Wild Goose Chase

by Sophie Lynbrook

  The couple had been seen here as well. “They changed horses and left about twenty minutes ago,” the innkeeper said. “It was a nice pair they took. You’ll have to be quick to catch them.” He gave Elizabeth and her companions a knowing look.

  “They are friends of ours, travelling to visit the same people in Carlisle,” Mr. Gardiner said in an attempt to save some dignity. “We are trying to catch up so that we can all stay at the same inn this evening.”

  But once they were in the carriage, Mr. Darcy leaned out of the window and recklessly cried “Spring them!” to the postilions.

  Elizabeth saw the innkeeper grin just before the carriage went tearing out of the yard. She could not help smiling as well. It was unlike Mr. Darcy to be so animated or so unconcerned about appearances. She quite liked seeing him so lively.

  He caught her eye and looked abashed. “Perhaps I was a bit carried away back there.”

  “No harm done,” Mr. Gardiner said. “We do want to be quick.”

  Speed was achieved. At the next stop, they were only fifteen minutes behind their quarry.

  “We shall get them at the end of this stage,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “I hope we do,” Mr. Gardiner said. “It is getting rather late to go any further today. We might just manage one more stage, but we will be in a pickle if there are no rooms to be found at the end of it.”

  Upon arriving at the next coaching inn, they saw a curricle just being taken around to the back.

  “It looks as though they are intending to stay here tonight,” Mr. Darcy said. “That must be the curricle we have been chasing.”

  Inside they were told that the couple had just gone into a private parlour.

  “They are friends of ours with whom we are planning to dine,” Mr. Darcy said in that voice which commanded respect and cooperation. He was immediately shown which door.

  “I believe we have them,” Mr. Gardiner whispered as they approached the room. “I just hope Lydia does not put up too much of a fuss.”

  So did Mr. Darcy. He had no doubt she was capable of making a dreadful scene.

  “You should be prepared to hold her tightly if necessary,” Mr. Darcy said. “Running will not do her much good, or course, but it may be her first instinct. You handle her, and I will deal with Mr. Wickham. Perhaps you could close the door, Mrs. Gardiner. We do not want to attract any attention.”

  He put his hand upon the door knob, looked to see that the others were ready, and then turned the knob and flung the door open. They all rushed inside, and Mrs. Gardiner quickly shut the door behind them.

  The couple seated at the table instantly leapt up and rushed toward the open window. Mr. Darcy bolted after them and seized upon the gentleman from behind. At the same time, Mr. Gardiner grasped the young lady, who put up a good struggle.

  “It is no use making a fuss,” he said as she kicked her legs up in the air and flung her arms about wildly.

  “I will not marry Wilfred,” she cried.

  Elizabeth heard the name with astonishment. She looked at the writhing young lady, but her hair, which was the colour of Lydia’s, had fallen over her face. She rushed over and grabbed her uncle’s arm, saying, “I do not think this is Lydia.”

  “What!” cried Mr. Gardiner. He let go of the lady, who then looked at him warily.

  “Have you come from my uncle?” she asked.

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “We have not been sent by anybody. We are looking for my sister, whose appearance is not unlike yours.”

  “I thought you were her,” Mr. Gardiner said. “I do beg your pardon.”

  The girl relaxed slightly, but then she looked at Mr. Darcy, who had his arms around her companion. The young man had his hands upon the window sill, which he was gripping tightly even though Mr. Darcy was trying to pull him away.

  “Then why has your husband set upon my friend?”

  “Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried, addressing the more important matter and ignoring the misperception. “Let go of the gentleman. That is not Mr. Wickham.”

  “What!” Mr. Darcy let go at once.

  Released so suddenly while he was still pulling in the opposite direction, the young man banged his knees against the wall and his elbows on the windowsill. He turned his head and looked at Mr. Darcy reproachfully. “You thought I was somebody else?”

