“But the colonel is innocent,” Elizabeth exclaimed in distress.
“Yes, we know it, but if he has married this woman, her guilt may destroy his life, and even if he proves his innocence, the scandal would be irretrievable.”
“Married her? But when, and how?”
“As Lady Matlock said, she might be in Eastbourne with him, and even married to him.”
This apprehension darkened the whole of the day; their own happiness was forgotten in the face of such a threat.
The arrival of Lord Matlock brought yet greater gloom. Darcy opened the door to an old man bowed beneath anxiety and sorrow.
Though all pressed him to rest after his journey and recover from the unease of so grave a mission, he said firmly, “There is no time for rest; if we do not save him, our peace will be lost forever.”
Unhappily, every person in the room agreed.
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary, for remaining with Lady Matlock. It was most gracious of you.”
With difficulty, and often faltering from anger or from grief, Lord Matlock related what he had discovered upon his journey. They listened without daring to interrupt, for in the mind of each was but one question: was what they knew of Miss Henry and her family sufficient to convince Richard of the error he would commit if he married her?
“If they are not already married,” murmured Lady Matlock, and for a long while no one spoke.
At length, Darcy laid out the plan in a few words, entreating his lordship not to accompany them, for his strength was exhausted.
“The only persons to whom Richard will perhaps attend are Miss Elizabeth and myself. Mr Gardiner’s presence is sufficient for such a party. We would not alarm him.”
“Or her,” Lord Matlock added with disdain.
“You believe she is with him?”
“Yes—and how could a lady travel with a gentleman, save as his wife?”
They dined in a sombre spirit; every new intelligence served only to deepen their unease.
Darcy at last read the infamous letter and turned so pale that Elizabeth feared for his health. His anger broke forth at every line, subsiding only when his eyes rested upon her.
“She deceived me at Brighton,” Darcy said. “I believed Richard had at last found a lady suited to him, one who would value him for his exceptional qualities. How false she proved! I remember the difficulty of persuading her to join us at Netherfield. And that woman who attended her, whose whole mind seemed fixed upon Miss Henry’s reputation—she plied me with a thousand questions. Yet their only object was to determine whether Richard was the perfect prey.”
“Though she forgot to ask where Netherfield was situated,” Mary observed.
“Yes, that was indeed an omission,” Darcy agreed, looking with admiration at Mary, who now appeared to him almost as accomplished as his future wife.
“Stop tormenting yourself, Darcy! She deceived us all,” Lord Matlock said. “Almost all,” he added, glancing at his lady. “She did not succeed in deceiving Lady Matlock.”
“I was incredibly superficial,” Darcy admitted. “She seemed to me a handsome and clever woman, with some fortune, who perhaps wished to advance into the higher circles of London; yet that did not appear necessarily amiss.”
He had far more to say, but refrained out of pity for his aunt, who could scarcely forbear weeping.
“I must depart at once. I still have many things to prepare.”
He looked with sadness and concern at his uncle and aunt, who now seemed two aged and despairing creatures.
Yet, when he took his leave, Lady Matlock’s eyes were as two sharp arrows.
“Save him, Fitzwilliam—and let that woman rot in hell…or in the Tower.”
Lord Matlock merely bowed, and when Darcy was gone, nothing remained in the dining-room but desolation and grief.
“Are you afraid?” Mary asked.
