Page 51 of Missing

"No, sir. My husband taught our son to be honourable, deliberate in his decisions, and scrupulously responsible.

William is the head of two businesses upon which many lives depend.

He could never abandon everything without forethought.

Moreover, he is newly married and entirely devoted to his wife.

I ask only that you allow me to explain matters to him first, and I promise he shall come to you before the week ends.

If not, then you may come yourself and say what you wish. "

"Very well. I shall wait until the end of this week, but not a moment longer," Mr Darcy said firmly.

He asked Violet a few more questions about his son's childhood. She told him the most significant things she remembered, that William had always been reserved yet brilliant, excelling in his studies with tutors and later at Oxford.

"If my son had grown up with me, he would have studied at Cambridge," Mr Darcy remarked bitterly. "Yet I am proud to know he was such an outstanding scholar."

"You have many reasons to be proud. My son is an exemplary gentleman, as much as my husband ever was," Violet replied.

At last, Violet rose, declaring herself exhausted. Mr Darcy, too, was spent, both in body and spirit.

"Mr Darcy, I do not object if you keep William's medal, but these clothes are mine," Violet said, putting away the threadbare garments. "Goodbye, Mr Darcy."

"Goodbye, Mrs Dalton. Remember, I expect to see my son before this week's end. I hope you are not attempting to keep him from me, for you would not succeed."

"I must leave now, Mr Darcy," Violet replied, and she quitted the study.

That night, Violet and George Darcy each retired to their chambers and would see no one. Mr Darcy fell asleep with his son's medal clutched in his hand, while Violet lay weeping, clasping the little clothes her beloved William had worn the day she found him.

◆◆◆

Elizabeth rose quietly so as not to disturb her husband. The previous night had been blissful; William had shown himself more affectionate and passionate than ever, as though some significant burden had at last been lifted from him.

Yet Elizabeth's mind was not as tranquil. What Colonel Fitzwilliam had confided regarding the accident that claimed Georgiana's brother left her troubled and uncertain. At one moment, she believed it possible, and the next, it seemed so absurd that she blushed even to think of it.

Unable to sleep again, she preferred to rise.

If she remained in bed, William would insist upon breakfasting in their chamber, whilst she wished to eat with Violet.

Her mother-in-law had appeared unwell of late, and Elizabeth desired to ensure that at least she was properly nourished.

She was arranging her hair when she suddenly felt herself clasped in a firm embrace.

"And where are you going, Mrs Dalton?"

"William," Elizabeth exclaimed with a laugh. "Pray, you ought to dress; the morning is somewhat cold." She could not help but blush upon observing how scantily attired her husband was.

"You do not wish to return to bed with me? I promise you I shall not feel the cold if you are beside me," William whispered suggestively in her ear.

Elizabeth silenced him with a long kiss. "William, I wish us to breakfast with your mother. I have not seen her well these past days."

"You are right, my love," he replied, pressing a kiss to her brow. "I shall dress at once and go to her. I love you, Elizabeth." He stole another kiss before releasing her.

As William was fastening his shirt, Elizabeth spoke hesitantly.

"My dear, forgive me, but I must ask you something. I do not mean to pry, yet Colonel Fitzwilliam told me something which has left me wondering…"

"My sweet love, you may ask me anything," William said, intrigued.

"Do you recall anything of your childhood? Some accident in a river, perhaps? Forgive me; I fear I speak nothing but nonsense."

William crossed the room, gathered her into his arms, and whispered, "Yes, my dearest. At noon today I shall see Fitzwilliam to speak of it. My memories are indistinct, but I believe I am nearer to discovering my life before I was a Dalton."

"I understand, my love. Only remember that you have my unwavering support," Elizabeth said, kissing him tenderly.

"I know it. I also know that I shall require your love, your company, and your understanding more than ever. But whatever comes, I shall always be William Dalton, your husband," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Oh, William," she whispered, kissing him again.

"I love you beyond all words, my dear wife."

When he had finished dressing, William gave orders to his coachman that they must be at the gentlemen's club by noon for his appointment with Colonel Fitzwilliam.

The coachman assured him that the carriage would be ready at eleven, but mentioned also that Violet had used the small carriage the previous evening, and handed William a shawl she had forgotten there.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth directed the housekeeper to serve breakfast in twenty minutes. As she checked the orphanage inventory with her uncle Gardiner's papers, the butler delivered an express message from her uncle Arthur Phillips.

"Mother, we are waiting for you to breakfast," William said as he entered Violet's sitting room. He had been uneasy, wondering where she had gone the previous night.

"Come in, son. I was merely arranging my hair," Violet replied. She had resolved to hide her torment and appear composed. Her beloved William would need her strength now more than ever.

"Mother, Cooper gave me this shawl you left in the small carriage. I do not wish to pry, but where did you go?"

Violet smiled faintly. "I went to speak with Mr George Darcy."

William started. "Did you tell him about me—about how you found me by the river?"

"Yes, my son, I told him."

"Why? What compelled you to do such a thing?"

Violet perceived that her son already suspected something. "Because when Georgiana was here, she told me that her brother drowned in a river. His name was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The boy I found wore a medal engraved with the letter F, and when at last he spoke, he told me his name was—William. Son, that is too many coincidences."

"I know; I think the same. But, Mother, why did you go to that man?" William asked, troubled.

"Because I needed certainty before I spoke to you. I had to know if my suspicions were true." She could not restrain her tears.

William immediately embraced her. "Violet Dalton, you will always be my mother, and Aaron Dalton my father."

"That gentleman wishes to speak with you, son. I think you should give him, and yourself, the chance."

"Mother, do not distress yourself. I shall speak with him and resolve the matter, but I beg you to remain calm and leave it to me."

Violet caressed his face and kissed his cheek. "I promise, my son, I shall be calm and allow you to manage it in your own way. Wherever your father, Aaron, is, I know he is proud of you."

"Thank you, Mother. Now let us go to breakfast with my dear wife!" William said, drying her tears.

"Yes, my son, I am quite famished," Violet answered, taking the arm her dear William offered.

◆◆◆

Jane rose early and quitted the Bingley house as soon as she could, making her way to the Daltons.

She longed to confide in Elizabeth and confess how wretched she felt living in that household, surrounded by people who neither valued nor respected her.

She had once believed that her husband's love would suffice to sustain her through every trial, but with deep sorrow she now realised that it was not so.

Her disappointment in Charles—and indeed in herself—was such that she feared she could never be truly happy whilst bound to that life.

Only Elizabeth could offer her comfort, for she had ever been her defender against all opposition.

Elizabeth had just finished reading a message when the butler admitted Jane into the drawing room.

"Oh, Jane, how happy I am to see you! Do you know anything about our mother? Is she well?"

"Lizzy, whatever are you speaking of?" Jane asked in surprise.

Elizabeth, still trembling, handed her sister the note from Uncle Phillips.

"Oh, Lizzy, this is dreadful!"

Mrs Bennet had been confined to her bed for a week with a severe cold. The apothecary, unable to afford her any further relief, had recommended that a physician be summoned from London without delay.