Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, forcing back the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She could not afford to collapse now. Not with Wickham waiting to take advantage of any weakness.
“Thank you for your candor,” she said once she had mastered herself. “There is one more service you might perform for me, if you’re willing? For fair compensation, of course.”
The woman’s eyes darted to the purse visible on the dressing table. “What service would that be, ma’am?”
“Information about other guests departing for London this afternoon. Respectable travelers, preferably.”
Understanding dawned in the innkeeper’s wife’s eyes. “You’re looking for traveling companions. To avoid that gentleman downstairs.”
Elizabeth neither confirmed nor denied the observation. “Can you help me?”
“The Honywoods,” the woman said after a moment’s thought. “Elderly gentleman and his wife, with their companion. Traveling to London. They’ve engaged a post-chaise to leave soon.”
“And would they, do you think, be amenable to an additional passenger? One willing to pay her share, of course.”
“For enough coin, most travelers would welcome the Queen herself,” the woman replied pragmatically. “I can speak to them, if you wish.”
“Please do,” Elizabeth said. “And there is one final matter. Should Mr. Wickham, the gentleman who spoke to me in the parlor, inquire about my plans…” She hesitated, weighing the morality of outright deception against her increasingly precarious situation.
The woman saved her the trouble of finishing the thought. “I could mention hearing you speak of returning to your family home, rather than that ‘rest home’ he spoke of.”
“Yes, my home is in Hertfordshire, Longbourn, perhaps I have already departed, having met an acquaintance…”
“Of course,” the innkeeper’s wife agreed. “I’m not deaf, ma’am. I heard what that gentleman downstairs implied about your state of mind. My sister was placed in an asylum by a husband who found her inconvenient. I’ll not help another woman meet the same fate.”
Relief flooded Elizabeth as she pressed more coins into the woman’s hand. “Thank you. Your kindness may well save my life.”
“I shall inquire with the Honywoods,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “Be ready at half past twelve. That is when they plan on departing. I shall have your trunk brought down.”
Elizabeth hastily repacked her trunk, stowing any of Darcy’s belongings into the still-damp interior. He had left his travel desk, a wedge of sandalwood with a hinge and clasp to store writing paper. It was inlaid with the Darcy family crest and held quills, ink, and sealing wax. A few other personal items, a shaving kit, his dinner jacket, and a monogrammed handkerchief.
She gathered up the loose coins on the dresser and tucked her unfinished correspondence into the writing desk.
Tears rolled down her face as worry overtook her heart. Her husband, possibly injured, lying on a muddy road bleeding. Would someone help him? A good Samaritan? Or did they pass him by? Robbing him and leaving him unidentified? Alone, bereft? Like her.
Elizabeth waited until a soft knock came to her door. “Mrs. Darcy? They’re ready.”
A footman took her trunk and Elizabeth hugged Darcy’s travel desk as they crept down the back stairs to the kitchen.
“The gentleman—the one who came for you—he’s in the taproom with his friends,” the innkeeper’s wife whispered. “I’ve told him you’re resting until one o’clock as agreed.”
“And what of Longbourn?” Elizabeth asked.
“I mentioned to his companion that I’d overheard you speaking of your family home with great distress. Said something about returning there if your husband didn’t come for you. He seemed quite interested.”
The deception was in motion. Soon, Wickham would be searching in entirely the wrong direction.
“I cannot thank you enough,” Elizabeth said, pressing the woman’s hand.
“No need, ma’am. Just… be careful in London. Men like that don’t give up easily.”
A rumble of wheels outside announced the arrival of the Honywoods’ post-chaise. The innkeeper’s wife led Elizabeth through the kitchen door to where the vehicle waited, its horses stamping impatiently.
An elderly gentleman with kindly eyes peered out from the window. “Mrs. Smith, is it? We’ve room enough for you beside my wife. We’re pleased to have the company.”
So, this wasn’t the first time the innkeeper’s wife had orchestrated escapes. Elizabeth mustered a smile at the elderly couple.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Honywood. I cannot express my gratitude sufficiently.”
