Page 11 of Losing Lizzy

Darcy knew exhaustion when he laid out upon the thin mattress in the room he had claimed in the inn on the outskirts of Tunbridge Wells. It had been both a frustrating, as well as a fulfilling day. As he had expected, Mr. Harwood had followed Darcy’s carriage at a respectable distance until Darcy led the man to the local blacksmith shop. When he entered the establishment, he introduced himself and explained to the proprietor, “A man has followed me from Brighton, and I think it best if the local constable speaks to him to learn his intent.”

“Are you certain he means mischief?” the blacksmith asked in obvious concern.

Darcy kept his countenance sincere. “I noted him when I entered my coach in Brighton, and he has been behind me ever since. The man is on horse and has had multiple opportunities to overtake me and proceed forward to his business in the area, if that was his purpose. Instead, he sits upon his horse, at this very moment, overlooking your front door. Why do you not step outside and pretend to examine my team and have a look for yourself?”

The man appeared suspicious, but he did as Darcy suggested, returning a few minutes later. “Roan-colored horse in the tree line off to the left.”

“That is the one,” Darcy confirmed. “The thing is if I attempt to capture him, he will simply ride away; however, as he has proven to be so determined, I suspect he will return. I certainly would not want to lead him to my family’s door. I do not wish to place you and yours in danger, but do you have a means to summon the local sheriff or magistrate to arrest the man without setting up an alarm?”

The blacksmith sent his son with a note and instructions to the local sheriff to come around the back road on Mr. Cooper’s land, which backed up to the blacksmith’s place, so he would come up behind the fellow.

It had cost Darcy several hours and ten pounds between rewarding the sheriff and the blacksmith for their service, but he had convinced the sheriff to detain Mr. Harwood for three days to permit Darcy time to depart the area. After all, until Harwood committed an actual crime, he had as much right to be on the road as did Darcy, or so Darcy was told by the sheriff. Obviously, when Harwood was brought before the magistrate, he invoked Lady Catherine’s name; yet, Darcy swore he had never encountered Harwood in the last four years upon his aunt’s estate. “Not a lie,” he told himself as he turned upon his side, searching for a more comfortable position upon the bed. He already missed holding Elizabeth in his arms. “One night was not enough.”

Unfortunately, his search for Townsend had been equally twofold as his dealings with Harwood. Even so, he finally had learned Townsend had returned to his mother’s home near Pantiles. “I will call upon the house early tomorrow morning and pray Townsend and Elizabeth Anne are there or someone within knows where to find the man.”

* * *

They had departed Sussex early, pausing briefly at an inn on the far side of Tunbridge Wells for a late meal, a change of horses, and, more importantly, a message, left especially for them by Mr. Darcy. They had waited until they returned to the coach before reading the note.

My dearest Elizabeth,

I pray your journey to Tunbridge Wells was a safe one. Please know you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.

She felt a bit awkward reading Mr. Darcy’s more intimate words to Mr. Sheffield, but her friend simply nodded his head to encourage her to continue.

I made progress with Harwood in that the local sheriff has agreed to detain the man for three days to permit me time to leave the area. Most assuredly, Harwood protested against my complaints, but was placed in the local gaol, nevertheless. Lady Catherine should have no warning of your intended call upon Rosings Park.

“Such should prove to our benefit,” Sheffield observed.

Elizabeth admitted, “I have worried over Lady Catherine expecting our call. I do not want her to take over the encounter before I have a chance to speak my disdain.”

I have located and called upon Townsend’s mother this morning. The woman, initially, was not cooperative, but I proved most persuasive. Although she could not say for certain whether her son had a child with him, neither could she deny it. When he returns to Kent, Townsend essentially stays in what would be a worker’s hut on his mother’s small property. The woman provided me permission to view the hut, and there was a small clue left behind: the tip of a green ribbon, as if the ribbon had begun to unravel. You said Elizabeth Anne had green ribbons tying back her braids. This provides me hope, and I pray it will you, as well. Our daughter may be frightened, but it appears Townsend is tending to her needs for there were dirty plates on the table with relatively fresh remnants of food on them.

“I wonder what Mr. Darcy offered Mrs. Townsend to secure her cooperation,” Elizabeth mused.

“The master’s late father taught his son well,” Sheffield assured. “Mr. Darcy knows when to use a heavy hand, as with Mr. Harwood, or when to extend his promise of assistance, and when his warning of dire circumstance for an opponent’s refusal is appropriate. He is not a hard man, but I pity those who cross him.”

