A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “Papa, I doubt that they will hunt for a missing cart,” Elizabeth said. “Missing horses might be supposed to have run off, but carts seldom leave on their own.” She turned to Darcy. “But they might report the theft to Mr. Brown first.”

  “Of course,” Darcy murmured. When he had been a temporary magistrate, it had seemed that people brought their every little problem to him, but of course they would be more likely to speak to the constable first.

  “What are you thinking, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  Darcy grimaced. “What if Wickham was not eloping with Miss Lydia but rather kidnapping her?”

  Elizabeth put a hand over her mouth.

  “What?” Mr. Bennet thundered.

  “He might have lied to her about eloping. What motive does he have to elope with Miss Lydia?” He held Mr. Bennet’s eyes. “You were correct, sir, when you said there is little inducement for him to marry your daughters—unless he has a motive other than money or status. He has to know that Miss Lydia’s departure would be discovered.”

  Silence fell over the room as the occupants considered Darcy’s argument.

  “You’re right,” Fitzwilliam said. “You believe he is trying to harm you?”

  “Or extort more money,” Darcy said darkly.

  Fitzwilliam growled. “I told you that you will never be rid of the man if you begin to pay him.”

  “Then we must find him before any damage is done to Miss Lydia’s reputation,” Bingley said fiercely.

  “Have you considered what you shall do if—when you do find Lydia?” Elizabeth interjected.

  “Bring her home?” Fitzwilliam said blankly.

  Elizabeth huffed. “If we are to avoid a scandal, you will need a female with you. Not to mention that my mother will need a suitable explanation, or Lydia’s indiscretion shall be spread far and wide.”

  “I am hopeful that it may be passed off as a prank if we are able to locate Miss Lydia before nightfall.” Darcy sent a worried glance towards the sun, trying to gauge its position as the minutes slipped away. It was already past midday.

  “That would not be out of character for Lydia,” Elizabeth said slowly. “But I do not think my mother will remain silent; she will bemoan Lydia’s lack of concern for her nerves in pulling such a prank to all her friends.”

  “I will make her understand the importance of her silence,” Mr. Bennet said quietly, his voice edged with determination.

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows went up, but she nodded.

  Darcy gave the man a warm smile. Perhaps some good could come out of this debacle. He could go to Sir William, while Mr. Bennet visited Mr. Brown and the others began canvassing the back roads to London. He glanced down at his travel-stained clothing regretfully. “I believe I ought to return to Netherfield and change before I visit Sir William lest I excite suspicion.”

  Fitzwilliam grimaced. “Unfortunately, you are probably right.”

  “You will return to Netherfield and collect supplies before checking the less well-travelled roads?” Darcy asked Fitzwilliam and Bingley, hesitant to confess to the Bennets that they intended to collect trusted servants to aid in their quest. Then he imagined what Elizabeth would say if she found out he had hidden the truth from her. “And those servants we can trust.”

  Mr. Bennet frowned. “Servants?”

  “Yes,” Darcy said firmly. “My valet is already in my confidence and will be an excellent ally in this matter as he has been in many others. Fitzwilliam’s batman is another who would be similarly trusted. As would Bingley’s man.”

  “If you are certain,” Mr. Bennet said skeptically.

  “I am.”

  “Let us go at once then,” Bingley urged.

  “Mr. Bennet, will you go to the constable?” Darcy requested.

  Mr. Bennet stood. “Of course.”

  “And if you find a trace of Lydia, I will go with you to retrieve her,” Elizabeth said firmly.

  Mr. Bennet frowned. “You had better take Jane with you, or you will be the one who creates a scandal.”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  Mr. Bennet held Darcy’s eyes. “I will trust you to ensure their safety.”

  Darcy nodded.

  The gentlemen took their leave, Darcy lingering a moment over Elizabeth’s hand and promising her once more that he would do all in his power to rescue Miss Lydia. Without a word, the three men rode to Netherfield, each trapped in their own grim thoughts.

