Page 50 of Hidden Desires

“TAKE US TO MERYTON,” Bennet told the driver once all was ready. As the carriage lurched forward, he sat back and sighed. “I do not know which road to follow, so I thought it best to stop in Meryton and speak with the regimental commander. He may know where they went.”

Darcy shook his head. “The commander may tell us when Wickham left or whether anyone saw him with a young woman, but I doubt he knows more. If Wickham meant to flee, he would not share his destination.”

“Then where do we go?” Bennet asked.

“North,” Darcy said. “Georgiana told me Wickham meant to take her to Gretna Green, where a blacksmith would marry them over the anvil with no questions and no need for consent. To avoid reading the Banns, which he feared would expose his scheme, he chose Scotland. He cannot know that Georgiana defied his threats and told me everything, so I doubt he changed his plan.”

“I hope you are right,” Bennet said, his gaze fixed on the trees slipping past the window. “If we choose wrong, we lose everything.”

“And if we catch them, what then?” Elizabeth asked. “Can you stop him? He has militia training. That could give him the edge.”

“That is why I brought Roland,” Bennet said with a laugh. “He once carried two pigs under each arm without breaking stride. Of all the servants, he is the stoutest and, I think, best suited to handle someone like Mr. Wickham.”

Elizabeth raised her brows. “Let us hope Wickham proves no more troublesome than a pair of pigs.”

Bennet gave a wry smile and lifted his walking stick, striking the roof. “Go north,” he called.

The driver tugged the reins, and the carriage swung around a sharp bend.

“I wish we knew how far ahead they are,” Bennet said, turning to Elizabeth. “Did you ask the maids if they saw her leave?”

“Those I could find,” she said. “They thought she was in her room.”

“That is difficult to believe.” Bennet shook his head. “Unless Mary convinced them to say nothing.”

He lowered his gaze. “Did you ask Sarah? She has not been with us long, but she and Mary have become friendly. And she is the one who cleans Mary’s room, is she not?”

“Yes, and mine. I did not ask her, because she was not nearby and I had no time to search the house.”

“I suppose the answer can wait until we return. Mrs. Hill is not lax in her management, and I doubt Mary said anything, even to Sarah.”

“Be cautious about dismissing the influence of a servant,” Darcy said, his voice low but firm. “Especially one new to the house. Trust me. I have seen the consequences firsthand.”

Though the light had begun to fade, he noticed Elizabeth watching him, her gaze steady and unblinking. A short, humorless breath escaped him, part derision, part regret.

“I once engaged a companion for Georgiana. She needed a chaperone who could guide her, and I believed she was ready to enter society.”

Darcy bit his lip as anger stirred. “The woman I chose, a Mrs. Younge, seemed perfect. Friendly but not obsequious, firm but not cruel, and Georgiana took to her at once.”

“She sounds like a good match,” Elizabeth said, nodding.

“I thought so,” he replied, resisting the urge to strike something. “With her in charge, I believed I could travel without concern for my sister’s comfort or safety.”

“A wise choice,” Bennet said.

Darcy gave his head a violent shake. “What I did not see was that my time in London gave Wickham the chance to return. He had been gone so long, Georgiana had nearly forgotten him. Without my knowledge, but with Mrs. Younge’s help, he worked his way into her heart.

“He told her he loved her and wished to marry her, but claimed I would never allow it because of my deep, unjust hatred of him. Poor Georgiana, unwilling to believe his lies yet certain of his love, agreed to elope.

“The betrayal took time. He gained Mrs. Younge’s support by promising her a share of the dowry he meant to claim. If I had not returned early from a trip to London, he would have succeeded, and I would have lost my only sister.”

“What became of Mrs. Younge?” Elizabeth asked. Her voice held both anger and dread. “Does she still serve in your household?”

“I had no reason to suspect her. That is, until I received reports from a source I trusted without question. When I confronted her, she denied everything at first, but under pressure, she confessed, and I dismissed her at once.”

Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes. “Poor Georgiana. She must have been devastated by the betrayal of those she trusted.”

“She was,” he said, “but that was not the worst of it. The threats he made when he left caused the most harm. For nearly two months, she feared to leave the house and grew frantic whenever I stepped out of sight.”

“And to think I was the cause of her terrors returning,” Elizabeth murmured. “I only hope she can forgive me.”

