The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy nodded his acceptance. “You did well, Jasper.” He rarely reprimanded his men, but the current craziness had had him on edge.

  “What is it, Darcy?” Edward appeared at his side.

  “A message from Jacks,” he said as he stepped closer to a wall sconce for light.

  “News of Georgiana?” Edward asked. His eyes followed Darcy’s every move.

  Darcy unfolded the paper and scanned the short note. “Jacks has word of Lieutenant Wickham’s whereabouts.” He read further. “Damn! Elizabeth has confronted the man.” He turned toward the side entrance. “I must leave.”

  “Take my horse. It stands in wait,” Edward called after him. “I will see to the final details and then follow.”

  “Jacks is at the inn,” Darcy called over his shoulder.

  “Jasper,” Edward instructed Darcy’s footman. “Here is what I expect you and Weir to do…”

  He had bidden Wotherspoon and Lady Margaret farewell and had given Weir and Jasper specific orders on when to contact the magistrate and what to tell the man of the Fitzwilliam family’s involvement in capturing Lady Wotherspoon and her cohorts. Now, Edward rode with a purpose. He had checked at the inn to find that Darcy had followed Mr. Jacks’s gig to an unknown destination. Edward knew he must overtake his cousin. He had read the note shoved into his hand as Darcy raced from Normanna. If Mrs. Darcy truly had located Lieutenant Wickham, Darcy’s former friend could lose his life and Darcy himself his freedom. Edward did not think the world would regret the passing of George Wickham. For what the man had intended to do to Georgiana, Edward would gladly dispatch Wickham to hell himself, but he would not have Darcy tried for murder. If Wickham had laid one finger on Mrs. Darcy, it would be difficult to control his cousin’s response.

  He followed the well-marked road. He and Darcy had always carried several packets of flour in a cloth handkerchief in their saddle rolls. They had learned the trick from an old poacher on Pemberley’s grounds. The man had convinced the two excessively curious boys that they could mark their trails and never become lost. Over the years, the cousins had explored several expanses of the Peak District with no qualms regarding the terrain. The flour would mark the way with a powdery arrow.

  Yet, it was not Normanna’s secrets or Darcy’s troubles with Lieutenant Wickham, which continued to plague Edward’s mind. Instead, it was the disappointment he had experienced when the unknown woman in Wotherspoon’s care had proven to be Lady Margaret rather than Georgiana. The woman’s possession of Georgiana’s locket and horse said that Lady Margaret had encountered Georgiana, but the lady claimed no memory of the incident. And as much as he hated to admit it, Edward believed her. The shock of all the girl had experienced would be enough to drive the truth from her mind. “Oh, Georgie,” he groaned as he pulled up on the reins of Darcy’s gelding to check another of his cousin’s markings. “Where are you, Sweetheart?”

  Darcy grumbled, “Mr. Jacks, are you certain that this is where you left Mrs. Darcy?”

  They knelt at the bottom of a steep hill. “When last I saw yer missus, she be climbing that path.” Jacks pointed to a tethered horse. “And that be the animal yer Lieutenant Wickham stole from the Alpin stables.”

  Darcy examined the area once more for possible intruders. Could Wickham have made “friends” who would offer protection? He doubted Jacks would be of much use if Darcy had to lead an assault on the building. He certainly did not want to walk into a trap. If Wickham was within, he could be lying in wait to kill Darcy.

  “Mrs. Darcy dreamed that Mrs. Fitzwilliam be inside,” Jacks shared.

  “She what?” Darcy’s head snapped around to glare at the caretaker.

  Jacks backed away from Darcy’s anger. “I thought I had explained that. Mrs. Darcy wakes up from a sleep, and she describes this place. One of the grooms knows of it, and yer missus be determined.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes heavenward. “She always is.” With that, he started the climb. “When my cousin arrives, tell him we may have found my sister.”

  Chapter 21

  “AS WE HAVE REACHED AN IMPASSE,” Wickham said bitterly, “I will bid you ladies adieu.” He picked up his gloves; he had lost his hat when the horse had thrown him. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, for your nursing efforts. I fully understand the true benevolence behind them. When you see Mrs. Wickham, please explain the situation to her. I fear my wife will not take well to the idea of my leaving her behind, but I have confidence that you will find a way of convincing Lydia that my actions are for the best.”

