“Much more. And it concerns you.” He smiled ruefully in the darkness. “In a way the gossips were right about one thing. I did allow you to befriend Georgiana so that I might see you more often…”
“In order to spar with me and look down your aristocratic nose and tell me where I was going wrong.”
“No. If I did that, then I regret it.” He paused, then deciding he might as well jump in with both feet, added, “Because I love you, most ardently. And though I dared not hope you had nursed fond thoughts of me—I had, after all, treated you shabbily, for which I beg your forgiveness—I wanted to see you again, to talk to you. In a way I wanted to prove to myself that my dreams of you had been built on nothing but air, that when we met again, I would see how foolish they had been. Instead, I found myself ensnared all over again.”
“I set no trap for you.”
“Oh, no, that was of my own making. I struggled a little at first, telling myself I would not risk my heart, but the struggles were so feeble, I realized I did not want to escape. Elizabeth, tell me you understand. Tell me you forgive my boorishness, my bad temper, everything you found so abominable and that you will allow me to try and make it up to you. I love you. I want you to be my wife. I have wanted it for so long. Please tell me it is not too late. Say you will.”
Her heart was pounding in her throat and she could not speak. He had said he loved her! She was no longer a silly girl of a girl, but a mature woman, able to weigh up the consequences of anything she did. And one of the things she had done, only this evening, was to condone his sister’s prank and send her home in a cab with her cousin, unchaperoned.
Would his new-found contrition allow him to overlook that? And if she confessed, here and now, he would immediately conclude she had lured him into taking her home in order to accomplish it. He would say she had listened to him unburdening himself under false pretenses. She allowed herself a secret, rueful smile in the darkness, imagining his anger and it would be far worse than any that had gone before.
“Mr. Darcy, you have taken me by surprise,” she said, though it cost her dear in self-control to speak calmly. “I need time to consider…”
“What is there to consider?”
“Four days ago you were railing at me for my faults…”
“I have apologized for that. And I will not grumble at you again.”
“No? Mr. Darcy, you should not make promises you cannot keep.”
“I know. I cannot blame you for your hesitancy. Will you at least consider my proposal? If you do not trust my promises, then be assured I shall try not to fly into the boughs quite so often if we were married…”
“But I should often tempt you sorely.”
“I will bear it.”
She laughed then, very gently. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, life is not so simple.”
He lifted her hand to his lips as he spoke and kissed the palm. “But I collect you have the headache and my importuning is not helping. I will be patient and call on you tomorrow.”
“Very well,” she said, wondering what the morrow would bring. She must send for Henry first thing in the morning, find out if all went well, before Darcy arrived. “I shall expect you, but not before noon. I intend to sleep late.”
“Then, my darling, I must contain myself in patience.” He opened the door, jumped to the ground and turned to hold his arms out to her. She dropped into them as easily as a young girl and he set her feet on the ground, though he did not release her. He stood looking down at her upturned face, his hands round her slim waist, so close their bodies touched and almost melded into one. Then very gently, very tenderly, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her arms flew wide, fluttered about as if she did not know what to do with them, and then wound themselves around his neck, lost to all propriety. She felt gloriously and wonderfully alive. And loved, and for the moment, that was enough.
The coachman sat upright on his seat, facing forward, his hat pulled down over his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. If his master chose to dress and behave like a yokel and if Miss Bennet found it easier to accept his advances as a serving wench, then why not?
“Until tomorrow,” Darcy murmured as he released her. He stood and watched until she was safely indoors then climbed back into the carriage and commanded the coachman to take him home and not to spare the horses.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He was back at a ridiculously early hour. Elizabeth, who had slept very little and was therefore up and clad in a flowing gown of peach cotton, was sitting at the desk in the library penning a note to Henry when the butler announced him.
Flustered she rose to meet him. Although she had been awake half the night and although she loved him and wanted nothing so much as to be his wife, she had not yet decided how to answer his proposal. Before she could allow him to repeat it, she needed to know if he had found out about Georgiana’s escapade, and if he had, did he know the manner in which his sixteen-year-old sister had returned home? And if he appeared to know nothing, ought she to let sleeping dogs lie?
Her self-questioning was brought to an abrupt halt when he appeared before her. His clothing was as fashionable and well-tailored as always, and though she could not exactly say he was untidy, he had obviously dressed with less than his usual care. His cravat was crumpled and his whole demeanor a little wild.
“Mr. Darcy, whatever is the matter?”
“Is Georgiana here?”
“Here?” she repeated, mystified. “Why would she come here without you?”
“I don’t know. It was all I could think of, that she was still miffy that I had stopped the meetings and would come anyway.”
“She has not been here. Are you saying you do not know where she is?”
“That is exactly what I am saying.”
She sank back in her chair, her legs too rubbery to support her, her head full of wild imaginings. “What happened?”
“I do not know. She did not come down to breakfast and as I wished to speak to her on the matter we were discussing last night, I sent for her to come down. She was not in her room and no one knew where she was.”
