Delighting Mrs Bennet

by Leenie Brown

  “Mrs. Younge’s boarding house. If anyone knows where he is, she does. I would bet you a month’s wages that she is the one who addressed that letter, but I am not the gambling sort. I do not like to be parted from my money.”

  Darcy chuckled, and then the two men fell into silence as they road. Darcy knew that if Richard’s thoughts were anything like his own, that month’s salary, as well as all Richard had, would be given away without a second thought to have both Lydia and Elizabeth back at Darcy House, safe in bed.

  Thoughts of Elizabeth being found unharmed as well as thoughts of seeing Wickham laid out on the floor filled Darcy’s mind as he rode.

  “Ahead on the left,” Richard said.

  Dash, who had been lying down, sat up, alert to whatever was coming.

  “Good boy.” Richard scratched the dog’s ear. “Bite his leg, and I’ll give you a tin full of biscuits.”

  Dash yipped his understanding as Richard dismounted and reached up to lift him down.

  Darcy was already at the door, banging loudly.

  “What’s the meaning of this noise?” A man shouted from behind the door.

  “Open the door,” Darcy yelled in response.

  “Why should I?”

  Richard pushed Darcy to the side and threw his shoulder against the door. “We need to see Mrs. Younge about a scoundrel,” he called.

  “No need to break the door,” the man called back. Locks rattled, and finally, the door opened. “My mistress is abed as are all her guests.”

  Richard forced his way inside the door, Dash scooting between him and the man who had opened the door. “Is there a guest named Wickham?”

  “Yes, sir.” The candle the man held trembled slightly as Richard towered over him. “At the top of the stairs.”

  “He is here?” Darcy asked.

  The man nodded. “Only just. Was gone for some time, but he tends to come and go at odd hours.”

  “Is he alone?” Richard demanded as he moved to the stairs.

  “Tonight, he is, and he seemed none too pleased to be so. Took a bottle of port with him to his room.” The man placed his candle on the table near the door and fished out a ring of keys from the pocket of his robe, fiddling with them until he had one between his fingers. “My mistress won’t want no broken doors.” He handed the key to Darcy. “Is it about a sister or a wife? You wouldn’t be the first to seek him for such.”

  “Both,” Darcy replied before hurrying up the stairs after Richard. “Wait!” he whispered loudly, holding up the key.

  Richard gave a nod of his head and stood aside but only long enough for Darcy to open the door. Then, he entered the room before Darcy but after Dash, who leapt onto the bed with a bark and a growl.

  “What the devil?” Wickham cried as he sat up in bed. “Who let this beast into my room?”

  “I did,” Richard said, leaning close to Wickham.

  “What? Who?”

  Darcy struck a match and lit a candle.

  Wickham’s eyes grew wide. “Fitzwilliam?” They shifted to Darcy. “Darcy?”

  “You’re not in Scotland,” Darcy said.

  Wickham smirked. “No need. I got what I wanted.”

  The crack of knuckles against jaw was the reply that greeted his lie.

  Wickham scrambled from his bed, placing the piece of furniture between him and Richard as he held his jaw. “She’s sweet on you.” He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “And you,” he jutted his chin toward Darcy, “it seems, have actually managed to convince a lady to have you.”

  Darcy nodded. “Despite your lies.”

  “Where are they?” Richard shouted.

  Dash leaned forward from the edge of the bed toward Wickham and growled to punctuate Richard’s words.

  “I have no idea.”

  Richard rounded the bed and grabbed Wickham by his nightshirt. “What do you mean you have no idea? Did they not meet with you? Were you not going to Scotland?”

  Wickham laughed. “They met with me, but I had no intention of ever going to Scotland.” His eyes narrowed as he looked around Richard to Darcy, who was at Richard’s shoulder. “Never have had any plans to go to Scotland.”

  Darcy growled. Richard released Wickham and stood to the side, arms folded as Darcy expelled his displeasure on Wickham’s person.