Elizabeth sighed heavily. “Whatever it takes to bring Lizzy home is fine. Just as long as my child is safe.”

As Mrs. Townsend was not certain of her son’s destination, I plan to travel eastward, parallel to the coast and then turn northward to meet with you in Higham. Be cautious around my aunt, as we are both aware, her ladyship will not be an easy foe to fell. If I learn anything, I will send word by express to inform you of any changes to my plans.

She stopped there as Mr. Darcy added a private message that brought a flush of color to her cheeks and tears to her eyes.

Although she was certain Mr. Sheffield took notice of her reaction to Mr. Darcy’s message, he said, “Then we continue on to Rosings Park as we planned.”

* * *

Darcy attempted to trace Mr. Townsend across Kent, but there had been no sightings of a man or Darcy’s daughter. “It seems to me a man traveling with a small child would be required to stop periodically,” he grumbled as he again stepped down before an inn.

“Should we change out the horses, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Farrin asked.

“I am beginning to think we chase a ghost,” he admitted reluctantly. “Change out the horses. We should set a course for Rosings Park. I do not want Elizabeth to encounter Lady Catherine alone.”

“Certainly, sir.” Mr. Farrin climbed down from the seat to see to the team.

“I will ask of Townsend inside.” Darcy’s steps had become heavier with each denial of Townsend’s presence.

“May I be of assistance, sir?” The innkeeper rushed forward to greet him.

“Do you have horses to let?” he asked.

The innkeeper frowned. “I fear not, sir. ”

It was Darcy’s turn to scowl. Another disappointment. “Very well,” he said with a calmness he did not feel. “Might you answer a question then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am seeking a man of about my age traveling with a small female child of three years. Have you seen him?”

The innkeeper opened his mouth to respond, but Jasper appeared at Darcy’s side. He said softly, “You should come, sir. Mr. Farrin says he requires your attendance immediately.”

Darcy eyed his long-time servant and asked the question resting upon his lips without saying a word.

“Yes, sir.” Jasper responded.

Leaving the innkeeper to his duties, Darcy followed Jasper out into the inn yard where Mr. Farrin conversed with a groom. Farrin made the introductions. “Mr. Darcy, this is Mr. French. He believes he has seen Mr. Townsend and the child.”

“Aye, sir.” The groom cleared his throat in importance. “Perhaps two hours past, a man rides in on a horse, with a child up before him on his lap. The wee lass be cryin’ and sayin’ she wanted her mama and her Uncle Elbert.”

“Albert,” Darcy corrected, his heart racing in anticipation. “Did Mr. Townsend say where he meant to take the child?”

Darcy expected to hear the words “Rochester” or “Higham” or something indicating Lady Catherine’s estate; however, Mr. French uttered, “Queenborough. Said he was to show the child the well. I’s didn’t think of what he say until later, after he rode away once he watered his horse.”

“Queenborough?” Darcy questioned. “The town or the former castle?”

“Could be the town, for there be lots of wells there, but I be thinkin’ of the collapsed well the Royal Navy deepened back in the late 1700s. Likely not, but that be me first thoughts.”

“Dear God!” Darcy felt as if someone had struck him hard, knocking the breath from his chest. “Jasper. Farrin,” he called as he raced toward the carriage. “The Isles of Sheppey! I should have started there!”

* * *

It was late morning when Mr. Sheffield’s coach had entered the gates of Rosings Park. Sheffield had napped on and off all afternoon; however, Elizabeth had not complained, for she knew him not fully recovered from the ague, which had brought him low for nearly a sennight. She was blessed: The dear man had shored up his energies for this journey, for he, like Mr. Darcy, had promised to protect her. Moreover, conversation was not required between them. Although she was more social than he, her mind was so full of what was happening with Mr. Darcy and Lizzy, she had had no reason to give voice to her fears again. Albert Sheffield not only understood her angst; he shared it.

They made good speed along the lane, and she turned her head to glance out the carriage window just as Charlotte Collins stepped from Hunsford Cottage. Her long-time friend raised her hand to shade her eyes to study their coach.

Elizabeth pulled herself up straight. “Might as well begin here,” she growled. “Good a place as any.” She pounded on the roof of the coach to signal for the driver to halt.

She was already unlatching the door before Sheffield could drag himself from his sleep. “What is amiss?” he mumbled.

