Page 46 of Missing

"My dear Elizabeth, I must tell you that you were always in my thoughts. I never wish to travel alone and be away from you again."

"I missed you so much, William. I want to always be with you, my love."

Elizabeth took her husband's hand, placed the flowers on a small table, and invited William to sit beside her. Then she explained all that had happened during the past few days, telling him that Mrs. Annesley would remain with them for a short while.

"Mrs. Annesley is from the North and has no family in London. I hope you do not mind her being with us."

"Of course not; she may stay as long as she requires." William's expression grew troubled. The last thing he wished at that moment was to think of the Darcy family.

"Do you believe Miss Darcy is safe at home? It is evident that her father is an irresponsible man who exposes her to that scoundrel. I cannot fathom how he failed to appreciate Mrs. Annesley's efforts to protect his daughter."

William could not help but contrast George Darcy with Aaron Dalton. The first had inherited a great fortune and seemed unable to guard his children. The second had built his wealth with his own labour, and though William was only his adopted son, he had raised him with devotion and integrity.

"Mrs. Annesley says Colonel Fitzwilliam will return tomorrow or the next day, and she is certain he will manage the situation. In any case, I shall keep an eye on Georgiana," Elizabeth assured him.

"I am glad you will, and do not hesitate to ask me for help if you need it," William replied firmly. He could not leave Miss Darcy unprotected, especially after what he had uncovered on his journey. That poor, innocent girl might very well be his sister.

"And my mother—has she recovered?"

"She is feeling much better, though her spirits are very low. In a few days, it will be her wedding anniversary, the first she shall pass without your father, and she is very sorrowful," Elizabeth explained gently.

"With all that has occupied me lately, I had almost forgotten how significant that date is for her.

I miss my father as well, and I understand perfectly what she must feel.

But, before I go to see her, I want to tell you something: we are invited to the opera tomorrow.

One of my new partners is the son of Donald Barrett, owner of one of the largest banks in London.

His family has a box at the Opera House and invited us to the premiere of the new performance. Would you like to go, Mrs. Dalton?"

"I love the idea, my dear, and shall be delighted to accompany you. Also, we are invited to dine at Lord and Lady Matlock's house in three days. I was about to send a note to the countess telling her you were away, but now it shall not be necessary—unless you do not wish to go."

"It would be discourteous to decline an invitation from people of such consequence," William agreed.

He also considered it an excellent opportunity to ask questions that might help him clarify what still troubled his mind.

Perhaps after that dinner, he could at last tell Elizabeth everything.

For now, he wished only to enjoy a few peaceful days in her company.

"I shall speak to Mrs. Powell and let her know that dinner will be served in an hour. You may go and greet your mother; I know she has missed you as well," Elizabeth said. He kissed her once more and went to Violet's room.

Violet lay staring at the ceiling, tormented by thoughts without resolution. At one moment, she felt wholly confident that she had nothing to regret; the next, she was consumed with guilt and remorse.

When she had found little William, she and Aaron had done all they could to discover his parents, and no one had ever come forward to claim him.

They had loved that child unconditionally, raising him as their own.

Yet when Violet thought of the anguish the Darcys must have suffered, believing their son drowned in the river, she could not help but feel compassion.

While she and her husband had rejoiced in seeing their boy grow, his true parents had mourned his loss.

"Mother, do I interrupt you? I have just arrived and wished to see you," William said, noticing how pale she looked.

"Oh, William, my dear boy, you never interrupt your mother," Violet replied, rising to sit on the bed.

William sat beside her, and she embraced him, kissing both his cheeks.

He felt a pang of sadness at her frailty and returned her kiss with tenderness.

Violet was his mother; though she had not borne him, she had always loved him as if he were her own.

On his return journey from Manchester, he had recalled how, when he travelled with his parents and grew sleepy, Violet would gather him into her arms, letting him rest his head upon her lap, safe and cherished.

"Mother, I imagine you are sad because you miss Father."

"Yes, dear, I feel so very lonely without him."

