The Bingleys returned later that afternoon. Darcy felt guilty for lying, but that feeling only lasted for the five minutes it took for Miss Bingley to find out about his recently departed guests.
“Miss Eliza was here!” she hissed.
“Yes,” Darcy said. “I happened upon her in the street and was able to save her from a terrible accident. She came back here to rest. Did I not tell your brother? The apothecary ordered her to rest in as peaceful an environment as possible.”
“Yes, I told Caroline,” Bingley said, nodding enthusiastically. “It was no trouble to spend the night at Reed’s. A terrible thing. Is she well now?”
“Yes,” Darcy said. “As far as I can tell. She insisted on leaving as soon as the apothecary concluded there was no lasting damage.”
“And just as well,” Miss Bingley said, stalking to the window and staring out. From the way she clutched her arms around her torso, one might have thought that there was a murderer on the loose in Mayfair. “Darcy, she is not the kind of young lady one would wish to associate with. Why, even my good name might have been tainted by association. Can you imagine it?” She trilled with laughter, as if to highlight the ridiculousness of this statement; that Miss Bingley’s station could never be lowered by one so inferior. “I, for one, am glad she’s gone. I hope your good sense will prevail if she should come calling again.”
Darcy looked away—he could not think of a response to such a heartless statement. And yet it was clear to him that he might have echoed Miss Bingley’s sentiments had the misfortune struck someone who was not so very dear to him. It galled him to realise this.
“I bumped into Miss Levine this morning,” Miss Bingley continued. “She told me that Lydia Bennet has been seen around Clerkenwell—of all the places! Honestly, it is like something out of the theatre! Anyway, she was seen leaving a gambling establishment in a fit of pique. Apparently, her paramour remained inside and refused to step out.” She covered her mouth and giggled. “And this is the best part: he was heard to scream ‘you’re not my wife. Don’t think you can come in here and tell me what to do’. Isn’t it capital!”
Darcy thought it was nothing of the sort. He didn’t see the foolish sister when Miss Bingley relayed this tale; rather he saw Elizabeth. Clever, wonderful Elizabeth, who was so different to her sister that it was hard to even believe they were related. Not that society would differentiate between the two sisters.
What does it matter, Darcy? he thought. She is inferior, after all. She always has been—even before this incident.
He had always believed in the rigid hierarchy in England’s society and in marrying one’s equal in the eyes of society. After all, such restrictions on marriage were in place for very good reasons: why, it would be anarchy if there was no convention for marriage; if wealthy men could be seduced by women hell-bent on marrying into an affluent family without any prejudices in place to stop them.
He shook his head. It felt as if his every belief was being turned on its head. Wasn’t it true that Miss Bingley was a more suitable match for him than Miss Elizabeth, in the eyes of society at least? But he had seen both women’s true colours and he felt sure that Miss Elizabeth would never even think of marrying simply for the sake of advantage. Miss Bingley, on the other hand…
No, he thought. Doesn’t everyone marry for an advantage of some kind? I am turning into a fool.
“Goodness, Darcy,” Caroline giggled. “You look so very serious. You should be happy: you have escaped a burden that you might never have been able to rid yourself of. And it appears your burden left of its own volition!”
He gritted his teeth. “Do not refer to Miss Bennet in that way in my presence.”
“I was just remarking that—”
“Well do not,” Darcy said, turning and indicating that he was finished with their conversation.
“Darcy,” Bingley said when Caroline had stormed from the room just a few moments later. “Is everything alright, old chap?”
Darcy nodded, though the weight on his shoulders grew even heavier as he thought of Bingley’s wide-eyed appreciation for Jane Bennet and how Darcy had sought to destroy that. “Yes.”
“It’s just… well, I know you’re a dour old creature, but your usual mood is positively jolly compared to now. Are you ill?”
“No,” Darcy said, staring at the fireplace. “But I must own that something is playing on my mind. Bingley, my dear fellow, I fear I have done you a great disservice.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Darcy looked up at him. It was difficult: on one side was his upbringing and all he knew of life and society. On the other… well, on the other there was her. Could he really turn his worldview on its head because of one headstrong woman from an inferior background who did not even appear to hold him in high regard? He sighed.
“It was unfair of me to ask you to stay elsewhere at such short notice,” he said, shifting in his seat and telling himself to buck up. “I hope you did not have trouble finding Reed’s house. It is a fine building, don’t you think?”
Bingley looked at him as if he were mad. “Yes, of course it is. We have visited there together on more than one occasion. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh yes,” Darcy said hollowly. “I must have forgotten.”
Luckily, Bingley did not dwell on the fact that Darcy had always had a remarkably sharp memory. Darcy stared into the fireplace and urged himself to forget Miss Elizabeth before he drove himself quite mad.
Chapter 16
The following day, they resumed their search for Lydia. Lizzy tried her best not to be shocked by some of the establishments in which she found herself. She did not care much for society’s strictures, but now she realised that her infractions had never been more than slight offences. She almost wanted to laugh at her naivety: she had been scorned by Miss Bingley at Netherfield for walking alone in the mud from Longbourn. How would Caroline Bingley react if she could see Lizzy now?