  “Where are Elizabeth and her sister?” Darcy asked as he stood over Wickham. His fist throbbed, but it was a satisfying pain.

  “I have no idea. I opened the door, and they got out of the carriage.” He scooted back toward the wall. “Somewhere between here and the river. Closer to the river.”

  Richard crouched down. “You best pray we find them within the hour, or we will return.” He rose. “We may come back anyway.”

  Darcy smirked. “Perhaps he should go to Scotland,” he said to Richard.

  “That might be a good idea,” Richard replied, “although I would still hunt him down there if anything – and I do mean anything — untoward has happened to either of them. Dash. Come.”

  Dash looked at Richard, then lurched at Wickham and growled before following Richard and Darcy from the room.

  “Thank you,” Darcy said, handing the keys back to the man at the bottom of the stairs. “We may return if we do not find what we are seeking.”

  The man’s head bobbed up and down rapidly. “I’ll open on the first knock,” he assured them as they left.

  Darcy blew out a breath as he stood on the street, looking toward the river. “Between here and the river?”

  Richard nodded. “Closer to the river.”

  “Wandering the streets,” Darcy muttered. And frightened, but hopefully unharmed.

  Richard wrapped the red ribbon from his pocket around his fingers and knelt next to Dash. “I don’t know how good you are at hunting,” he said, holding the ribbon out for Dash to sniff, “but I would sure appreciate some help finding Miss Lydia.”

  Chapter 27

  Elizabeth pulled Lydia toward a rose-coloured sofa in Sally’s comfortable sitting room. A book lay open on a table next to a chair near the hearth. Its presence surprised Elizabeth. How did one relax with a book of poetry while drunken men entered and exited one’s establishment? She smoothed her robe and made certain that it was done up as well as it could be as she took a seat.

  Though the place where she found herself made her feel excessively uncomfortable, Elizabeth would not deny that the warmth radiating from the fire felt wonderful as it wrapped around her, chasing away the coldness of the night and restoring feeling to her nose and toes.

  “My name is not actually Sally. Just like you, I have no desire for my guests to know my real name, for various reasons.” With a dismissive wave of her hand at her final words, she took her seat. The discussion of identities, as well as Sally’s ability to keep a secret, appeared to be at an end. “The tea will be here soon along with some clothes. I think we have a girl or two who are about your size.”

  “Clothes?” Lydia asked in surprise. “We do not need clothes.”

  Sally chuckled. “You cannot be delivered to your uncle’s home in the middle of the night dressed as you are.” She sighed. “I would just allow you to sleep here, but it would not do for you to be seen exiting my establishment in the morning. A young gentleman can afford such whispers but not young ladies. Therefore, the cover of darkness will be to our advantage. We will have tea and then one of my footmen will accompany you to your uncle’s home.”

  The woman tipped her head and looked at Lydia. “You are the very image of your mother.”

  “You remember her?” Elizabeth asked.

  Sally nodded. “I know it would seem nearly impossible for one to remember a lady twenty-some years after meeting her, especially since our meeting was not long in duration, and, well, I do meet a good number of young women.” She rose as a tray with three cups of tea arrived, carried by a young maid in a perfectly modest and rather drab dress.

  “Your mother,” Sally continued as she pass
ed a cup of tea to Lydia and then Elizabeth, “was in quite a state when I found her.”

  “You found her? Where did you find her?” Lydia asked over the rim of her cup.

  Sally chuckled. “Very like your mother. So inquisitive,” she muttered before continuing. “She was walking up and down the street. I saw her pass the window there.” She pointed to the window that would face the street. “She passed three times before I rose and watched her turn a corner and disappear only to reappear in front of my window not half an hour later.” She took a sip of her tea. “She was walking in circles.” This comment was followed by another chuckle and a shake of Sally’s head before she took a sip of tea.

  “I brought her in here, fed her, and dried her tears. Oh, the tears! But it was understandable.”

