Ruined Forever

by D. L. Carter

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. Now, if you could tell me who is directing the search in Mr. Bennet’s absence.”

  “Oh, I sent them all home. I could not bear that someone would find her. Why, she might be anywhere and in any condition and that would just be another scandal, and with the last one only just dying down that must be avoided at all costs.”

  Before Mr. Darcy could respond Mary entered.

  “Mr. Darcy, you should know a group of my father’s tenants continued the search throughout the night,” said Mary. “They are reporting to Mr. Hill. He has just this moment returned and is taking a dish of tea in the kitchen. I shall have him attend you immediately.”

  “If he is taking tea,” observed Richard to Darcy, “then he has not found the girl.”

  “We shall come with you to the kitchen, Miss Mary,” said Darcy. “I am in no doubt he is chilled to the bone. Let us have his report.”

  And very quickly Mrs. Bennet found herself alone.

  In the kitchen a weary Mr. Hill was hunched over a steaming teacup with his eyes closed and all the servants clustered around him.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, if you need something,” began Mrs. Hill.

  “Only a word or two with your husband.”

  “At your service.” Mr. Hill began to rise but the colonel put one hand on the man’s shoulder and pressed him down again.

  “Tell us where you have searched and we shall continue on,” said Richard.

  “Sir, I cannot say,” said Mr. Hill. “I have been up and down her usual walks. All the paths and ways of Longbourn and across to Meryton. No one saw her Wednesday and none can swear to seeing her since. I don’t know where she could be and that’s a fact!”

  Further questioning gained them nothing. They were returning above stairs when the clatter of feet stopped them. Kitty and Lydia were descending for breakfast.

  “Why, Mr. Darcy,” said Lydia, smirking. “What a surprise to see you. Have you heard what Lizzy has been up to now? She has run away, rather than marry you!”

  “Lydia Bennet,” cried her mother. “Be still, I insist. Mr. Darcy, I assure you. Elizabeth is delighted to be your bride. It is all she can speak of.”

  “I am convinced of it, ma’am,” said Darcy, ignoring the silly girl's words. “After speaking with Mr. Hill, he informs me that the militia have not been recruited. Surely more men would mean more area covered.”

  “Oh, certainly not!” said Mrs. Bennet. “I should not dare.”

  “I shall.” Darcy spoke firmly and Mrs. Bennet’s flutters only increased. “Mr. Hill states that all her usual paths have been examined. Therefore a wider net must be cast. Richard, excuse me Mrs. Bennet, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam, my cousin. Richard, call upon the local militia. A Colonel Forster leads them. Ask him to send out search parties. At this point we must assume that, if Miss Elizabeth were able to return home unassisted, she would have. No stone must be left unturned.”

  Before any of the Longbourn ladies could protest the colonel bowed and departed.

  ***

  Colonel Forster was passing time idly chatting to his wife while she made a leisurely breakfast, and he, who had dined earlier, enjoyed his coffee.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted with very little ceremony. “Colonel Forster. I wonder if I might impose upon you for a few of your more intelligent officers,”

  “Certainly, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Only assure me that it is not because that dratted Corsican is on our shores.”

  “Thank heaven, no,” said Richard. “You may not have heard. I understand the family is trying to keep the matter quiet.” Richard shot a sideways glance toward the very young wife, who sipped her tea and pretended not to be listening. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet vanished from her home Wednesday morning and has not been seen since. Her family fears she has sustained an injury that prevents her return home.”

  “Dear God,” the smile fell off Colonel Forster’s face and he stared blankly out of the window. “That scoundrel Wickham has been missing since Wednesday.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” said his wife. “Wickham does not like Eliza Bennet above half. Dear Lydia is the one for him, or so she would like to believe.”

  “Wickham?” Richard swore, despite the presence of a lady, then stepped closer to the militia colonel, “that scoundrel? What have you done to recover him?”