  “You mean to leave my sister a widow’s existence, but without the option of seeking another union?” Elizabeth asked incredulously.

  Wickham winced when he moved too quickly. “What would you have me do? My hanging from the gallows would, obviously, free Mrs. Wickham to remarry, but, on a personal level, I find that option less than appealing,” he said. With an aristocratic nod of his head, he turned to Georgiana. “My current misfortunes prove that your confessing our elopement plans to your brother was very astute. I am certain that realization will give you comfort.” To Elizabeth, he said, “I assume you will not hold me prisoner if I decide to walk away from this abode.”

  “If I thought it would solve your dilemma and, therefore, save my sister from anguish, I would detain you until Mr. Darcy’s arrival, but I cannot see how your presence shall bring anything but complications. Go with God, Lieutenant Wickham,” Elizabeth said softly.

  Georgiana shook her head as if disagreeing with Wickham’s decision. “Perhaps this time, you should consider what is best for others and permit yourself to experience giving, instead of receiving.”

  Wickham gave her a bittersweet smile before he wistfully replied, “Oh, Georgiana, I wish it were that easy. There are too many collapsed bridges, and I have no skills to repair them, but I do appreciate your compassion. The Major General has won the purest of hearts. Perhaps…” he began, but then thought better of it. “I wish you both happy.” Elizabeth stood as if to delay his departure so Wickham quickly reached for the door and swung it wide. “Au revoir, Ladies.”

  Darcy had run up the steep hillside without concerning himself with the pebbles tumbling down its curved slope. Nor had he given a thought to Lieutenant Wickham’s knowledge of his presence. His mind held only one image: George Wickham accosting Elizabeth. He possessed no doubt that Lieutenant Wickham would take advantage of Elizabeth. He had witnessed his former foe manhandling her in Pemberley’s drawing room, and reports existed of the man’s heavy hand with Elizabeth’s sister. And now, his Elizabeth had placed herself in Lieutenant Wickham’s way.

  Reaching for the gun he had carried earlier in their assault on Normanna Hall, Darcy wondered how his life had come to this moment. Was he not supposed to be at Pemberley? Making love to his wife? Contentedly raising a brood of children? Living the life of a country gentleman? Instead, he fought with Canibales, searched the Scottish countryside for his missing sister, and scaled an incredibly steep upland to fight with his long-time enemy over Darcy’s excessively obstinate wife. If it were not so extraordinarily serious, he might have had a good laugh at his own expense. Yet, real life, he had found, played stranger than fiction.

  As he reached the plateau upon which the cabin sat nestled into the hillside, he would have preferred a moment to catch his breath before having to meet Lieutenant Wickham, but the cottage’s door swung wide, and his forever foe, literally, walked into Darcy’s grasp.

  Giving the man a shove, Darcy drove Wickham backward until they slammed hard against the cabin’s rear wall. Without hesitation, Darcy lifted his fist and smashed it into Wickham’s jaw. “I should kill you and free the world of another piece of dung,” he growled as he landed a second punch in Wickham’s gut.

  Even if Mr. Jacks had not told him that Elizabeth had set her mind on investigating this place, Darcy would have known she was in the room. It had been that way from the moment he had entered the assembly hall in Meryton. As he had crossed the crowded room at Bingl
ey’s side, he had become aware of her eyes on him. The whole room had silenced upon their entrance, and Darcy had known from experience that every fawning mama and blushing innocent had carefully assessed his and Bingley’s separate fortunes. Yet, it had been Elizabeth’s gaze that he had engaged. Briefly, they had held one another’s eyes before they had both looked away. Later, he had admitted to his cousin that he had fallen in love with the future Mrs. Darcy with that brief glance.

  Yet, knowing Elizabeth was in the room and having her, literally, hanging from his upraised fist were two different realities. “No! Do not kill him!” she pleaded.

  Wide-eyed and trembling with anger, he hissed, “Give me a reason why I should not dispense with my family’s darkest shadow.”

  She held fast, but she said with tears in her eyes. “Because I shall not see you tried for murder, and because he is my sister’s husband.”

