“There now. Eat an’ drink while everythin’s hot. Now, Miss Bennet, Jonas asks if he’s to prepare for a longer journey, or juss up the road to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, not knowing how to phrase her answer, but before she could decide Miss Bradden spoke for her.
“Not Pemberley, Miss Bennet has just come from there. Go, Mary, and I shall come to let Jonas know.”
The older woman nodded and was gone leaving them in further silence, until Elizabeth found the wherewithal to glance at her host.
“If Jonas could take me to the turnpike inn, I would be exceedingly obliged,” was all she felt she could safely say.
“He can take you further,” Miss Bradden quietly retorted, not looking up from her employment.
“That is most kind. But it would not be necessary.”
“‘Tis no trouble, you know. He can easily be spared. There is no need for you to break your journey at the inn. And I would rest easier if you went with him to Bakewell, rather than by post-chaise.”
Elizabeth set down her cup and vainly tried to catch the other’s eye. She conceded it was fairly easy for Miss Bradden to conclude that someone who hailed from the south and was found purposely walking through the rain with a sizeable bag would be seeking to get to the nearest southbound stagecoach. Also, Miss Bradden very likely wondered why she was not conveyed in one of the many carriages belonging to the great house, and indeed not escorted by one of its many servants.
The epitome of civility and discretion, she asked nothing of the sort. But what she had to say was equally disconcerting to Elizabeth.
“In fact, I would presume to offer him as your companion for the full length of your journey. Pray allow me to.”
Elizabeth gasped.
“Oh, no, I could not possibly– ”
It could have been a very long controversy, as both of them felt themselves in the right. In truth, it had begun so – until Miss Bradden presented her with the one argument that Elizabeth could not refute:
“Miss Bennet, had my brother been at home, he would have stopped at nothing to ensure your safety. Pray understand that I can do no less. For his sake as well as yours. How can I face him tonight when he returns, and tell him that even then, and with my concurrence, you are travelling unprotected, at the mercy of strangers?”
Effectively silenced and with a heavy heart, Elizabeth could do nothing but let the matter be thus settled. Wilkins would go with her.
Not long afterwards, Miss Bradden stood at the window, watching the gig progress at a measured pace along the road. She was still standing there long after the modest equipage had disappeared round the corner. Eventually, she returned to her seat, but not her work. For a fair while she sat staring at the fire and silently prayed. Perhaps now her beloved James would find his peace at last.
CHAPTER 19
Not many miles away, Mr Darcy vainly craved the same blessing as he rode towards the great house that lay ahead, shrouded in mist and rain. He gained the stables at last and dismounted, with a rueful pat on the stallion’s neck. A lad came out to take the poor beast’s reins and a groom followed, to call out to his master:
“Mr Darcy. Beggin’ yer pardon, Sir, but ye’re needed at the house. Miss Darcy has been askin’ fer ye this half hour an’ more.”
Darcy tiredly rubbed his eyes.
“Anything amiss?”
“Don’ rightly know, Sir. Juss that her companion’s gone missin’.”
“Missing!”
“Aye, Sir.”
The intelligence sent him striding to the house. This was beyond the pale. She had flung back at him, when she had bolted from the carriage, that she would leave Pemberley as soon as may be, but surely she would have had the decency to do so in some other manner, not run away without a word to Georgiana and frighten the poor girl out of her wits.
He was past caring about the common courtesy due him, and likewise the forsaking of all procedure pertaining to leaving one’s employment. The lack of a civil adieu or the failure to give proper notice paled before the earlier, weightier transgressions. But to leave Georgiana thus! Good God, how had he been so thoroughly deceived in his estimation of her character?
There was no footman at the door and Burton was also absent. A stern call of “Hello, there!” brought young Simon scurrying to greet him and ask if he would be so kind to join Miss Darcy in the morning room – she was waiting for him there.
For a moment, he was inclined to request clarifications about the unwarranted upheaval, but he dismissed the thought. He might as well speak to his sister.
