Let the birds of the valley with music lull her!
But let no sounds of sorrow break through her dreaming.
Slumber,dear maid!
Green boughs will cover thee!
Calm airs breath over thee
Where thou art laid.
Slumber, then, peacefully,
O gentle maid!
The partyall clapped and cheered at the end, Jane and Elizabeth both weeping with joy for their sister as usual. Mary looked over to see her betrothed looking sadly out the window, and wondered what she had done wrong.
Darcy hadno idea where he was when he awoke. There were men, rough sounding men, speaking in French somewhere distant, but not close by enough to hear what they were saying. To Darcy’s ear, it was a very low dialect of French, it was possible that even if they were closer, he might not understand much of what was being said.
There was a sash tied over his eyes, and he was tied to a post with a rough rope. He felt hard, cold stone under him, and could hear waves crashing not too far distant. The stone under him was damp. It sounded and felt as if he were in a cave near the sea. He wondered if Wickham and Lord Bexley were caught up in some smuggling operation. He considered the knowledge of the fact that Wickham had been seen conversing with the man Huggins in French, and the men speaking French nearby, he then hoped that Wickham was not caught up in something more unsavoury.
“Why would you bring him here? You ought to have killed him right there in the alley!” said a rough voice in French.
“I might have done, if Bexley had not been there,” answered Wickham, in the flawless French he had learned from his mother, who had come over as a ladies maid nearly a decade before the Storming of the Bastille. “The man is squeamish. You really ought to have found allies with stronger stomachs.”
“All of you English are squeamish,” growled the other man. “What will you do with him?
“Nothing for now,” answered Wickham. “I would kill him, but since I was obliged to spirit him here, I might as well hold onto him, in case he becomes useful somehow later.”
“As long as he does not become a problem,” said the other man menacingly.
“There is barely time for him to be a problem, the landing is only just over a week away,” said Wickham easily.
“Do not talk in front of him!” the other man insisted, as the two moved away to continue their conversation.
A landing.Darcy thought.Perhaps it is smuggling, then.He knew now that he had a week, perhaps less, to escape before Wickham found a use for him, or worse, did not, and ultimately killed him. The idea of being bound hand and foot, then murdered by Wickham, while Georgiana and Elizabeth were nearby and possibly in danger brought bile to his throat.
Elizabeth and Williamreturned to the livery the following day, bearing an enormous pot of soup the kitchen of Bourne House had sent for the sick family.
“Thankee, miss, this be jus’ what Mrs Shaw and the little uns need,” said the maid. “I only be jus’ out o’ my bed, and the master’s terrible worried about the ‘orses. ‘E not be well enough to tend ‘em.”
“Please tell Mr Shaw that we have Lady Catherine’s grooms and Mr Darcy’s grooms at our disposal, we will send someone to care for the horses every day until he is well. It will be my first task the moment I return to Bourne House. In fact, before we leave, I shall send Mr Darcy’s groom into your stable to ensure none of the horses are in dire need of care. We arrived in his carriage.”
“Oh thankee, miss, that be very kind, the master will be ever so relieved,” the maid said.
William spoke to Mr Darcy’s groom, and the man agreed to check on the horses with alacrity, concerned that the beasts may have suffered for water or food in the last day or two. Elizabeth waited in the carriage while William went to see if the barber had reopened his shop and possibly had seen Mr Darcy before hefell ill. After about a quarter hour, the groom returned, leading a familiar horse.
“This be worrisome, miss,” the groom said. “This be the master’s horse.”
Elizabeth pounded on the door of the Shaw’s residence. “I am very sorry to disturb the Shaws while they are ill, but I must ask you to question your master,” insisted Elizabeth. “Please tell Mr Shaw that Mr Darcy has been missing for some days, and ask how and when his horse came to be in your stable?”
The pale maid bobbed a curtsey, then closed the door and ran to do as Elizabeth bid. After about five minutes she returned. “The master says Mr Darcy lef’ ‘is ‘orse some four days ago, miss; we think that be right,” she informed Elizabeth. “Mr Darcy said he’d not be long, he only had a purchase to make afore going onto Bourne House. But he din’t return. The master put the ‘orse up fer the night, ‘e said ‘e woulda sent a message to the house the nex’ morning if’n ‘e hadn’t fallen ill. Mr Shaw don’t know what shop the gentleman was ‘eading to, miss.”
This information was distressing in the extreme to Elizabeth. William returned from the barber, who had not seen Mr Darcy, and when the groom had tied Mr Darcy’s horse to the back of the carriage, they returned to Bourne House.
Lady Catherine was in terrible distress when she learned the news of Darcy’s horse. A messenger was sent to follow Mr Bingley, though he would reach Chichester before it reached him, at least he and Mr Gardiner would know not to waste time looking for Darcy on the road back. The mayor was sent for, as well as the magistrate, Sir Charles Gordon, and Lord Amesbury. A proper search was organised, and the town was scoured thoroughly, twice, over the course of the next four days. Not a soul other than Mr Shaw could account for seeing Mr Darcy in Eastbourne before he disappeared.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were both so distressed, they nearly took to their beds for the first day, in shock and fear, and sat vigil together in Georgiana’s and Priscilla’s sitting room. Lady Catherine was tireless, directing people and making demands. An orchid had been placed in Georgiana’s window, and a hushed meeting was held that night by Georgiana, Richard, and Lady Catherine in that lady’s sitting room.
