Page 5 of Losing Lizzy

Darcy stepped down from his carriage before Longbourn. There had been frost upon the Thames when he departed London, and it was not much warmer here in the countryside. Mr. Cowan’s report said, apparently, no one, other than Mr. Bennet, knew of Elizabeth’s whereabouts. Therefore, Darcy braced himself for the upcoming confrontation. He had been in London a month, moving about the chess pieces of his father’s legacy and reclaiming his reputation as a ruthless businessman. From what his Cousin Fitzwilliam had shared, Darcy’s maneuvers had left the Earl of Matlock scrambling to set his finances aright. To the news of his uncle’s failures, Darcy had replied, “Uncle Matlock has always assumed his peerage would provide him power over the rest of the world. He forgets the majority of England care not for the posturing displayed regularly upon the floor of the House of Lords; the average citizens of England are too busy earning their daily wage to give a fig about anything but feeding their families.”

“Mr. Darcy for Mr. Bennet,” he said when the Longbourn housekeeper answered his knock upon the door.

From the shocked look upon the woman’s countenance, news of his “supposed” demise had reached Hertfordshire. “Is the master expecting you, sir?” she managed.

“Simply inform Mr. Bennet that I am prepared to sit before his house for as long as is necessary to hold a conversation with him.”

The woman bobbed a curtsey and scurried away, leaving Darcy standing in the foyer. Closing his eyes, he brought forth one of his favorite images of Elizabeth Bennet. She had walked him out to say her “good evenings.” It was the day she had agreed to his proposal, and they each had spoken to her father, seeking Mr. Bennet’s permission.

She stood before him, so close—too close for propriety’s sake, but still not close enough to sate his desires. Everything had been too recent for what could be called gaiety to mark their interactions, but the evening had passed tranquilly. They both realized, without discussing it, there was no longer anything material to be dreaded and the comfort of ease and familiarity would come in time.

“I shall speak to Mama this evening,” she had whispered, never looking away from his steady gaze. “We may tell everyone tomorrow.”

He had intertwined their fingers and had tugged her closer still. “It is enough to know we will spend our life together,” he said softly. “I adore you, Elizabeth Bennet.”

As was typical, she blushed, but she boldly rose upon her tiptoes and briefly kissed his lips. It was not the most passionate kiss they would share, nor was it the first time they had kissed, but it was the first kiss where they would share a brief moment of familiarity where she had initiated the action. “I look forward to being your wife, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she had responded as she rested her forehead against his chest. “Very soon,” she had whispered, the heat of her mouth penetrating the fine lawn of his shirt. His heart had never known such happiness as at that moment.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet’s voice brought Darcy back to reality. “I understand you insis t upon speaking to me.”

Darcy nodded his agreement. “You do not appear surprised to learn I am not dead,” he accused.

Mr. Bennet’s frown deepened, as if the man had not considered that point previously. The man announced in contempt, “I have been unfortunate of late to have been the recipient of a bevy of callers from London.” The man turned on his heels to lead the way to his study. “Come along, and I will repeat to you what I told the others.”

Darcy did not like the idea that others searched for Elizabeth. He prayed she was not in danger because of him.

Once he and Bennet had closed the door behind them, Darcy said, “I wish to know where Elizabeth can be found.”

Mr. Bennet said with a snarl, “And I wish for five thousand a year, a sensible wife, and an heir to whom I might pass this estate. Most assuredly, our wishes are not happening for either of us.”

Darcy kept his tone even. He had expected Mr. Bennet’s anger. “Unless Elizabeth has exchanged vows with another, our betrothal remains in place. I mean to claim my bride.”

“You forfeited that right when you failed to appear for the exchange of vows. The license has expired by more than three years,” Bennet hissed.

“A new license can be procured,” Darcy stated plainly.

“Elizabeth despises you,” Bennet insisted.

Darcy smiled, recalling how he had suffered when Elizabeth Bennet disdained him above all others. “It shall not be the first time your daughter found fault with me. Yet, I am willing to risk her shrewish tongue for the opportunity to plead my case. Your daughter is of age, our coming together is no longer your choice.”

“It was not my choice when you appeared in this very room nearly four years ago. I permitted Elizabeth her say then, but I will advise her against another round of heartache with you if she asks.”

Darcy argued, “It was never my choice to leave Elizabeth on our wedding day. I was snatched off the streets of London and held captive aboard a ship sailing the southern hemisphere for more than three years.”

“So say you,” Bennet accused.

