by Olivia Kane
“I must have left it where I stopped to rest,” she said to herself. She was half-tempted to head back to Weststoke unaided, confident she could manage the route without her guide but ever cautious, she saw the wisdom in retracing her steps.
It was only ten minutes or so back. She walked confidently, if a little hurriedly, to the flat rock but once there saw no guide. Puzzled, she looked around.
I must be at the wrong rock, she reasoned. Believing she had stopped too soon, she hurried down the path a little further.
“Should be here any minute now,” she said aloud, thankful there were no witnesses to her forgetfulness. But the next rock did not look familiar at all, and she then determined that the first spot she had searched had been the correct place.
She sighed.
I will have to continue back without the guide.
She was confident she could find her way without difficulty, as the path up had been straightforward, the lone fork in the road clearly marked by a crooked tree. Since the book was not left where she stopped to picnic, she concluded it must have fallen out the last time she consulted it, which was at the fork. Encouraged, she was sure that she would find it there.
She hurried down the path, beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead and at the nape of her neck. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and continued on, breathing a little heavier.
Slow down, she told herself. She had plenty of time and rushing only made things worse. When she reached the fork she stopped and did a thorough search for her guide, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Where could it have gone?
She hated losing the guide as it would mean that tomorrow’s walk with her father would not happen. Unless she asked Mr. Darcy to borrow his guide?
That would be a neutral topic of conversation to engage him with at the ball. They could talk about the guide, and she could laugh about losing hers, and maybe he would offer to walk with them tomorrow afternoon, if he weren’t busy.
But he was most likely busy, she decided.
Why was she hoping to walk with Mr. Darcy tomorrow?
She laughed out loud.
Because I have fallen a little in love with Mr. Darcy.
Oh, what a development!
What a surprising, wretched, wonderful development!
It had been coming on her all these days, the overwhelming accumulation of evidence as to his goodness, coupled with the slow and sure elimination of every grievance she had long held against him. She didn’t know if he still cared for her but she was in Derbyshire and she would see him that evening and maybe even dance with him, and surely by the end of the night things between them might be different.
These thoughts entertained her as she left the fork and hurried home, until the path she had been trodding suddenly dead-ended at a crooked fence. Beyond the fence, she could see hills and a herd of cows but no more pathway and the realization made her heart sink.
She had not come this way before.
She scanned the rolling hills in front of her and was able to make out the figure of a man walking in the distance, away from the herd and from her.
She yelled out, “Sir! Sir! Can you tell me where I am?” but her voice was lost in the vast valley and the man was soon out of sight. A silence settled across the land.
She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She had lost at least a half hour of time but she could make that up easily by retracing her steps back to the fork and choosing the correct path back.
If I can even pick the correct path?
Or was I even at the right fork in the road?
The first note of panic began to rise within her. She was parched and warm. She popped off the top of the flask and held it to her mouth. One drop of warm lemonade trickled out.
Determined, she traced her steps back to the fork in the pathway. Once there she took a better look at the crooked tree only to discover there was more than one crooked tree, there were definitely two or three that could definitely be classified as crooked.
Confusion reigned.
No, she steadied herself. Grey’s was clear in that there was only one crooked tree and she had confirmed that on her way up. This was an entirely different intersection.
She was incredibly lost.
She breathed deeply. Her legs had carried her valiantly but her feet were aching. Confronted with the knowledge that there was more walking ahead of her than her tired legs could endure, she was determined to rest.
Taking a few long strides across a grassy field, she found a shady spot under a massive oak, sank to the ground, and loosened her boots. She felt the benefit immediately and considered it prudent to rest her feet and limbs before taxing them further.
Her body ached, her head hurt and her mouth was as dry as old bread. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree and breathed deeply. The sun was lowering in the late summer sky, and she feared she might end up walking in circles as night fell. She could be at least an hour’s distance from Weststoke, maybe more. She bit her lip, unsure what to do next.
Chapter 27
Mr. Darcy’s gaze darted around the large party of locals gathered in the Westinham’s drawing room. So many familiar faces yet the one he hoped to see most was not there.
He had opened Miss Bennet’s letter just a few hours earlier. He had not anticipated being shaken by the three short lines enclosed, but he was.
Shaken and filled with hope.
All is forgiven.
Your friend,
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He pictured the words in his mind.
No, he pictured what the words meant in his mind. His arms curled around Miss Elizabeth Bennet; her gaze one of adoration instead of disdain.
Yet he had arrived at Weststoke for the ball a half hour ago and there was still no sight of her. Her mother and three sisters were clearly visible among the party guests and he and Mr. Bennet had exchanged greetings and a short conversation about the morning’s catch.
As he considered her absence, his heart sank.
Miss Elizabeth regrets her response and is now avoiding me.
The young lady had made her feelings perfectly clear by her absence. In the corner, he could see Mrs. Bennet, her hair and dress overdone for a country ball, holding court with Lydia and several of his neighbors.
Mary was making conversation with Georgiana and Kitty was at the refreshment table, stuffing a tartlet into her mouth. He withdrew to the opposite side of the room, a dark mood settling over him. There he stood gazing out the window, alone in a sea of people, a feeling he was intimately familiar with.