Elizabeth ignored him and jumped down awkwardly without the steps being set to storm across the lane toward where recognition brought a smile to Charlotte’s countenance. Her friend was striding toward Elizabeth with her arms open. “It is you! I thought never to see you again.” Charlotte caught Elizabeth in a natural embrace, before Elizabeth could stop her. Her friend hummed with pleasure, and so would have Elizabeth if it had been any other day and any other circumstance. She had truly missed Charlotte as much as she had missed her family in Hertfordshire. However, when her friend pulled back to look upon Elizabeth’s features, Charlotte’s expression changed. “Not that I regret seeing you; yet, why are you in Kent?”

Elizabeth ignored both Charlotte’s question and her welcome; instead, she broke away to continue her charge upon the cottage. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where is my cousin?”

Charlotte appeared puzzled, but she gestured toward the neatly-tended cottage. “I believe my husband is in his garden.”

Elizabeth did not wait for her friend. She hiked her skirts and scrambled through the gate and around the house. As Charlotte had predicted, Mr. Collins was bent over his vegetables. So angry she could barely see, Elizabeth rushed at the man—shoving him to the ground, then kicking him. “You contemptible creature! I should order you whipped!” She kicked him again. “Better yet, I should take up the whip myself!”

It was then Mr. Sheffield caught her up in his embrace, locking her arms at her side, although she continued to fight him. She was so full of anguish that Elizabeth simply wanted someone to be punished for her trials.

“Elizabeth!” Charlotte demanded. “What mean you by this madness?” Her friend knelt beside Mr. Collins. “What offense has my husband executed against you?”

“You do not know, do you?” Elizabeth accused while she squirmed to be free of Sheffield’s hold. “You do not know what crimes your husband has committed?”

“Know? Know what?” Charlotte stood to look between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth.

Mr. Collins struggled to his feet. “I have done nothing to deserve such treatment, but what must one expect from the Bennets. Two daughters who have known such shame no decent man will approach the other three!”

Elizabeth growled again. “You proudful toad! You think I do not know how your father all but disowned you because you were such a disappointment to him. It was my father, you twit, who stood against yours. Mr. Bennet knew the value of having a son, where yours was willing to send you away to live with others. Such was the source of their falling out.” She turned to Sheffield and indicated she would be calmer, and he released her, before she turned back to Collins. “Somehow you learned what my father did for you. Do not deny it. Such is why you extended the proverbial olive branch to my family. You knew your father had erred, and, in your totally incompetent manner of approaching the world, you meant to offer your gratitude.” She stiffened as she looked upon the man. “Then you betrayed all things holy. You should not wear the robes of a cleric. You do not deserve the honor of serving your parish.”

Charlotte stepped before her husband to block Elizabeth’s view. “I think you have gone too far, Elizabeth. I must ask you to leave this property.”

Elizabeth reached into the pocket sewn in the side seam of her dress to remove the note she knew written by Collins. “Not until you read this message delivered to my home yesterday morning. You should be made aware of the kind of man you married.”

“I already know enough of Mr. Collins’s nature,” Charlotte declared stubbornly.

Sheffield said softly, “It would be easier if you would agree, ma’am. Surely you are aware of Elizabeth’s obstinate nature.”

“And who are you, sir?” Mr. Collins demanded. However, he remained partially concealed behind his wife, using her as his shield. “I view no ring on either of your fingers. Is the gentleman your protector, Cousin Elizabeth? Have you become a kept woman?” he said in accusation.

Sheffield’s hand caught Elizabeth’s elbow to hold her in place. “I am Mr. Darcy’s valet and do upon occasion, when the gentleman himself is not available, serve as the lady’s protector, but not in the sense of degradation that you infer. Yet, we are both aware I have been made known to you. You, obviously, can name my identity; otherwise you would not have known the directions displayed upon the outside of the note in your wife’s hands.” Sheffield tucked Elizabeth into his side. “Please read the message, Mrs. Collins. We await your opinion.”

Elizabeth held her breath as her long-time friend and confidante unfolded the note to read its contents. “You have a daughter, Elizabeth?” Charlotte smiled sadly. “We lost ours.”

“I am grieved for your loss, Charlotte. You, as a mother, will certainly understand how I feel. I have a daughter,” Elizabeth said simply, “but someone has stolen her away. I must find her, Charlotte, before it is too late.”

“And Mr. Darcy?” Charlotte asked, a frown forming on her features as her eyes returned to the paper.

“Very much alive and searching Kent, brick-by-brick, to locate his child,” Elizabeth explained. “Mr. Collins knows something of where my daughter has been taken.”