“You have searched for her?”
“Naturally we searched for her. She was not anywhere in the house. Nor in the garden.”
“But she was home last night?” She desperately needed to be reassured.
“I do not know. Mrs. Annesley went to her own room straight after dinner and left Georgiana alone in the library. No one has seen her since, not even her maid, for she gave the girl the evening off. If she has got herself into a coil…”
“Why do you think that?” Elizabeth asked, her head in a whirl of half-formed questions, self-accusation and guilt.
“Because it is better to think that than to imagine someone has taken her.”
“Oh, surely not.”
“I would not put it past him.”
“Oh, he would never do that,” she said, thinking of Henry because she could not contemplate anything else but that Henry must know where Georgiana was. How soon could she get rid of Darcy to go and ask him?
“It would be a way of punishing me.”
“Why would he wish to punish you?”
“Elizabeth, did you not listen to a word I said last night? George Wickham is capable of anything…”
“Wickham?”
“Yes, who did you think I meant?”
“No one,” she said quickly. “Is there any evidence? Did someone break into the house?”
“There is not a shred of evidence of that, which is why I am inclined to think that she was up to some rig or other which has gone horribly wrong. Elizabeth, I beg of you, if she has hinted by any word or deed that she was planning something foolish, then pray tell me.”
“No, she said nothing to me.”
“What about that cousin of yours, do you think she would have confided in him?”
“Henry?” She could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“They have had some discourse, I believe. In fact,
they…”
“Oh, no, sir, I will not countenance that. Whatever his faults, Henry would never do anything to sully a young lady’s reputation and especially one in whom I had an interest.”
“Notwithstanding I mean to go and ask him.”
“Please wait while I dress and I will come with you.”
“Then make haste, please. While we argue, she could be anywhere.”
Half an hour later, they were waiting in Henry’s drawing room while he was fetched from his bed. Darcy paced the room in a fever of impatience, while Elizabeth, no less impatient, sat on a straight-backed chair, wondering how she was to climb out of the trouble she had tumbled into without forever damning herself in Darcy’s eyes. He would forget he had ever asked her to marry him and who could blame him?
When Henry arrived, it was obvious he had been awakened from sleep. He was wearing a burgundy dressing gown over his nightshirt and his hair was tousled. “What is this?” he demanded. “Can’t a fellow be allowed a decent night’s sleep?”
“Georgiana has disappeared,” Elizabeth said, determined to have her say first. “Mr. Darcy has some crazy notion she might have confided some mischief to you. I told him it was out of the question. Why, you hardly know her.”
Henry collapsed into a chair as if he needed its support. “When did she disappear?”
“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “But if you know anything, then I beg you to tell me. There will be no recriminations, I promise you….”
Henry glanced at Elizabeth. She was imperceptibly shaking her head. “I know nothing, sir. I was at the ball with Elizabeth last night—you saw me yourself. That is, if it was last night Georgiana disappeared. Could she not have decided to go for an early ride this morning?”
“Alone?”
“It was only a suggestion. You know your sister best.”
“I’ll send to the stables where I hire her hack and check the coaching inns, in case she has taken it into her head to go home to Pemberley, though why she would I cannot think. I told her I would be back…”
“Wait for me to dress and I will do that for you.”
“Thank you, Gardiner. Much appreciated.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Annesley to go look in the park,” Darcy said, as he disappeared. “And I think, just in case Wickham is at the bottom of it, I’ll enlist the help of Bingley. He can be trusted, but I would rather this did not become another piece of gossip to add to the rest.”
“You may rely on Henry,” Elizabeth said, while Darcy continued to pace the room.
When Henry reappeared in riding clothes, they all left the house together. “I’ll be quicker on horseback,” he said, opening the carriage door for Elizabeth to enter, while Darcy climbed on to the driving seat and picked up the reins.
“You saw her safely home?” she whispered.
“Indeed I did,” he whispered back, making a great play of helping to put her skirt into the carriage. “But I would not want to be in your shoes when Darcy finds out about last night. I should confess all, if I were you.”
“If we do not find her soon, I shall have to, but I would rather Georgiana told him herself.”
“Pray we find her quickly,” he said more audibly, as he shut the carriage door and stepped back.
They were soon back at the Gardiners and Darcy jumped down to help her alight. “I think I will pay a courtesy call on Lady Brasford,” she told him. “If I can contrive to speak to Julia without alerting suspicion, she might know something. She and Georgiana often talked together, as girls will.”
“Not an elopement,” Darcy said. “Dear God, not an elopement.”
“No, of course not,” Elizabeth said briskly. “Your sister is far too sensible for that. And I am sure if there had been a young man, she would never have been able to keep it to herself. And these things have to be planned.”
“Then why mention it?” He paused. “Elizabeth, you have been on edge ever since I told you about this…”
“I am concerned, that is all.”