He found her at the window, listening intently to whatever the second footman had to say, her fingers drumming nervously on the sill. Fresh vexation gripped him at the sight. The dear child deserved a great deal better than being left to fret so, without cause.
“Brother! Thank goodness,” she exclaimed as soon as she saw him enter. “I needed you. We have some– ”
“Trouble,” he interjected darkly. “Yes. I heard.”
“That Lizzy left?”
“They told me at the stables that she has gone missing,” Darcy replied, not trusting himself with the name.
“Yes. Read this,” she urged him, coming to thrust a folded piece of paper into his hand.
Before complying, he glanced at the footman. She did likewise. Thus, as though to reinforce his earlier reflections, Peter was faced with both his master and his master’s sister settling matching looks upon him and starting to instruct him, at almost the same time:
“Would you– ”
“Pray leave us,” Darcy was the one to finish the request.
Miss Darcy allowed him to, then added:
“Aye, pray do. Try to discover if anyone drove to Pemberley this morning, to fetch or deliver anything. She might have gone with them.”
Peter nodded and hastened out, leaving Darcy to unfold and read the letter, and Georgiana to watch him doing so. As soon as he looked up, she asked:
“Why does she say that you might be willing to explain the reasons for her departure? What reasons?”
Darcy hesitated. But she would not let up.
“You knew she planned to leave in so abrupt a manner?”
“No the manner, no,” he frowned. “I am incensed she would leave you thus. But I did know she planned to depart. And as to where she might have gone, I have a fairly good notion,” he added crisply.
“Where?”
“Lambton.”
“No, this cannot be. Miss Fenton would have mentioned seeing her on the way when she called upon me a little while ago.”
“What has Miss Fenton got to do with this?”
“A vast deal. But this is not the time. Why would you think Lizzy went to Lambton?”
“To find Wickham, I imagine,” Darcy delivered through stiff lips.
“Mr Wickham!” she exclaimed. “Why on earth would you think that?”
Darcy turned away and raised his hand to rub his temples.
“This is not a fitting subject for one of your age and innocence, Georgiana,” he said, his voice flat. “Nor a conversation that I am prepared to have with you at this point in time.”
“Heavens, Brother! My age – my innocence. Surely you are not suspecting Lizzy of having done something improper.”
“‘Tis not a suspicion,” he tiredly imparted. “Rather, the evidence of my own eyes.”
“Nonsense! What evidence?” But, when he would not answer, she pressed him with a sternness he had never heard from her before. “What evidence, Fitzwilliam?”
It did not fail to rile him.
“An assignation,” he burst out. “This morning, at the Crossroads. With no worthier a man than Wickham.”
Her mouth fell open, in what he took as shock at her former companion’s unmaidenly conduct. He was about to apologise for losing his temper to the extent of sharing that intelligence with her, when she spoke up to shock him in her turn with her wide-eyed outrage:
“You know her
so little, after all this time? Think her so low? Heavens above – an assignation! How could you even think it?”
Suddenly her outrage spilled into horror.
“You have not taxed her with this! Have you?”
The horror deepened as she read the silent confirmation in his eyes.
“You have!” she gasped. “So this is why she could not bear to spend another moment here. Fitzwilliam, I am ashamed of you!”
For someone who had been the perfect picture of demure sisterly deference for years, she had chosen the wrong time and manner to break that good habit, Darcy scowled. He could not miss the appellation – his given name, not ‘Brother’ – any more than he could have missed her belligerent and reproachful tone. And as for saying she was ashamed of him…!
“When I am ready to be taken to task by a sister nearly half my age, I will let you know,” he replied tersely.
“Even when you are so blatantly in the wrong?”
“Enough, Georgiana! I saw what I saw.”
To his further vexation, she glowered at him.
“I am not disputing what you saw. I am incensed at your conclusions. And your readiness to believe the very worst of her. What would you believe of me then, when I tell you that if anyone was on a semblance of an assignation with Mr Wickham, it was I?” she shot back in something so much like defiance that it would have shocked him, had the assertion not shaken him a vast deal more.
