entry here and kept such information to himself.”
“Pemberley has been standing for many generations,” said Elizabeth. “It is not uncommon for such old houses to have priest holes or other similar hiding places and passageways.” She leaned into the narrow space behind the portrait. “I believe we may find something around the disused hearth here.”
Darcy helped her shift the portrait out of the way and then they examined the fireplace, inch by inch. Elizabeth ran her hands along the mantel, down past the inner panels beside the firebox and over the riser, whilst Darcy checked the shelf moulding and the overmantel. At last, with a cry of triumph, he pressed a panel alongside the plinth on the left side of the fireplace and a portion of the wall slid back to reveal a narrow opening. A cool breeze wafted out, bringing with it the smell of fresh rain and wet earth.
“This must lead somewhere,” said Elizabeth, feeling the draught stir her hair. “Indeed, I believe it leads to the outdoors.”
“I believe you may be right, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy. He paused to grab a candlestick from the mantelpiece and light it before stepping into the narrow opening. He glanced back at Elizabeth. “There may be danger where I’m going. Perhaps it would be wise for you to remain here.”
“I am coming with you,” said Elizabeth firmly.
Darcy gave a nod, then turned and disappeared into the darkness. Elizabeth followed him. She found herself in a narrow passageway, barely wide enough to fit one person and with a ceiling so low that Darcy was obliged to bend his head. He was moving purposefully ahead, holding the candle aloft so that its flickering yellow flame sent black shadows jumping in every direction. Elizabeth hurried after him, not wanting to lose the comforting proximity of that orange glow.
The floor of the passageway sloped gently downwards, merging with a tunnel that went below the level of the house. The air temperature dropped and Elizabeth felt goose bumps shiver across her skin. She wished now that she had taken the time to put on a cloak or a pelisse, as her thin muslin gown seemed to provide little protection against the chill, damp air.
At some point, the walls of the passageway had changed from the stone structure of the house to rough rock walls and it seemed as if they were walking into the very depths of the earth. As they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the darkness, Elizabeth felt a sense of claustrophobia begin to weigh down on her. Was it her imagination or were the walls closing in tighter around them? Did the air seem thinner and was it harder to draw breath? The sound of their breathing seemed harsh in the blackness of the tunnel, their footsteps echoing eerily. She looked worriedly at the candlestick that Darcy was holding. Would it be long enough to burn until the end of this journey? She was gripped by a sudden fear of the light going out and leaving them in darkness.
As if sensing her panic, Darcy paused and turned slightly. His voice came, deep and reassuring: “I believe we are almost there, Miss Bennet.”
As if to mark his words, the floor of the tunnel suddenly began to slope upwards at a steep angle. Darcy hastened his steps as he began to climb and Elizabeth followed him. There was a lifting of the darkness ahead of them and Elizabeth’s eyes began to take in more detail of their surroundings—the cracks and crevices in the rock walls, the sheen of moisture on the stony surfaces, and, in the distance, the faint drip of water somewhere.
The draught was much stronger now and, as they rounded a sharp bend in the tunnel, a gust of wind suddenly blew the candle out. But they were coming out into the light now—Elizabeth saw an opening ahead and caught a glimpse of grey, rain-washed skies—then she was stumbling out of the darkness into daylight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elizabeth stood blinking for a moment, dazed by the sudden brightness. They were standing on a rocky hillside somewhere on the high moors. Below them, they could see a steep-sided valley, dominated by limestone outcrops and gritstone formations, which eventually levelled off into open grassland. Farther beyond that were the familiar rolling dales of the Derbyshire countryside, cut by winding rivers and ancient woodland. In the near distance, just on the other side of the valley, they could see the elegant shape of Pemberley House and the surrounding estate gardens.
“I had no idea that a hidden passageway led out here to the hills,” said Darcy. “This must have provided a good escape route for the inhabitants of the house during times of war or other danger in ages past. I doubt it has been used in recent generations, however, for my father never spoke of it and none knew of its existence.”
