Elizabeth stepped out of Darcy’s hold. “Perhaps you would desire to speak to my father.”
“If that is all right,” Darcy said gently.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand as though trying to assure him wordlessly that she would be fine. After she led them to Mr. Bennet’s study, she excused herself to go assist Miss Bennet with their mother’s distress presumably due to her worry for Miss Bennet.
Upon entering the room, the three gentlemen found him for once without a book, staring blankly ahead.
“Ah, have you come to condole with me? Or perhaps tell me that you were correct?” Mr. Bennet said lightly.
“Not at all, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said. “We have come to see what has been done and how we can help.”
Mr. Bennet sighed. “I hardly know what may be done. I have confined my wife to her rooms in hopes that she will not spread the news of Lydia’s indiscretion immediately. Were she to speak to her friends, there will be no chance of concealing the truth.”
“Miss Elizabeth said she had spoken to the stable hands but none recalled seeing Miss Lydia,” Darcy began. “Has anyone ridden after them?”
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “I do not know who I can send to follow them. I must do so, of course, but I dare not set out on such a journey without proper preparation. My man is packing my things as we speak.”
Darcy almost snarled at the man. His daughters’ lives were at stake, and if something was not done at once—not after preparing for a lengthy journey—a lengthy journey would be necessary.
“We can divide up the roads going north and ride out now,” Bingley suggested. “We may be able to overtake them and bring Miss Lydia back before nightfall.”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “I will speak to Colonel Forster before I leave. Wickham is either absent without leave or he has spun a tale for the Colonel. Perhaps it may give us a clue as to his location, and even if it doesn’t, it shall provide us with the necessary leverage if we catch up to him,” he said grimly.
“Very well,” Darcy agreed. “Mr. Bennet do you wish to join us?”
“I will prepare for the journey north,” Mr. Bennet said.
Darcy opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it as he noted the trembling in Mr. Bennet’s hands. Perhaps the man felt it more than he seemed to. With a flash of worry, Darcy recalled Mr. Bennet’s end Before. He would have to tread lightly lest he precipitate that which he had resolved to prevent, and, if he had the opportunity, perhaps he would try to help Mr. Bennet see that his detachment was merely adding to his stress rather than assisting him with it.
After mapping out the possible roads Wickham and Miss Lydia might have taken and assigning tasks, they took their leave.
“I hate to say it, but this is the misstep you have been looking for on Wickham’s part,” Fitzwilliam said to Darcy as they mounted their horses.
Darcy nodded but did not reply. If only he had done something sooner.
He had expected Wickham to follow the timetable of Before, expected that they had plenty of time to wait for Wickham’s mistakes to give them enough leverage to deal with him. Elizabeth’s white face haunted him. He was responsible for hurting her family. Perhaps Wickham had caught wind of their impending courtship somehow and had hurried his timetable for the sake of injuring Darcy.
Would Elizabeth ever forgive him? He had been able to push the thought down, press it below consciousness while in her presence, and focus on reassuring her, but now, away from her clear-eyed gaze, he could not avoid it. His inaction had caused this.
As was his habit, he imagined what Elizabeth would tell him if she were able to speak to his actions at the moment. The scathing tone of her bitter recriminations regarding the “injuries” he had inflicted on Wickham Before filled his mind. But the imaginary Elizabeth wavered, replaced instead by the more recent memory of her earnest belief that Wickham was to blame for his own behaviour. No, his Elizabeth was right: he would not compound his mistakes with Wickham by taking responsibility for the man’s actions.
Darcy straightened in the saddle and urged Apollo onward.
Chapter 38
Two hours later, a dusty, sweat-stained Darcy returned to Longbourn. They had all agreed to ask at the first two stages for the stagecoach and mail and then return in two hours if they did not find any sign of the headstrong pair. Those who returned would then follow behind the one who had not returned, presuming they were in pursuit of Miss Lydia and Wickham.
He hated to call on Elizabeth in such a state, but the matter was too urgent for him to return to Netherfield and change.