He had counted on starting anew with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and anticipated a special evening; one that he might remember for the rest of his life. Now he could only count down the minutes until he could safely leave without insulting his hosts.
From across the room, Georgiana saw her brother standing alone and recognized the dour look on his face. He was possessed of noticeably high spirits all day and she knew it to be due to Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s presence in Derbyshire. He was even dressed early and eager to leave for the ball; highly unusual behavior as it was not his way to look forward to social obligations.
Quickly, Georgiana excused herself and went to his side.
“She’s not here, is she?”
“No.”
“I’m sure she will be down shortly. Or perhaps she is ill?” Georgiana scanned the room. “Her family has not offered an excuse for her absence?”
“I have not approached them for an excuse.”
“Then I will,” Georgiana said. She walked swiftly to Lydia and Mrs. Bennet, squeezed her way into the circle and waited for a break in the conversation.
“And where is Miss Elizabeth tonight? I am anxious to see her,” she asked in a tone she believed sounded very innocent.
“She is here somewhere, is she not?” Mrs. Bennet said, barely glancing at Georgiana.
“I have looked for her since I arriv
ed but she is not here,” Georgiana said.
“Miss Darcy, the evening is not about Elizabeth. It is about Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet explained condescendingly. “If Elizabeth is slow in coming down that is of no concern to me. Perhaps she had to wait for a maid to finish dressing? I myself had barely enough assistance as all the help was devoted to my dear Lydia, and rightly so, this evening.
“Miss Darcy, isn’t it marvelous that we will be neighbors?” Lydia squealed. “How many fine teas and dinner parties we will attend together here and in London!”
Georgian feigned a polite smile.
“Yes. But Miss Elizabeth . . . ”
“My poor sister will not be able to share in those times with us. That is true. But we may visit her at Longbourn, as long as father lives. And I am sure she will come to Weststoke for Christmas.”
“Yes, that will be nice. But do you know her whereabouts tonight?”
Lydia tired of Georgiana’s interest in Elizabeth and looked at her mother with exasperation.
“Stop worrying, Miss Darcy! Perhaps Elizabeth delayed in order to create more attention for herself. Do be smarter than to play into her little schemes.” Mrs. Bennet waved her fan at Georgiana.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” Georgiana replied. “Please excuse me.” She turned and returned to her brother’s side.
Miss Elizabeth’s mother is exceedingly rude, Georgiana decided.
Reaching her brother she told him, “They do not know where she is and I dare say they do not seem to care, either.”
“Then she is not ill?”
“I could not say. Mrs. Bennet kept repeating that the evening is about Lydia.”
Darcy furrowed his brow. “Then perhaps I should go to Mr. Bennet and inquire?” but before he could proceed the first dance was called. He hastened to Mr. Bennet.
“Mr. Bennet. I was hoping to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet tonight but she does not appear to be here. May I inquire after her health?”
Unlike his wife, Mr. Bennet showed surprise at Elizabeth’s absence.
“No, she is not ill. At least she wasn’t this afternoon. She was quite well and planned to take one of her country walks.”
“Sir, is it possible she has not returned?”
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “She is not the kind of girl to dawdle. Ask her mother; I am sure she knows where she is.”
“Mrs. Bennet was consulted. She was no help.”
“She had her guide to Derbyshire and was looking forward to taking one of the routes; tell me, Mr. Darcy, as a native, she would be safe enough on the pathways? No dangerous cliffs or drop-offs?”
All the color went out of Mr. Darcy’s face.
“She went out alone on the paths?”
“She had her guide, but otherwise, yes, alone, I believe. Why? Do I have reason to worry?” For the first time, a spark of actual concern lit inside of him, ignited purely by Mr. Darcy’s reaction.
“I have walked the paths that Mr. Grey included in his guide to Derbyshire. In my opinion, his work is not as accurate as I would wish it to be; the paths are not always as straightforward as he makes them out. A novice walker in the county might easily become confused.”
Mr. Bennet’s concern began to match that of Darcy’s.
“Mr. Bennet. I beg your pardon, but I believe your daughter may be lost out in the peaks.”
“My man, that cannot be possible. Let me check her room. I am certain she must be there.”
“Allow me to accompany you, sir. For if she is not hereabouts, I believe I must go in search of her.”
“I pray God that not be the case,” Mr. Bennet said. “Come along.”
Darcy flagged one of the maids and requested that she go to Elizabeth’s room and tell her she was missed.
They waited anxiously until she returned with the report that Elizabeth’s room was empty, her ball gown spread out on the bed and dance shoes on the floor beneath it.
They thanked her and turned to each other.
Mr. Bennet said, “What should we do? It’s black as tar out there. How will we ever find her?”
“I know the paths like the back of my hand,” Darcy replied. “Let’s go.”
“Just us?”
Mr. Darcy leveled a stare at Mr. Bennet. “No offense, sir, but we appear to be the only two who care.”
Mr. Bennet didn’t flinch at the truth.
“Come along, time is of the essence,” Darcy commanded.
