“Do you know where he went?”
“Yes, to Copenhagen, sir.”
Darcy quashed a curse so foul it might have given the old butler an apoplexy. “Thank you,” he managed to croak before hastening out of the door and walking his lathered horse across the square to his own house. What a damned inconvenience that the colonel had been called away just as he had found Wickham, after three painstaking months of searching.
If the reprobate had not enlisted in the militia, he would have expected him to flee from his vicinity, but as it was, he was likely to remain. There was no other choice but to approach Meryton’s magistrate, the loquacious Sir William Lucas, and demand that he arrest the wretch. It was to be hoped that Sir William would accept his request without asking too many probing questions and that Wickham would have the wherewithal to keep his filthy mouth shut about the failed elopement. He had better—if he valued his life…
Darcy kicked a chair out of his way. His plan to propose to Elizabeth before the ball had just become impossible. There was simply not enough time left. Sending Wickham to Newgate had to take precedence before his own pleasure.Blasted rain and damnation upon the worthless miscreant.
Darcy spent a comfortable but miserable night in his own house, yearning for the company of a certain miss with fine eyes, and rode out at first light.
Chapter 4 The Netherfield Ball
Where the deuce is Elizabeth?
Darcy paced his chamber, looking out of the window every other second in the hope of espying the tattered Bennet carriage. The line of vehicles was trickling by with no sign of his soothing siren.
Darcy sorely needed her appeasing presence after enduring such a dreadful day. During his horrible ride from London to Meryton, his trusted stallion had thrown a shoe, and he had walked two and a half miles before he found a smithy that could replace it. By the time he arrived at Netherfield, it had been too late to visit Sir William. He blew out an irritated breath to rid himself of his odious mood and glanced for the hundred and fiftieth time out of the window, just as a head of soft brown curls alighted from a carriage.
“Elizabeth!”
Had he shouted her name aloud? Because she glanced up, whilst a winsome expression played on her face. She offered him a dainty wave, and he greeted her with a staid nod whilst locking his hands behind his back. It would not do if all the guests who were still swarming about on the drive were to espy the master of Pemberley completely losing his head over a girl. It was true, of course, he was lost, but the denizens of Hertfordshire need not know, though he highly doubted he would be able to conceal his deep admiration for Elizabeth much longer. Soon she would know what a numbskull he was. Especially when she was near. The enchantress turned his brain into mud and ignited his body into a blazing fire.
She disappeared from sight, and he hastened down the stairs to greet his goddess.
“Mr Darcy!”
Had not the sturdy Sir William stood directly in front of him, he might have managed to avoid the untimely interruption, but as he did have business with the man, he chose to use the opportunity to his advantage.
“Sir William, if I may have a word with you in private?”
“Certainly, sir. Whatever I can do to be of assistance will be done. You may only ask, and I flatter myself that I have some power in this neighbourhood as the local magistrate and mayor of Meryton.”
“Excellent, follow me.”
Darcy walked in determined strides to the deserted library, which assaulted his senses with pleasant memories of a soft and yielding body in his arms. Once inside, he gestured for Sir William to sit.
“My business pertains to an old acquaintance of mine, a Mr Wickham.”
“I suppose you have been informed about the calamity at Mrs Phillips’s card party,” Sir William eagerly interjected before Darcy had the opportunity to divulge his request. “But I can assure you that Miss Elizabeth managed the situation with the grace and determination she is famous for. Though not quite as renowned as for her unparalleled beauty. She is the jewel of Hertfordshire. Well, along with her sister, I should remember to add. Jane is a remarkably handsome lady—”
“Yes, she is, but what happened to Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy questioned with cold dread pooling in his stomach.
“She captured the questionable interest of one of the officers—the lieutenant you mentioned.”
Of course she did. Elizabeth was the most beautiful lady in all of England, and Wickham would have had to be blind not to notice. Neither could he have failed to see his own interest in the lady. The way he had carelessly hied her off for a private conversation right before his eyes. The thought made his blood run cold as he would not put it past Wickham to importune Elizabeth to revenge himself on him.
“He followed her about and tried to engage her in conversation, but Elizabeth would not have it.”
Naturally she did not want to engage with the likes of Wickham. She was too clever by far to be coerced into anything by that ne’er-do-well. In that regard, she outwitted his own father…
“His insistence upon importuning her proceeded too far, and I escorted Elizabeth home.”
“Where was Mr Bennet whilst this disaster unfolded?” Darcy asked, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Sir William had the decency to offer him an abashed smile. “At home with his books.”
That settled it. If only he could get his hands round Wickham’s throat he would squeeze the last breath out of his body.
