The tears flowed freely then, and Darcy waited with impatient concern for her to collect herself. She wiped her eyes, but to no avail; tears still streamed from them and it was many moments before she was able to speak at all.
Finally, she said, "I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost forever."
Darcy sat in stunned silence while she dabbed at her eyes once more.
Has Wickham not caused enough mischief in my life? Would that Richard had dispatched him earlier!
Her next words fixed his recriminations back on his own person. "When I consider that
I
might have prevented it!
I
who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what I learnt--to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now."
But was it your place to share that story?
Darcy wondered, his concern for Elizabeth shifting to self-reproach.
Should not that task fall to the one who had long been witness to his depravities? Why did I remain silent, rather than let the whole world know what he is?
His guilt drove him to speak more forcefully than he usually would have. "I am grieved indeed; grieved--shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?"
"Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland."
Darcy's mind whirled. There still remained a chance of recovering Lydia. If she could be found and brought home before news of this indiscretion was known to the general public, there would not be a very great scandal. Elizabeth and Jane especially would be free of the reproach which now threatened their own characters.
To this end, he asked, "And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?"
Elizabeth clenched her handkerchief in her hand. "My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!"
With every word from Elizabeth's mouth, Darcy's own path became clearer. He knew how to discover Wickham, and he had the means of working on him. Any guilt which was not Wickham's belonged to him. It was his fault that none knew the truth of Wickham's character. Elizabeth had only kept it secret on his behalf.
Elizabeth, however, was not done, and her next words drove his sense of responsibility higher. "When my eyes were opened to his real character... Oh, had I known what I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not-I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"
Darcy's heart beat with tender, ardent affection. Though she regretted her silence now that her own sister's honor was at stake, he admired her integrity--her willingness to keep Georgiana's name unsullied. He respected her no less for wishing that the same could be said of Lydia.
Darcy knew if he stayed by Elizabeth any longer, he would not be able to keep himself from reaching out to comfort her. He tapped his hand against his leg as he paced the room.
Where would Wickham go in London? To one of his friends from University?
Darcy's lips curled in a sneer.
No, he owes them too much money. Mrs. Younge then--yes, he will be looking for a place to stay.
He thought back to his own business with Mrs. Younge and soon realized he had her address, or the very least, the one she had given him as a forwarding address.
Darcy turned back to Elizabeth, and he saw to his chagrin that she had her face buried in her handkerchief and was crying once more. The impropriety of his being there finally struck him and he said, "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead my excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to such distress!" He held her gaze, hoping she might see the sincerity in his eyes, the depth of that honest concern. "But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today."
Elizabeth swallowed and attempted a smile, but it faded after only a second. "Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long."
More than ever, Darcy wished they had a formal agreement, that he might offer some more personal comfort. Words seemed paltry in the face of such acute misery, but they were all he had.
"I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, you may depend upon my discretion." She smiled a little, but it did not reach her eyes. "I am very sorry your visit to Derbyshire should end on such a note; indeed, sorry that such an event has come to pass at all. I hope for the sake of all your family that this entire affair may be resolved reasonably well."
He bowed, and she inclined her head. "Please pass along my compliments to your aunt and uncle. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know them."
Darcy was not, by nature, a neck-or-nothing rider--in fact, he despised men capable of that kind of disregard for an animal's well-being. But when he arrived at Pemberley stables that afternoon, his horse was covered in a thick lather of sweat. "Walk him around the grounds until he cools off, and then rub him down well. Oh, and give him an extra helping of oats this evening," he ordered the surprised stable hand.
His anxieties spent, his mind was clear to focus on the recurring problem of George Wickham. He knew where he would find him, knew how to sway the man to do his bidding, but the one thing he had not yet arranged to his liking was his own departure from Pemberley.
He gazed at the house from the end of the drive and abruptly turned off to one of the footpaths. "What excuse can I concoct which my guests will accept?" He walked up the steep incline to a bluff overlooking the Derwent. It was one of his favorite places, one he had wanted to show Elizabeth someday.
He realized a moment later that Elizabeth herself had provided the solution to this problem.
"Tell her that urgent business calls us home..."
"Very well. It is an excuse I can tell for myself. What is more, I can easily disguise the nature of Elizabeth's departure if I cover it with my own haste."
Darcy walked back to the house and found the whole company waiting for him in the drawing room. "Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Caroline Bingley. "We had quite despaired of your ever joining us. Surely a round of country calls does not take the whole day."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley. I was not aware I had pledged myself to any engagement at home." The words were too pointed for the meaning to be missed--Miss Bingley flushed bright red and her eyes
sparked with anger
.
Darcy ignored her reaction and continued. "As it happens, I have been called to town on a matter of some urgency, and rode to Lambton to inform Miss Bennet and the Gardiners that I would not be at home to receive them for dinner tonight."