Darcy instructed a footman to gather a whistle, lanterns, blankets, and canteens; then he roused Paddy, the Westinham’s hunting dog, from where he slept in a basket near the kitchen hearth to accompany them.
“There are only two nearby paths accounted for in Grey’s; one to the cavern and one by the river. Did she say which she was taking?”
Mr. Bennet tried to recall if Elizabeth spoke specifically of her plans but he could not remember with any certainty.
“Very well,” Darcy said. “We’ll have to take our chances.”
Mr. Bennet nodded solemnly. The gravity of the situation weighed on him; he said a silent prayer that his favorite daughter be quickly found. Nevertheless, he was prepared to search the entire night if need be. There would be no rest until he knew she was safe.
The two men strode down a narrow passageway used by the servants and left the house out a side door. Darcy led the way, taking long strides down the pitch-black pathways.
In the silence of the countryside, guided only by the sparse light of a half moon and the flickering of their lanterns, the world took on a menacing form: a wild, untamed territory that had seemingly swallowed Elizabeth whole.
Darcy knew how desolate the wooded paths and sloping valleys were at night. Even as a child, he was careful not to wander too far from the familiar routes near sunset. He blew the whistle intermittently in the hopes that Elizabeth would hear.
Again and again, the whistle sounded loud and shrill throughout the night. Darcy and Mr. Bennet paused, completely still, their every sense attuned to the sound of a woman’s voice answering in reply. But no such response greeted them; crickets chirping and rustling tree limbs were the only sounds they heard.
The two men strode forward with urgency. Terrible thoughts pierced the usual calm of Darcy’s mind. He felt partially responsible; he knew she would have unerringly followed her Grey’s, but he also knew that Grey failed to properly account for the all the offshoots of the countless paths that snaked and coiled the district, paths well-trod by generations of farmers and journeymen. Easily navigated by those born and bred in Derbyshire but a confusing muddle to those not.
If only I had thought to warn her!
His regret propelled him. Despite the difference in age, Mr. Bennet kept up with Darcy. Neither man spoke of Elizabeth encountering a stranger with ill intent but the possibility flashed across their minds.
Instinctively, Darcy followed the path to the cavern. Yet when they reached the cavern without success, he paused.
“No sight of her yet, but if she went this way she could be close. We can be assured that if she were lost she would not have continued on past the cave. It’s the way back that concerns me; there are several forks in the road that look similar on the return trip. It’s very easy to mistake one for the other,” Darcy explained.
“Do these alternative paths wander far from the main?” Mr. Bennet inquired.
“One dead-ends at a tenant’s farm but yes, there are several offshoots that prove quite circuitous.”
Mr. Bennet breathed an audible sigh. But he paused only for a moment.
“Shall we then?” he motioned Darcy ahead and they continued the hunt. Whistle, then an alert pause, whistle then pause. Every action followed by a serene silence that seemed to mock them. The white stars blinked down from the night sky but offered no guidance.
They persevered onward until finally, in the quiet of one such pause, they heard a faint reply. The words were indecipherable but the lilt of the voice was immediately recognizable as Elizabeth’s a
nd brought sweet relief to the searchers.
In their excitement, both men shouted out her name.
Again, faint but true, the sound of a woman’s voice echoed in the valley.
“This way,” Darcy motioned and they headed toward the voice until, finally, they could hear her words strong and clear.
“I’m over here! Hurry!” she shouted.
“Where? Where? We can’t see you!” her father replied. The lantern made only the smallest radius of light and beyond that an inky blackness blanketed everything.
“Miss Bennet, stay where you are! We will come to you,” Darcy instructed.
“Yes, I will! I’m over here! By the big tree!” she shouted.
“Keep talking!” Mr. Bennet yelled. “We’re getting closer!”
The sound of her voice echoed in the still night.
“Are you off the path?” Darcy shouted.
“Oh yes, sorry. By the grove of trees! I know that is no help; there are so many trees!”
“Can you see our lights?” Darcy asked.
“Not yet! Keep going!”
“We’re close!” he shouted and they hurried with lighter hearts until she yelled, “Wait! I see you.”
Suddenly swift footsteps and the swish of skirts rushed toward them until Elizabeth’s faced emerged from the blackness and she hurled herself into the safety of her father’s arms.
Chapter 28
The next morning, Elizabeth was required to repeat the details of her ordeal over and over again to the enraptured ears of all the inhabitants of Weststoke Manor gathered in the drawing room. Even the servants loitered to listen.
“Weren’t you terribly cold and damp?” Kitty asked, shivering at the thought.
“Not at first, but later, yes,” Elizabeth admitted. “Although I was sheltered enough from the wind, my boots were damp with dew.”
“Tell us again about the moment you first heard Mr. Darcy calling for you,” Lady Westinham pleaded, her face animated with excitement.
“I heard the whistle first but thought it could be anybody. It was only when I heard it a third time, loud and shrill, that I dared to hope. I felt immense relief to hear my name called across the open lands.” She left out the moment when her heart leapt to know that Mr. Darcy had been the one to come for her. Or how he had audibly sighed and then laughed in open relief to see her emerge safely from the shadows. She replayed that moment often in her mind’s eye, now that she was safe and warm.
