‘Where can she be, Mr Darcy?’ Elizabeth’s gaze drifted over his shoulder towards the woodland. ‘The twins saw her near here, did they not?’
‘We have reason to believe the suspected poacher in the woods may have been your sister, attempting to fend for herself.’
‘You mean she has been living out there.’ Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the woodland again. ‘All alone and unprotected?’
‘It would seem so. But our search has only led us so far to where she had been hiding, a hunting tower at the top of Swallows Wood. It was evident this morning she had not passed the night there.’
‘It is agonising to think of what she may be suffering.’
Darcy lowered his head. It pained him to see the strain upon her countenance, but it gave him courage that he had been right not to tell her on the previous day.
'Whatever she has done, whatever has befallen my sister, I want to help her as best I can, Mr Darcy. I cannot bear to think of what she may have been through.' He raised his head and met Elizabeth’s anxious gaze. ‘Though Lydia has made some foolish choices, shown a blatant disregard for the impact upon others, I cannot say she is solely to blame.’
Thinking of his own sister, so close in age to Lydia Bennet and so close to falling victim to the same practised cad, Darcy clasped Elizabeth’s hand more firmly. Who was he to judge the girl for her choice?
‘Lydia is the result of neglect by one of her parents and over indulgence by the other.' Elizabeth sighed wearily. 'Jane and I did our best to check her, but with Papa’s disinterest, and Mama's approval of everything she said or did, our voices carried little weight.'
Not in a position to pass comment upon Elizabeth’s musings, Darcy decided to press on with what he felt might aid the lady best: finding Lydia Bennet.
‘We have searched extensively around Kympton, but there are many places left where your sister may have concealed herself. We do not believe she will have gone far.’ Darcy turned in his seat a little, the better to talk to Elizabeth. ‘Your father mentioned you being aware of someone watching you. Can you recall precisely when this was?’
Elizabeth leaned back against the bench, but she allowed her hand to remain resting in his. ‘There were a couple of times when I had a sensation, of feeling someone was just out of view.’
‘Where were you? Can you recall?’
Her gaze narrowed in thought. ‘The first time was in the garden at home. I paid it little enough mind, but then the following Sunday it happened again, after the service when we were all leaving.’
‘And was that all?’
To his alarm, Elizabeth’s skin, which had begun to resume its normal tone, paled again, and he tightened his hold upon her hand.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It happened again at The Grange.’ A strange look crossed her countenance, and she picked a pink strand of ribbon up from the bench. ‘Jane and I had been outside, making lavender bags.’
‘And?’
‘The twins came with Mr Bingley, and we repaired inside, but I went back to collect something; the strong breeze had taken the remaining ribbons.’ She frowned as she remembered. ‘I went to inspect the bushes for them, but there was someone there. It was more than just a sensation this time. I knew they were watching me; I heard them move.’
Elizabeth shuddered, and Darcy took the ribbon from her, dropping it onto the bench before taking her other hand as well, his thumbs stroking the backs of both now, and she raised distraught eyes to his. ‘I cannot bear to think of it being my sister, lost to us and all alone. Why would she not speak, reveal herself to me? What is she hiding from?’
Darcy shook his head, something he felt he had been doing an inordinate amount of this past half hour.
Then, Elizabeth pulled her hands from his and got to her feet.
‘I have to see her; offer her what comfort I can.' She raised her chin as Darcy got to his feet to join her. ‘You must allow me to come with you. If she is in hiding she is unlikely to come out to a gentleman.'
'I cannot permit it, Miss Elizabeth. You would do better to wait here for your eldest sister's return and be there to support her when you share the news with her.'
‘Why can I not come?’
‘It would bring notice to our actions—you must consider how it would look. It would not do to raise the interest of anyone outside of our immediate circle.’ He did not wish to mention Latimer’s name, or recall his veiled threat over investigating the Bennets’ background.
‘You must excuse me now. It is imperative we resume the search as soon as possible.’
Elizabeth managed a tremulous smile. ‘Please find her, Mr Darcy.’
