by Jane Odiwe
"I'm not going anywhere," Lydia declared, wrenching away her arm from Elizabeth's firm grip. "Mrs Darcy, I do declare, you are trying to spoil my fun. I want to dance! Lord, when is the dancing to start? Willie, come over here. Tell them to play some music!"
Colonel Arbuthnot, on hearing this last impassioned plea, was quite aware that Mrs Wickham had perhaps drunk more rum punch than was good for her. To Elizabeth's great relief, she saw her sister taken in hand by the colonel and Captain Farthing as they steered her toward the door, but unfortunately not before Lydia had insulted both Mr Collins and Lady Catherine as she went. Lady Catherine fixed Elizabeth with such an expression of disdain that Lizzy could only turn away with feelings of mortification.
Elizabeth wondered if it were possible to die of shame. Fitzwilliam was exceedingly cross, refusing to speak to her on any matter, and left Elizabeth's side to join his aunt, who left him in no doubt of her feelings. Removing herself from the room as swiftly as she was able, Elizabeth knew she must try to compose her feelings, but moving along the corridor only increased her sense of hopelessness. How could Lydia behave in such a manner? Elizabeth was sure that Lady Catherine and Mr Darcy were discussing the whole event. Fitzwilliam's aunt would surely be reminding him how ill conceived his alliance had been with a family of such low connections.
As she turned the corner she ran straight into the person she most dreaded seeing. However, Lizzy was immediately struck by Miss Bingley's appearance. Elizabeth felt some concern, for it was clear that Caroline had been crying and had drunk rather too much wine. With her bloodshot eyes, her blotched complexion, and a scarlet nose glowing under her slightly skewed turban, Miss Bingley looked a very sorry sight.
"I see your family are as diverting as ever; Mrs Wickham always was a crowd pleaser," she slurred, sneering as she spoke. Malice and spite positively oozed from every pore. "It must be a comfort to you, Mrs Darcy, to have such entertaining relations. Such a bon viveur, such a raconteur, you must be so proud of your sister Lydia. And she has such a way with the colonel of the regiment and the captain and most of the officers too. What a pity her husband could not be here to witness seeing his wife at her best. Well, I daresay he has fish to fry of his own. The Wickham family always did have zealous appetites, or so I have heard. George Wickham could never pass up on any female. And as for his step-sister, I daresay, you have heard the tales for yourself. It is not for me to say, of course, and I do not suppose we will ever know the complete truth of the matter, but I am sure I heard something on the subject concerning Viola Wickham's hasty departure from Pemberley all that time ago. Oh, yes, Mrs Darcy, I do believe her appetite for a certain dish was utterly sated, and if I tell you she left with more pudding than that with which she arrived, I think you will understand me."
Elizabeth could find no words. All she could think about was the letter she had received. The recollection of its contents came back with a clarity which left her feeling sure that she now had an answer to some of the puzzle. That Miss Bingley had written that poisonous note, she began to think must be a certainty. Suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of hopelessness and a longing to be as far away from Miss Bingley as possible, she excused herself without further delay whilst doing her best to show that she was not discomfited in the least. She moved away not knowing where she went or what she did. Only the acknowledgement that everything she had formerly refused to believe might after all be true filled her mind and left her feeling more perplexed than ever before.
Elizabeth did not want to think about what Miss Bingley had just divulged, yet she knew with certainty that there must be some element of truth in what she had said. There was too much evidence to suggest anything else. Not only must she face this fact, but she must also talk to her husband as soon as they reached Bellingham Hall. Until these ghastly rumours were either scotched or confirmed, she would know no peace. Raising the subject would be impossibly difficult. Elizabeth was sure that all discussion on any matter would be prohibited; Fitzwilliam would still be reeling from the rudeness of her sister's conduct and would most likely retreat to his own room. However, Elizabeth was determined to seek him out. He could rail as much as he liked about Lydia, she thought. Lizzy had no choice but to deal with further discussions relating to the past and the history pertaining to a certain young woman which might just as well be aired at the same time. The truth would have to be confronted.
