Unforgiving Temper (23 page)

Lucas Lodge shone with the light of a hundred
candles, adding to the warmth of the summer evening. Taking a
cooling sip from his glass, Darcy was a little surprised to see
Bingley standing alone in the doorway, his eagerness for
conversation readily apparent. Even from across the room, Bingley's
expression conveyed a clear message that something of importance
had occurred.

Unfortunately, Darcy was stuck in
conversation with Mrs. Goulding, a stout, talkative woman with much
to say about the accomplishments, beauty, and deportment of her
only daughter. “Not like some of the young ladies in the
neighborhood,” she was saying, looking him over much like a tabby
eyeing a bowl of fresh cream. “My Marianne is so well-mannered, and
so very accomplished! Did she not play beautifully tonight,
Mr. Darcy?”

Held in place by an earnest effort to correct
his past offenses in Hertfordshire, it took Darcy a few moments to
politely extract himself from the conversation. Once he did so, he
moved quickly in Bingley's direction, his curiosity aroused by the
anxious aspect of his friend's smile.

“I am sorry for interrupting your commendable
efforts to be social, Darcy, but I did not think this could
wait.”

“A welcome interruption, my friend,” replied
Darcy with a small smile. “While I am discovering country society
to be as agreeable as any other, I must still assert that a certain
lack of variety is to be found in the conversation of all mothers
with daughters of marriageable age.”

Bingley chuckled. “I am afraid that is a
burden you must bear until you please one such mother by courting
her daughter, thereby destroying the hopes of all the rest.”

“Speaking of courting, what takes you from
Miss Bennet's side? What is it that cannot wait?”

“Miss Bennet has remembered something
that may help us. I should like you to come and hear what she has
to say.”

“Has it to do with Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy struggled to temper his eagerness.

“It does; but I believe you should prepare
yourself, for I do not think it will please you altogether.”

“Any new information will make me happy. We
have had little enough so far. Please, lead the way.”

The two men made their way back to the main
drawing room where Jane was waiting, her expression calm and
composed. Darcy approached her with the hope that her news would be
good in spite of Bingley's ominous prediction.

“Miss Bennet, I understand you have
something new regarding your sister?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy. I remembered something
Lizzy did…” Jane hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “Now that you are
here, I begin to feel a little foolish. Perhaps it means nothing;
but with so little information as we now have, I suppose anything
might help.”

“We can only determine its usefulness if you
tell me,” Darcy coaxed lightly.

“Oh, yes – forgive me. Well, I was talking
with Mr. Bingley and happened to look up just as my sister,
Kitty, was coming in from the terrace with Mr. Dermott, one of my
Uncle Phillip's law clerks. Kitty sometimes reminds me of Lizzy at
first glance, so it brought Lizzy to mind as a matter of course.
But it was only when Mr. Dermott whispered something to Kitty that
I remembered an identical scene only a few days before Lizzy went
away. I saw her come through those same doors, as Kitty did, only
Lizzy was with Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy's reaction was so immediate, he could
not conceal the violent response. “Wickham!? Are you certain?”

“Quite certain.” Jane's eyes went to
Bingley's in silent alarm as she cautiously continued. “With the
militia gone to Brighton, I had quite forgotten about it.”

Lost in bitter disappointment, Darcy did not
hear anything beyond her affirmation. It was clear he had failed to
change Elizabeth's opinion of Wickham. Their being seen together
was evidence of that. He castigated himself for the anger that had
permeated the words of his letter. If he had couched his censure in
more temperate terms, would she have been more willing to believe
his disclosure of Wickham's duplicity? The notion of Elizabeth
welcoming the company of a rake such as George Wickham was nearly
too painful to bear.

Drawing a deep breath, he braced himself for
answers he did not want to hear, and pursued their only clue. “Was
she often in company with Mr. Wickham, then?”

“Not at all. She did enjoy his company for a
while, but after her return from Kent, she seemed eager to find
fault with everything he did. Now that you mention it, she was very
little in his company of late, if at all. I believe she was trying
to avoid him, but I cannot say what he did to offend her, nor why
she looked so distressed that night.”

The relief that washed over Darcy was so
profound that it took several breaths before his mind caught up to
Jane's final words. “Distressed? You say she looked
distressed?”

“Yes, but only for a moment. I remember
seeing them come back into the room together. He seemed quite
amiable, but I could tell Lizzy was not at all pleased; in fact,
she looked rather annoyed. And then he whispered something in
Lizzy's ear, and she became even more upset. Mr. Wickham
walked away after that. When I caught her attention to see if
everything was all right, she only looked at me as if to say that
Mr. Wickham was being ridiculous. Do you think it means
anything?”

“I believe the exchange you witnessed between
your sister and Mr. Wickham means a great deal,
Miss Bennet,” Darcy's voice was ominously quiet. “I do not
wish to alarm you, but George Wickham is no gentleman.”

“Surely he would not harm Miss Elizabeth
– and at a dinner party yet?” Bingley was incredulous.

“Except for those few moments, Lizzy seemed
quite herself. I think if he had actually done something, she would
have told me right away,” Jane offered. “Now that I think of it,
though, there must have been more than she let on; but it was so
late when we returned to Longbourn that we did not talk that night,
and the next morning, she was out walking before I had a chance to
speak with her.”

“She walked out early after such a late
night?” Darcy examined the possibilities of this new
information.