“You? What are you saying?”
“That I was foolish. That I was taken in. That by now I might have given credence to Mr Wickham’s lies and followed him to my ruin, had Lizzy not stopped me. That she went into the Crossroads for the second time to preserve my good name, only to be challenged by Mr Wickham and then condemned by you without a hearing. This is what I am saying! And why I am ashamed of you.”
Every word fell like a red-hot blade that seared as it cut. Deeper and deeper, laying him open. Open like a gaping wound. Everything made sense now. New, horrifying sense. Yet he could not grip hold of any thought save one.
Good Lord in Heaven, what had he done?
* * * *
Neither knew how it came to pass, but Georgiana was now ensconced in his arms, weeping, as she disjointedly revealed more fragments of the wretched story. Weeping bitterly in his embrace, not caring that his coat was soaking wet, just relishing the comfort of his arms and the feel of his lips against her hair.
He heard little of what she was saying and registered less. She would have to tell him everything again. But not now. Not now. He had not a moment to lose. She must be found!
He broke away from Georgiana, but took her hands and clasped them in his.
“Where has she gone? Have you learnt anything?”
The dear girl drew breath, seeking to calm herself, and not quite succeeding. Her voice broke with another sob as she imparted:
“Only that she has not ordered a carriage. I sent word to the stables and they told me so. She must have gone on foot. In this dreadful weather.”
Involuntarily, Darcy’s eyes shot to the window. The deluge had not abated in the slightest. On foot! Heavens above!
“The maids, the gardeners – have they seen nothing?”
Georgiana shook her head.
“Nothing. I sent Peter, Thomas and Simon to ask, but no one has seen her. I cannot imagine where she would go. She knows so few people in the area. The Braddens are the nearest.” She frowned. “I should have sent word to the parsonage. Would she have gone to stay with them till this blew over? Or at an inn? But no, there was… finality in her note. It suggested a permanent separation. Goodness, she has not set out to Netherfield, surely! Would she?”
Darcy winced.
‘You should leave to be with your sister as soon as may be.’
Good Lord! On the stagecoach – alone and unprotected!
He let Georgiana’s hands drop.
“I must leave at once.”
“Where to?”
“Bakewell.”
“Bakewell?” she gasped. “You think she is heading to one of the coaching inns?”
“I fear so.”
“Fitzwilliam, she must be stopped!”
“Yes, dearest. I know.”
“Let me send for the carriage.”
“No. I shall ride.”
“Ride? In this downpour?”
“The very same she is walking through. It would be faster.”
“At least change your coat, ‘tis soaked already,” she pleaded.
“No matter. An overcoat would do.”
“I will not hear of it! There is time, while your horse is fetched,” she retorted with a protective firmness that brought fleeting warmth into his eyes.
She went to ring the bell and the second footman appeared with commendable haste. Darcy was just as quick to instruct him:
“Ah. Peter. Pray send word to the stables. I need to ride out instantly.”
“Yes, Sir. At once. But I came to say that we have some intelligence at last. I thought you would wish to know.”
“Intelligence? What intelligence?” Darcy and his sister spoke in the same voice.
“Some girls from the kitchens said they came across Miss Bennet a while ago. Just over an hour gone. She left by the tradesmen’s entrance. Looked like she was heading into Kympton.”
“The parsonage! Brother, let me send word to see if she is there.”
“If you wish. But she will not be.”
“You are still thinking of Bakewell?”
“Aye. Most likely. Nevertheless, go, Peter. Send word for my horse and have someone ride ahead to the parsonage anyway.”
With a nod, the young man hastened to obey.
