"She was only in the carriage for a matter of minutes before she fled it. Wickham can make no claim against her virtue."
"Where did she get out of the carriage?" I asked again.
"Not far from here," replied Darcy. Evasiveness did not suit him at all. He had no talent for it.
"Where?"
"St. Giles."
That infamous slum. Lovely. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would block out the horribleness.
"I have twenty men searching for her. She will be found."
Yes, but with or without her throat cut, that is the question. I did not say this, however, because Darcy seemed to be feeling guilty and I did not wish him to feel thusly. No matter the outcome, none of this was his fault.
"How did you get Wickham to tell you this?" I asked.
"I persuaded him."
Thinking of his hands with their chaffing and bruises I asked, "By striking him until he told you?"
"No, I gave him a hundred pounds to tell me his tale and then keep his silence. I struck him for my own pleasure."
A devilish grin played on his lips for a moment before subsiding as quickly as his last smile. One could not maintain any sort of happiness when the situation was so dire, but that grin brought such joy to me as brief as it was. Oh, how I love him. Perhaps there was some hope for our marriage if Lydia was not to be Mrs. Wickham after all.
I stood, determined to embrace him, to kiss him, to tell him I loved him even if this was not the right moment. Would it ever be the right moment?
Apparently not. Just then Saunders entered the room and announced, "I apologize for the intrusion. Mrs. Margaret Darcy is here, sir."
I could not stifle my groan. I liked Darcy's great aunt, but this really was the worst time. Margaret had sent me a letter saying that her friend had improved and the doctor thought she would live for some time, but she had made no mention of returning to town so soon.
We entered the drawing room to find James and Margaret seated side by side on the sofa. James looked as though he had been interrogated vigorously.
"James says Sebby is out for a walk. He is a terrible liar, I don't know how he survived as a spy," said Margaret by way of greeting.
"I was never a spy!"
"Yes, dear, I've heard that one," said Margaret patting her nephew's hand, "Run along and look at your children. I need to speak to my grand nephew alone."
I do not know if she meant to dismiss me as well, but I was having none of it. I took Darcy's hand in solidarity.
"You've lost him," she said once James had left the room.
"Yes," replied Darcy.
Before he could make any explanation I chimed in, "It is my fault."
"No, it isn't," said Margaret without even looking my way, "Men have all the power so they must take all the blame."
"They will be found," said Darcy with more confidence than he probably felt.
"They?"
"My youngest sister has run away with your dog," I answered. I felt it best to leave the elopement out of it for now.
Margaret nodded sagely as if this was completely normal. "Sebby has that effect on people. Everyone adores him. Especially young girls. It is a wonder he has not been stolen before."
Why she thought anyone would steal a foul-smelling mongrel dog with an abrasive personality I could not guess. It was true I liked him and Lydia apparently loved him so much she wanted him at her wedding, but most people did everything in their power to avoid him.