  “I have written to headquarters about his desertion and considered myself well shot of him.” The Colonel stiffened. “Wait? Is not Elizabeth Bennet the one who is the heiress now? Wickham’s debts are great and he would not be the first man to force a marriage through compromise!” Seizing his hat, the Colonel charged through the house, shouting for his adjutant.

  The two colonels jogged through town, a series of other ranks hurrying behind them. At Wickham’s boarding house several of his equals were lounging about waiting for the morning’s training to begin and came to their feet to salute as soon as all the ranked gentlemen approached.

  “That one is Denny,” said Colonel Forster, pointing. “Wickham’s particular friend. Come, Denny, and tell us all you know.”

  Without breaking step Colonel Forster hurried upstairs to Wickham’s abandoned room.

  Richard seized the unfortunate Denny by the collar and dragged him along. Colonel Forster set his adjutant to searching Wickham’s rooms while Denny was questioned.

  “Well, yes,” said Lt. Denny. “Wickham was enamored of Miss Elizabeth for a while, but her father soon put paid to that. So far as I know they haven’t spoken for weeks.”

  “Sir,” called the adjutant and approached bearing a double handful of paper.

  “Letters?” suggested Colonel Forster to Richard. “Love notes from the young Lady?”

  “Not that, Sir,” said the adjutant. “Pawnbroker receipts.”

  Colonel Forster flipped through them rapidly, his face going first pale then red with rage. Eventually he shook the pages under Richard’s nose.

  “He has been stealing and pawning the property of the King's Army!”

  “So,” said Richard with some satisfaction, “if desertion alone does not get him hanged, then the theft shall.”

  “Damn him,” said Colonel Forster. “But what of Miss Elizabeth? Has she gone with him willingly?”

  “Never,” declared Richard. “If they are together, then he has taken her for some nefarious reason. We must find them both. Alone, or together, with him, Elizabeth Bennet is in danger. Miss Elizabeth is engaged to my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  Leaving Colonel Forster to arrange the search, Richard returned to his flagging horse and turned the creature's head toward Longbourn. He did not want to think of how Darcy would react, knowing his beloved was in the hands of his greatest enemy.

  ***

  In the end, very few words were required. Darcy took one look at his cousin’s set expression and tightly clenched his fists and swore. “Tell me the worst, Richard.”

  “Wickham has been missing for as long as your Elizabeth.”

  “Damn him.”

  ***

  “Which leaves us with a different, but the same, problem,” said Richard a little later. The two men had laid claim to Mr. Bennet’s bookroom, and were studying a map of the area. “Elizabeth is still missing, but now we suspect Wickham of hiding her away, rather than she is ill or injured.”

  Darcy nodded. His whole body was tense. He did not know what he feared most. If Wickham were aware of the engagement between Elizabeth and himself, what sort of revenge would Wickham seek? If it were merely money, then Darcy would pay. But if it were revenge of another sort, it did not bear thinking about. Either way, he had to find Elizabeth and soon, or his own sanity would be forfeit! Breathing deeply he struggled to focus on the map and practical matters. “Shall he have left the area, do you think?”

  “It depends on the woman, I suspect,” said Richard. “I have not had the honor of an introduction. You would know best. Even at Gretna Green the consent of the lady is required. Could he bully her into
consenting?”

  “Elizabeth? My Elizabeth? Never.”

  “I hope you are correct, but forgive me. A woman dishonored…”

  “Do not say that, Richard, I beg you.”

  “I am sorry, Fitz, but if he has, would you marry her? If she might be carrying his child?”

  “She is my Elizabeth. I would take her, keep her, no matter what.”

  “Then I hope she is as confident in you as you are in her.”

  “And that we find her soon.”

  A clatter outside the window drew their attention. The Earl of Matlock’s traveling coach drew to a halt in the forecourt. While they watched, Mrs. Bennet emerged waving her hands in the air then she halted when faced with the unfamiliar equipage.

  “I should go, perform the introductions,” said Richard. “Shall you wait here?”

  “He will be my father-in-law, Richard. I will come.”

  By the time they joined the family before the house, both Lord Matlock and Mr. Bennet had emerged and were being given what welcome could be managed.