It was gone midnight when they arrived back at the Hall. Darcy had been very quiet all the way home, sitting in silence with a frown on his countenance as Jane and Bingley chatted convivially about the evening. Elizabeth could see for certain that he was very cross with Lydia for behaving as she had and for even turning up at all. As far as Lizzy was concerned that had been dreadful, but the woman who seemed most to take delight in being malicious had spoken the unthinkable. At least it was over, and even Lydia's folly could not compare with the spite and vitriol of Caroline Bingley. Elizabeth could not begin to wonder how it was that Charles, who was always so affable and congenial, could possess the antithesis of himself in such a sibling.
On their return Mrs Darcy tried to compose herself for the trial that was to come. She bid her weary companions goodnight before making her way upstairs, passing Georgiana's door on her way. Elizabeth hoped she was feeling improved and, seeing the glow of a light still burning under her door, decided to pop her head in and say goodnight. She rapped softly on the door, but on hearing no answer she opened it as quietly as she could. Georgiana must have left her candles burning before she fell into a slumber, Elizabeth thought, on entering the room. The candles were low though still alight; one burning in a porcelain candlestick on the dressing table illuminated the detritus of ribbon, faux flowers, and combs taken from Georgiana's hair. Over by the window, ivory wax candles in tall candelabra guttered in the breeze. Dark shadows filled the corners of the room but to Elizabeth's alarm there was no sign of Georgiana: not in the bed which showed no evidence of having been slept in, nor in her dressing room just off on one side. Furthermore, a quantity of clothing was strewn over the bed in what could only be described as muddled and disordered abandon along with a variety of shoes and slippers in silk, satin, and leather. On further inspection Elizabeth found that Georgiana's painting materials, sketchbook, pocketbook, and journal were all missing too, and an upturned trunk in a dark corner of the room finally gave rise to the idea that another of these monogrammed cases had gone astray also. That Georgiana had vanished the same way there could not be a doubt. Elizabeth tried not to panic as she pushed open the casement to look down onto the garden below. With some relief she could see where Georgiana might have effected her escape.
From the window, it would have been a short leap to freedom down little more than a foot onto the terrace that ran below this old part of the house and from there down a flight of stone steps to whoever might be waiting in the shadows. Elizabeth was sure she surmised correctly. In an instant she saw how it could have happened.
Returning to the dressing table, Elizabeth found the note she had not seen before. With trembling fingers she picked it up hoping, at least, that it might contain a clue to where she had gone. It had clearly been written in haste.
Dear Fitzwilliam and Lizzy,
I am deeply sorry to cause the heartache I know I have inflicted, but please be assured that I am safe and well. If there were any other way I would not hurt you for the world. However, I cannot live without the one I love, and so, we are going away to be married whichever way we can.
Believe me to be,
Your loving sister,
Georgiana Darcy.
Chapter 29
Such uproar ensued on Mr Darcy's intelligence of Georgiana's disappearance that Elizabeth felt quite frightened. He stormed hither and thither, calling his sister's name until he was quite hoarse. It was a pitiable sight, Elizabeth decided, to both witness her husband enraged and yet fretful for his sister's welfare. The house and gardens were searched immediately and when all returned with no sig
hting of either Mr Butler or Miss Darcy, Fitzwilliam ordered his horse to be saddled forthwith.
"There is nothing else to be done," he said, as Elizabeth urged him to wait. "There is no time to lose. They cannot be far, and if I can catch them I shall at least be given the chance to speak to them and make them see sense."
"Fitzwilliam, please do not be too harsh with either Georgiana or Mr Butler. I am sure they have never meant to upset anyone, but they have been driven partly by youthful folly and a sense of hopelessness."
Mr Darcy stood still for a moment and all at once looked utterly defeated to Elizabeth's mind. It distressed her to see him so; he could hardly meet her eyes. "Oh, Mrs Darcy, do you think I have not berated myself for encouraging Georgiana to marry where she did not love? Do you not understand how much I regret my actions? You tried to tell me, but I would not listen. I have been blind and prejudiced; I know that now. I came home with the intention of speaking to Georgiana in the morning, to tell her how mistaken I have been, and with a desire to know her true feelings. All I can hope is for her forgiveness. What have I driven her to do by my own stupidity? But I must not delay, I must find them, tell them that all is not lost before it is too late."