She had only once had cause to enter the tavern in Meryton. On that occasion, too, she had been searching for her wayward younger sister. Uncharacteristic anger bubbled inside her as they left one dingy, wretched place and walked a few paces down the street to another place of even less reputation. Why was it possible for her sister’s carelessness to impact on them all so greatly? Lydia was a silly, foolish girl. She had always been so, and Lizzy hadn’t particularly resented her for it. But now she had cast them all down into a pit they were never likely to emerge from. Who was it who had said women were powerless creatures? Not Lydia. She had unwittingly done what even the most scheming, malicious creature might have failed to achieve: she had singlehandedly cast the entire family into disgrace.
“Lizzy,” her aunt said.
She shook her head. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had barely noticed her surroundings—a benefit, she saw now. The low ceiling might have originally been white, but now it was a tarry brown. It was no surprise, either. A fog of smoke hung over the place, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of them.
If they had been concerned about untrustworthy characters, they had no reason to be worried in this place. All of the patrons except one or two were slumped at the counter, no more able to cause trouble than a babe in arms. There was no sign of Wickham.
“Let’s go.”
Lizzy shook her head. “I think they have rooms.” She walked to the counter, taking care to choose a spot far from any of the patrons. “Excuse me.”
The man behind the bar, a middle-aged fellow with dirty, messy clothes, looked up from half-heartedly drying glasses. His face fell and he looked from side to side.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he growled.
“I’m afraid not,” Elizabeth said dryly. “More an extraordinarily cruel twist of fate.”
He stared at her.
Lizzy sighed. She knew there was no sense in being so scornful. The man was only doing his job and it wasn’t his fault she found herself in the situatio
n she was in. “I’m looking for my sister. She’s a little taller than me. With a gentleman. Tall and broad.”
He stared off to the side as if considering the description. Elizabeth allowed hope to bubble up inside her. The grubby sign out the front had boasted of having twenty rooms. While she had no doubt that they’d be the direst hovels in the city, she suspected that Wickham had chosen a larger establishment for the anonymity it might provide.
“No,” he said, a moment later. “Ain’t seen noone like you.”
When they were outside again, Mrs. Gardiner clutched Lizzy’s arm. “Come on. We have done enough for one day.”
Lizzy shook her head. “Perhaps today is the day we find them.”
Her aunt sighed. “I’m worried about you. I fear this is taking a larger toll on you than you think. You have not been yourself all day.”
“I am fine.”
“No, you are not! You are quiet and withdrawn. This is destroying you.”
Lizzy smiled. “Think how much worse it will be if we do not succeed in finding them. At least now we have hope.” She stopped.
Was that even true? So what if she located Lydia; what would change? The girl had been alone in London for weeks with Wickham. It would be difficult to keep that unsavoury truth from getting out and people had been ostracised for far lesser sins. She sighed. Was her crusade a futile one? What was the point in even hunting for Lydia?
“Let’s go back home,” Mrs. Gardiner suggested. “You can have a bath and relax. No one could ever accuse you of not doing enough to find your sister, but I cannot support this any longer. It is not your place to look for her. Let your father and uncle do so. I am happy to help, but I cannot bear to see you enter such places as we have entered today. It is not right.”
Elizabeth shook her head. It didn’t matter that the situation was hopeless; that Lydia was probably lost to them forever. She had to try. She needed to try.
And the thing that motivated her? She hated to admit it, even to herself, but there was a small pocket of hope in her heart that told her she had a chance at making things right if she could only find Lydia. Then perhaps Darcy need never find out about what had happened. Had she imagined the warmth in his eyes and the protectiveness he had shown towards her?
Perhaps she had. Still, she couldn’t let go of that little bead of hope inside her. It was the only thing that kept her going.
“Come on,” she said, steeling herself. “That looks like a boarding house up ahead.”
Chapter 17
Darcy wandered through his townhouse, dazed and confused as if he had not slept at all. This was a new feeling for him, for he had always slept soundly. He shook his head as he accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Hudson. His business in London was almost concluded and he could think of no reason for his unsettledness.
Well, except for one.
He would have been lying if he claimed that he hadn’t thought about her in the days since she departed his home to return to Cheapside. As he perused the final settlement papers, he found his mind drifting to her. He wondered if she had given up her search yet. The thought of her wandering in Clerkenwell filled him with horror, but what could he do?
“It is not as if I could have ordered her not to do it,” he muttered. “Heaven forbid, she would simply have laughed at me. It is out of the question.”
He knew her well enough to know that she would not appreciate the incursion into her affairs. She was a proud woman and he respected her for it.
“What is out of the question, Darcy?”
Darcy bristled. He had not heard Miss Bingley enter the room. “Nothing at all.”
“But I heard you say…”
“Caroline! You must not quiz him like that!” Mercifully, Bingley had arrived before Darcy had to trouble himself with her any further.
“You must excuse me,” Darcy muttered.