* * * *
A groom had already left to do his master’s bidding by the time Darcy’s mount was brought to the door – just as dark as the companion of his earlier bedevilled ride over the hills, but a great deal more spirited and not in the least tired. But the groom’s modest advantage was soon lost. With his far better horse and hounded by all demons, Darcy made it to Kympton much sooner than his man expected. Thus, instead of encountering his master on the lane leading back to Pemberley, the groom had barely quitted the parsonage when he saw Mr Darcy riding into the village. He promptly swung into the saddle and came up to meet him.
“What news?” Mr Darcy inquired curtly.
“She ain’t here, Sir. I spoke to the parson’s sister. She were mightily tight-lipped to begin with, goodness knows why, but in the end owned that Miss Bennet were here for a spell, had some tea, then Wilkins set off to take her to Bakewell in the parson’s gig.”
“How long ago?”
“Mayhap a half-hour.”
Mr Darcy nodded his thanks and turned his mount about, barely leaving his man time to ask:
“Want me to ride with you, Sir?”
“No,” his master cast over his shoulder. “Go back and let Miss Darcy know what you have learned. She ought not be kept fretting. I should not be very far behind you.”
And, gripping the reins, he urged his horse into a gallop with heels and crop and an impatient “Yah!”, to thunder down the wet lane out of Kympton.
CHAPTER 20
Nellie pricked her ears and whinnied softly, shaking her head between the straps. And then the whinny turned into a snort and her shoulders rippled when she shook her head once more, with renewed vigour. From his seat, Wilkins soothingly clicked his tongue and flicked the long reins over her back.
“There now, girl. Ye’ve bin as twitchy as a nervous bride all mornin’,” he chuckled, then ruefully turned to his young passenger. “Beg pardon, Miss. She don’ much like it when the winds change in the spring, does Nellie,” he elaborated, rubbing his chin. “But then she always settles in a while. There now, girl,” he repeated, with another cluck. “We’ll be at the Bell in no time an’ you can have a moment’s rest.”
But Nellie was not of a mind to either rest or settle. Her head came up again and she neighed, stomping her front hooves high
er off the ground. By the time the less perceptive human ears, both young and old, caught the sound of thundering hoof beats, she had already broken into an anxious canter with so little warning that the occupants of the gig were nearly thrown back. Elizabeth gripped the edge of the backrest to steady herself and Wilkins muttered an oath as he fumbled for a better hold onto the slipping reins, forgetting to apologise this time.
The increasing noise approaching from behind was not in the least to Nellie’s liking, nor was the sharp tug on the reins, urging her to slow her pace against her will. The whites of her eyes showing, she neighed and bridled, then broke into a run.
The dark shape now galloping beside her, cloak aflutter, was a far from calming sight, and she shied further to the right before the outstretched gloved hand could grip the harness. The slick mud gathered at the bend did the rest. Hooves slipped sideways, and so did the wheels. Closer and closer to the ditch they came, until the right one fell into it with a resounding thud, violently rocking the gig and its two occupants, who were by then hanging for dear life onto the sides with sharp exclamations of shock and protest at the commotion and the newcomer’s sudden appearance and antics.
Nellie’s hind legs slid into the ditch as well, first one, then the other. Shaking and snorting, her nostrils wide with fear as much as with the effort, she strained to pull against the new obstacle of the slippery bank, struggling for a proper foothold and finding none. Neighing in panic, she strained again and scrambled over the edge at last, stubbornly fighting the restraining reins, pulled taut by Wilkins in his attempts to draw her to a halt. Crazed with fright, she might have fought further and dragged the dangerously-angled gig to its occupants’ doom, had the rider not leapt from his horse and ran to grab a firm hold of her bridle and work to still her with wordless murmurs and reassuring pats.
A bystander might have been awed by his skill and reflexes. But there were no bystanders to survey the scene, and the other two caught in the confusion were too intent on keeping themselves from being thrown out of the gig to spare admiring glances to feats of horsemanship. Not that Wilkins was in any way inclined towards admiration. Reins still wrapped around his wrists, he restrained from bellowing his anger for fear of further spooking Nellie, and merely growled instead:
Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 22