Elizabeth heard the click of a gun. She turned to discover Mr. Sheffield’s driver holding a pistol on Mr. Collins, who had, obviously, thought to make his exit or, more likely, report Elizabeth’s accusations to Lady Catherine at the great house, while she attempted to convince Charlotte of the urgency of their mission.

“I would suggest ye rejoin yer wife, sir,” Mr. Jacobsen said.

“Mr. Collins,” Charlotte accused in sharp tones. “You wrote this note.”

“I did not,” he said with a sickening smile on his lips, evidently meant to convince his wife of his innocence.

“Mine was not a question, sir,” Charlotte corrected. “You have executed Lady Catherine’s dirty work again. It is bad enough you harangue her tenants when she instructs you to do so, but to commit such a crime! I recognize your handwriting. Do not deny you are, if not the author, the transcriber, of this note. I have corrected enough of your sermons to be well aware of your script. It is one thing to feed her ladyship’s vanity in order to maintain your position, but it is quite another to send threatening notes to those who have treated you fairly. And how could you be involved in stealing away a child from her family? Can you not imagine the terror that little girl experiences? What if she were your child? Our child?”

He said in excuse, “I had no choice. Such was Lady Catherine’s wish.”

Charlotte charged at her husband then, much as Elizabeth had done earlier. “You placed Lady Catherine’s Bedlam-like demands before the welfare of our family? Before the welfare of your relations? You conspired to separate your cousin from her child!”

“The child was born without the benefit of wedding vows,” he protested.

“Are you certain?” Mr. Sheffield said quietly.

“Lady Catherine says it is so,” Mr. Collins insisted.

Charlotte snapped. “Then it must be written as surely as if it was the finger of God damning the child. Heaven forbid Lady Catherine de Bourgh would approve of an opinion not of her own making! And even if it were true that Elizabeth’s child was Mr. Darcy’s by-blow, your duty as a cleric is to pray for her and the child’s eternal souls, not set as judge! When did our God set you in judgement of others? Jesus did not judge Mary Magdalene. Instead, he welcomed her among those who followed him.”

“Be reasonable, Charlotte,” he entreated. “Lady Catherine will turn us out without a reference if I do not do what she asks. I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said in steely tones. “The difference is whether you are man enough to stand against those who defame others. You will make this right, or I will take your child and return to my father’s house in Hertfordshire.” It was only then that Elizabeth realized Charlotte was again with child. Lying with a man such as Mr. Collins would never appeal to Elizabeth, but Charlotte was different. All her friend had ever wanted was children and a house of her own.

Mr. Collins attempted to stand his ground. “You are my wife, Mrs. Collins. You may not leave without my permission, and I will never tolerate your removing my child from this house.”

“And I will not tolerate a man who practices such evil against his relations. I would not want our child to know such a man as his or her father. I want my children to be raised with honor. Moreover, I doubt my father or my brothers will care for your posturing, Husband,” she declared. “Sir William Lucas raised his children with values. ”

Mr. Sheffield added, “Do not forget Mr. Darcy, sir. Once he has located his daughter, Mr. Darcy will move heaven and earth to destroy all those who stood against him. You would do well to tell Elizabeth what you know. It may be the only thing to save you.”

“Lady Catherine will not allow anything to occur to me or the others who serve her. She is my patron,” Collins asserted. “She is the daughter of an earl and the widow of a baronet, permitting her precedence over her nephew. Her word is her bond.”

“Since when?” Charlotte said sarcastically.

“You cannot think to compare her ladyship with her nephew,” Sheffield argued. “Mr. Darcy is one of the wealthiest men in England. Even his uncle, Lady Catherine’s brother, fears Mr. Darcy. You should also,” Sheffield warned in ominous tones. “A wealthy gentleman always trumps the widow of a commoner.”

Elizabeth enjoyed the manner in which Sheffield played with Mr. Collins. The gentleman was a powerful ally.

Collins pronounced another cut to Elizabeth’s reputation. “Do you mean to continue to be Mr. Darcy’s mistress?”

She did not permit Collins to know his words had found a target. Instead, Elizabeth laughed confidently. “If you wish to meet Mr. Darcy on a field of honor, say those words to the gentleman. Have you not realized by now, Cousin, I am to be the Mistress of Pemberley.”

“Mr. Darcy cannot marry someone who has born a child on the wrong side of the blanket,” Collins said with a smirk.