  “What have you discovered?” demanded Mr. Bennet of Darcy as soon as he appeared.

  “We should speak privately,” said Darcy.

  “If you know anything of our Lizzy,” sobbed Mrs. Bennet, throwing her arms about her spouse. “Please speak!”

  “If you will have it,” said Darcy, looking Mr. Bennet in the eye. “According to Colonel Forster, Lt. Wickham, who was banned from this house after making an offer to you for Elizabeth, has disappeared on the same day. It is feared they are together, although…”

  “Oh, tosh,” interrupted Lydia. “He has not eloped with Lizzy. What a joke? He does not like her! My dear Wickham loves me. Once Mr. Darcy has come up with some of the ready, Wickham and I shall be wed!”

  “How can you be so stupid?” cried Mary and struck Lydia across the face with the full strength of her arm before bursting into tears.

  Aside from those sobs, silence filled the courtyard.

  “I think it is time for you to tell us all you know Lydia,” said her father.

  “I shall not. Why should I?” Lydia was still bold despite the reddening mark on her face.

  Her father simply stared at her until the girl dropped her gaze.

  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” she said, sullenly. “Dearest Wickham has written you a note. I put it on your desk after you left for London.”

  Mr. Bennet led the parade back to his bookroom, but when he reached the chamber he could barely stand, and struggled to breathe. Mrs. Bennet forced him into his chair and pressed brandy upon him. Darcy searched through the papers until he found one marked with unpleasantly familiar script.

  He tore open the wafer, and glancing to Mr. Bennet for permission, read the contents. By the time he was finished Darcy’s hands were shaking and his face was flushed.

  “What is it, lad?” whispered Mr. Bennet. “Does he have Lizzy?”

  Glaring directly at Lydia, Darcy read: “Mr. Bennet. I am delighted to have this reason to write to you. Your daughter and I can no longer bear to be kept apart. I would greatly appreciate it, if you would arrange for a special license and hold it ready, and I should be pleased to call on you in five days for the purpose of putting it to its proper use. I will, of course, insist that your Will remain in its current form and I look forward to calling you father in the future. However, should this be unacceptable to you, or more importantly to Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, please inform him that the alternative would take the form of ten thousand pounds to begin and a thousand pounds a year thereafter. I would be very happy to discuss the alternatives when I call upon you. Thank you for your kind attention. George Wickham.”

  Lydia, indeed all the Bennets, stared blankly at Darcy when he finished reading, then after a moment's thought she clapped her hands and smiled. “You see,” said Lydia. “Wickham is coming to marry me. Five days… Why that will be Sunday. Sunday. We could be wed during Sunday services. Won’t everybody stare?”

  “You are not named in this letter, Miss Lydia,” said Darcy slowly. “Your father’s Will names Miss Elizabeth as his heir.”

  “No. No. Wickham loves me. That was the plan. We needed money to marry, and you owe it to him. You being so mean as to deny him all your father promised him. When you pay, Wickham and I will be wed and that is that!”

  “Unnatural child,” cried Mr. Bennet, “what do you know of all this?”

  “You cannot stop true love,” declared Lydia, a smug smile on her face. “And you thought you had kept us apart, but we found a way.”

  “What, have you done!” stated Mr. Bennet slowly.

  “We shall all discover on Sunday,” said Lydia and prepared to strut from the chamber.

  “Monday,” said Mrs. Bennet suddenly. “Wickham took, oh my poor girl, he took Lizzy on Wednesday morning. Five days would be Monday.”

  Lydia half turned away. “Yes.”

  “Wait,” cried her father. “You. You are the one who told me that you had seen Lizzy set out on a walk Wednesday morning! You are the last person to see her. You are the reason we sent search parties to Oakham Mount!”

  “Yes.” Lydia blushed. “Yes. She went for a walk.”

  “Liar,” snapped Darcy. “What have you done to your sister?”

  “Nothing she has not deserved. But it will all come good soon enough. You will give Wickham the money. We shall be wed, and you may do what you wish for I don’t care a snap for any of you.” She snapped her fingers under Darcy’s nose. “That for all of you.”