“Would you care to view the scars upon my back?” Darcy growled. “I put up a fight in my attempts to return to your daughter’s side.”

“I do not care to view you or your uncle or your aunt upon my threshold ever again.” Bennet slammed his fist down hard upon the desk, sending papers scattering. “You and yours cost me my most precious gift. I have not known a day of peace since you stole away my darling Lizzy. My precious girl is lost to me—to her family forever. My other daughters possess no future, for they are marked by the shame you exacted upon my household.”

Darcy did not respond to Bennet’s accusations, for, on the whole, they were true. Instead, he persisted with his arguments. “It can all be set to right if you will simply tell me where Elizabeth has been sent. Permit your daughter to make the choice. Afterwards, I will assist you in finding well-placed husbands for the others.”

Bennet leaned forward to point his finger at Darcy. Vehemently, he gritted out his insult. “Why would I provide the likes of you with Elizabeth’s location? You did not honor her enough to leave her untouched for another to claim in your absence. I might have found her another husband, if not for you. She might have been able to accept Bingley or Sir William’s son, but no man wants another’s leavings. You ruined Elizabeth twice over.”

Darcy knew great shame at having succumbed to his lust, for he knew Elizabeth had suffered because of their impetuous actions; however, he did not regret those few cherished moments. The memory of Elizabeth in his embrace had sustained him in his darkest hours. He did not respond: Bennet was in no mood for an apology. Rather, he returned to his previous argument. “Elizabeth can decide if she will forgive me. All I require is her location.”

“As I told Lord Matlock when he offered me six thousand pounds to use as dowries for Jane, Mary, and Kitty, I do not know where Elizabeth has settled. When I took her into my embrace on the day she departed Longbourn, it was the last time we spoke. I do not know whether she is dead or alive,” Bennet said on an angry sob.

Darcy was concerned as to why Matlock wanted to know of Elizabeth’s whereabouts, but he did not speak his fears to Mr. Bennet. If Matlock expected Darcy to fall in line by issuing a threat to Elizabeth, his uncle would be sadly mistaken. Matlock would soon know Darcy’s wrath. “Not even a letter?” he asked.

“It was decided it would be best if no one knew of Elizabeth’s new life. Mrs. Bennet could not be trusted with the tale, and Elizabeth thought it best for her sisters if they were not placed in a position to choose between her and their futures. Every vestige of Elizabeth’s existence as part of this family has been removed from Longbourn, except her name in the family Bible. The idea rips my heart out.” Tears formed in Mr. Bennet’s eyes.

“Elizabeth turned one and twenty in the months following what occurred after our wedding day. She can conduct her own business. The settlement I arranged for her is in her hands now.”

“None of that matters,” Bennet declared with a sad shake of his head. “I cannot assist you, Darcy.”

“Cannot or will not?” Darcy demanded.

“Both.”

Darcy swallowed the angry words rushing to his lips. If the man could not view how desperate Darcy was to find Elizabeth, this trail had ended. However, before he left, it was necessary for him to know what else the Matlocks had practiced against him. “What of the Countess of Matlock? What role does she play in this drama?”

“Not Lady Matlock,” Bennet corrected. “I have not had the pleasure, or should I say, displeasure, of the countess’s call upon Longbourn. No. It was that harridan to whom Collins bows and scrapes. We at Longbourn were again gifted with the less than gracious Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She assumed I required more of an enticement than her brother had delivered. Instead of six thousand pounds, her ladyship offered me seventy-five hundred. Fifteen hundred pounds more than the earl. When I refused her, with a few choice words of what I thought of both her and her brother, she breezed out of here with her customary threats to my family and another round of insults directed at my wife’s low connections.”

Darcy had held suspicions regarding Lady Catherine’s involvement in his kidnapping, for during those years at sea, he had heard a handful of comments regarding the woman who had paid to have him removed from London. Most assuredly, none aboard the ship expected him to learn of the duplicity practiced against him. However, he knew of two times the captain of The Lost Sparro w had written to London to demand additional payments to keep him imprisoned. Originally, he had thought the woman could have been Miss Bingley, but after the first year, Miss Bingley would have desired his return in hopes he would marry her. On the other hand, when Lady Catherine arrived upon his doorstep to demand he do his duty to his Cousin Anne and then had confessed at having called upon Elizabeth and demanded Elizabeth release him, they had argued in emphatic tones. He denied any contract between him and Anne and pledged his love for Elizabeth, and she had made a variety of threats that he belatedly realized likely had led to the worst years of his life.