Mr. Bennet met him in the library. “No sign of them then?”
Darcy shook his head. “None.”
Mr. Bennet ran a hand across his face. “You are justified in whatever recriminations you desire to make. I ought to have listened to you—I did not believe that Mr. Wickham could be a threat, and you are proved right.”
“Mr. Bennet, Wickham is a practiced deceiver. I am not surprised that your daughter was taken in by him—”
“No, you need not comfort me,” Mr. Bennet said, holding up a hand to forestall the rest of Darcy’s statement. “For once in my life I shall face how much I have been to blame; I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.”
Darcy hesitated. He had not been trying to comfort Mr. Bennet, merely stating the truth. His eyes followed the lines on Mr. Bennet’s face; the man’s head was bowed and his shoulders slumped as though he were even now carrying the weight of the world, and Darcy worried the strain would be injurious for the man if it kept up. Mr. Bennet was a defeated man.
Visions of his own reflection in the mirror after Elizabeth’s rejection Before flitted through Darcy’s mind. A sudden resolve filled him. He leaned forward and gripped Mr. Bennet’s arm. “Do not let it pass.”
Mr. Bennet’s gaze snapped up. “Pardon?”
“Do not let it pass,” Darcy urged. “If you allow your guilt to slip away without changing, it is a wasted emotion. Do not let it pass—use it. Become a better version of yourself.” Darcy looked down, recalling when he had almost lost Georgiana and how he had not grown from the experience but instead doubled down on his already failing methods of living. Not until Elizabeth’s rebuke had he understood that he had failed in his character rather than his actions. “Mr. Bennet, I have been in a similar position, and, the first time, I did not learn from my mistakes, but the second time, I—I resolved to live my life differently, to become a better man.”
Mr. Bennet leaned away, and Darcy released him.
“You do not know what you ask.”
Darcy leaned forward. “I am fully aware of how difficult such a thing is—I have been living with the consequences of my previous behaviour for some months as well as working to overcome the habits of a lifetime.”
Mr. Bennet stood and went to the window. “I was not born to this.” He waved a hand around his library. “I intended to become a professor and spend my life with my books—until my elder brother passed away.”
Darcy remained silent.
Mr. Bennet sighed. “Ah well, such is life. Disappointments abound; one must find solace where one can.”
“And I have seen that you are very capable of finding entertainment in any situation, however, if I may speak freely?”
Mr. Bennet gave him a wry smile. “I doubt I can prevent you from doing so. You are very like Lizzy in that way.”
“You act as though you are an observer in your own life. Such a position, while it may assuage the disappointment you feel, does not change your circumstances.”
“And if one’s circumstances are beyond being changed?” Mr. Bennet asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I do not believe any circumstance is immutable. One can always change how one responds to the situation at hand.”
Mr. Bennet frowned and sat back down at his desk.
“Mr. Bennet, you have forgotten how to live your life. An observer merely watches the passing of events
—he is not part of them. For the sake of your daughters, if not for your own sake, I urge you to change this perspective, to live your life.”
Before Mr. Bennet could reply, Fitzwilliam and Bingley were announced.
Darcy’s stomach churned—neither of them had found anything. Few options for finding Miss Lydia remained.
Both men shook their heads, and Mr. Bennet paled.
Bingley fidgeted. “Neither the mail, nor the stagecoach, nor any private conveyance was seen carrying two young people. Everyone who passed by was either older, single, or with children.”
“And I experienced an equal amount of luck,” Fitzwilliam said grimly. “No one passed who matched their descriptions.”
Darcy frowned. They had split up the roads so as to visit those places where roads converged, places he was certain Wickham and Miss Lydia could not avoid. As Gretna was northwest of Meryton, they had checked the routes north and west.
“Wickham is on leave to ‘visit a sick aunt’ in London,” Fitzwilliam added. “I had time after I talked to Forster so I checked those roads too, but they were not seen there either.”
“And Colonel Forster?” Darcy prompted.