  “Miss Lydia, you are a fool for trusting Wickham. Read his note for yourself. I will, of course, insist that your Will remain in its current form, and I look forward to calling you father in the future. There is nothing in here about you at any point. What Wickham writes is that he will marry your father’s heir. He will marry Elizabeth in expectation of inheriting Longbourn. The only condition, under which he will not marry Elizabeth, is if I bribe him to go away. There is nothing, nothing about you!”

  “The Special License,” began Lydia. “It is for me!”

  “You know nothing of the matter,” said Darcy. “When a Special License is applied for, the names of the man and woman involved must be declared in the Court of Commons and recorded on the document. Were your father so foolish as to apply for one, then he would have to write your sister's name upon it, or else it would not be legal!”

  “Lizzy cannot marry Wickham!” shrieked Lydia.

  “She is the heir,” pressed Darcy. “The one who will have the money while you will have nothing!”

  “Oh, you horrible, horrible man!” Lydia spun and ran a few steps down the corridor before coming to a halt and collapsing in tears on the narrow bench.

  Darcy watched impassively for a moment before turning back to the room. “She does not know where Wickham has taken her sister.”

  “How can you be certain?” asked the Earl.

  “If she knew, she would be running there this minute to ring a peel over his head.”

  “But, he will not hurt Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet, relaxing somewhat. “If he wants to marry her, that is, he will take care of her. He always seemed very gentlemanly in his manner.”

  “Wickham wants money. All he has ever wanted is money,” said Richard. “Forgive me for being blunt, but from the look of things your estate cannot afford Wickham’s profligate ways. His gambling. His …”

  “Enough,” said Mr. Bennet. “What I need to know from you, young man, is what shall you do?”

  “I?” Darcy faced the pale and shaking older man. “I will marry Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “No matter what,” asked Richard? “She has been alone with Wickham for days.”

  “It matters not at all. She is mine. That is why Wickham took her. He is not so much a fool as to hurt her. There is no limit to the punishment I would inflict upon him, and of that he is quite aware.”

  “You will not have to trouble yourself,” said Richard. “Wickham has abandoned his post in a ti
me of war. His life is forfeit. He does not want to marry Elizabeth. At this point he wants money from you to fund his escape!”

  “Wickham,” shrieked Lydia in the hall. “Come to me. We shall flee together!”

  “I fear she heard you,” said Mr. Bennet.

  “And still she has not run to him.” Darcy stared out of the window. “Where could he be holding her?”

  “Not London. It is too far away and the risk of being seen real.” Richard stared at his cousin. “You know Elizabeth better. Should she travel quietly or…?”

  “She would fight,” said her Fiancé, and Father together.

  “Then she is nearby, hidden.” Richard looked about the room. “Are there huntsmen cottages, unused shelters, abandoned farms, or barns about the place?”

  “Wait,” said Darcy, suddenly. “I know exactly where she is. Wickham is a man with an eye to his own comfort. He will not spend days at a time in some freezing cold barn, if there is an alternative.” Nodding to himself he turned to his cousin. “Fetch Colonel Forster. Tell him to bring his men. A few trusted men would be better than a great number.”

  “Where shall he bring them?”

  “To Netherfield. Bingley gave his staff time off while he is in London on his honeymoon. That great barn of a place is near to empty!”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Netherfield, had an extensive storage area beneath and below the kitchens as did every house of good size and luxury. George Wickham, determined not to be hungry, thirsty, or cold where there was an alternative, chose this area as the safest hiding place. This was hardly the first time he’d had to hide; therefore, he had some experience in the matter. And, as an advantage, all the storerooms were blessed with locks.

  The first item of business he dealt with on arrival at Netherfield was to hustle the protesting and struggling Elizabeth down to the wine cellar - the most distant, chilled, and secure of the store rooms. After helping himself to an armful of the better bottles of brandy, he’d locked her inside. She’d have enough to drink, nothing to eat, and the rats and spiders of her imagination to keep her company.