  Chapter 39

  Darcy slid from his saddle and handed Apollo’s reins to a stable boy. “Please walk him,” he said as he patted a sweaty Apollo. He strode towards the house, Bingley and Fitzwilliam just ahead of him.

  “Mr. Darcy,” a small voice called from one of the shrubs on the path to the house.

  Darcy halted, looking around.

  “Mr. Darcy,” the voice called again.

  Darcy followed the sound to a specific shrub. “Yes?” Eyes blinked at him, and, as the shrub shifted, Darcy could make out the form of a boy crouched within. “Tommy?”

  “Mr. Darcy, I know you’re friends with Miss Elizabeth.” Tommy gazed up at him earnestly.

  “Yes,” Darcy agreed.

  “So I figur’d you must not be a bad sort.”

  “Is there something I can assist you with?” Darcy asked, hoping to push Tommy to the point. Elizabeth’s future was at stake, and he did not have a minute to waste.

  “There’s sommat goin’ on up there,” he said, gesturing towards the house with a jerk of his head.

  “Oh?”

  “I seen the lady’s maid carryin’ food up to the north field all secretive like.”

  Darcy’s gaze sharpened. “Which lady’s maid?”

  “The scary one. I wouldn’ta noticed it if’n she hadn’t been sneakin’ around. I seen her and the lady up there before with some soldier. My house ain’t far from there, and sometimes me and Billy Thormpton likes to look for frogs up that way.”

  Darcy drew in his breath sharply. “The lady was there with a soldier? What colour hair did he have?”

  “Hair like Miss Bennet’s.”

  Wickham. Darcy’s thoughts raced. Why had Miss Bingley been meeting Wickham? And if the maid was bringing food up there today . . . . He clasped Tommy’s arm. “Tommy, thank you for telling me. You have done a great service today. Would you be willing to go watch the north field and the cottage up there?”

  Tommy glanced towards the stable and then back to Darcy. “The stable master’s expectin’ me to help muck out this afternoon.”

  “I will settle things with the stable master,” Darcy assured him.

  “All right,” he said, his eyes lighting up as though he were a child excused from lessons for the day.

  “I will get Mr. Bingley and my cousin, and we shall meet you up there.” Darcy hesitated, trying to recall the layout of that farm. There was an old dead tree which had been left to rot. “Do you know the dead tree on the west side?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tommy said.

  “We’ll meet you there.” Recalling Elizabeth’s advice to bring her and Miss Bennet, he added, “It may be some time.”

  Tommy slunk away, and in a moment, Darcy was striding up the walk, calling to Fitzwilliam and Bingley who were nearly at the house. His two friends halted before long and waited for him to reach them.

  “Wickham has been seen in the north field,” Darcy hurried to say.

  Bingley’s mouth fell open. “My north field?”

  “Yes. I assume it has made a convenient location as there are no tenants.”

  “You believe he is holding Miss Lydia there?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  Darcy cast Bingley an apologetic glance. “Tommy, one of the stable boys, observed Miss Bingley’s maid taking food up there today, and he said he has seen Miss Bingley and Wickham meeting there before.”

  Bingley frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I am sorry, Bingley, I do not know how your sister is involved in this, but it appears that she is entangled somehow.
I would prefer to question her after we ascertain whether Miss Lydia is there and what her condition is.” And Heaven help Miss Bingley if she had harmed the Bennets after Darcy’s explicit warning.

  Fitzwilliam gave him a grim nod, acknowledging the fears Darcy did not dare put into words. If Wickham had kidnapped Miss Lydia rather than taking her to London, it was possible he had mistreated her.

  “I assured Tommy that I would ensure the stable master does not punish him for failing to do his assigned chores and sent him back to the north field to keep an eye on the comings and goings there. My only concern is whether we should send for Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet first or go ourselves. What do you think?”

  “You are concerned that he will be dangerous when cornered and that he may have help?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  Darcy nodded.

  Bingley remained silent, apparently still processing the fact that his sister was connected to these unfortunate events.