  “Why was she crying?” Lydia had moved to the edge of the sofa and was resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. Her cup of tea had been abandoned to a side table as she had become absorbed in the story.

  Lydia had always been easily entertained by a story when just a girl, which was likely why she found gossip so delightful now that she was older.

  “She had been turned out of her friend’s house because she was not a gentleman’s daughter,” Elizabeth supplied.

  “You know the story then?” Sally asked.

  “As much as Papa told me just the other day.”

  “Papa told you? When?” Lydia asked.

  “Do you remember Mama meeting Mrs. Salter when we were shopping?” Elizabeth asked.

  Lydia’s brow furrowed. “I think I do.”

  “You were helping Miss – our friend,” Elizabeth corrected, “make a selection at the counter.”

  Lydia nodded.

  “Papa told me on that day when I told him how upset Mama was by the things Mrs. Salter said.”

  “What did she say?” Lydia demanded.

  “She hinted that Mama and Papa only married because of Jane.” She held Lydia’s gaze until she saw the widening of Lydia’s eyes as understanding dawned.

  “Oh, no!” Lydia shook her head adamantly. “Not Mama. Or Papa!”

  “Your mother was no lightskirt,” Sally inserted. “She gave a couple of gentlemen a good tongue lashing when they attempted to sit too close or touch her when she was here. No one was allowed such liberties unless he had a marriage certificate in his hand and a fortune in the bank. That’s what she said. That and that even with all the gold in England, they would have to be a great deal more handsome, noble, and kind than Mr. Bennet if they wished to succeed with her, and she knew, just knew, that such a thing was not possible.” Sally chuckled again. “She was a delight, and I am pleased to meet her daughters. No matter what their names may or may not be.” She winked.

  “We have three sisters,” Elizabeth said. “No brothers.”

  “Indeed? I take it that your mama and that handsome man who came to collect her married?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Do not worry. I have never in all my years mentioned your mother’s name until I saw you, and you said your name was Gardiner.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have brought you in here if I did not know she was your mother. My girls never enter this room. It is my sanctuary. A step away from the work I do.” She shrugged again. “A lady without a gentleman or her own fortune must find her way somehow, and I dislike both cleaning and cooking. Service was not for me.” She leaned back with her teacup cradled in her hands. “I know it is not a proper occupation and my reasons for its existence will not meet with the approval of fine young women such as yourselves, but this has been my life. I live well, and I see that my girls are safe – or as safe as can be.”

  Elizabeth nodded and sipped her tea. She really did not wish to know what Sally did for a living or how well she ran her establishment.

  “Ah, gowns,” Sally said, sitting forward as the maid once again entered. “Place them on my bed,” she instructed.

  “Do you ladies have handsome young men who might come bursting through my door ready to cut down anyone who might attempt to stand in their path?” Sally continued.

  “Lizzy does.” Lydia’s eyes grew wide, and she clamped her lips closed.

  “I am good at keeping secrets,” Sally reassured her before turning expectantly to Elizabeth.

  “I am betrothed.”

  “You are what?” Lydia nearly shouted.

  “I was going to tell Mama in the morning,” Elizabeth explained. “I wished to keep it a secret until then.” She shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Lydia. “I just wished to enjoy the wonderfulness of being his for a night without anyone else, save Papa and Jane, knowing.”

  “No one else knows?” Lydia bounced in her seat.

  “Perhaps his cousin,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  “Fitzwilliam?” Sally repeated. “My, my, Fanny Gardiner’s daughters have some high connections.”

  Lydia’s hand covered her mouth.

  Sally chuckled. “I swear I will not say a word.” She tipped her head. “A cousin?” She waggled her brows at Elizabeth. “I think I know of whom you speak, though I would never expect to see him darken my door. He’s not the sort, or so I have heard.” She placed her empty cup on the table next to her book.

  “Now,” she said rising, “we should see you into some more appropriate clothes for travel. We would not want your names bandied about as belonging to this establishment.”

  “There was a man out front who thought we were,” Lydia said as she followed Sally.

