Darcy sat across from Mr. Gardiner as the coach thundered down the road. They had left Derbyshire in a furious hurry after deciding several things.
First, they would travel in Darcy’s coach. He kept horses along the route, his people knew the road like the backs of their hands, and they could crack on as no hired team could. The full three-day journey could be pared down to just about a day and a half, the coachman claimed, if the gentlemen were willing to suffer a few inconveniences. They were.
Secondly, they decided to impose on Charles Bingley to accompany Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner back to Hertfordshire in Mr. Gardiner’s coach. Elizabeth was wild to be home. Darcy was reluctant to leave Georgiana alone with Bingley’s sisters, but needs must. And so, after a terse consultation with Mr. Gardiner at the Lambton Inn, Darcy galloped home, spoke to his coachman, and flew into the house to look for Bingley.
“Charles, a word,” he said, not bothering with courtesies.
Once they stood face to face in the library, Darcy paused. He had not really thought of what to say to his friend.
“What is it Darcy? You look as if you have had terrible news.”
“I have exactly that—terrible news. Listen, Charles. George Wickham, do you remember him?”
“The fellow in Hertfordshire you did not like?”
“Yes. I do not like him for a reason. He had gone to Brighton with the militia. Miss Lydia Bennet was there visiting with Colonel Forster’s wife, and he convinced her to elope with him.”
“Good lord! The scoundrel!”
“He left Brighton with her in the coach, and arrived in London without her. She is lost.”
“What?”
“Mr. Gardiner and I are for London. I know where to smoke out Wickham. I need you to take Miss Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner to Longbourn.”
“Of course! I shall go this instant!”
“Charles?”
“Yes, Darcy?”
“I do not want your sisters to know anything about this.”
“Oh.” Bingley thought for a moment. “I can manage it, Darcy. We should say we are going together.”
“I shall speak to my sister then.”
Darcy and Mr. Gardiner were both silent for a good two hours as they clattered south toward London. Each man was lost in his own thoughts. No doubt Mr. Gardiner was consumed with worry for his niece, while Darcy thought mostly of Georgiana. He had found her in the salon, being badgered by Caroline Bingley to play “something divine.”
“Georgiana,” he said after a compulsory bow to Miss Bingley, “I am sorry to tell you I have some urgent business in town.”
“Is all well, William?” she asked anxiously.
“Of course, dearest. I have convinced Charles to go with me, and if the Hursts and Miss Bingley are willing, I must leave you in their company.”
“Willing!” cried Miss Bingley. “We consider it our duty, do we not Louisa?”
Darcy ignored this and looked directly at his sister. “I would speak to you about something Mrs. Reynolds mentioned before I go, Georgie.” He held out his hand and clasping it, she followed him to the alcove overlooking the cutting gardens. They spoke in low tones so as to not be overheard.
“Miss Elizabeth’s youngest sister has run away with George Wickham, Georgie.”
Georgiana gasped.
“I hate to tell you such shocking news so abruptly, but I am needed to set things right. You understand, I hope?”
“Oh, the poor, poor girl! And poor Miss Bennet—Elizabeth—I mean! She must be out of her mind with worry.”
“She is. You know…surely you do know I have feelings for her?”
