She did not look him in the eyes but addressed some point above his shoulder. Now he was certain Mrs Gardiner was prevaricating, if not categorically lying. Chances were that Elizabeth and Lydia were somewhere in this house at this very moment, laughing at him.
Darcy considered threatening to destroy Mr Gardiner’s business if she did not divulge his wife’s whereabouts. But there was a small chance that she did not know, and making an enemy of Elizabeth’s favourite relations would not be a wise decision. It was better to appoint runners to keep the house under surveillance. If the sisters were here, they were safe, and he would discover it. Perhaps flattery would be the prudent route to Mrs Gardiner’s compassion.
“You are correct. It is best to refrain from reading the banns on Sunday if we have not found Miss Lydia by then.”
He was a terrible lickspittle.You are correctwas not much of a compliment when it was obvious. Was he equally inept at praising his wife? Had he told Elizabeth that she was beautiful, witty, or clever?
“Could you ask Mr Gardiner to speak to the vicar?”
Mrs Gardiner affirmed that she would do so, but her manner made Darcy suspect he had already done it.
It had been decided that Lydia should marry from Cheapside rather than Longbourn, with as few witnesses as possible. Mr Bennet had managed to convince his wife to return home with the excuse of overseeing the packing. She had not been informed that she would not be returning for the wedding, as the matron was not to be trusted. Her penchant for gossip was regarded as too much of a hazard to dare risk her continued presence in town.
The plan they had so expertly concocted had irrevocably been thwarted by his clever wife. It was impossible to decide whether he should be impressed or affronted by her devious scheming.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Gardiner.”
Darcy rose and departed with his cousin in tow.
“What now?” Richard asked.
“I am convinced that Mrs Gardiner is hiding both sisters. Therefore, I shall put the house under surveillance and question the servants.”
“What if their servants are loyal?”
“I expect them to be, but no one suspects an errand boy or a delivery man. I shall ferret them out.”
“But what will you do when you find your errant wife, and what will you do with the sister? It is clear she does not want to marry Wickham, which speaks well of her discernment…”
“I have yet to decide,” Darcy growled. Nothing mattered but finding his wayward wife. His blood simmered into a boil, and the more he pondered the situation, the more enraged he became. Why had Elizabeth not come to him with her concerns? Which led to the immediate realisation that she had, but he had not conceived there was any other choice to be had but for Lydia to marry. She, of course, had realised that there were alternatives, rightfully less palatable, but she was not obligated to curry the favour of theton.
Darcy rubbed his temples; it had been a trying day. There could be no doubt that Elizabeth had gone to the Gardiners’ to rescue her sister. She was probably searching for a husband amongst Mr Gardiner’s men of business. To a tradesman, a thousand pounds and a connection to the Darcy name might very well be enough of an incentive to marry a silly girl.
When the scandal became known, they would have no other choice but to retreat to Pemberley. Georgiana would never marry anyone of consideration in this world; neither would Lydia, though her chances had been slim even before the scandal.
As soon as Darcy arrived home, he called the same skilled runner who had discovered that Judge Darcy was responsible for adding items to Elizabeth’s purchases. Men were dispatched to Gracechurch Street and, for good measure, Longbourn and Hunsford. He would leave no stone unturned. To Georgiana and Mary, he said that Elizabeth was with Lydia, without further explanation. His foul mood prevented any questions the girls may have harboured from being raised.
Two days later, the runners had discovered no intelligence of import. Darcy arrived at the St Alban’s Tavern to attend the Earl of Spencer’s new book club as if nothing were amiss. It was to be hoped that an evening of literary discussions would dull the ache in his chest and allow his mind to rest, even for a brief moment, on a topic other than his wayward wife… Realising that Elizabeth was alive had not lessened the pain—a diversion might. Besides, were he to decline such an august invitation, tongues would wag, and it was an excellent opportunity to make excuses for his wife’s absence from town. He could say, with some semblance of truth, that she was visiting relatives.
Lord Spencer had just founded the Roxburghe club in anticipation of the Duke of Roxburghe’s extensive library coming up for auction. It was only dinner and a topic he could abide.
“I say, Darcy, you look positively dour tonight. Are you examining the competition for the printed copy of Boccaccio’sDecameronfrom 1471?”
“Yes. I am most eager to add it to my library at Pemberley.”
“Good luck! You are going to need it.”
Downshire sauntered away, and Darcy continued to drink in an attempt to fill the resonating emptiness and chase away the sting behind his eyes and the constant lump in his throat.
Rational as he was, he gave it up before he needed to be carried home. Darcy ordered the carriage before his inebriated state became too embarrassing. He stumbled into his bedchamber and did not regain his balance before he reached the windowsill at the opposite end of the room. The waxing moon was a sign of a new lunar cycle. He rubbed his sternum and honestly believed that with his excellent view of England, the man in the moon should be able to tell him where to find Elizabeth.
The tome he wanted sold the next day for two thousand two hundred and sixty pounds, far beyond what Darcy was willing to spend. Had he learnt nothing from Elizabeth’s leave-taking? Was he still currying the favour of theton? He cursed the wasted hours he could have spent looking for Elizabeth and decided to decline all social events until his wife rested safely in his arms.
Chapter 24 Kindness is Always Fashionable
Ritterhof Castle, 21stJune
The road wound along a river carving through the low-lying, flat terrain, interspersed with marshes, heaths, and glacial hills. The Eider guided her sister to safety like a liquid ribbon. Lydia slept like a lord whilst Karl and Otto’s mumbled conversation was barely audible from the back of the carriage.
