Page 40 of Missing

"Dalton, I must thank you for suggesting that I re-engage my father's old solicitor.

Matters are now so much easier; his associates attend to everything promptly and never offer excuses.

To thank you, I wish to invite you, Lizzy, and your excellent mother to dine with us.

And afterwards, when we have brandy in my study, I should like your opinion on a few matters.

I know you are not greatly versed in estate management, yet with your help, I am sure I shall resolve a difficulty that troubles me.

I am merely waiting for our father-in-law to send me certain documents," explained Mr. Bingley with a broad smile.

William took his wife's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then looked coldly at Jane before replying, "I am sorry, Bingley, but I am too occupied with my business, and you must manage this matter yourself." He noticed Jane blush, but he did not care for her opinion.

"But how can you be so busy that you have no time for your favourite brother-in-law?" Bingley said with a laugh.

"The only free time I have is for my wife. I am sorry, but I cannot assist you. Besides, I thank you for your invitation, but my mother is unwell, and I am very much engaged."

Mr. Bingley attempted to insist, for the dispute with the tenants was complicated, and his solicitor had told him the final decision must be his after examining several documents.

Richard, perceiving William's discomfort at Bingley's persistence, decided to intervene.

"Bingley, pray let us not speak of business while we share this excellent dinner in honour of my uncle.

There will be time for that later." He cast a glance at William, who looked so uneasy that he resolved to inquire of him privately what had passed with Bingley.

"You are right, Fitzwilliam. Excuse me, Dalton; we may speak another time."

William was about to repeat his refusal, but Elizabeth, wishing to turn his attention, interposed. "My dear, why do you not tell the Colonel of the exhibition of new inventions we are considering? Perhaps you and Georgiana could join us."

"That sounds most interesting. I should be delighted, though it must be within the next few days, as afterwards I must travel north."

"We intend to go the day after tomorrow. One of the main presenters is a good friend of mine; he works with steam engines and has greatly improved the technique. I believe it is a promising market for investment."

Thus, William and the Colonel entered into conversation about new technologies, forgetting Mr. Bingley entirely.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth fixed her eyes on Jane to make her understand that it was Charles who continually sought William's assistance. Jane, however, whispered in her husband's ear that he should not speak of business at the table, and he smiled and kissed her hand.

Mr. Wickham, for his part, had been watching Mr. Thomas and the Earl, observing how they muttered together while glancing at Dalton.

He also perceived that his godfather appeared troubled by the young man's presence.

Knowing Mr. Darcy well, Wickham suspected that he saw in Dalton the son he had lost many years ago.

Though Wickham was certain that boy had died, he was determined that his godfather should not attach himself to another, nor create in him a rival for affection or fortune.

"Have you enjoyed this evening, Miss Bingley?" Wickham asked Caroline. He was aware of his many enemies and sought an ally for his schemes.

"My expectations were to converse with the important people at this table, not with a servant's son," Caroline replied angrily. Elizabeth Bennet and her tradesman husband had laughed and conversed with all, while she herself had been ignored.

"Unfortunately for you, Miss Bingley, the important people seem to have no interest in you.

Without a strong ally, you may soon find yourself uninvited to this house," Wickham said, nodding towards the other side of the table, where Elizabeth, Georgiana, William, and the Colonel were speaking merrily.

"Wickham, if you have nothing more to say, I ask you not to trouble me again," Caroline retorted. Yet, despite her hatred of the man, she inwardly acknowledged that his words contained some truth. Mr. Darcy was her only connection to the first circles, and she could not afford to lose his favour.

Caroline's foul humour, however, arose not only from neglect but from William Dalton himself.

He looked striking that evening, and she felt her heart quicken whenever she glanced at him.

It tormented her to see Elizabeth's smiles, her hand resting in his, her open adoration.

That impertinent chit was brazen; even married to a tradesman, she displayed no shame.

Caroline convinced herself that Dalton deserved a wife superior to Elizabeth.

To distract her thoughts, she turned her attention to Louisa and endeavoured to attract the Countess's notice.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, caught the manner in which Caroline regarded William, and a pang of jealousy stirred within her. She understood all too well what the woman was thinking.

Lady Matlock, who had observed William closely since his arrival, could not restrain herself any longer.

"Mr. Dalton, what I am about to say may sound strange, but you are remarkably like Darcy in his youth.