  “I do apologize,” Mr. Darcy said, offering the young man his hand. “You jumped up too fast for me to see your face, and from behind, you looked like Mr. Wickham.”

  “I feel sorry for this Mr. Wickham.”

  “You would not if you knew him. He does not deserve anybody’s sympathy. But perhaps you are not unlike him. It is obvious that you are eloping with this young lady.”

  “Not at all. She is my sister, and we are travelling north to visit some friends in Carlisle.”

  “Then why were you trying to get out of the window?”

  “You looked dangerous.”

  “You jumped up from the table without looking at me.”

  Mr. Gardiner now joined this discussion. “She is not your sister. She referred to you as her friend, not her brother.”

  “Oh.” He looked at the lady.

  “Sorry,” she said to him. “I was not thinking what I said.”

  “It does not matter,” he said. “I do not like lying anyway.” He turned to Mr. Darcy. “Very well, then. We are eloping, but that is no concern of yours.”

  “I cannot stand by and let you bring disgrace upon this lady,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “You cannot stop us. If you try, I shall report you for this heinous attack.”

  “And when I tell the constable that you have kidnapped her, he will detain you instead.”

  “I have not been kidnapped,” the lady cried. “I came away of my own free will. If anybody should be detained, it is my uncle. He tried to force me to marry my cousin.”

  “I am familiar with that situation,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is a great nuisance, but nobody can force you to marry your cousin.”

  “They can if they have a corrupt vicar at their disposal.”

  Mr. Darcy stared at her. “A corrupt vicar? Surely the bishop would not countenance that?”

  “I have no means of ascertaining the bishop’s opinion on the subject.”

  “I do. If you tell me where this vicar resides, I will speak to his bishop.”

  “And I must go home and take my chances in the meantime. I think not. My uncle will have me married to my cousin Wilfrid in a flash, and that is not likely to be undone, whatever influence you think you may have.”

  “Why is he so determined that you should marry your cousin?”

  “Oh, he has 50,000 thousand reasons.”

  Mr. Darcy stared again. “You have 50,000 pounds?”

  She nodded.

  He looked at the young man. “You are going to Gretna Green with an heiress?”

  Elizabeth looked at all three of them with concern. Knowing that Mr. Darcy’s sister had almost eloped, she guessed how he must feel about this, but the young couple had her sympathy. Their story might not be true, of course, but she was inclined to believe them.

  The young man did not answer at once and the others stood waiting. That silence was broken by a shout which came from the outer room. “Where is my niece?”

  “That is my uncle’s voice,” the young lady cried.

  She started quivering, which Elizabeth did not think was caused only by the fear of being caught. A quick glance around the room showed her that there was a cupboard in each corner. She ran over to one and grasped the door, which was fortunately not locked.

  “Quick,” she cried. “Hide in here. You will have to crouch under the shelf, but I believe you will just fit.”

  The young lady gave Mr. Darcy a fearful look, before rushing over to the cupboard. Elizabeth helped her in and closed the door.

  “You cannot give her away,” she said to Mr. Darcy.

  “No, I suppose I cannot,” he said, but his voice was lacking in comple
te certainty, and he looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth did not feel entirely confident of his compliance, but she was relieved that he did not make any objection as the young man dived out of the window in the nick of time.

  The door burst open, and a large red-faced man strode into the room. “Where is she?” he shouted.

  “I do not believe we are acquainted,” Mr. Darcy said, drawing himself up with haughtiness, rather as Elizabeth remembered him doing at the assembly last October when he had decided that she was not handsome enough to tempt him to dance.

  “Of course we are not acquainted, you popinjay,” the man shouted.

  Mr. Darcy kept his head high and his tone cold and calm. “I find your insult remarkably inapt and your manner deplorable,” he said. “I am neither vain, nor overdressed. You, on the other hand, are loud and boorish, two things which I find intolerable. I will thank you to leave this room which has been reserved for my private use.”

  Elizabeth had never imagined herself approving of arrogance in Mr. Darcy’s tone, but in this instance, she found herself delighting in it.