  “I do not wish to put Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet in danger,” Darcy said, trying to stay his racing heart at the thought of Wickham injuring either woman. “But Miss Elizabeth is correct regarding the need for Miss Lydia to have a chaperone, and, given the circumstances, her sisters would be the ideal candidates.”

  Bingley swallowed hard. “I do not wish them in danger either,” he said hoarsely. “Perhaps we can merely keep them close at hand in case we find Miss Lydia but far enough away that Wickham will remain unaware of their presence.”

  “I agree,” Fitzwilliam said.

  “Then how shall we fetch them?” Darcy asked.

  Bingley shifted uncomfortably. “I know you do not want to engender gossip, but I could send a carriage to Longbourn with a message for Mr. Bennet, or Miss Bennet if he has already left to find the constable.”

  “Very well. A carriage may be the best way to transport Miss Lydia home discreetly in any event.”

  “Roberts can drive it,” Fitzwilliam said, referring to his batman.

  Bingley nodded. “I shall give the order and have fresh horses saddled for us, and I shall speak to the stable master.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll speak to Roberts and then we may as well refresh ourselves,” Fitzwilliam said. “In the army, I have learned to take my repose whenever possible so as to have strength when necessary. I would suggest you gentlemen do the same.”

  Without responding, Bingley rushed back towards the stables. Darcy could not envision eating as his stomach jumped and twisted, trying not to imagine what Wickham had done by now or to picture himself buying Wickham off, paying him to marry a girl who had suffered under his hands. Of course, such an eventuality might not occur. If it were necessary and Miss Lydia so desired, he was certain he could find someone else who would marry her with the proper inducement. Perhaps not a gentleman, but some clerk or farmer who desired a wife.

  “Darcy?” Fitzwilliam called, several steps ahead of him now.

  Darcy shook himself and followed his cousin.

  “Have you changed your perspective?” Fitzwilliam asked tightly.

  “Pardon?”

  “Wickham. If there is no other option, will you stay my hand again?”

  Darcy tensed. If there were no other option . . . but there was always another option. Besides, Wickham had already crossed a line that could not be uncrossed. Unless . . . wintery cold filled his bones. They could not prosecute Wickham without ruining Miss Lydia’s reputation. Would rescuing a young woman once more require allowing Wickham to go free? Or must he now be permanently silenced?

  He had never desired to use death threats against anyone. But Wickham had not improved in the many years Darcy had known him, had in fact gotten worse. How many more innocents would he harm if they did not stop him here and now? Wickham had destroyed the love of Darcy’s life Before and appeared to be doing his best to repeat that sin.

  Darcy held his cousin’s gaze, recalling the torment he had seen in these eyes only days ago when speaking of the horrors of war. He could not ask Fitzwilliam to bear the burden of another man’s life. Neither could he bear the burden of whatever innocents Wickham would go on to destroy.

  “If,” Darcy swallowed hard, “if it becomes necessary, I will deal with him.”

  His cousin raised his eyebrows, the picture of disbelief, but Darcy remained adamant. He would not ask this of his cousin.

  “Very well,” Fitzwilliam agreed in disgruntled tones.

  After consuming meager refreshments, the three men left once more, this time with Darcy’s and Bingley’s menservants accompanying them—hopefully, six men would be more than enough to deal with whatever Wickham would throw at them. Darcy was just glad he had not encountered Miss Bingley; he did not know if he could keep from demanding to know all then and there. Fortunately, the servants had happily complied with their request not to disturb Miss Bingley from her pianoforte practice, and the men had slipped away.

  As they approached the spot where Bingley and Roberts had agreed to meet, Darcy’s fingers tightened on the reins. He hated the idea of bringing Elizabeth anywhere near Wickham—if he had his way, he would have whisked her off to London and then returned to deal with the scoundrel alone—but she was right: they needed a woman there for propriety’s sake if they were ever to conceal the matter.

  The horses sidled as they waited for the carriage to appear. Darcy’s jaw ached, presumably from the number of times he had gnashed his teeth, thinking of Wickham and the plague that he brought with him wherever he went.