"But where will you go? How on earth will you find them?"
"I will head south; I've a pretty good idea where they might be headed. I will make for the Peak Forest."
"I do not understand, Fitzwilliam, why should they be headed there?"
"Mrs Gardiner will supply the details, my darling. I must make haste; there is not a moment to lose!"
Charles Bingley appeared at that moment, offering to travel with his friend. However, Mr Darcy was adamant. If he had not been so proud and headstrong about his sister none of this would have happened. "Thank you, Bingley, but this is a mess of my own making and I am the only person who can set all to rights."
Mr Darcy saluted him and swept his wife off her feet with a last embrace before rushing away to his awaiting horse.
Mrs Butler was bereft. Lizzy tried to assure her as much as possible that Thomas would not be held responsible for the elopement. Elizabeth knew, however reserved Miss Darcy appeared to strangers, she could be headstrong. Georgiana had once been persuaded to run away before with a man she imagined she was in love with; how much more willing would she have been to elope with the man of her dreams? They had run away together, it was clear, yet the one hope Elizabeth entertained was that she knew in this case their feelings were mutual and that matrimony could be their only motive.
Mrs Butler was full of remorse, saying that if she had realised Tom's intentions she would have said something sooner. "He is not a bad person, please believe me, Mrs Darcy, it is just that his feelings tend to run away with him on occasion. I abhor deceit of any kind and would have told you of their meeting, but after I discussed the impropriety of his behaviour toward a young woman engaged to be married, I felt sure he would heed my words. I am certain, however, Thomas would never have any ill designs against Miss Darcy; he is his father's son through and through. Please forgive me, Mrs Darcy. I am so ashamed that I did not tell you sooner."
Elizabeth immediately went to Mrs Butler's side. "I do not blame you, dear friend. Do not distress yourself. This whole affair just proves how wrong we have been in encouraging an alliance between Hugh Calladine and Miss Darcy."
Jane felt very sorry for Mrs Butler. "People who are in love do not always behave like rational creatures," she said. "I'm sure Mr Butler could not help behaving as he did, no more could Georgiana. When any two people fall in love, prudence and discrimination often fall foul."
"But Miss Darcy is engaged," cried Mrs Butler. "And my son has caused such mischief. I will never forget the look on Mr Darcy's face!"
"You will make yourself ill, Martha," said Mrs Gardiner, who was becoming most concerned for her friend. "None of this is your doing. And besides, I am certain that it will all turn out for the best. Miss Darcy and Mr Calladine may be an alliance to secure fortune but are as ill matched as any couple could be. Mr Darcy can see how unhappy Georgiana has been made by the hasty decision to marry Mr Calladine, and I am certain that the gentleman himself will only suffer bruised pride if Miss Darcy marries elsewhere."
"But with the best will in the world, Thomas cannot offer Miss Darcy a secure future or a fortune; he is not even from the same class. It is hopeless, I am sure he knows that. Oh, that he had never ventured near."
"Where do you think they can be headed, Aunt Gardiner?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr Darcy seems to think they will have gone south, but surely if they have run away to be married without parental consent, they will be headed north, to Gretna Green. Fitzwilliam mentioned the Peak Forest before he left but that sounds such an unlikely destination."
Mrs Gardiner smiled and even Mrs Butler looked relieved for a moment. "There is a chapel in the area about three and a half miles north-west of Tideswell. The church was built in Elizabethan times on land that remains part of the Royal Forest. This means that it is still to this day without any ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Couples who are not residents in the parish can, therefore, marry without banns being read. I am sure Mrs Butler and I both know couples from our youth who went against their families' blessings and were married in the church."
Mrs Butler bit her lip and nodded, looking more worried than ever. "Mr Darcy will never forgive Thomas if they go ahead and marry. I dread to think what will happen. My son fully deserves to be punished, but I pray it will not end with a pistol."
