Page 19 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)
Chapter Eighteen
It seemed to Darcy that his search was proving futile. Before he had left de Bourgh House, Darcy had heard from James, the footman, that Mrs. Cuthburt had admitted to the fact that she knew little more than her mistress about where they had been. The only bright point was that she had noticed the company that the hackney belonged to and a rough description of the driver.
That had taken Darcy on a search of hackneys and the men who drove them. He finally encountered someone who’d overheard a cabbie’s tale—a top-lofty woman resembling his aunt, abandoning a passenger in the grimy, rat-infested alleys of a London slum. Darcy had raced towards the area, his heart pounding in his chest, picturing Elizabeth’s piteous situation and the many dangers she faced alone in such a place.
But now that he had arrived, he was getting nowhere. He met rough-looking people, their faces etched with suspicion, who refused to speak to him, and he hesitated to bribe them, fearing they would simply rob him. The absence of any response added to his growing fear and the deepening shadows highlighted his mistake in not bringing more people along in his search. More eyes would, of course, help, but there was also strength and safety in numbers.
A small voice came from the shadows. “Are you looking for Lizzie?”
Halting his horse, Darcy dismounted and attempting to catch sight of the speaker, he said, “Yes, I am searching for Lizzie. Have you seen her?”
From beneath the crumbling eaves of an abandoned building, a small child appeared, their thin frame wrapped in a luxurious shawl, a stark contrast to the grimy surroundings. The shawl made Darcy’s breath catch in his throat. It was Elizabeth’s shawl, and he hoped with all he had that he had finally stumbled upon something that would help him find her.
The little girl, pushing a stray strand of knotted hair behind her ear before licking her dry, chapped lips, whispered, “Yes, I saw her when the carriage dropped her off. She gave me her shawl when I helped her get to the Drunken Mule.”
It disturbed Darcy to realize that a little girl as young as the one before him not only knew of a place called the Drunken Mule but knew it well enough to take Elizabeth there. Still, he asked. “Do you know why Elizabeth wanted to go to the Drunken Mule?”
“She needed a ride away from here,” came a second voice from off to Darcy’s left.
Darcy turned, her gaze meeting the eyes of a teenage boy with eyes like the girl’s, framed by a shock of dark hair. The boy’s clothes were as dirty and worn as the girl’s, and Darcy silently promised he would ensure the money he had earmarked for London charities would aid as many children in need as possible. If the charities that he had already contributed to did not do an adequate job, he would find others. No child deserved to grow up in such a manner.
Darcy nodded. “Yes, I think she would need to leave the area.” Turning to the girl, Darcy smiled, adding, “Thank you for helping her. That means quite a lot to me.”
“She had no business being here, but we watched to make sure that she got on a carriage and left.” As the boy spoke, he moved closer to the girl who Darcy assumed was his younger sister. “She was smart, for a toff. Was even able to scare off a drunkard.”
Looking down the street, Darcy saw a world that was so unlike his own. That his aunt had abandoned anyone here, let alone the woman that he loved, filled him with fury. At least Elizabeth had made it to transportation away and was hopefully on her way to safety. Overwhelmed with relief, Darcy turned back to the pair who had aided Elizabeth, preventing what could have been a terrible tragedy; his gratitude was immense.
Kneeling down, he said, “I am Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Who might you be?”
Bobbing, the little girl said, “I’m Molly and my brother’s Matthew.”
“It’s wonderful to meet such remarkable individuals as yourselves. I am touched by what you have done. I would like to offer the both of you a reward for your good deeds.”
Wrapping his arm around the girl’s frail shoulders, the lad explained, “The lady already gave Molly the shawl and me a few coins.”
Running his hand through his hair, Darcy could not help but grin. Of course, even in such a dire situation, Elizabeth would see these two in need and give them what she had to aid them. “Even though Elizabeth gave you something, I would still like to reward you. You see, I love Elizabeth more than anything and I do not know what I would do if something happened to her. So I want to help you as you have helped Elizabeth and, by extension, me.”
The little girl spoke up, eyes wide as she said, “Lizzie said that we could go to the church and her friend would help us. That maybe we could even go to a place away from here.”
Darcy did not want to be heavy-handed with the two, so he asked, “Would the two of you like to live somewhere else?”
“I do not know anyone who really wants to live like this, Mister.” The boy’s reply was bitter, and Darcy could understand why he might be so. “If you are rich enough to say you could give us a better life, how was it that your Elizabeth was left here all alone?”
Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Darcy sighed, the sound heavy with frustration, muttering, “My aunt is a selfish and spiteful woman, and she was determined to have her way, mistakenly believing she could escape the consequences.”