He said in more calm than he felt, “I will deal with Lady Catherine. She will not dare to cross your path again.”

“I have threatened both of your relations with violence if they even think to darken my door again.”

“Yet, you still refuse to tell me what you know of Elizabeth.”

“My daughter wished a new life,” Bennet said simply. “I promised I would guard her wishes with my life. It is all she asked of me when I sent her out into the world alone.”

“You mean Elizabeth wanted a new life—one that did not include me?” Darcy asked.

“Elizabeth was told you were dead. She had few options.”

Darcy stood. “I will never stop searching for her. Until I hear the words from her lips denying our relationship, Elizabeth is my betrothed. Nothing has changed except the date of our wedding. ”

Bennet did not rise to show Darcy out, nor did he summon a servant to do the honors. “You have erred, Darcy,” he said as he leaned back into his chair, a sad smile upon his lips, “everything has changed, and you cannot turn back time.”

Although he did not want to depart without a definite location for where to find Elizabeth, Darcy knew if both Matlock and Lady Catherine could not break Bennet, neither would Darcy.

Frustrated, he returned to his coach to depart Longbourn. “London,” he instructed Mr. Farrin.

“Aye, sir.”

Darcy climbed into the carriage and laid his head back against the squabs. “Where have you gone, Elizabeth Bennet?” The coach rolled into motion. He briefly closed his eyes and attempted to keep his memories of the woman he loved fresh, but, even so, he knew he no longer held a clear image of her. “Do not leave me, love. I do not think I can live out my days without you.”

He stared out the small window of the coach, watching the trees lining the drive speed by as Mr. Farrin set the horses to their paces while Darcy decided upon what he should do next. Lost in his thoughts, it had taken him several seconds to realize Miss Bennet stood beside the open gate to Longbourn waving her arms in the air, not in farewell, but in an attempt to draw his attention. He used his cane to rap on the coach’s roof to signal Mr. Farrin to stop.

When the coach rolled to a halt, Darcy disembarked and trotted back to where the lady waited for him.

“Thank you for stopping,” she called as he drew near.

Darcy presented the lady a brief bow. “It is pleasant to see you again, Miss Bennet.”

“And I you. I could not believe you walked through Longbourn’s door again. We all had heard you had died in some sort of attack in London. Footpads or highwaymen.” She blushed. “I suppose there are no highwaymen in the City. When I saw you today, I thought myself delusional for a moment, for Elizabeth has been much on my mind of late. ”

“There are many days since we were last together, I considered death superior to the conditions under which I resided.”

The lady glanced to his waiting coach, “Would it be ungenerous of me to ask that your coachman move your carriage around the bend in the road so it cannot be seen from Longbourn’s upper storeys. I would prefer those within did not observe us conversing.”

Curious as to what Miss Bennet had to say, he presented Farrin the necessary orders, and then he offered the lady his arm. Nodding toward a nearby wooded path, he said, “Perhaps you would honor me with a walk together.”

She tentatively placed her hand on his arm, and they stepped off the main road to the manor house. “You have come looking for Elizabeth,” she said softly.

“I have, but your father claims no knowledge of Miss Elizabeth’s directions,” he explained.

“I am not surprised,” she admitted. “Mr. Bennet has shared nothing with the family as to what has become of my sister. Whatever Elizabeth did not take with her has been given away to charity. The idea was to ‘disown’ her—banish Lizzy—in order to save the rest of us, but the plan was an act in futility. The neighborhood is too small for others not to consider my sister tainted and us equally so by connection.”

Darcy heard the sadness in her words. “I am grieved my shortsightedness brought ruin to your door.”

Miss Bennet blushed thoroughly. “I did not mean to place blame upon your shoulders, Mr. Darcy. I always believed something beyond reason kept you from Elizabeth’s side.”

He admitted, “I was attacked upon London’s docks and pressed into service upon a ship sailing under multiple flags.”

“A ship meant to rob others!” she gasped. Tears rushed to her eyes. “Even I could never have imagined such an outcome! I simply knew you loved Elizabeth too dearly to abandon her unless you suffered some great tragedy.”

He confided, “Thoughts of your sister kept me alive for nearly four years. Two months ago, I escaped when a British naval ship came near where The Lost Sparro w was hiding. I jumped overboard during the night and swam for my life.”

“How courageous,” she said in awe. “But I always recognized your strong will. You are not a man who would abandon those for whom you cared.”