Fitzwilliam scoffed. “I did not tell him Miss Lydia’s name, but he suggested the young lady might be playing a prank, so he will not assist in the search until she has been missing for at least a day.”
Darcy’s thoughts shuddered to a stop as Fitzwilliam’s words rang through his mind: a prank. He had been at a loss to explain Miss Lydia’s behaviour, but perhaps they could pass it off as a prank—at least to Mrs. Bennet. Darcy’s frown deepened as he considered the possibility that it was a prank. “Mr. Bennet, is it likely that Miss Lydia would be playing a prank?”
“While that theory is not unlikely given my youngest daughter’s character, several of her possessions are missing,” Mr. Bennet said bleakly.
“Has Miss Elizabeth discovered anything else since we left?” Darcy asked.
“Nothing that I am aware of.”
Bingley shifted uneasily. “Perhaps we ought to speak to her? Just in case she has . . . .”
“I will call her,” Mr. Bennet said and left.
Darcy suspected the man desired some time to himself. Hopefully, his exhortation would not be cast aside like so many other opportunities for change Mr. Bennet had discarded. His thoughts whirled back and forth from Mr. Bennet’s character to Wickham’s perfidy and Miss Lydia’s probable location.
“Darcy, what do we do now?” Bingley asked.
“We keep looking,” Darcy said simply. “All is not lost. If we can find her before nightfall and pass the whole thing off as a prank, the Bennets shall not be disgraced.”
“And if Wickham reaches London, or wherever he is going?” Fitzwilliam asked.
Darcy took a deep breath. “Then I shall induce him to marry Miss Lydia.”
Fitzwilliam growled. “You would pay that scoundrel to do what is right?”
“I must protect Miss Elizabeth and her family. I will do whatever is necessary to accomplish that.”
“I will bear some of the cost,” Bingley said stoutly. “They will be my family as well.”
Fitzwilliam crossed his arms. “Wickham will not change, even for money. You will have to pay him every year to simply maintain the facade of a gentleman. And the amount will go up. Better to kill the man and have done!”
“I cannot condone murder,” Darcy said, shaking his head. “I know that Wickham is a scoundrel and that he will require constant watching, but this is not the heat of battle. I cannot murder a man simply because he has acted so poorly.”
Fitzwilliam sighed heavily. “I only wish to save you from a life practically leg-shackled to that miscreant.”
“I know. And I appreciate your concern,” Darcy said gently.
“Where else shall we look?” Bingley asked. “We have already checked the main roads.”
“We have not checked the main road east,” Darcy pointed out.
Bingley frowned as though trying to solve some deep conundrum. “Why would he be going east?”
Darcy shrugged. “Perhaps because it is an unlikely direction to go for someone presumed to be going northwest to Gretna or south towards London?”
Fitzwilliam grimaced. “He always was too wily for his own good.”
They continued discussing roads and directions Wickham might have taken, but there seemed to be few options as they had already canvassed the main roads. Bingley suggested they check some of the smaller, less-travelled roads in case Wickham had stolen a conveyance. As there were several, he proposed returning to Netherfield to collect some trusted servants and supplies and then canvas the countryside.
When Elizabeth followed Mr. Bennet into the library, Darcy was on his feet in a moment. His beloved appeared tired and wan but determined. He immediately offered her his seat.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting with an attempt at a smile. “Papa says you have not discovered any trace of them.”
Darcy nodded. “No one has seen them on the North Road or the road towards London or going west. Have you learned anything new about Miss Lydia’s departure, or do you have any idea where else they might have gone?”
Elizabeth looked thoughtful. “I do not, but Kitty is often a participant in Lydia’s schemes. I have tried speaking to her, but she maintains that she knows nothing about it. Perhaps she may be more forthcoming with you, Papa?” she suggested.
“Please get her, child,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Of course.”
Mr. Bennet scrubbed a hand across his face and cast a longing look towards the books on his desk. Darcy considered trying to speak to him again but decided that anything he might say would be extraneous and only detract from the man’s thoughts, which were hopefully turned in a beneficial direction. Bingley and Fitzwilliam seemed equally distracted or merely unwilling to speak in Mr. Bennet’s presence and so the room sat in awkward silence until Elizabeth returned with Miss Kitty.