  For an elongated moment, Darcy searched his wife’s countenance for some unknown detail that kept from him. A secret. It was there for a brief second before Elizabeth brought it under control, but he had seen it nonetheless. Gently, he lowered his arm to set her feet squarely on the floor. He released Wickham, and the backbiter slid like a rag doll down the wall. Darcy immediately forgot about the rascal. Instead, he caught Elizabeth to him. “Do not ever…” he rasped as he buried his face in his wife’s hair. His arms clutched her to him, and he relaxed into the sensation of Elizabeth’s body aligned with his.

  “Fitzwilliam.” A soft melodic voice called to him from across the room. Raising his head, he glanced toward the sound, but his body resisted what his mind had recognized. His maleness wished to remain with Elizabeth, but his brain won out.

  “Georgiana.” He released Elizabeth slowly as the realization rocked him. To his wife, he said, “You found her,” but he was moving toward his sister. “You are the most beautiful sight I have ever witnessed.”

  He was reaching for his sister when his wife ordered, “Wait!”

  Darcy stumbled to a halt. “Wait? Whatever for?”

  “Georgiana has a broken ankle,” Elizabeth smiled through her words. “I imagine a brother who has paced the floors in worry would pull his sister to her feet and swing her around with happiness upon finding her well.”

  Darcy’s lips twitched. “As much as I adore you, Elizabeth Darcy, there are moments that I would love to turn you over my knee for your insolent tongue.”

  He knelt before his sister. On his knees, he rocked Georgiana in the safety of his loving arms. “I feared the worst,” he whispered into her ear as his hands searched his sister’s face and arms to assure himself of her presence.

  “As did I.” Georgiana clung to him. “But the Voice told me to believe.”

  “Voice?” For an explanation, Darcy glanced over his shoulder to Elizabeth.

  “Your sister’s guardian angel,” she confirmed as she joined them in a group embrace. “In her despair and pain, Georgiana turned to God, and He sent his angel to protect her.”

  Georgiana touched Darcy’s cheek. “I thought it to be Elizabeth, but the Voice said I had to be patient and to wait for Lizzy’s arrival.”

  Elizabeth whispered in Darcy’s ear as she turned her face into his shoulder. “Your mother. Lady Anne.”

  Darcy’s eyebrow rose in disbelief, but he kept his comments to himself. “I am thankful for whatever kept you safe.” He kissed Georgiana’s temple.

  She accepted his gesture before her eyes returned to the still-open doorway. “Where is Edward?” she asked with disappointment.

  He had followed Darcy’s hastily marked trail and had easily discovered Alpin’s overseer tending to two horses and the gig at the bottom of a good-sized incline leading to what appeared in the moonlight to be a reiver’s cottage. What he had not expected was to hear Jacks announce that not only had Mrs. Darcy located Lieutenant Wickham’s hiding place, but the lady had likely discovered Mrs. Fitzwilliam, as well.

  Just the mention of the possibility of Lieutenant Wickham intimidating Georgiana had sent him scurrying up the hill, often clawing at the loose gravel as he reached out to maintain his balance. He had never cared for the way George Wickham had weaseled his way into Old Darcy’s life. How the man had tried to insinuate himself into Darcy’s place. How Wickham had taken advantage—first at school, but then more venomously with Georgiana. Edward had thought the family might lose her. To her core, Georgiana had felt the shame of her actions. He had spent countless hours counseling and comforting her. Hopefully, not for naught.

  Edward, as he had sat in the mud and the blood of Waterloo, had considered the years when Georgiana had been most vulnerable. Had his intimate feelings for her originated when he had held a weeping fifteen-year-old in his embrace? He would acknowledge that only in her presence had he ever experienced the feeling of finally being cleansed of the harsh smell of blood, which constantly plagued him. When he had returned to Derbyshire this past Christmas, a vibrant young woman had met him at Pemberley’s door, and he was lost to her perfection. He would not permit Wickham’s baseness to destroy all she had become.

  As he reached the still-open door, he heard her say, “Where is Edward?”