He despised the quick flash of triumph he saw in her eyes. "You are, of course, all welcome to stay. I hope my business will be finished within a week, and then I will be able to rejoin you."
Before the rest of the party could react or ask any further questions, Darcy turned to his sister then. "Georgiana? May I speak with you in my study?"
His sister obediently followed him down the hall, and he shut the door behind them. Once they were private, he led her over to the small couch by the window. To everyone else, he would not breathe a word of Lydia's disgrace, but he would not lie to Georgiana--not when the subject was George Wickham.
"Fitzwilliam?"
"I am afraid I have some rather unsettling news, my dear--news which we must keep to ourselves."
Her blue eyes filled with concern. "What is it? What is wrong?"
"One of Elizabeth's sisters--a girl just your age--has eloped with Mr. Wickham."
Her cheeks paled and she sank onto the settee. "Oh no, not him!"
"Indeed. They left together from Brighton on Sunday. She just had news of it this morning, and they are traveling back to Longbourn so Mr. Gardiner can assist Mr. Bennet in tracking them down."
Georgiana placed her head in her hands. "Oh, that poor girl!"
Darcy bit his tongue--it would be no good to share his own opinion of Lydia Bennet. Though not usually wise in the ways of women, he was smart enough to realize that if he laid censure on that girl's head, Georgiana would take it to heart.
"That is why I am leaving. I have hope that I may be able to find where Wickham went when they might not."
She sat up, a look of determination in her eyes, and Darcy had never been prouder of her. "What would you like me to do, Brother?"
"Stay here. Entertain our guests; keep the true nature of my absence from them. I depend upon you for this, Georgiana."
Darcy was surprised when she bit her lip and looked down--the action did not fit with the courage she had just displayed. He knelt in front of her and tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eye. "What is it, dearest?" he asked.
"Fitzwilliam... If I, that is, if you had not..." She sighed, then straightened her shoulders. "Would you have come after me in this manner?"
Darcy pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "In an instant," he promised, his voice thick. He felt the tension ease out of her body, and he pulled back to look her in the eye. "Is this what has troubled you, Georgiana? Did you think I would leave my sister in the clutches of such a man, knowing what misery he would bring upon you?"
Her smile was sheepish, but happy. "It was my own folly which led me to him."
"Never," Darcy denied. "His avarice and desire for revenge led him to you. Now, I trust we finally understand one another?" Georgiana nodded. "Good. Then I will see you after I return from London."
Darcy had never been so glad he kept horses at the posting inns along the London Road. Fresh horses gave him extra speed to reach London before nightfall the next day--at least two days ahead of when Mr. Gardiner could be expected in town.
"Good evening, Remington," he said to his surprised butler as he rushed through the door of his London townhouse. "I apologize for showing up unannounced--there was no time to send word. I will be here but a week, and I am quite alone. You need not open up all the rooms. The breakfast room only, I think, and my study of course."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy heard the bustle of servants below as he climbed the stairs toward the master suite, and he felt a pang of remorse for the maids who would lose sleep so the house would be ready when he rose the next morning. "Remington," he called over his shoulder, "they need not do the work tonight. I can take breakfast on a tray in the morning. It is late--let us rest for the night."
"Very well, Mr. Darcy."
The ever-efficient Vincent had already unpacked Darcy's valise and laid out his nightshirt and dressing gown. "Will you be needing anything else, sir?"
"Just a word, Vincent," Darcy said. "You are no doubt wondering why I brought you with me on such a short trip. After all, ordinarily I would simply let one of the senior footmen handle my toilet, if I planned to be back in Pemberley in less than a week."
"I did wonder, but you never do anything without a reason, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy laughed. "How well you know me, Vincent. I have come to London in search of George Wickham. I needed somebody with me who could readily identify him, but whom he might not know as easily." He gazed steadily at his valet. "Will you help me?"
Vincent nodded. "Of course, Mr. Darcy."
"Thank you. I shall need to start quite early in the morning, so if you will see that a breakfast tray is ready for me at six o'clock, and then come and dress me at seven, that would be sufficient."
"As you please, sir. Good night, Mr. Darcy."
"Good night, Vincent."
After two days of travel, six o'clock came quickly, even for an early riser like Darcy. By the time Vincent came in at seven, however, he was fully awake and ready to start the business of the day.
After they were seated in the coach, Vincent looked over at him. "Have you any idea where we might find Mr. Wickham, sir?"
Darcy nodded. "I have a clue, however slight it might be. We are going now to the address Mrs. Younge gave when she left us. I doubt she is still there, but they will have a forwarding address."
As they approached the City, traffic thickened with London's financiers on their way to work. Their own progress slowed to a crawl until they crossed Blackfriars Bridge. Once over the Thames, they were able to pick up the pace, and it only took them another ten minutes to reach their destination.