“Save for Wickham,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, save for Wickham,” Darcy agreed. He glanced at the large slab of rock next to them. “The opening to the passageway is well concealed behind this rocky overhang and would not have been easily visible to the casual walker on the hillside.” He glanced farther up the hill, then held a hand out to her. “Come. We must gain higher ground. It will help us discover them, should they be in the area.”
Elizabeth put her hand into his, very conscious of the warmth of his fingers, as they began to make their way up the incline. Darcy moved quickly and she had to work hard to keep up, though he kept a solicitous eye on her progress and paused often to help her over a particularly challenging section. And once, when she struggled against a steep rise of rock, he bent close and lifted her gently up onto the higher ledge. Elizabeth’s heart pounded with excitement at his sudden proximity and the possessive weight of his hands about her waist, but if Darcy was affected by the physical closeness between them, he showed no sign of it.
Then Elizabeth caught a flash of scarlet on the hillside. “There!” She pointed to the two figures ahead of them, close to the edge where the hillside fell away in a rocky cliff face.
“I see them,” said Darcy grimly, changing his direction and increasing his speed.
Elizabeth scrambled after him, picking up her skirts as she attempted to keep up with Darcy’s long strides. They were a few yards away from the two figures now—she could see Georgiana sitting down on some rocks, whilst Wickham hovered next to her. From the impatience in his posture, it was evident he was attempting to urge the girl to her feet.
“Georgiana!” Darcy shouted.
Elizabeth saw Wickham’s head whip up and his eyes narrow as he saw them. The highwayman reached down and grabbed Georgiana’s arm, hauling her to her feet. They heard her cry of protest.
“Georgiana!” Darcy moved faster, galvanised by fear for his sister. He covered the distance between them in great leaps and strides, whilst Elizabeth panted to keep up with him, cursing the long skirts of her gown which hampered her movement.
“Release her!” ordered Darcy. “Release her or you shall rue the day you were born!”
Wickham gave a sneering laugh, and ignored Darcy’s command, turning and climbing higher up along the cliff face, pulling Georgiana with him. He dragged her onto a rocky overhang—a sort of natural shelf which protruded over the valley below—but before he could gain the next level, Darcy arrived beside them.
Wickham gave a growl of anger and shoved Georgiana away from him. Darcy caught his sister and looked at her anxiously, reassuring himself that she was all right. Quickly, he took off his coat an
d draped it around her shivering shoulders. Then he pushed her gently aside as he turned to face the highwayman.
Elizabeth arrived at the ledge and heaved herself up, hurrying over to Georgiana’s side. She put an arm around the trembling girl, then turned to see the two men facing each other. Her heart lurched with fear as she saw that Wickham had drawn his sword.
Dear God, Darcy is unarmed, she thought. How was he to fight the highwayman?
Wickham laughed and lunged towards Darcy, stabbing wildly. Elizabeth gasped as the gleaming blade missed Darcy’s arm by inches and sliced dangerously close to his neck.
“They are going to kill each other!” Georgiana sobbed. “And it will all be my fault!”
“Shhh…” said Elizabeth, patting the girl’s back and attempting to project a confidence that she did not feel. “I… I believe all will be well.”
It appeared that her confidence in Darcy, at least, was well placed for he did indeed seem to be handling Wickham’s attacks with assurance. He sidestepped and parried the thrusts with skill, using sudden feints and shifts of his body to throw the highwayman off-balance.
Then Wickham lunged suddenly and Darcy gave a grunt of pain. Elizabeth saw blood spurt from his left shoulder, staining the white of his shirt crimson. Georgiana screamed and Elizabeth had to restrain herself from crying out in alarm. Darcy clutched his other hand to the wound, backing away slightly as Wickham gave an ugly laugh.
He advanced towards Darcy “Where is your infamous pride now, eh, Darcy?” he sneered. “Of what use are your great consequence and wealth to you now?”
Elizabeth realised with horror that Wickham was forcing Darcy close to the edge of the rocky shelf. If the latter took a few more steps backwards, he would plunge over the side of the precipice. She looked desperately around for something to help Darcy, but the ledge they were on was barren, save for a few clumps of heather, and there was nothing that could be used as a weapon. She stepped away from Georgiana and was just thinking of throwing herself forwards to distract Wickham when the highwayman lunged again towards Darcy.
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