"I understand, but remember always that you still have me, your son, who loves you dearly."

Violet caressed William's face. "Thank you for loving me so much, even though you know I am not your mother."

"Please, never say that again. You are my mother, and you always will be, Violet Dalton—unless you do not consider me your son because I was not born from your womb."

"You are my son, William Dalton—my dear son."

"Then do not suggest that I might ever think you less of my mother," William said with a smile.

"You are right, my son, my beloved child," Violet whispered, embracing him tightly.

Mother and son remained together, speaking of the many happy memories of the family they had formed with the late Aaron Dalton. Somehow, and without voicing it, both felt that their relationship was on the verge of change, and that something between them would never again be quite the same.

◆◆◆

Fortunately, Richard had always been very efficient in all that he undertook, and for that reason, his superior officer was very fond of him.

He was to remain another week in Newcastle, yet he obtained leave to return to London earlier under the pretext of carrying an urgent message from Major General Gordon to the War Office.

Richard rode nearly five days with little rest, and once he had delivered the message as requested by his superior, he went directly to his parents' house, bathed, changed his clothes, and then set out for Darcy House.

The butler informed him that Mr. Darcy had returned the day before and that Miss Darcy was in her chamber. Richard went at once to see his cousin, and she told him all that had occurred in the last few hours.

"My father dismissed Mrs. Annesley; he said he could not trust her. But this time I did not remain silent—I told him I would not be forced to endure his godson."

Richard understood his dear cousin's indignation, though he did not wish her to be too harsh with his uncle.

"Georgie, do not be so severe with your father."

"Richard, he refuses to see what is before his very eyes," Georgiana exclaimed, agitated.

Richard took her hand and explained gently.

"Georgie, unfortunately, uncle George has always believed that because Wickham's mother died in an attempt to save your brother, he must forgive and excuse all that scoundrel's misconduct.

But do not distress yourself; I shall speak with him today, and if he will not heed me, I shall appeal to my father, and we shall remove you from this house.

I shall not allow Wickham to come near you again; you have my word on it. "

"Oh, Richard, thank you for caring for me. You are the best cousin I could ever have—you are almost like my brother."

"And you are like my dear little sister," Richard said, kissing Georgiana affectionately upon the forehead.

When at last he saw Georgiana calmer, he proceeded to his uncle's study, where he supposed Mr. Darcy would be at work. He took a deep breath before entering, fully aware that the conversation awaiting him would be difficult and might even create an irreparable breach in their relationship.

◆◆◆

After dinner, Jane retired to her sitting room to write to her mother.

She reproached herself for having delayed so long without sending news of her situation.

Although Mrs. Bennet could often be vexing, she had always been a loving and attentive mother.

Yet, though Jane longed to write, she scarcely knew what to say.

She disliked falsehoods, and she could not confess to her mother that her life was far from happy, that she felt alone and disappointed.

In the past few days, Caroline and Louisa had been more insufferable than ever.

That evening, they were particularly affected, for Felicity Wood had invited Jane first to her grandfather's ball and, only afterwards—and not with much grace—extended the same invitation to them.

Jane could not help but think that Miss Wood perceived how insincere her sisters-in-law were.

Jane resolved to confine her letter to descriptions of the places she had visited and the people she had met. In this way, she would avoid falsehoods, entertain her mother, and spare her needless anxiety.

As she wrote, Mr. Bingley entered the room and stood for several seconds watching her before speaking.

Lately, he had observed that Jane was more reserved, and her smile had lost its sweetness, seeming instead touched with sadness.

He wondered what could trouble her, but, fearful of hearing an answer he did not wish to confront, he refrained from asking.

"Jane, my dear, we are to play cards, and I came to ask if you would be my partner."

"I am sorry, Charles, but I must write these letters to my mother, father, and sisters."

"But you may do that tomorrow."

"No, I prefer to write them now. I wish to send them early in the morning. It has been too long since I last wrote."

"I do not think one day will make much difference, my dear."