“Elizabeth, I shall shake you, if you do not speak out. My sister is missing, perhaps even hurt and you prevaricate.”
“I am sorry and I do not think it is relevant, truly I don’t.”
“I shall decide what is relevant and what is not.”
He was right. She took a deep breath and faced him squarely, thankful that there were few people in the street. “Georgiana went to the ball last night.”
“She did what?” he asked, incredulously “You took her…”
“No, I did not. She persuaded Julia to invite her and arrived alone. She was dressed in costume and a mask. I do not think anyone recognized her. Oh, Mr. Darcy, I am so very, very sorry. I feel…”
He turned to grin lopsidedly at her. “Responsible?”
“In a way, yes. She is such a bright intelligent girl, one tends to forget how young she is and how sheltered she has been all her life.”
“I think we will defer any discussion on the way she has been raised until she is safely home again, don’t you?”
“Very well.”
Neither spoke again until he stopped the carriage at her door, helped her to alight and bade her let him know if she thought of anything else that might help. And the next minute the carriage was bowling away, leaving her to make her way wearily indoors. That there was going to be a serious discussion, she did not doubt, and that it might develop into one of their acrimonious strangles, was not unlikely. Last night’s joy seemed a million miles away, almost as if it had never happened.
He had offered her marriage and because he was an honorable man and bound by the conventions of society, he could not withdraw it. It would be left to her to refuse him. And she must. She could not hold him to it, could not expect to live in harmony with him, when he so obviously felt he could not trust her with his sister. She stood in the hall of her home and stared up the grand staircase, as if she could not bring herself to mount the stairs. Surely she should be doing something?
She ought to try and project herself into the mind of the girl. What would she be thinking and doing? At the ball, she had been terribly upset by the gossip Wickham had repeated and inclined to believe it. Henry had taken her home, but who was to say she had gone to bed? Even if she had, would she have slept or would that nasty piece of tattle gone round and round in her head until she could stand it no more?
Supposing she had gone downstairs to look at that picture in the drawing room and that would have made her think of her own sketch. Then what? Would it have led to a burning desire to get at the truth?
Elizabeth turned to the butler who stood watching his mistress in puzzlement, waiting for instructions. “Please have a cab brought around right away,” she said. Then she went up to her room and changed into the plain clothes she wore for visiting the orphanage. By the time she returned downstairs the carriage was at the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Half an hour later, she alighted outside the new orphanage, hoping fervently that Georgiana was there.
“I was just going to send you a message by one of the boys,” Mrs. Gardiner said, as soon as she saw her.
“Oh, she is here?”
“She? It is a little boy, not a girl.”
They were obviously talking at cross-purposes and Elizabeth began again. “I meant the young lady who was here with me the other day. You know, the one who did that sketch of the little boy. I thought she might be here.”
“No, but the little boy is. He arrived last night, poor little mite. The Runners found him lying beside his poor dead mother.”
“Oh, the poor thing! Was he hurt?”
“No, but he is very thin and very hungry. I bathed him and fed him but he hasn’t said a word about what happened, though he did say his name was Richie.”
There was no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that George Wickham had carried out his threat and that was followed by the dreadful thought that there might be some connection between the death of the boy’s mother and the disappearance o
f Georgiana. She had, until now, been inclined to discount Darcy’s fears, but now she was filled with a dreadful sense of foreboding.
“Are you sure Georgiana was not here either last night or early this morning?”
“Not to my knowledge, but shall we ask the children? One of them might have seen her.”
The children were being given a reading lesson, but were ready enough to stop that and listen to her. “You remember the young lady who came here the other day to help us?” she said. “The one who was drawing. Have any of you see her since?”
One of the boys, a lad of about ten, said he had seen her at the market when he had been sent to buy some carrots for the orphanage. She had been talking to a man.
“Are you sure it was the same young lady?”
“Oh, yes, it were her all right.”
“Do you know who the man was?”
“No, never seen him before.”
Elizabeth was appalled. She ran out to her carriage and bade the driver to drive as fast as he could to fetch Darcy. Then she went back indoors and asked to talk to the little boy. As soon as he was brought into the room, she knew why everyone assumed he was Darcy’s son. Although his face was paper white, the bone structure, the large eyes and the wing-shaped brows left no doubt in her mind that he was a relative. If Darcy had not told her the truth, she would, on this evidence, have believed he was the father.
Although she was very gentle in speaking to the child, taking him on to her lap and cuddling him, he was too young to be able to tell her anything, except that his name was Richie. Unwilling to upset him by further questions, she relinquished him into the care of one of the older girls. “Take good care of him, Aunt Gardiner,” she said. “He is very precious to someone I know and there are those who might wish to harm him.”
“He is safe here.”
“Can you tell me precisely where he was found?”
“Not precisely, no. I was told it was a dreadful hovel only a few blocks away, which I suppose is how he came to be outside the old orphanage when the young lady saw him.”
“Thank you. When Mr. Darcy arrives will you tell him that I have gone to the market.”
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