Much as he knew he needed to leave, Darcy instead took a step closer. ‘I shall not rest until I have done so.’
She stared up at him, and he tried to read the message in her expressive eyes. Her antagonism from earlier was no more, and he reached out and moved a stray curl from her forehead.
‘Elizabeth,’ he held her gaze. ‘Despite all that is happening, please tell me you have not failed to understand my wishes?’
The moment stretched; then, slowly a smile began to spread across her features, and Darcy’s heart began to pound fiercely in his chest. She did understand him!
The smile did not endure, however. ‘Yet I do not see how we—’
‘No,’ Darcy shook his head, placing a gentle finger to her lips. ‘Let us not even consider anything that may attempt to influence us. Now is not the time. You have received a shock and are not quite yourself. You have much to assimilate and you have yet to speak to Miss Bennet of your findings today.’ Darcy removed the finger, wishing he could replace it with his own lips, but he was right: now was not the time. Finding Lydia Bennet was the priority and everything else must wait. He sighed. ‘I do not wish to go, but I must.’
Loath though he was to do so, he stepped back. ‘As soon as there is any news of import, I will inform you. You have my word.’ He bowed and turned on his heel, forcing himself to leave.
‘Wait! Mr Darcy!’
Turning back, Elizabeth joined him swiftly.
‘I owe you an apology.
‘Not at all.’
‘Yes, sir. You were quite right not to reveal such distressing news yesterday. I would have struggled to conceal my anxiety, especially later in so public a setting as a ball.’ She held his gaze for a moment. ‘I appreciate the need to disguise your search is for the benefit of all parties. Do you forgive me?’
Relief filled Darcy’s breast. ‘There is nothing to forgive, other than for you to absolve me from keeping a secret from you.’
Elizabeth smiled faintly, then took his hand in hers. 'I hope you will also forgive me the liberty I took yesterday, Mr Darcy.'
He eyed her warily, uncertain of her meaning. Surely he was the one who had been taking liberties lately? Had she not noticed his addressing her by name just now?
‘Sir?’
He glanced at their hands, then realised her meaning. 'Without question.'
'Good, because I intend to repeat it.' She pressed her lips to his hand, and Darcy summoned every ounce of constraint not to pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly. It would hardly help right now, but God help him, he had never wished to hold her close more than at this moment.
‘I will not fail you, Elizabeth.’ He held her gaze, a charming wash of colour in her cheeks. Then, he raised their still clasped hands and pressed a firm kiss upon her own before releasing it. ‘I will seek you out upon our return; you have my solemn promise.’
Darcy strode away from her down the path before his resolve could weaken, but unable to help himself, he turned to look back as he reached the house. Elizabeth remained where he had left her, and he raised a hand to her before turning on his heel to enter the house.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Some hours later and weary from the failure of their endeavours, Darcy rode to meet with his cousin and friend at the agreed place outside Kympton church. With Elizabeth’s intelli
gence of where she had sensed someone watching her, Bingley had focused his search on the area around The Grange, but to no avail.
A similar purge of the woodland between there and Kympton had produced no hint of Lydia Bennet for the colonel. Darcy, in the meantime, had headed west to see if she had gone further afield, but with low spirits the three men conceded it was time to retreat for the day and resume their efforts on the next.
‘Mr Darcy! Sir!’
Glancing over his shoulder, Darcy sighed as he saw the Reverend Wentworth almost running towards him from the entrance to the rectory.
‘Hmmph!’ The colonel grunted. ‘It seems he did not like being thwarted earlier!’
‘Go ahead; I will join you directly.’
‘We will await you in the library, Darce.’ The colonel turned his mount to follow Bingley, then called over his shoulder. ‘We may have to alter our approach on the morrow.’
Releasing a frustrated breath, Darcy dismounted and wrapped Bedivere’s reins about the rail before turning to walk to meet Wentworth. He was in no mood for matters of the parish; all he could think of was seeing Elizabeth. How could he tell her their search had come to nothing? Where could they possibly look next?