“Kitty, do you know anything about this business of Lydia’s?” Mr. Bennet asked sternly.
Miss Kitty shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.
“May I?” Darcy asked.
Mr. Bennet sighed, then waved a hand towards his daughter.
“Miss Kitty, we only wish to find your sister in order to protect her. I am certain you have heard that I dislike Mr. Wickham and have spread lies about him. Unfortunately, they are not lies. The man is a cad. I have several of his natural born children in my home, their mothers working as servants. Mr. Wickham intends to marry an heiress—it is highly unlikely he will actually marry your sister, regardless of what he has told her,” Darcy said bluntly.
Miss Kitty’s eyes widened, and she wrung her hands. “But you have ruined Wickham’s prospects!” she burst out.
Darcy shook his head. “No, I have not. I paid Mr. Wickham 3,000 pounds in lieu of the preferment as he wished to have money rather than the living.”
“Mr. Darcy speaks the truth,” Elizabeth said. “If Mr. Wickham were honourable, he would not have run off with a young girl, but instead courted Lydia and asked Papa’s permission to marry her.”
“You only think that because you like Mr. Darcy,” Miss Kitty said resentfully.
Fitzwilliam leaned forward. “Wickham is a scoundrel. Your sister’s only chance is if we catch up to them in time.”
“What do you know, Kitty?” Mr. Bennet demanded.
Miss Kitty remained silent, a mulish look around her eyes.
“Please, Kitty, help us save Lydia,” Elizabeth urged. “I do not wish my baby sister to be at the mercy of such a scoundrel. He is a gambler and debtor, and if he does not return to his post in time, they shall hunt him as a deserter. That is no life for Lydia.”
Miss Kitty searched her face, then finally nodded once. “Lydia has been meeting him every day this week. They are going to Scotland.”
Darcy sighed. They had already checked those roads based on Miss Lydia’s note. His eyes narr
owed. What if Wickham had lied to Miss Lydia? He could not imagine any possible reason Wickham would have targeted Miss Lydia or even the Bennets, unless he intended to hurt Darcy somehow.
Vaguely, he heard Mr. Bennet speaking to Miss Kitty, but he did not attend. Darcy went to the window, his thoughts trying to track the twisted reasoning Wickham had most likely followed.
Begin with the supposition that Wickham was trying to hurt him. How did taking Miss Lydia accomplish that?
It hurt Elizabeth, and it hurt Darcy to see her so distraught.
If they did not find Miss Lydia, another man might be driven off by the disgrace her family would suffer. Would Wickham believe his connection to Elizabeth so fleeting? He did not know about their courtship . . . .
If his goal was to disgrace the Bennets through Miss Lydia, there was no need to take her north. In fact, it would be unlikely that Wickham would take her north as the dastard would expect that to be the first place Darcy looked for them. London would then be the most logical place for Wickham to take her, and he had done so Before. Once there, it would be a simple matter to conceal themselves in the rabbit warren that was London’s streets. London would have the added benefit of allowing him to pretend to Miss Lydia that he had to report in to the home office. Thus, she would be content to wait until his “business” was complete before they went north—Wickham would not have to worry about her escaping or fighting him.
But Fitzwilliam had not traced them on the road towards London. Darcy’s fingers tightened on the windowsill. If Wickham had stolen a conveyance, he could conceivably drive to London without following the stagecoach routes. How could they discover if Wickham had made off with a vehicle?
The door opened and closed, and Darcy turned back to the room; Miss Kitty was no longer present. “Would Sir William know if any carts or other conveyances have been stolen today?”
Elizabeth gave him a quizzical look. “He is the magistrate, not the constable.”
“I doubt that anyone has reported such an occurrence to Sir William this early in the day. Rather, they will search for their missing cart before reporting it to the constable, Mr. Brown, or Sir William,” Mr. Bennet pointed out.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 40