  “I am not going anywhere without my niece,” the man declared. “That curricle in the yard belongs to the popinjay she wants to marry. The two of them are here somewhere.”

  “Do you consider every gentleman who is not as ill-dressed as yourself to be a popinjay?” Mr. Darcy enquired. There was a look of amusement on his face now.

  “I expect you have her hidden in the cupboard.” He strode over to the other one, most fortunately, and violently yanked the door, nearly falling over backwards when it did not budge.

  “There is nobody in the closet,” Mr. Darcy said in a tone of boredom.

  “Then why is it locked?”

  “I have no knowledge of the innkeeper’s arrangements, but it might be assumed that he prefers to protect his property from thieves.”

  “Are you calling me a thief?”

  “I said nothing of the sort. I was only speculating an answer to our question.”

  “This one is locked too,” Elizabeth said, pretending to pull on the door. “It should be obvious that even if we had wished to hide somebody, we would not have chosen such an obvious place as a cupboard. Nor it likely that the key would have been conveniently left here.”

  To her satisfaction, the uncle did not choose to verify her assertion.

  “The curricle of which you speak happens to be mine,” Mr. Darcy said. “You are quite mistaken to think that it belongs to Mr. Popinjay. It might interest you, however, to know that when we arrived here, there was a young couple just leaving in a curricle very like it.”

  “How long ago?” the uncle asked eagerly.

  “Not very long. About twenty minutes, I think.”

  “I will catch them yet.” Without further ado, he turned and ran out the door, which Mr. Gardiner closed behind him.

  Mr. Darcy went over to the window, opened it, and helped the young man back inside.

  “I am in your debt,” he said. “Thank-you for not giving us up.”

  The rather shaky young lady was retrieved from the cupboard and helped to a chair.

  “You have my apologies,” Mr. Darcy said. “Only the meanest person could think of handing you over to a man like your uncle. Is there nobody else to whom you could turn? Where are your parents?”

  “They died several years ago. My uncle and his family are my only relatives. He is my guardian.”

  “How dreadful.”

  “It has not been a pleasant experience,” she agreed.

  “Has he access to your fortune?”

  “Thankfully not, or else I doubt there would be much of it left. I know that it is well tied up, for I have heard him complain of not being able to touch the capital; however, the interest has been at his disposal while he has the expense of keeping me.”

  “The interest of 50,000 pounds would be a decent sum.”

  “One that he is not inclined to give up.”

  “What about you?” Mr. Darcy turned to look at the young man. “What do you have to offer this young lady?”

  “I have a small property that was left to me by an aunt. It is modest, but it brings in about twelve hundred a year.”

  “Not a particularly large sum.”

  “No, but I have never wanted for anything, and I am making improvements which should increase my income. I do have other expectations as well, but naturally I hope it will be a long time before I come into my father’s property.”

  “You are heir to his estate?”

  “Yes. It is a larger one than mine, worth about five thousand a year. My mother’s fortune is settled upon my sisters and younger brothers. I intend to have a similar settlement drawn up for Annabelle’s money after we are married. Even though we have resorted to eloping, I want things to be properly disposed after we return. I really wish that she was not an heiress. That is not why I want to marry her. We have known each other for years and our attachment is of long standing.”

  Mr. Darcy was now looking at him with approval. “But what will your parents think of your elopement?”

  “I believe they will understand. They like Annabelle and have often said it is a disgrace that her aunt and uncle should have the care of her.”

  Mr. Darcy looked from one to the other. Then he looked at Mr. Gardiner. “I hope you will not object if I give my support to this union.”

  “Object? I should think not. I am also inclined to sympathize with their situation; however, I think it will be suitable if we take the young lady under our protection for the rest of the journey to Gretna Green.”

  “I quite agree,” Mr. Darcy said. “That was on my mind as well.”