Indeed, if you go into the library, you will see a painting of him at your age, and it will be as though you look into a mirror. "

"My mother speaks the truth, Dalton," the Colonel affirmed.

Elizabeth longed to remind William of what she had once told him, yet perceiving his tension, she kept silent.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas seized the chance to support the Countess's observation, while Mr. Darcy said nothing, merely studying William and waiting for his reply.

"There are many people who resemble one another, my Lady. It is not uncommon for strangers to share features. The truth is, I look like my father, Aaron Dalton." William emphasised the word my and spoke no further.

Mr. Darcy understood. The young man had lost his father only nine months before, and the grief was still fresh. Clearly, Aaron Dalton had been an excellent man, remembered by his son with profound affection.

"You are right, young man; many people resemble one another without being related," Mr. Darcy said kindly, smiling at him.

But Elizabeth was puzzled. She knew her husband had been adopted, and that the late Mr. Dalton was of fair hair and medium height. Yet she supposed William merely wished to end the discussion, and so she did not contradict him.

The Earl whispered to his wife, who at once complied.

"Mr. Dalton, my husband and I are much obliged for the assistance you have rendered our dear son.

In gratitude, we should be honoured if you and your charming wife would dine with us one evening.

Mrs. Dalton, I shall send you a note to arrange the time, but it must be before our Richard departs north. "

"Thank you very much, my Lady," Elizabeth replied.

"Think of it as a farewell dinner, so you do not forget me," Richard added, smiling.

Lord Matlock, for his part, wished to speak with William more privately. He rarely associated with men of trade, but something in the young man's manner inspired confidence. Perhaps it was time to consider investing in commerce to restore his own finances.

Caroline and Louisa could not conceal their disgust. How was it possible that the Countess should invite those upstarts, while they themselves were overlooked?

"Dear Jane, how fortunate your sister is. She has been in the city less than three months, and has achieved more than you, though you have all our support," Caroline muttered venomously.

"But I am certain her fortune will not last long," added Louisa.

Mr. Hurst resolved to speak to his wife when they reached home. He would explain that she must not indulge Caroline's jealousy and envy, for they had too much to lose if the Daltons distanced themselves from them.

After dinner, the guests withdrew to the music room, where Georgiana played the pianoforte—in that elegant chamber hung a great portrait of Lady Anne Darcy in a white gown.

William was struck dumb; she was the woman of his dreams, the one who had read to him and told him she loved him unconditionally.

The house itself seemed filled with memories he could not place, leaving him uneasy.

The rest of the evening, he remained silent, relieved only when at last they returned home. On the way, he confessed to Elizabeth that his head ached, and she gently bade him rest against her lap while she stroked his face and massaged his temples.

As he felt her caresses, William recalled the day Violet had found him by the river, and the fear he had felt for months without knowing where he truly belonged.

He also remembered the day he had finally opened his heart to the Daltons, the day he accepted them as his parents, and they had welcomed him as their son.

He vowed he would not endure that anguish again.

He was a Dalton, and his life was perfect as it was.

When they reached home, William excused himself and went to his chamber. Elizabeth, distressed, noticed his unease and did not know how to help him. She retired early, but when she was falling asleep, William lay beside her and drew her into his arms.

"William, dearest, are you unwell? What troubles you?"

"Must there be some trouble to make me wish to be beside the woman I love? What troubles me is that I cannot be without you, my love, even for a moment."

"I understand; I feel the same. Does your head still ache?" Elizabeth asked gently, sensing he concealed something but not wishing to press him.

"No, it does not hurt any longer," William said, kissing her for several minutes. He longed to distract himself, to think of nothing but her.

"I love you, William."

"And I love you, my beloved Mrs. Dalton."

That night, William made love to Elizabeth differently than before. She noticed that though his body was with her, his mind was elsewhere. Afterward, he held her silently as she stroked his hair until he slept.

'Fitzwilliam, son, look what Papa has bought especially for you—a pony, so you may learn to ride.'

'Anne, dearest, let us go to the stable so our son may see it with his own eyes. Come, my son.'

'No! You are not my parents. My parents are Aaron and Violet Dalton!'

'Fitzwilliam, son, do not leave us…' cried George and Anne Darcy.

But the child ran into the arms of Violet and Aaron Dalton, who embraced and kissed him.

'You are our son. Never doubt it, William. Our son, William Dalton.'

Elizabeth awoke, troubled, to see William restless and agitated. She wondered whether her husband's nightmare was bound to the mystery that disturbed him.