‘Forgive the intrusion, sir.’ Wentworth had reached him, a little out of breath in his haste, and Darcy frowned. ‘I tried to see you earlier, but you were engaged.’
‘What is it, Wentworth? A matter of some urgency, I trust.’
To Darcy’s surprise, the man coloured, his awkwardness apparent. ‘It is a delicate matter, sir.’ He gestured back towards the house. ‘My man trapped what he thought was an intruder in one of the old barns last night, but it appears to be a young woman.’
His interest caught, Darcy began to walk back with the reverend. ‘And is she there yet?’
‘Yes, indeed. She will not speak of who she is. She has been fed and has been left water for washing but I am unsure how to aid her further.’
Darcy frowned as they passed through the gate and entered the driveway. It had to be Lydia Bennet, did it not? Yet if Wentworth knew not the woman’s identity, why would he come all the way to Pemberley, or even trouble him now? Ordinarily, this would be a matter for him to resolve or at most something to consult with Rivers about...
They were rounding the side of the house now and the barns were in view, and the reverend placed a hand upon Darcy’s arm, drawing them both to a halt.
‘The young woman, sir—she...’ Wentworth hesitated, then cleared his throat. ‘She claims an acquaintance with you, and insists upon speaking to you—and you alone.’
~o0o~
Elizabeth had watched as Mr Darcy walked away from her to resume his search with his cousin and his friend. Though her heart had willed her to run after him, she had allowed her head to prevail and made no movement until the door closed upon him. Her mind, however, fell quickly into disarray in his absence. A desperate hope for Lydia being found safe and well warred with her anxiety over what nefarious means had brought about such a situation and what possible chance there might be for any sort of future for her sister after all she had endured. And what of her father’s role in all of this—and Wickham’s?
She attempted to put aside any consideration for the future she had begun to hope for with Mr Darcy. Such selfishness was not to be tolerated in the circumstances; yet she could not dismiss the fear so easily as she wished. What would her life be like without the prospect of him in it now? She could not bear to think on it and all it might mean. Yet how could he possibly overcome the further stain this would bring to the Bennet name?
Such thoughts tormented Elizabeth as she walked back to the house, and she hurried up the stairs, thankful not to have seen anyone. Barely had she reached her chamber, however, when the door to the dressing room opened, and to her relief, Jane entered.
‘There you are, Lizzy; how was your ride?’
Her ride? Elizabeth blinked. It seemed so long ago! To think all she had been concerned about on her return was how to speak of the locket to Jane—now she had this other more pressing news to relate! Jane had taken Lydia’s passing badly; it had lowered her spirits for some considerable time. For a fleeting second, she wished Mr Darcy were there to give her courage—or better yet, to be the one to speak the words.
The chiming of the clock on the mantel roused her from such futile wishes, and glancing at it, Elizabeth frowned. 'Where have you been all this time, Jane?'
‘We saw Mr Wentworth before returning to the house earlier. He asked us if we could spare some clothing for some poor waif of the parish, a young woman to whom he hoped to offer assistance. He said she was of similar build to Miss Darcy and much in need. We dropped it off at the rectory earlier.’
Elizabeth’s heart lurched as she sank heavily onto the bed. ‘Oh, Jane! I think I know who this person might be.’
~o0o~
Darcy’s mind raced as he accompanied Wentworth to the rear of the rectory, but as they approached the yard housing the barns, he stayed the reverend with his hand.
‘Wentworth, I must speak to you before I see this young lady.’ Darcy glanced over at the barns. ‘Is the building secure? She cannot escape?’
‘No.’ The reverend smiled ruefully. ‘She does not seem to wish to at the moment, though she made a failed bid for freedom before asking for you.’ He eyed the master of Pemberley thoughtfully. ‘Come with me, sir.’
He led Darcy into the house, along a corridor and opened the door to his study.
‘Please, sir; take a seat.’ Wentworth waved a hand towards his desk and walked around to take the chair on the other side.