Caroline had only just taken a seat at the grand old table, but she stood again and looked most affronted. “Again? But you’ve only just arrived. Darcy, we’ve scarcely seen you in the past few days.”
“I’m afraid my business keeps me occupied,” he said, sweeping from the room.
There was a nugget of truth in it. He paced to his study and closed the door behind him. His first thought when Miss Elizabeth left had been to loiter around Clerkenwell and ensure her continued safety. He soon concluded that that would not do. For one thing, she was sharp and observant, and she would not doubt spot him immediately. He knew it would grate on her to know that he had set out to protect her like that. After all, to do so would be to admit he knew more of her private affairs than he had let on.
But he had not been able to countenance leaving her entirely to her own devices. He had learned from her aunt that, far from being remiss, Mr. Bennet and his brother-in-law were focussed on searching a different area of the city. There was simply no one else to escort the two ladies, except for the huge footman. But even then, what use was one man against a band of scoundrels? After some consideration, Darcy had instructed his valet to send a trusted man to observe the ladies from a distance and ensure they came to no harm.
He had done this two days before and his naive assumption had been that he might relax and focus on other matters once Miss Bennet’s safety was assured. It had not worked out like that.
Now he was left with no choice. He had exhausted all of his objections; had come up with alternatives only to cast them aside. He could not stop thinking about her and he knew there was only one course of action left. He marched from the room and hurried to the door.
Just as he had expected, there was no one home when he arrived at the door.
“I shall wait.”
The servant looked uncertain. “I do not know when they will return. It may be some time. The ladies have been very busy with their charitable endeavours these past few days.”
He shook his head. “It is no hardship.”
As it turned out, he only had to wait for less than an hour until they arrived. Jones’s man had reported that the ladies were in the habit of returning to Gracechurch-street at roughly the same time each afternoon. As luck would have it, they arrived somewhat earlier than he expected on this day.
By that stage, Darcy was in a state of some agitation. He had taken to pacing around the room, and even asking himself aloud what on earth it was he hoped to achieve from this.
“Mr. Darcy, what a pleasant surprise!” Mrs. Gardiner swept into the room and looked genuinely delighted to see him. Her face fell for a moment before recovering its warmth. “We have just arrived back from visiting friends. I hope you will join us for food?”
The prospect was not an enticing one: Darcy had been unable to eat a thing since he decided what he must do.
“I have already dined, thank you Mrs. Gardiner. Hello, Miss Elizabeth.”
To his dismay, Elizabeth did not seem to share her aunt’s happiness at seeing him.
“Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she said, bowing her head. “What a surprise it is to see you.”
Her countenance indicated that it was an unpleasant surprise. Still, Darcy had decided what he must do and he could not be swayed from announcing his intentions. Perhaps she was simply feeling unwell.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, turning and pacing to the mantle, telling himself that he was not nervous in the slightest despite the quickening of his pulse. “I wonder if I may speak to you alone for a moment?”
“Alone?” she queried. “Are you sure? You indicated a preference for propriety not more than a week ago.”
He shook his head. How could he explain to her that he had been concerned for her welfare and not his sense of propriety? That it no longer mattered because if she consented to be his wife—and she surely would—it would not matter at all that they had been alone together. Nor was there the threat of Miss Bingley’s witnessing and reporting the matter to the whole of London society.
He had already decided that he would admit no knowledge of the predicament in which she found hersel
f. She was too proud a woman and he would not risk it. He knew she would likely turn him down if she believed, even for a moment, that he was asking for her hand out of some sense of charity. And he wasn’t. While he felt sorry for her situation, he would never dream of asking for a woman’s hand out of obligation. He was not such a charitable fellow. No, he had selfish reasons for the question he was about to ask: he could not get her out of his mind.
Mrs. Gardiner had already left the room, despite Elizabeth’s objections, and they now found themselves entirely alone.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, turning and walking to her. She still stood just a few paces from the door, as if she might turn and flee at any moment.
He had practised his words at length, but now he found they escaped him.
“Miss Bennet,” he said again, worrying that she would think him gormless. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
He took a breath and watched her, wondering how she might react. He had half expected her to pause; to want to reflect a while on the matter before she gave her answer. He had not expected this.
“No,” she whispered.
“No?” he repeated. “But surely you misunderstand. I have come here to tell you that I love you; that I wish to ask for your hand in marriage.”
But his words did not have the slightest effect on her countenance. If anything, she looked even more dismayed than before.
“I cannot marry you, Mr. Darcy,” she said hollowly, before turning and hurrying from the room.
Chapter 18
“Lizzy.”
Mrs. Gardiner had been knocking on her bedroom door for several minutes now. Lizzy sighed and wiped her eyes, knowing she could not be rude to the woman who had always shown her so much kindness. “Yes,” she called, voice hoarse from crying.
Her aunt burst through the door a moment later. “Lizzy, what happened? I left you alone and then Darcy stormed out of the house not a moment later without even saying goodbye. Did he say something to upset you? Oh, Lizzy, you’ve been crying.”
Mr Darcy to the Rescue: A Pride and Prejudice Regency Variation Page 6