Page 58

On the Road to London - Darcy

D arcy’s mind raced through the timeline as his horse thundered toward London.

Kitty had heard Lydia moving about her room after breakfast, the noise they’d assumed was a tantrum now clearly the sound of hasty packing.

She must have slipped out while the house was occupied with their father’s funeral preparations, when no one would think to check on her sulking.

The sun was setting now. Twelve hours at most - that’s all the head start they had.

On horseback, he and Bingley might still make up that time.

Wickham would need to stop frequently with an inexperienced rider like Lydia, and they’d be forced to take the less travelled roads to avoid recognition.

If they could just reach them before they spent the night somewhere…

Colonel Forster’s men could waste their time searching local inns, but Darcy knew Wickham’s habits too well. His old acquaintance would head straight for London, where debtors could disappear into the crowd and creditors’ reach ended at the city limits.

“I’ve sent men north toward Scotland,” Darcy called to Bingley over the thunder of hooves, “but it’s merely a precaution. Wickham hasn’t the funds for such a journey.”

Bingley nodded grimly. They both knew what awaited in London - the gambling hells, the brothels, all the places where a man like Wickham could find temporary shelter among equally desperate souls.

Darcy’s stomach turned at the thought of those connections, but now they might prove useful.

Mrs Young would know where to start looking.

Georgiana was safe at Netherfield with Mrs Annesley and Doctor Russell. Better there than anywhere near Wickham - the memory of that morning at Ramsgate still woke him in cold sweats. He wouldn’t fail another young woman as he’d nearly failed his sister.

And now another young woman was at risk because of his blindness.

He should have seen the danger that morning of the wedding when he’d encountered Wickham lurking outside Longbourn.

But his own misery had blinded him - watching Elizabeth walk toward Collins, he’d assumed Wickham’s presence was merely another torment meant for him. How wrong he’d been.

Even after his head had cleared, there’d been no time to think - Mr Bennet’s collapse, the wedding’s end, Elizabeth’s overwhelming grief had consumed every moment.

He could still feel her hand in his from that night at her father’s bedside.

Such a strange day it had been - from watching her walk toward Collins to sitting beside her, offering what little comfort he could.

And now, before the family had even buried their father, this fresh disaster with Lydia.

If they could find them quickly enough, there might still be time to prevent irreparable damage.

A few hours’ foolish adventure could be explained away - a young girl’s grief at losing her father leading to impetuous behaviour.

No need for hasty marriages or permanent solutions to temporary madness.

The neighbourhood would gossip, of course, but better that than binding Lydia forever to a man like Wickham.

First, they had to find her. Everything else could be managed later. For Elizabeth’s sake, he would not rest until Lydia was safely back with her family.

They were perhaps five hours behind them now.

The innkeeper’s report of a young couple in a hired carriage stopping for tea had confirmed they were on the right track.

Wickham would have to stop to change horses, and no respectable inn would provide fresh ones after dark.

With luck, they’d find them at the next posting house.

If not, Mrs Young would be his first stop in London - she would know which of Wickham’s old friends might shelter them.As his horse thundered on through the gathering dark, Darcy forced himself to focus on the immediate task.

There would be time later to think about Elizabeth, about the way her hand had felt in his, about the change in her manner toward him.

For now, finding Lydia was all that mattered.

* * *

Saturday 21st of March 1812

Longbourn - Elizabeth

An express from Gracechurch Street arrived early the next morning.

Mr Gardiner would remain in London to begin the search there, Mrs Gardiner wrote, while she would come immediately to Longbourn with the children.

With Mr Bingley’s men searching the northern roads and Mr Darcy making inquiries in town, Mr Gardiner thought he might be of most use in London.

Elizabeth felt both relief and anxiety at this news.

Relief that her uncle would be there to assist Mr Darcy, but anxiety about fitting everyone into Longbourn.

With Mr Collins in residence and no one willing to disturb her father’s room, they would be rather short on space.

Usually, the chaos of the Gardiner children’s visits brought life to the house, but now the thought of their innocent chatter seemed almost painful.

The halls were too quiet without Lydia’s loud laugh, and even their mother kept to her room, her usual effusions reduced to occasional wails about her nerves.

