“Mr Darcy? Might I trouble you for a few moments of your time, sir?”
Darcy looked up from the book he had only been pretending to read in order to stave off Fitzwilliam’s well-meant but painful ruminations about Elizabeth. It was almost ten o’clock, and Saye was still not dressed for the ball they were supposed to be attending. It was the sort of ball that one did not arrive early for, so his sartorial vacillations were of little matter, but it had left more time than Darcy liked for Fitzwilliam to interrogate him. “You may.”
The footman fidgeted uneasily and glanced over his shoulder into the vestibule. He swallowed visibly. Then, with a quick glance at Fitzwilliam, he said, “In private?”
“There is nothing you can have to say that we cannot both hear,” Darcy said in consternation.
The footman shuffled about a bit more until Fitzwilliam laughed. “You had better go before the poor fellow has an aneurysm.”
Vaguely displeased by the footman’s impertinence, but conceding that he did look excessively uneasy, Darcy came to his feet and followed him out of the drawing room, closing the door behind them. “What is this about?”
“There is somebody here to see you, sir…” He pointed to the open front door, and Darcy froze in astonishment to see Elizabeth standing just beyond it on the top step. “…and she did not want her presence to be generally known.”
Darcy was at the door in two strides, gesturing for her to step inside. “Miss Bennet! Come in.”
She shook her head and retreated backwards onto the next step down. Away from him. “Oh, no, it is well, thank you. It is untoward enough that I have called at all. I only… This may seem a strange question, but…is your sister at home?”
He frowned. Of all the things he thought she might say, that had not been one of them. “My sister? Yes. She is.”
“Are you sure?”
He huffed a small laugh, half confusion, half frustration, and it drew a garbled rush of words from Elizabeth.
“What I mean is, can you… Is she…” She bit her lips together, looking pained. She was alone, he belatedly realised. He peered out onto the street and saw no carriage, meaning she had walked here in the dark without company. And now that he forced himself to think beyond his surprise and look properly, he noticed the pinched, worried turn to her countenance and the way she wrung her hands together. He stepped out of the house and pulled the door to behind him, occluding whatever she would say from the footman’s ears.
“What is the matter?”
“Is she with you? Presently? Downstairs?”
“What do you mean?”
“She has not retired to bed already?”
“She has, as it happens. She had a headache. Might I ask why you are?—”
“Could you make sure? Please? Could you look to see whether she is in her room?”
He frowned harder still. “What is this about?”
She grimaced slightly but held his gaze. “I would rather not tell you, unless I have to. And I shall only have to if Miss Darcy is not at home.”
“Why would Georgiana not be at home at such an hour as this?”
“Please just look. I shall wait here.”
Darcy stared at her for a moment, trying in vain to fathom what she was about, but she looked so distressed that he thought it easiest to do as she asked. He turned to go, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm that sent a wave of heat shooting up to his shoulder.
“Do not tell anyone what you are doing. It is for the best.”
He nodded once and left her, taking the stairs to Georgiana’s room two at a time. His knocking was unanswered, both the first, quiet knock and the second, more decisive one. Gently he pushed the door open. “Georgiana?”
He heard no reply and so stepped all the way into the room, experiencing a wave of sickening alarm upon finding her bed empty and unslept in. His first instinct was to bang on Mrs Annesley’s door and demand to know where her charge was, but he was conscious of Elizabeth’s plea to tell nobody and instead hastened back downstairs to speak to her. Georgiana’s absencemust have been obvious from his expression, for Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped and her eyes closed before he even spoke.
“Will you come in now?” he asked in a low voice.
She shook her head. “Unless there is somewhere we can speak privately?”
He nodded and, when she stepped into the house, he led her up the stairs and into the library, where it was unlikely that anybody would venture to interrupt them. He eschewed taking her out onto the balcony as he had done before and instead lit a few candles, sighing impatiently when they all fizzed and burnt green, the joke having long since ceased to be amusing. He turned to face her. “Please tell me you know where my sister is.”