“You are not to blame,” Darcy said, giving her arm a brief pat. “None of this was planned, and you had no way of knowing how she would react to seeing him.”

Conversation ceased as the carriage pulled up to a roadside inn. With a practiced motion, the driver jumped down and swung the door open.

“This is Luton.” Bennet looked both ways along the empty road. “It might be worthwhile to ask if anyone saw them here. I won’t be more than a minute.”

Darcy studied the building, which looked more tavern than lodging house. From inside came the raucous voices of drunken patrons, each trying to outdo the others for attention.

After a brief absence, Bennet returned, and they prepared to set off again.

“Any luck?” Darcy asked with a faint smile. “Or did you stop to fortify yourself for the road?”

“Nothing so mundane as that,” Bennet replied. “I wondered if Wickham might have asked for directions, as he is unfamiliar with the area.”

“A clever thought,” Darcy said. “One I might have had myself, if I had not spent the journey rehearsing every way the man has wronged me.”

“I learned nothing,” Bennet said. “And I doubt Wickham’s sins are your fault alone. According to the tavern owner, he did not stop here.”

He climbed back into the carriage and told the driver to take the road toward Bletchley.

“If they stop to rest or tend the horses, we may close the distance,” he said, answering Darcy’s glance. “It is the next town of any size.”

“I suggest we each take a window and watch the road,” Darcy said. “If we stay alert, we might spot them at an inn or posting house without the need to stop and ask questions. Choose whichever side you prefer, and I will take the other.”

“I will try,” Bennet said, “though I might not stay awake much longer.”

“That should not be a problem, if Miss Elizabeth can spell us when needed.”

“I can,” she said, settling back and resting her head against the window frame. “But now, I need to sleep. Wake me when it is my turn.”

Darcy watched her eyes close and her breathing slow. Shifting until he found a comfortable position, he fixed his gaze on the landscape outside.

Are we gaining? For every mile we cover, Wickham might be ten ahead. And how long will the road remain visible? An hour? Until it bends or rain begins to fall? I should have acted sooner. I let him slip past me once, and now he is doing it again.

Miss Mary does not deserve this. Whatever lies he has told her, whatever plans he has made, she should not have to bear the cost of my silence. And she will, unless we stop him.

I am to blame. No one else.

He let his gaze drift back to the sleeping woman across from him. Even in rest, there was nothing fragile in her. She had borne Georgiana’s distress without faltering, had stepped forward when others hesitated, and that kind of strength was rare.

And now she slept, trusting him to carry the weight a while longer.

She should not be here. This is not her place, yet she bears it better than I. Even now, asleep beside me, she rests while I carry the weight of what must be done. I cannot fail her. I will not.

There is something in her I failed to see at first. Not charm, not beauty, though she has both. Something steadier. Something I am only beginning to understand.

They spent the rest of the night in fruitless pursuit, stopping at each inn and tavern along the road to ask questions, but found no trace of the runaways.

With each disappointment, Darcy’s doubts deepened. What if they had chosen another road? What if he had led them astray from the start?

As night gave way to dawn, the weight of failure pressed down on him, magnified by the disappointment in Bennet’s eyes.

Guilt tore at him for insisting Wickham would take Miss Mary to Scotland.

Each wasted hour raised the cost. And then there were Elizabeth’s glances, quiet and steady, impossible to ignore.

Her eyes did not accuse, but he felt the charge all the same.

When the silence became too much, he spoke. “I am sorry. I was wrong to believe he would take her to Scotland, and you are paying for my mistake. I have failed you.”

“Your responsibility is no greater than my own,” Bennet said, his tone low, his head bowed in defeat. “With no information as to their direction, I had to draw my own conclusion. Your advice gave us a path to follow and a reason to hope.”

“I still believe he is going to Scotland, but the problem is that his lead was too great to overcome. We can continue if you wish. I am with you until you decide to stop.”

Darcy saw how deep weariness had taken hold of Mr. Bennet. His shoulders were bowed under the weight of failure, and he carried it for all of them.

He felt it as well. His ability to think had grown dull with fatigue, each thought slow to form and harder to hold.

His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and a heaviness had settled over his limbs.

Weariness crept into every corner of his mind, blunting his focus and feeding his doubt.

Across the cabin, Elizabeth sat unmoving, her eyes heavy and nearly closed.