  The carriage rounded a bend in the road, and Bingley rushed to dismount and assist the two young ladies out. Mr. Bennet was not with them. Roberts exchanged a look with Fitzwilliam as he got down from the driver’s seat.

  “Have you found her?” Elizabeth demanded as soon as she reached solid ground.

  “Possibly,” Darcy replied. “Tommy saw some suspicious activity in that empty farm by the north field.”

  Elizabeth frowned “He lives very near there.”

  Darcy nodded. “So he said.”

  “What did he see?” Miss Bennet asked.

  Darcy looked to Bingley, attempting to non-verbally ask permission before sharing such damning material.

  Bingley sighed. “He saw my sister’s maid bringing food out there today and has apparently witnessed meetings between Wickham and Caroline prior to this.” He turned to Miss Bennet. “I swear to you that I knew nothing about this; I was unaware of Caroline’s activities,” he said bitterly.

  Miss Bennet put a hand on his arm. “I believe you.”

  “Shall we go?” Fitzwilliam asked impatiently.

  Darcy nodded. “We will have to leave the horses though; we cannot afford to alert Wickham to our presence with their noise.”

  “Now, what’s the lay of the land?” Fitzwilliam demanded.

  After securing all the horses, the group hunched over a patch of road as Darcy drew a rough map. “The cottage is here. The brush has overgrown the yard, and there are trees on the south and west sides of the cottage. The stream is on the east and the field on the north. A hedge separates the cottage from the stream and the field, but it is not well-maintained and there are breaks in it.” Darcy pointed to the west side. “I told Tommy I would meet him at the dead tree on the west side of the cottage. I believe I should speak to Tommy first. If Wickham is alone, we can surround him, capture him, and force him to tell us where Miss Lydia is.”

  “And if he is not alone?” Fitzwilliam growled.

  “Then we will neutralise whatever his forces are and rescue Miss Lydia.”

  Miss Bennet put a hand to her mouth, and Bingley moved to comfort her. Even Elizabeth looked a little pale, and Darcy hoped that Miss Lydia was truly there and that they would find her well.

  “I will circle around to the east and come at him from the stream,” Fitzwilliam said. “I doubt Wickham is smart enough to keep watch, but even if he is, he will expect us to come from the south.” He turned to Bingley. “Is there a back door on the cottage?”

 
Bingley held out his hands in a gesture of helpless ignorance. “I do not know. I did not notice.”

  “There isn’t,” Darcy assured him.

  Fitzwilliam frowned over the makeshift map. “I believe we ought to have someone circle around to the north so Wickham can’t escape from that direction. He will not risk going south towards civilization and being seen.”

  After Bingley volunteered to cover the north of the cottage, Fitzwilliam then assigned his batman, Roberts, to the southeast, Penn to approach from the southwest, Darcy to return to the west, and Bingley’s man, Baker, to approach from the northwest. Elizabeth and Miss Bennet were to remain hidden in the forest on the west side of the cottage within hearing distance, but out of sight, as it seemed the safest location to hide.

  Darcy could just make out the clearing where the cottage sat as he approached the dead tree. One side of the cottage’s roof slumped as though it had lost the battle with gravity and was in danger of collapsing, and the stone had grown over with ivy. Someone had cut a path through the overgrown vegetation to the door, leaving Darcy curious as to how long it had been in use. He did not recall seeing any signs of habitation when he and Bingley had inspected the place some weeks earlier.

  Tommy crept over, one finger held to his lips, then gestured for Darcy to follow him away from the rundown cottage.

  “The soldier is in the house now,” he breathed. “I haven’t seen no one else enter. He brought with him two men from Meryton: Jasper Nimbleton and Trout Havener, but they never went into the place and left a while back.”

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  Tommy jerked his head south and pointed. “They left that way. Prob’ly headed back to town.”

  “Have you heard any noise coming from the cottage?” Darcy asked, his breath catching as he braced himself for reports of screams.

  Tommy shook his head.

  “You have done well. Thank you, Tommy,” Darcy said, clasping his shoulder and handing the boy a coin. “Now, you had best return to Netherfield.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tommy said.