  It seemed Lydia had already accepted this woman they had just met as a friend. Lydia was like that. Elizabeth welcomed newcomers, but she held them at a distance until she could figure out their character. She shook her head – except when it was a handsome cad in a uniform telling her horrid tales about a gentleman she wished to hate.

  “You said my Papa came here to get my Mama?”

  Elizabeth chuckled. Of course, Lydia would wish to hear the rest of the tale.

  Sally clasped the lovely green day dress she held to her chest. “Your mama saw your papa pass by the window and tripped over a footstool on her way to call to him through the window. I have never seen a lady so delighted to see a gentleman as she was.” She passed the dress to Lydia. “And he was so gallant.” She shook her head and sighed. “It is the kind of love story about which every young girl dreams – her prince coming to her rescue when she is in distress.”

  Lydia sighed. “Mama was very beautiful.”

  “Is,” Elizabeth corrected. “Mama is very beautiful.”

  “Yes, but now she is married, and her beauty is not so important,” Lydia replied.

  Sally laughed. “You are the image of your mother. You may slip into this behind the screen. You can keep your nightgown on under it since you do not have a proper shift, but we will fold your robe and tie it up like a package. It’s better to travel with a package and be a bit chilled than to wear the robe and have your reputation tarnished.”

  Chapter 28

  “Do we go up this one?” Darcy nodded toward Fish Street Hill. One street was beginning to blend into another as the men searched for Lydia and Elizabeth. A fear that they had already been found by someone unsavoury had settled into Darcy’s heart.

  Richard blew out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. Do you see anyone on the street?” He scratched Dash’s head.

  Apparently, his cousin was also beginning to feel the hopelessness Darcy was attempting to keep at bay. He had to find Elizabeth. He could not lose her. He looked up the street, sitting still and listening while he watched for any sign of movement.

  “No,” Darcy answered after a moment of watching. “Then we stick to Thames?”

  Dash’s bark made it impossible to hear Richard’s reply, and the creature’s popping to attention took a quick hand from the colonel to keep the beast from falling from his perch on Richard’s horse.

  “What is it, boy?” Richard asked as he attempted to quiet Dash. “That carr
iage?” He nudged his horse forward. A carriage was moving down the road in front of them.

  “It is worth a look,” Darcy said as he drew up next to Richard. “I do not think they would have money for the fare, but at this moment, I am willing to look anywhere.”

  “As am I,” Richard replied. “It’s stopping at Sally’s.”

  Darcy tipped his head. “Sally’s?”

  Richard shrugged. “One of the places my brother helps finance with his allowance.”

  “A brothel?” Darcy knew that the viscount was given to some vices, and Sally’s did not appear to be a gambling hall or tavern.

  Richard nodded. “The only one he visits.”

  One was more than any gentleman should visit in Darcy’s opinion.

  “It is likely just some drunken chap finding his way – No, those are not gentlemen.” Richard urged his horse to go faster as Dash once again took to barking.

  In the light of the lamp outside the house just two blocks away, Darcy could make out the forms of two ladies in front of Sally’s house and being handed into the hackney by a footman while another lady stood at the door giving instructions.

  “Lydia?” Richard shouted. “Elizabeth?”

  The lady in the doorway waved and the ladies who had just boarded the carriage were removed from it.

  It was them. It had to be them. Darcy expelled a breath as relief washed over him at the thought. His Elizabeth was safe. He did not reach the house before Richard, but Dash had only just been handed to Lydia who was exclaiming about being rescued just like her mother when Darcy arrived.

  Darcy dismounted and dropping the reins of his horse, rushed to Elizabeth, enveloping her in his embrace. “I found you,” he whispered to her hair, “I was afraid I would not.”

  Elizabeth held on to him tightly.

  He pulled back just a little so that he could look at her face. “You are well? You have not been injured?”

  “Thanks to Sally, we are well,” Elizabeth replied, smiling brightly at him even though her eyes glistened with unshed tears.