She broke off, bursting into tears, lamenting the day Mr Butler had died leaving her with a young man she had tried her best to advise.
Jane Bingley immediately cried out, "Oh, Mrs Butler, Mr Darcy has such a kind heart. I am sure he could never consider such a dreadful act."
Mrs Darcy tried to comfort the lady as best she could. "Mrs Butler, do not fret. My husband has realised, a little late yet hopefully in time, that whatever foolishness our young couple are engaged upon, it would be greater folly to keep them apart forever. Mr Darcy loves his sister, and her happiness is his first concern. All he wishes to achieve is to find them before they do anything rash. There will be a way for this to be resolved, I feel certain, but Georgiana and Tom must learn that running away is not the best course."
"Mrs Darcy, I do hope so," cried Mrs Butler, drying her eyes. "I feel so responsible, and cannot bear to see you, Mrs Darcy, look so out of sorts. You must go and lie down, my dear."
"I'm tougher than I look. Don't worry about me, Mrs Butler," pronounced Elizabeth. "But you are right: we should all go to bed, and in the morning, I feel sure we will hear some good news."
Elizabeth had meant every word; she did feel strong. However, when she lay down her head on the pillow and the recollections of the evening's events worked their way into her thoughts, she did not feel quite so resolute. Georgiana's disappearance and Miss Bingley's words would not leave her. Elizabeth stared at the empty space beside her and at the pillow no longer moulded by that handsome head belonging to her husband. "How can it be true?" she thought. Caroline's hints were so vile she could not bear to think about it. Tossing and turning until her head ached from lack of sleep, she eventually succumbed only to spend a fitful night dreaming of an endless stream of Pemberley heirs and tolling bells in Lambton church punctuated by gunpowder blasts from the blacksmith's anvil.
∗ ∗ ∗
Elizabeth breakfasted alone. She had woken with the dawn chorus and unable to sleep again had risen and gone downstairs to the breakfast parlour. There was already a letter waiting for her on the salver, which she instantly took up in hopes of it being from Fitzwilliam. It was immediately evident that the handwriting did not belong to her husband. Her stomach churned at the sight of the script she recognised as that of the "well-wisher" who had written to her before on the subject of George Tissington. Was it Caroline Bingley's hand? She could not tell. Reluctantly, she tore open the missive. Inside was written an untidily scrawled note alongside a scrap of paper with some writing that
she recognised as belonging to Fitzwilliam. She did not examine that first but pored over the note.
Dear Mrs Darcy,
If ever proof were needed, I hope the enclosed will suffice. You may find it wanting, in which case I shall be happy to supply the rest if you will meet me this noon-time by the market square in Kendal at the door of the chandler's.
Yours sincerely,
Viola Wickham
Viola Wickham! Elizabeth had not been expecting that. So George Wickham's step-sister had been the one to send the cruel missives, or so it seemed. Elizabeth felt most disconcerted. How on earth did Miss Wickham know of the Darcys' whereabouts and what did she want? It did not take Elizabeth long to consider the most likely explanation. If she was anything like her step-brother, there was only one reason she could think of that would explain why she should be behaving in this manner: money. George Wickham had stopped at nothing to embezzle money from Mr Darcy and she was sure Viola Wickham's motives must be similar. Making mischief was never the sole aim in a case like this or her story would have been broadcast long ago. Mrs Darcy did not hesitate; of course she would go. More than anything Elizabeth wished to have this matter resolved, and she must admit that she was most curious to see the woman who had formerly bewitched her husband. The enclosed scrap of paper revealed very little. It was Fitzwilliam's handwriting, without a doubt, but apart from, "Dear Viola," and "I hope this letter finds you and the infant well," there was no more. Whatever Elizabeth wished to think about it, one thing was very clear: in order for Mr Darcy to have written such an opening meant that he was not only intimate with the child's mother, but that he also knew of the existence of Viola's offspring and cared about their welfare. Whichever way she looked at it, Elizabeth could not foresee any happy outcome from the further knowledge she was to gain in the afternoon, but there was no other course to take. Viola would be met.