  “Here,” he announced as he stepped across the stoop. Out of his eye’s corner, he noticed the slumped over form of Lieutenant Wickham stir to life. He also observed how Darcy and Elizabeth retreated from the figure on the cot. There in all her glory sat the woman he loved more than life. He gazed upon the countenance he had feared never to see again, and desire reared its head. “Georgie,” he murmured before crossing the room in three long strides.

  He dropped to his knees before her. “Thank God,” he said on a rasp, his happiness complete in that moment. He pulled her toward him until he heard Elizabeth caution, “Careful.” Edward froze. He cupped Georgiana’s chin in his large palm. “Are you injured?”

  “Badly bruised,” she admitted.

  “Her ankle.” Again, Mrs. Darcy’s voice cut through the pure bliss of looking upon his wife’s countenance.

  Edward raised Georgiana’s skirt carefully. “What have we here?” He examined the makeshift dressing carefully. “Is this device of your making, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Elizabeth’s pure joy played through her words. “While you and Mr. Darcy were skulking about the countryside, our Georgiana devised her own rescue. All I did was to provide a tightening of the strips about her ankle. Our girl has been quite ingenious.”

  Edward kissed Georgiana’s temple before lowering her skirt. “I always knew my wife possessed more than just a beautiful countenance.” He tenderly caressed her chin.

  Darcy playfully whispered in Elizabeth’s ear, “A gentleman never skulks,” before saying, “We are both blessed with remarkable women. Yet, neither should have encountered Lieutenant Wickham on her own,” he chastised.

  “In my defense,” Georgiana said tartly from Edward’s side, “I did not chose to greet Lieutenant Wickham under any circumstance, and, especially, not such a dire one.”

  “And although I perhaps stumbled into a hornet’s nest, at least, I brought Delilah with me,” his wife countered.

  Darcy rose in amusement. “Where is Delilah?”

  “Here.” Georgiana grinned widely as she uncovered the pistol hidden in her gown’s folds.

  Edward chortled. “Delilah is a pearl-handled pistol? Where is Sampson?” he asked with an all-knowing smirk.

  “In my boot,” Darcy confessed. He supported Wickham to the stool Elizabeth shoved his way. “If you move a hair, I will shoot you in both knees,” he threatened.

  Edward stood. “If you can tolerate it, I would return you to Alpin Hall tonight,” he said to Georgiana. “I will not rest easily until you have been seen by a physician.”

  “I cannot descend the hill,” Georgiana said softly.

  “You may do so in your husband’s arms,” Edward assured. “And if I fail, you have a brother who would attempt to walk on water to save you.”

  “You wil
l not fail,” Georgiana assured. “You have never failed me.”

  Darcy strategized, “We will place the women in the gig with Mr. Jacks. Elizabeth, you will assure that Georgiana’s ankle sustains no further injury. We are perhaps an hour from Alpin, but at night, it will take longer.”

  Wickham stirred. “And what of me? Can I hope that you will turn your head and permit me to find my own way?” he said with his last stand of defiance.

  “It is not likely that you will ever be free of me,” Darcy snapped. “As I am to never know the pleasure of our relationship’s end.” He took the pistol from Georgiana’s grasp and returned it to his wife. “Keep it close,” he ordered. “As for you, Sir,” he directed his comments to Wickham, “you will return with us to Alpin until I decide your fate.”

  “Do you expect me to walk behind the gig?” Wickham sarcastically asked. “It is not likely that the carriage will hold four passengers, and I cannot imagine that either you or the Major General will wish to share your seat with me.”

  Edward snarled, “I would not share a cup of tea with the likes of you.”

  Elizabeth asked softly, “With your injury, are you capable of riding a horse, Lieutenant?”

  “What injury?” Darcy asked suspiciously.

  Elizabeth slid her hand into her husband’s. “I wrapped Lieutenant Wickham’s ribs. He was thrown from his horse.”

  Darcy’s brow knitted. “You treated the lieutenant’s injury?”

  Elizabeth moved closer. “I could hardly permit Georgiana to do so.” She allowed the importance of what she said to soften Darcy’s irritation. He nodded his understanding. They would speak more of this in private.

  “Pardon me for interrupting these tender exchanges, but the issue of whether I can ride remains on the table,” he said with renewed contempt. “If I possessed a horse, I could stay ahorse,” he declared.