Rather than being reassured, Darcy grew even more disturbed.
“You do not understand, Miss Bennet. You have not yet encountered the danger of battle. I have recently lost two people close to me.” He slumped down on the bed, wild-eyed and forlorn. “I do not know what I would do if something happened to Elizabeth.”
“We will find her,” she said, as much to herself as to Mr. Darcy. “But meanwhile, perhaps we can dispense with formalities. You may call me Jane.”
“Very well, Jane. And you may call me Darcy, as your sister does. Let us sit and think of all the possibilities. Two heads must be better than one.”
***
THE SEARCH OF THE GARDENSyielded nothing. It was extended to the grounds, and the apprentices were sent out to help. They were told that Mrs. Darcy had been out riding and her horse had returned without her. Darcy could see them through the window of his bedchamber, and he could hear them shouting to each other and laughing. It was a game to them, a chance to miss their lessons and be outdoors.
Heshould be out there looking.
There was a knock on the door. Before Darcy could respond, Matlock charged in.
“While everyone has been distracted outside, I have managed to send some of my most trusted servants to ask questions and to look inside for anything useful. We have searched the bedchambers of all the mages so far. A maid spotted a lady entering one of the mages’ chambers last night. We have questioned the maid, who reported that she found a pile of lady’s garments in the wardrobe when she went in to make the bed. I need you to identify those clothes for me. Tell me if they belong to Elizabeth. The person who found them left them undisturbed, and we have placed a Lock on the cupboard to prevent anyone from removing the contents.”
Elizabeth’s clothes? In a male mage’s room?
“Before you fly off at the handle, Darcy, there may be extenuating circumstances. We do not know what happened. But we need to handle this with the utmost discretion. No one must know.”
Darcy growled. “If I asked for a shilling every time someone said the words ‘no one must know’, I would become a rich man.”
His uncle chuckled. “Youarea rich man. I would even venture to say you are in possession of a fortune.”
Darcy was in no mood to laugh. As they walked down the corridor to the mage’s room, Darcy’s thoughts were swirling around in his, going round and round in circles.
“Incidentally, I have sent for Richard and asked him to bring several of his men. It might be wise to have some military presence here.”
It was certainly advisable to do so, but if Elizabeth had been harmed, it would be too late for her.
As they entered the bedchamber, Darcy’s heart began to hammer.
“Whose bedchamber is this?”
“I cannot say anything at this point. Once you have identified the clothes, I will determine what to do next.”
What did it mean? Did it mean Elizabeth was under some kind of compulsion? Had someone promised her information about Bingley’s affliction? What did it have to do with her disappearance? Was the villain – whoever he was – responsible for kidnapping her? Had he tried to conceal her identity by hiding her clothes?
His blood ran cold.
Matlock began the process of undoing the Lock. The spell was a convoluted one, involving several different sub-spells. It would have been impossible for the owner of that cupboard to remove the Lock.
For Darcy, it was an agony of waiting. He wished the Lock could have been much simpler. The more he waited, the more his anxiety grew. His uncle was slow and methodical, but for once, Darcy did not appreciate those qualities. He was seized with a strong compulsion to push his uncle aside and undo the spell himself. He had to force himself to be patient, to wait, to listen to Matlock mumble the words while he waited for Elizabeth’s fate to be determined.
He tried not to imagine all the possibilities, but it was impossible not to fear the worst. He shook his head to dispel the images that rose to his mind’s eye unwanted. He tried to breathe, but his breath came out in little gasps.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the Lock opened. His uncle put his hand to the plain iron key—such an insignificant key, considering what might be inside—and turned the key with a soft click. He pulled open the door and searched at the bottom of the cupboard for the clothes.
Darcy could bear it no longer. He shoved past his uncle and tossed the contents of the wardrobe onto the floor.
They were undoubtedly women’s clothes. He hesitated, afraid of what he might find, then bent down to pick them up.
He took up the first item: a warm ermine muff. He had never seen Elizabeth wear such a thing, but he could not really tell, because he had not spent much time with her outdoors.
Then he picked up the lady’s gloves, searching for a familiar identifying mark. Elizabeth had kid gloves much like these. But so did many ladies. He turned them over and examined them carefully. There was no way to tell.
Then his gaze settled on a green pelisse. His heart spluttered. He did not even try to steady his hands as he picked it up. Time came to a standstill. In the carriage, Elizabeth was wearing a high neck green pelisse just like this, with military trimmings. Darcy knew very little about fashion, but he knew it had been velvet, because it had felt soft against his skin. He wished he had paid more attention to the details.