Nodding, the boy said, “Sometimes the people in your family are not what they should be. You going to let her get away with it?”
Though he did not want to frighten the children away, Darcy could not help the hard look that took hold of his face when he said, “No, my aunt will not be getting away with what she has done.”
A sly grin spread across Matthew’s face. His too-old gaze met Darcy’s as he chuckled, “Good. Too many people get away with things they shouldn’t.”
Elizabeth, feeling the weight of grime and exhaustion, asked to be taken to the back entrance of Matlock House, the servants’ entrance. Knocking on the door, she only had to wait a moment before it was flung open and the cook was crying, “Oh, Miss Elizabeth, whatever happened to you? You poor dear, come in out of the cold.”
Smiling at the kind woman who ran her domain with the efficiency of a general and the warmth of a loving mother, Elizabeth said, “Mrs. Danvers, I told the hackney driver who brought me here that I would give him a generous tip once I arrived here. Is Fawkes available so that I can see that it is taken care of? The man was tremendously helpful in getting me out of a tight situation.”
Mrs. Danvers looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder, and smiling at the driver, she called, “I will send the boy out with your money shortly.” Then ushering Elizabeth into the kitchen, she sat her down at the table and began giving orders. “Sally, get Miss Elizabeth a cup of tea and see that it is well sugared. May, you get water boiling for a bath. I dare say Miss Elizabeth will need one after the day she has had.” Going over to the highest shelf in the pantry, Mrs. Danvers opened a tin and withdrew a handful of coins.
Handing the coins to the stable boy who had come to see what was about, she said, “Give these to the hackney driver and see that he gets on his way. Be quick about it and there might be a biscuit in it for you.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Danvers,” he cried before scampering out the door.
Elizabeth watched as the kind woman bustled about, her shoulders drooping. Safe at last, the weight of her worry settled upon her in a wave of bone-deep exhaustion. She had been strong while she had to, but now it was just nice to watch the world move around her without having to worry about being on her guard.
Mrs. Danvers paused from bustling about and, hands on hips, said, “Miss Elizabeth, you drink up that tea before I get back from speaking with Mr. Fawkes and Mrs. Teasley.” Elizabeth’s silent acceptance, a mere nod as she lifted the fragrant tea to her lips, seemed to satisfy her because she spun away and hurried off without another word.
For as much as she liked sweets, Elizabeth was not fond of well-sweetened tea, or at least Sally’s version of it. Still, she sipped at it diligently, knowing that Mrs. Danvers would have something to say about her not working at her assigned task. She did not want to risk getting on the woman’s bad side. Not that she would be cruel or nasty. No, Elizabeth just did not want to disappoint her. She had learned long ago that it was best to stay on the good side of the cook.
The cup was nearly drained when Mr. Fawkes and Mrs. Teasley burst through the door, Mrs. Danvers close behind, the sound of their hurried footsteps letting Elizabeth know just how worried they were. Mr. Fawkes, despite his usual reserved nature—he was the butler to an earl, after all—spoke first. “Miss Elizabeth, what happened?”
Snorting, Mrs. Danvers groused, “It is obvious what happened—Lady Catherine finally went too far.”
Always the one for propriety, Mrs. Teasley chided, “Now Penny, you do not know what happened, and it is not right to talk about our betters in such a manner.”
With a huff, Mrs. Danvers shook her head. “If that woman is my better, I will eat my good apron. You see if I don’t. It is obvious that if I stay in this conversation, I will say something I shouldn’t, so I am going to go pound on my dough. Just you two get Miss Elizabeth taken care of.” Turning her back on everyone, Mrs. Danvers went over to the counter by the window and after flouring the counter, plopped out a mound of dough that had been rising and began punching it with abandon.
Taking the tea up out of Elizabeth’s hands and setting it on the table, Mrs. Teasley wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and said, “I already have a maid preparing your room across from your sister’s. How does a nice hot bath sound? It’s completely your choice to share what happened or remain silent, but before anything else, I think you deserve a chance to clean yourself up and compose yourself.” Glancing first at Mrs. Danvers and then Mr. Fawkes, she added, “Besides, it is none of our business what happened. We are only staff, after all.”
A twinge of self-reproach pricked Elizabeth for allowing Mrs. Teasley to dictate her actions, yet a sense of peaceful surrender had settled over her. It was just easier to go with the flow of things, and she was so weary. All that she wanted was a nice nap. If she was honest with herself, she also craved a visit from Mr. Darcy, the yearning nearly as powerful as her exhaustion. Yes, she longed for a nap, with Mr. Darcy a silent guardian nearby, but this was a whimsical dream, a comforting thought that held no hope of reality.