Despite everything, they tried to prepare properly for their aunt’s arrival.

Mary volunteered to share Kitty’s room in the east wing, giving up her own chamber for their cousins.

The servants moved silently through the familiar stone passages, their footsteps echoing in the unusual quiet.

Elizabeth paused at the window overlooking the courtyard, remembering how her father would escape to his book room on the ground floor whenever the house became too chaotic.

The thought of that room, with its leather-bound volumes still arranged just as he had left them, made her heart ache sharply.

When the Gardiners’ carriage finally appeared, Elizabeth felt something inside her ease slightly. Her aunt’s steady presence might not solve everything, but at least she would no longer have to bear all the decisions alone.

Elizabeth hurried down the stone steps to greet her aunt. The children tumbled out of the carriage first, their usual exuberance somewhat subdued by the house’s sombre atmosphere. After quick hugs from Elizabeth, they gravitated toward Jane, who always knew exactly how to comfort them.

“What a long journey you must have had,” Jane said gently, gathering the children close. “Come inside for some tea. Cook has made your favourite cake.” Her soft voice and warm smile coaxed smiles from her cousins.

Mrs Gardiner descended from the carriage, her usually cheerful face drawn with concern. “Such a dear girl,” she murmured, watching Jane lead the children inside. Then, turning to Elizabeth, she opened her arms. “Lizzy!”

“My dear Aunt,” Elizabeth said, returning the embrace with fierce gratitude. After they drew apart, Mrs Gardiner moved to embrace Mary and Kitty in turn.

“Let us go inside,” Mrs Gardiner said, her practical nature asserting itself as she guided them toward the house. “Such terrible blows, one after another.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “How is your mother bearing up?”

“She has not left her room,” Mary said quietly, leading them into the familiar entrance hall. The sound of children’s voices drifted from the direction of the breakfast room, where Jane had taken their cousins.

Once settled in the drawing room with tea, Mrs Gardiner elaborated on their plans.

“Your uncle thinks London is the most likely destination,” she said, her voice low to avoid being overheard by the children.

“If they truly meant to marry, it would be far cheaper and easier than Scotland. And Wickham must know London well enough to…” she hesitated, glancing at her nieces’ faces, “to find accommodation. Your uncle has arranged for inquiries along the northern roads as well, just in case.”

“Lydia had very little money of her own,” Elizabeth said quietly. “She never could keep any.”

“And from what we hear of Mr Wickham’s debts in Meryton, he can hardly have much either,” Mrs Gardiner replied. She hesitated before adding, “Your uncle was surprised to hear that Mr Collins had not gone to London himself. As Lydia’s future brother… ”

“Mr Collins,” Elizabeth’s voice took on an edge, “seems to think inquiring at local inns is sufficient effort.”

Her aunt’s expression spoke volumes. “I see. Well, thank goodness Mr Darcy has offered his assistance. A man of his connections in London will be invaluable to your uncle’s search.”

“Mr Bingley wrote to us this morning,” Jane offered, joining them with fresh tea. “He and Colonel Forster traced them to an inn not far from here. A young couple matching their description stopped for tea.” She glanced at Elizabeth. “The innkeeper couldn’t say which direction they took afterward.”

“But they had arranged a carriage beforehand,” Elizabeth added, her fingers tightening around her teacup. “They must have planned this carefully.”

“Mr Bingley promises to write as soon as he has more news,” Jane finished softly.

Mrs Gardiner set down her cup with deliberate care. “And Mr Collins? What exactly has he been doing all this time?”

“Riding to neighbouring towns,” Elizabeth said, her voice carefully neutral. “Though he seems more concerned about the disruption to his dinner schedule than finding Lydia.”

“He keeps mentioning what Lady Catherine would advise,” Mary added unexpectedly. “He’s been quite… agitated about her opinion on the matter.”

Elizabeth gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yes, her opinion seems to weigh more heavily with him than anything else.”

“I see,” Mrs Gardiner said, her tone making it clear exactly what she thought of Mr Collins’ priorities. “And this marriage is still…?”

Elizabeth paused, she had hardly a moment to think about that conversation with Mr Collins. “He wants to be married as soon as possible. He wanted Papa’s funeral to be two days after his death and us to marry the day after. ”