Darcy sat stiffly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He could not see Lydia Bennet on his own, that much was certain, but how to ensure as few people as possible became aware of her presence here?
‘Mr Darcy?’
‘Forgive me.’ Darcy’s gaze snapped back to Wentworth. ‘I am going to make a request of you, Wentworth, with very little explanation to support it. I trust you are prepared to give me the benefit of the doubt. I also must insist on your absolute confidence.’
There was a perceptible hesitation, but then, the reverend nodded. ‘You know who this young woman is.’
Darcy was unsure how much he ought to reveal. It would take too long to lay before Wentworth what he knew so far of the whole sorry tale; better that they both heard what Lydia Bennet had to say. He did, however, need the man’s assistance.
‘Indeed; though it is not what it might seem.’ Darcy drew in a slow breath. ‘I cannot speak to her without a chaperone present, but it would be unwise to enlist one of your servants. I hoped you might be prepared to fulfil the role. It is a singular entreaty, but I would not ask such a thing if it were not of the utmost importance to speak to the young lady without delay. Time is of the essence. She has proved elusive, and I am convinced she will try to disappear again if she can.’
Curiosity was writ plain upon Wentworth’s countenance, but he assented without hesitation this time. ‘I am at your service, Mr Darcy.’
‘Good; good.’ Darcy’s mind was already drifting towards what he wished to ascertain from Lydia, but how he was to aid her remained quite beyond him at present. Then, he looked up. ‘You have no need to say anything, and you will learn things—assuming the lady is prepared to talk, and if she has requested to see me, one must believe she will—including hearing some names with which you have some familiarity. Again, I would ask for your confidence over all you learn henceforth.’
‘Without question, sir.’
‘And what of your man—the one who discovered her and locked her in?’
Wentworth shrugged. ‘Cartwright is a good man when it comes to hard labour, strong as an ox, but he is not educated; nor is he high in intelligence. With the nature of my calling, he has seen all manner of waifs and strays come and go. He will have paid little enough mind.’
Darcy got to his feet. ‘Then let us delay no longer.’
‘Should we not bring her into the
house, to a more comfortable setting?’
Uncertain how this meeting would play out, Darcy shook his head. ‘Much as I wish to remove her from the unsuitability of her present situation, Wentworth, I think it would be more circumspect to first speak to her where there is less chance of us being overheard.’
~o0o~
Wentworth unfastened the padlock on the barn door, and Darcy pushed it open cautiously. The interior was much like any other of its ilk, dimly lit by any natural light due to a scarcity of windows and smelling strongly of a combination of dry straw and animals.
His gaze adjusted to the light as the reverend closed the door and came to stand beside him.
‘Over there, sir.’
Wentworth pointed to the far reaches of the barn, and as he walked towards it, his boots hitting the flagstones with a staccato beat, Darcy saw the figure of a young woman huddled on a couple of small hay bales against the wall.
She looked up as he approached, though the hood of her green cloak concealed much of her features, but he knew it was the same person he had seen in the woods.
Darcy glanced at Wentworth as he joined him and, though it seemed absurd in the circumstances, he then bowed formally in the lady’s direction.
'Miss Bennet.'
A decidedly unladylike snort issued from within the cloak. 'I no longer answer to that name!'
Darcy was conscious of Wentworth’s surprise, though he quickly concealed it, turning to seat himself on an old milking stool.
‘Then you do own to having once answered to it?’
There was silence for a moment; then, she straightened up, swinging her feet to the floor and throwing back her hood. Though Darcy had seen the detailed sketch done by Viola’s hand, it was still a shock to see how gaunt Lydia Bennet had become, her unattended hair hanging lankly around her pale and drawn face.
‘What gain would there be in denying it? You are certain you know who I am.’ With an exaggerated sigh, Lydia Bennet sank heavily back against the wall. ‘But I shall never answer to it again.’
Darcy looked around before dragging over a larger hay bale and settling upon it. Then, conscious of Lydia’s fixed stare, he cleared his throat. ‘What would you have me call you, then?’
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