“You say another disparaging word about my child, and I will borrow Mr. Jacobsen’s pistol and make Charlotte a widow,” Elizabeth threatened while taking a menacing step forward. “In addition to curbing your nasty disposition, it would be worth the penalty to view you six feet under in order to save Longbourn from your rule. Mr. Bennet’s tenants certainly do not deserve a master who thinks only of himself. If you were dead, Mr. Bennet can live out his years without the specter of you and your incompetence hanging over his head. Then, if she is so blessed, either Charlotte’s son will inherit or Longbourn will pass to a different line of cousins—men of integrity—men who understand the meaning of ‘honor.’”

Charlotte frowned again. “You will apologize to your cousin for your unforgivable remark, Mr. Collins.”

“I will—” he began, but swallowed his denial when Charlotte pointed her finger at him.

“I said,” Charlotte enunciated each syllable distinctly, “you will apologize to Elizabeth, and you will tell her what you know of her child’s whereabouts.”

“But, Mrs. Collins—” he thought to protest.

“Now,” Charlotte growled, and Elizabeth wished to smile, for she had heard her friend use that same tone and same stance more than one time with Charlotte’s younger brothers and sisters. No one, not even Sir William, spoke back to Charlotte when Elizabeth’s friend used that particular tone. Like Charlotte’s brothers and sisters, Mr. Collins had crossed his wife’s reasonable nature one too many times. “I shall not ask it of you again.”

Mr. Collins’s color paled more than usual. Evidently, the man had foolishly brought out this side of Charlotte’s temper previously. With his head down, he did as his wife asked. “Lady Catherine’s new groom, Mr. Townsend, is to abandon the child on one of the islands in the Medway Estuary. Near Queenborough.”

“Abandon!” Charlotte and Elizabeth shrieked together.

Elizabeth reached for Mr. Sheffield’s waiting hand. “We must go. Now.” He was already waving Mr. Jacobsen toward the coach. Holding her hand, Sheffield tugged her along behind him, lifting her into the waiting carriage before shouting orders to Jacobsen and following her inside.

In less than a minute, Jacobsen had turned the coach around and was headed back the way they had come—toward the entrance gate of Rosings Park. Belatedly, Elizabeth realized she had not said her farewells nor expressed her gratitude to Charlotte.

As if reading her mind, Mr. Sheffield said, “Mrs. Collins will understand. She possesses a mother’s instinct. The lady will likely be satisfied to have been of use to you.”

Elizabeth nodded her acceptance, although she knew, somehow, she must say the words to Charlotte. She owed her friend that much. “How long to Queenborough?” she asked as she turned her attention once again to the passing tree line.

“Three hours, give or take ,with tolls and all,” Mr. Sheffield responded. “Hopefully, the ground stays dry, even if there is a chill in the air and a dampness not customarily found in England this time of year, we should make decent time if we miss the rain.”

“Yet, there is only a few hours before nightfall.” She sighed heavily in despair. “Will this madness ever end?”

“It will. A few more hours. Continue to stay strong for Lizzy.”

“But my sweetest girl is so young,” she protested. “Will she ever recover from this upheaval?”

“Children are generally more resilient than we give them credit for being,” he said.

“But, as you said moments ago, it is so cold. I did not even think to consider whether Townsend took her coat.” She broke into tears. “What kind of mother am I?”

He reached across the coach to pat the back of her hand. “You are the very best of mothers. I am so proud to be a part of your life.”

Elizabeth smiled weakly. “Why did you never consider marrying me?”

“The years between us,” he said simply.

“Not so far,” she said, allowing the madness of the last few days to settle again. “There is only eighteen years, and we rub along together well.”

He smiled upon her, but it was the brotherly smile he had always presented her. “When you were twenty, the differences felt broader than they do today,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Moreover,” he continued, “I am vain enough to wish my wife to prefer me to all others, especially to a man to whom I have presented my respect.”

“I am hopeless, am I not?” Her bottom lip trembled with emotions. “I have only truly loved Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“The master is a fortunate man—more fortunate than many, for he will spend the remainder of his days with you and Lizzy.”

“Ahoy in the coach!” a voice called out. A single rider approached, pressing his horse to overtake them.

Looking out the small window in the rear of the coach, she asked in anxiousness, “A highwayman?”

Sheffield had released the latch for the side window. With his head out the opening, he said in a loud voice, “I do not think so. The rider has a red scarf about his neck, the agreed upon signal from Mr. Darcy.”

“Then stop the coach!” Elizabeth ordered. “Mayhap William has found our Lizzy.”