  He turned back to the young man. “Will that arrangement be acceptable to you?” He held out his hand. “I am Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

  “Mr. Davenport of Cross Hall in Staffordshire.” The young man took the offered hand. “And my father is Sir Roger Davenport of Thornleigh Abbey.”

  “The name is familiar. Would he be related to the Mr. William Davenport who holds a seat in the commons?”

  “Yes, that is my uncle.”

  “A very worthy man. I was impressed with the bill which he presented in the last session.”

  “Were you? I helped him to write it.”

  “You have some expertise on the subject?”

  “I have done a fair bit of reading,” Mr. Davenport said modestly.

  “Were you at one of the universities?”

  “Yes, I was at Cambridge.”

  “So was I, although I suppose you would have been there after my time. Perhaps we might compare our recollections over dinner if the two of you would care to be my guests.” Mr. Darcy collected himself. “I do beg your pardon. I am forgetting that this is your room.”

  “You are quite welcome to share it,” Mr. Davenport said, “and your proposal is acceptable to me as long as Annabelle agrees.”

  Annabelle, who had composed herself, readily gave her consent.

  “I did not feel right about eloping,” she said. “It was not what Mama and Papa would have wanted, but they would not have liked me to be unhappy either, or to be married to Wilfred, whom they considered to be a very disappointing nephew. They always said that Tom was a very steady young man with a fine future ahead of him, so I knew that they would have approved of our marriage.”

  Introductions were made all around, and she was surprised to find out that Mr. Darcy was not Elizabeth’s husband.

  “You seem just like a married couple,” she said candidly. “Are you engaged?”

  “No, just good friends.” Elizabeth did not dare to look at Mr. Darcy, who must be finding this exchange awkward.

  The rest of the evening, however, was extremely comfortable. Dinner was ordered, the gentlemen fell into an avid discussion of the bill which had interest Mr. Darcy, and the ladies chatted agreeably on a variety of subjects.

  “Mr. Davenport really is a very steady young man as far as I can tell,” Mr. Darcy said to Eliza
beth later that evening. The two of them were standing by the window looking out upon the yard while the young couple were chatting with the Gardiners. “I expect he will make a great success of improving his property. His grasp of agriculture is admirable. It seems to me that Miss Annabelle will be gaining an excellent husband. I am glad you talked me into helping them.”

  “Did I talk you into it? I hardly said anything.”

  “I knew what you were thinking. That I am too fusty to care about anything other than propriety.”

  She smiled. “I never thought you fusty.”

  “But you did doubt me.”

  “Briefly,” she admitted. “I was afraid that you would think it your duty to give her up.”

  “It should have been. But to such a man.” He shook his head. “It would have been a poor application of duty. The circumstances had to be taken into account. Anyway, I trusted your confidence in the pair.”

  “Mine? I do not exactly have a history of getting first impressions right.”

  “I still think you have good judgement. At any rate, you would not call me a popinjay.”

  She laughed. “It is not a word I would use at all, but it certainly should not be applied to you. I have always thought your attire very tasteful.”

  “I thank you for the compliment.”

  It occurred to Elizabeth that this was a momentous occasion. She had always found fault with Mr. Darcy in the past. No wonder he was smiling so broadly.

  “I will give you another and make it a pair,” she said. “I thought that you handled the uncle very well and with just the right amount of fustiness, to use your word. There are times when you are a very useful man to have around, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I believe that is three compliments,” he said. “It has been a good day.”

  “Just not for Miss Annabelle’s uncle.”

  “We may yet have to contend with him, you know. He is on his way to Gretna Green as well and will presumably arrive there first.”

  “I am confident that you will find a way to foil him,” she said confidently.

  He hoped he could live up to her expectations.

  It was decided that Elizabeth and Annabelle would share a room. The young lady did not seem to have a particularly nervous disposition except where her uncle was concerned, and she feared that he might somehow return and abduct her in the middle of the night. Having a companion who professed to be a light sleeper was greatly reassuring to her.