“I hope you will not regret... you had no way of knowing, either one of you. And he is a man of honour. He would never have... nor would you, unless you had every reason to believe... what I mean to say is—”
She raised up and silenced him with a kiss. “I know what you mean. I have nothing to regret, William.”
He blinked, a surprised wince behind his eyes, then he swallowed. “You needn’t tell me.”
“There is nothing to tell.” She cupped the side of his face with a wistful smile. “There was always someone in between, guarding my heart. My only regret, William, is that I ever left your side in the first place.”
Something broke in his expression—a shattered pain, a great tide of anguish finally quelled. His arm tightened around her as he closed his eyes and clamped down on his lips. A long gasping breath rent his chest, as if it were the first he had known in months, and he was blinking rapidly when he pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead. “Never again, my own. I would not care if the king himself tried to claim you—I would be dead before I let another take you from me again.”
They cradled one another, as near as they could possibly be. “William,” she whispered, “what about my family?”
She felt his chest rise in determination. “We will find them, my love.”
Boston
Darcyrippedopenthetelegram from Bingley and scanned it. “He is in touch with my private investigator,” he reported to the two eager women before him. “No word yet, but they are searching for any arriving passengers who match the description. I have him watching Wickham’s usual haunts as well, but nothing so far.”
“What of the law?” Elizabeth asked. “The police? Are they of no help?”
“Of course, once the investigators have information to give them. Right now, all they have is a vague suggestion of wrongdoing and no notion of the miscreant’s whereabouts. We cannot even be certain that London is his destination.”
“But there must be something else we can do! What of Mr Wickham’s contacts? Did you not find them once? Cannot Mr Bingley seek—”
Darcy sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Bingley is... well, he has not the delicate relationships... I only found them because my family learned generations ago to pay well to hear things. Bingley would not have a point from which to begin. These are dangerous people, my love.”
“All the more reason for haste!” she cried.
“Here, Elizabeth, have some tea,” Georgiana offered. “It will settle your nerves.”
“My nerves are not so fragile as my mothers’, thank you,” Elizabeth answered tartly, but not without a degree of tension in her voice that proved how very frayed and brittle her feelings were over the matter.
“Of course not, but William’s are, and you would not upset him, would you?” Georgiana reasoned. “I am determined to make a proper British lady of you, so take a cup.”
Darcy was pinching the bridge of his nose and fulminating internally over his helplessness, but even he smiled wryly at his sister’s blatant attempts at levity. She had come on an instant’s notice from her classes to see Elizabeth—and to provide a modicum of chaperonage, for Darcy still could not rid himself of a nagging sense of impropriety if he and Elizabeth had to sleep in the same house.
Elizabeth herself had laughed off the notion, saying she had technically been living with an unmarried man for better than two months already. The difference, in his mind, was that unlike Richard, he had no intention of squiring her about while keeping his hands off her. And he certainly did not mean to let her remain unmarried.
He stepped behind her chair and bent to kiss her hair and caress her cheek. “Elizabeth, we will do everything that can be done. I know Wickham well—he will not harm them, because he wants something from me. They are quite safe for now.”
She cupped his hand with her own and leaned her cheek on it. “How can they be safe with that man?”
He tightened his grip and sighed. “If I know him, they still think he is the most charming and gentlemanly man alive. Let us pray things remain so until we find them. I think we ought to speak with your uncle again before we board the ship—perhaps he has heard something new by now. Besides, he will be relieved to hear your voice.”
The telephone conversation with Mr Gardiner was still broken by static and delay, but the man’s delight at hearing his niece rang clear. It was not possible to try to relate all that had taken place in the last months, but Elizabeth was able to assure her uncle that she was well and happy, and also that the town would be gaining a new resident. Mr Gardiner’s growl of satisfaction that Silas Bryson had at last been served a bit of justice was loud enough for even Darcy to hear it.
By happenstance, Mr Gardiner was also able to put his wife and Elizabeth’s sister Mary Lucas on the line. Elizabeth had nearly collapsed against him in heartbroken joy when she heard their voices, and wept openly when she learned that she would soon be an aunt. Unfortunately, no one was able to tell anything of Mrs Bennet or her remaining daughters. Darcy bade his final assurances that he would do everything possible, and they ended the call.
To London, then, they were bound. Only one last thing to do before boarding the ship.
Williamhadbeenpacing,checking his pocket watch, and muttering under his breath since breakfast. He stopped in the hall, trying to look dignified and patient, and failing, for he could not conceal that he was searching the window leading down the street.
Elizabeth went to him and straightened his tie with a teasing kiss on his dimpled chin. “William,” she soothed, “I am sure we have ample time to make our train.”
“It is not that,” he answered tightly. He looked over her head again, an exasperated sigh escaping him.
“Then are we waiting for someone?”
“You could say—wait!” He waved back the manservant who was standing beside the door, opened, it, and peered outside. “He is here! Come, both of you, we have not a moment to waste.”
