“Your uncle took it,” she replied, with a look of regret, obviously realising it had been a mistake.
“I cannot depart for Eastbourne without it. It is the only tangible proof we possess.”
Elizabeth, seeing her ladyship’s distress, moved closer. “We shall find a way, my lady—I promise.”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, we shall indeed find a way,” Darcy added. His voice, meant to reassure, could not conceal his doubt. “Send at once to my uncle, and request his immediate return to London.”
Lady Matlock did not delay. In the drawing-room, and under their gaze, she wrote the message and summoned Stevenson. “We depend upon his returning with all speed,” she said.
“I shall bring him back, my lady,” the butler replied, and they all felt a measure of relief. The effort to save the colonel had begun.
∞∞∞
“How long is Richard to remain in Eastbourne?” Darcy asked.
“At least a month,” Lady Matlock replied, then, after a moment’s pause, she added, “What do you suppose she can want of him?”
The answer had been given more than once by either Mary or Elizabeth. Yet, the anxious mother could not bring herself to accept it.
“Richard is in Eastbourne with a mission…” Darcy began, but hesitated. The purpose of Miss Henry was plain to him, yet he dreaded to inflict further alarm upon his aunt.
“Speak, nephew; I can bear anything. I must know the truth, for only thus shall we be able to form a plan for his rescue.”
“She is likely seeking to obtain from Richard some intelligence concerning the war.”
At this, they heard Lady Matlock draw a long breath, and tears gathered in her eyes. She remained motionless, so that the stillness rendered those tears the more alarming.
“You must go to Eastbourne!” she exclaimed at last. Her voice, grown firm once more, betrayed the resolve that had swept away her moment of weakness. The noblewoman stoodready to fight, and in her bearing there was the unmistakable presence of those forebears who had served their sovereign in times of peril.
“He is your closest friend—more a brother than by blood—you must save him. Only tell me how I may assist!” Elizabeth said earnestly.
To their astonishment, Darcy’s countenance became a mask of anger. “I will kill her,” he muttered.
Elizabeth, caring no longer for appearances, placed her hand upon his, which trembled with rage. “Stop—pray stop—and tell us what is happening,” she said in a whisper.
Mary’s eyes opened wide in surprise. She was still discovering this sister who, at every turn, astonished her. For the first time that morning, she ventured to examine Mr Darcy; earlier, when he had spoken, she had scarcely looked at him. In the past, she had never studied men; they had held no interest for her, chiefly because her sisters seemed absorbed by the subject. Yet with this gentleman, she began to comprehend what Elizabeth or Jane might value. Whether or not he could be called handsome, she could not decide; but there was in him a presence that commanded the room. Even in anxiety or in anger, he appeared as a force of nature, and her sister’s influence upon him was undeniable.
“You know what has happened,” he said to Elizabeth. “Richard will not listen to me.”
Lady Matlock regarded them with bewilderment. “What are you saying, Fitzwilliam? He is your closest friend. You are to him more of a brother than his own brother is. Am I mistaken?”
“No, you are right. But this time—” Darcy’s voice bore the weight of his pain. His eyes sought Elizabeth’s, and at last she understood.
“My God!” she exclaimed, and the apprehension in her tone filled the room. “My God!”
“Speak, my children; you drive me to distraction,” Lady Matlock urged.
And me as well, Mary thought. She was now prepared for any revelation, even when her sister began to speak.
“In Hunsford, I discussed many matters with Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, he told me that you were an excellent friend,” Lady Matlock nodded.
“But he did not tell you that I was then angry with Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth exchanged a silent look with him, choosing not to reveal the particulars of the Parsonage. That was their secret, and it must remain so. She read in his eyes that he agreed.
“Why?” Lady Matlock asked in surprise. She could scarcely imagine her nephew—the very model of a gentleman—capable of provoking such a sentiment.