He knew she was thinking of Bingley, but Darcy mentioned nothing of recently seeing his former friend. He would not present Miss Bennet false hopes. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet, your father tells me my uncle, Lord Matlock, and my aunt, Lady Catherine, have each recently called upon him, offering to finance dowries for you and your sisters if your father would tell them where Elizabeth is now living. As my uncle conducted questionable business dealings in my name during in my absence, I fear Matlock and others in my family mean to implore Miss Elizabeth to deny me again. Matlock and his sister will make a similar offer to Elizabeth, and, God bless her, you know her nature. She will agree to shoulder the punishment for something she has not done in order to save you and your sisters. She will slip from sight, and I might never find her. I am willing to fight the Devil himself to win her back, but I require assistance in locating her.”

Miss Bennet frowned, “Elizabeth has already suffered enough for our sake.”

“Yet, we both know she would agree to much worse to protect each of you.”

Miss Bennet remained silent for several minutes as they strolled along the path together. At length, she said, “If you are asking if I know of Elizabeth’s whereabouts, I do not. She and Papa were very secretive after she refused both Mr. Bingley and Sir William’s son, John Lucas.”

“Other relatives?” Darcy speculated.

“Early on, Papa’s relations in Scotland refused to take Elizabeth in,” she explained.

“Your mother’s relations?”

“There are only the Phillipses and the Gardiners,” she confided. “Aunt and Uncle Phillips are too close to escape the gossips, and, although the Gardiners volunteered to take Elizabeth in, my sister refused.”

Darcy knew he frowned, but her explanation was almost too perfect. “Why would she not seek assistance from the Gardiners? From my limited observations, they always proved to be most supportive of you both.”

Miss Bennet paused and looked away. “I do not know the reason Elizabeth refused, but I suspect—”

When the lady blushed again, he prompted, “You may speak honestly with me, Miss Bennet. I will not judge you. I know, like me, you desire Elizabeth’s best interests.”

She nodded her understanding, but did not look at him. “I ... I saw you ... you and Lizzy leave—”

“The library at Netherfield,” he finished for her when she looked off to the path before them.

“Yes,” she said so softly he could barely hear her.

He cleared his throat in discomfort. “Your sister and I should not have anticipated our vows,” he confessed. “I have no excuse except I love Elizabeth Bennet to distraction.”

“Not love d ?” she asked. Again, he thought the lady might be thinking of Bingley’s promises of cherish her forever.

“If I must search every village and town in England, I mean to find her again and profess my undying love and pray she has not chosen another.”

“I am glad of it,” she said. “Elizabeth deserves happiness.” She looked to where they had walked. “I should return to the house. I am certain your visit has set Mama worrying again, and it is not fair to leave Mama’s ‘nerves’ to Mary’s care each time.”

He turned with her. Although he was not certain he wanted to know the answer, he asked, nevertheless. “Miss Bennet, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, reports when he called upon your father several months after my disappearance, Colonel Forster told him a tale of how an older gentleman called upon Mr. Bennet regarding Elizabeth. Is it possible your sister departed with this man? ”

It was the lady’s turn to appear confused. “The only gentleman of whom I am aware of calling on Papa during that trying time, and I would certainly not name him as ‘old,’ was your valet.”

Darcy took a step away from her to digest her words. “Mr. Sheffield, are you certain?” His valet was ten years Darcy’s senior, in his early forties now. Older than Darcy, but, most assuredly, not as old as the man Darcy had been imagining.

“My rooms overlook Longbourn’s drive. Just as I saw you disembark today, I viewed your valet step down from a small coach one afternoon some two months after your wedding date. I assumed he was delivering a message from your family to Mr. Bennet. He only remained at Longbourn a few hours. He did not even stay for supper or to take tea with us.”

“How long after Sheffield’s visit did Miss Elizabeth depart Longbourn?”

“Perhaps three weeks. Papa placed her in the family coach, and we all said our farewells. The coach was gone most of the day, but not overnight, returning shortly after dark. Surely, Elizabeth did not leave with your valet.”

“Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, “I do not want to speculate.” Although he did not wish to hope Sheffield had done the honorable thing and assisted Elizabeth, the action would have been quite typical of the man. Albert Sheffield had always been his compass when Darcy lost his way. “My Cousin Fitzwilliam says it was chaotic in those early weeks of my going missing. Yet, I would ask that you not mention Mr. Sheffield’s presence to another until after I clarify if this information is significant or not.”

The lady reached out to stay his departure. “I fear it may be too late. Mama, in a fit of anger, at Lady Catherine’s most recent snubs told her ladyship your servant had possessed more empathy than did your aunt.”