It had not been a simple matter to abscond with Matthew and Molly, but on the whole, it was not as complicated as it could have been. They had no family and practically no possessions, so he would have thought that it would have been simple enough to transport them to Darcy House. Only Darcy had hurried off in his search for Elizabeth alone, which he had quickly realized was a mistake. Particularly when it dawned on him that he’d need to transport all three of them on his single horse.
Still, he made it work. Putting little Molly up before him and having Matthew ride behind him, they left the slum. The children were so slight that his horse could carry them until they reached a respectable inn where a carriage could be hired. From there, it had been a quick ride through the London streets to his home where his housekeeper, a matronly woman who had always loved children, took them both under her wing with gusto.
Once he had them safe, Darcy switched his attention back to Elizabeth. Not that she had ever been far from his mind. The knowledge of her relative safety allowed him to concentrate on getting Matthew and Molly to a safe place. He couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving them to face that situation alone; his conscience wouldn’t allow it.
But now he paced his study, probably marring his own carpet, pondering where Elizabeth might go once she had transportation out of the slums. She would not go back to de Bourgh House, for it had already proven itself an unsafe place for her. Obviously, if she had not come to his house, she would have made it there before him. Freezing in place, he shook his head when he realized that it should have been obvious to him. She would have gone to Matlock House.
In no time at all, he was bursting out of his front door and running across the square to his uncle’s house. The door opened for him before he had even had a chance to knock, the alert footman having seen him coming. Glancing about, he looked for any evidence that Elizabeth was there, but nothing was out of place. Darcy tried to tell himself that it did not mean anything. The well-trained staff would not have let any get out of place.
“Miss Elizabeth is above stairs, Mr. Darcy.” Fawkes’s voice startled Darcy, causing him to swing around to stare at the man.
“Truly?” Relief washed over Darcy, a dizzying wave that made his head swim. Grabbing at the banister of the nearby stairs, Darcy forced strength into his legs. While he had hoped that Elizabeth would have made her way to Matlock House, he had by no means been certain.
Ignoring Darcy’s momentary weakness, Fawkes reassured him. “Yes, sir. She arrived a short while ago, and Miss Jane’s lady’s maid and Mrs. Teasley have assured me that she is well, though perhaps a little weary from whatever happened.”
“My aunt happened,” grumbled Darcy, running his hand through his already mussed hair.
Nodding, Fawkes said, “That is what Cook assumed, but Mrs. Teasley insisted that we not press Miss Elizabeth for information.”
“I have always liked Mrs. Teasley,” Darcy murmured, a fondness in his voice, before he bounded up the stairs two at a time. “Thank you, Fawkes!” The sound of his footsteps echoed in the entryway.
While he knew it was not the best idea to go in search of Elizabeth wherever she might be, Darcy could not help doing it. He just had to see her. He felt compelled to see her, to study her face and body language for any sign of distress, and to know for sure that she was well. Darcy did not know what he would do if he could not see her. Familiar and unfamiliar hallways blurred together as he searched, hoping to find either Elizabeth or possibly Mrs. Teasley, who would know where she was. He tuned out the random sounds of the house, hoping to hear Elizabeth’s voice. But when he actually spotted her through an open doorway, Darcy froze, utterly still.
Elizabeth was lying on a settee, asleep. He had found her, and it was as if all was suddenly right with the world. Moving silently, Darcy approached her, captivated as a moth to a flame. He was almost upon her when his legs gave way, and he watched, mesmerized, as her breath gently stirred a stray curl.
“While I understand you must have been quite worried about Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, please do not wake her. She has had quite the experience, I think.” Mrs. Teasley spoke from behind him, her voice no louder than a whisper. “She curled up on the settee while we prepared her room, but she fell asleep before the room was ready.”
Darcy glanced over and, spotting Mrs. Teasley sitting in the corner, felt slightly chagrined at having been seen in such a discomposed state, though he knew there was nothing else he could have done. Looking back at Elizabeth, he said, “Thank you for watching over her until I could get here.”
He tried to tell himself he would not stay so very long, but he could not imagine leaving her side, at least not yet. They had both been through so much that day and it was nice to take that moment to bask in the soft raping sound of her breath and the peace that came with knowing that she was safe and unharmed. Darcy knew his rage at his aunt would return eventually, and he would make sure she faced consequences, and ensure that she would be prevented from hurting anyone again, but that would be later. For now, he would just watch her breathe.