“Yes, but that is not unusual for Lizzy. She
nearly always walks in the early morning if the weather does not
keep her indoors. She enjoys it very much and I believe it lifts
her spirits. Only this time, she seemed more agitated than revived
when she returned. She hardly said two words and went straight to
her room.”

“Did she give a reason?” asked Darcy.

“No, she begged to be let alone at the time
and I was called away. Then Father announced Lizzy's plans to
travel for the summer and it was all forgot in the excitement.”
Jane was visibly disturbed. “None of it seemed out of the ordinary
at the time, but now it all seems so very odd!”

“It does seem as if something is not quite
right,” Bingley concurred, “especially where Mr. Wickham is
concerned. Do you not think so, Darcy?”

“Given my experience with the man, I am
convinced he is involved in some way. In fact, it is very likely we
will find him at the bottom of this whole affair, and I believe it
began with whatever transpired on the terrace.”

His disturbing conclusion was too much for
Jane, who paled visibly. Bingley quickly stepped in, offering his
arm for support, which she gratefully took.

“Mr. Wickham and Lizzy?!” she whispered
faintly. “What is to be done?”

“We will do everything possible,” Bingley
assured her, covering her hand with his own, “and we shall not rest
until Miss Elizabeth is found.”

“Everything shall be put to rights soon
enough,” added Darcy encouragingly. “We now have a solid direction
and I know how to deal with Mr. Wickham.” His voice was steady
and strong, but his optimism could not dispel the deep sadness in
Jane's eyes nor could it erase the turbulence in his own. His
private look to Bingley reflected a grave concern that cast a heavy
shroud of worry over them all for the rest of the evening.

At length, the gathering came to an end and
they parted company, Bingley once again assuring Jane that all
would be well.

As the gentlemen made their way to
Netherfield, the waning moon cast a feeble light on their somber
mood. Bingley and Darcy rode slowly side by side in dismal silence.
Bingley had long lost any idea of what to say and Darcy was too
engrossed in bitter reflection to notice.

All at once, the silence was shattered when
Darcy's anger exploded into the night air, sending the horses
skittering sideways in alarm.

“If anything has happened to her, I shall
never forgive myself!” he cried. “I should have taken care of
Wickham when I had the chance!”

“It cannot be as bad as that, can it? Surely
Miss Elizabeth has more sense than to place herself in the
hands of such a man? And it is not even certain that is what
happened.”

“You must trust me on this, Charles. I know
Wickham is connected to her disappearance in some way. As for her
not placing herself in his hands, you do not know him as I do. You
will remember how very good he was at convincing everyone to fall
in love with him last year, and he would certainly use her generous
nature to insinuate himself. The fact that he was seen with her
shortly before her sudden departure means something, I am certain
of it. I would give a king's ransom to know what happened on that
terrace and what he said to her when they returned!”

Bingley sighed in the dark. “I think the
answers will have to wait until we find her, though I do wonder at
his reasons for such behavior.”

“Financial reasons, you can be sure. I know
Wickham. His greedy nature would not permit him to exert any great
effort without a promise of financial gain – something
Miss Elizabeth cannot offer. The Bennets have no great
fortune, nothing of any consequence to tempt him. That is what I
cannot understand. Why her?”

Bingley had no answer and silence descended
once again as the two men came within sight of Netherfield. For
Darcy, the question continued to hammer mercilessly in his mind,
driving a terrible foreboding deep into his heart. If Elizabeth was
indeed under Wickham's influence, and far from the protection of
her friends and family, then finding her was now a matter of the
very greatest urgency. He could only pray that he was not too
late!

* * * *

Pushing his unfinished plate away with a
sharp thrust, Darcy dropped his head back against the chair and
stared at the open sea shimmering outside his window. He had little
appetite for food and even less for this unexpected delay.

Four days earlier, he had arrived in Brighton
ready to force a confession from Wickham's own lips, but it was
with bitter disappointment that he found the man gone. The entire
regiment was gone – called out on maneuvers. It was not known
exactly when they would return, and as Darcy had no acquaintance in
Brighton aside from Colonel Forster, he had been forced to employ
other means of gathering the information he sought. He knew there
was a connection between Wickham and Elizabeth's mysterious absence
– he just couldn't find it.

A low growl of self-reproach rumbled in
Darcy's chest. His precipitous departure from Hertfordshire without
first making the proper inquiries was a mistake. He had allowed his
anxiety for Elizabeth to cloud his judgment; but he could not
afford another miscalculation, no matter how slight, if he was to
outwit Wickham.

Desperately needing a focus for his tortured
thoughts, Darcy retrieved a paper from the stack of documents lying
on the table and re-examined his notes for the third time in as
many days. So intent on finding something new in the information he
had gathered on Wickham, he barely heard the light knock above the
constant, rhythmic crashing of the waves outside.

“Come,” Darcy answered, dropping his notes
back onto the pile. His face registered a mild surprise as Denham
entered the room, returning much sooner than expected. The surprise
quickly turned to satisfaction, however, as an almost imperceptible
change in the valet's naturally impassive expression told him there
was some success at last.

“I see you have something for me,” Darcy
smiled expectantly.

“Yes, sir. I have just returned from the
Scarlet Feather, one of the local establishments. At first I
thought to only stop in for a drink and ask a few questions. I was
regarded with a bit of suspicion at first – me not being a soldier
and all - but I had the feeling there was information to be had,
and so I decided to take more refreshment. After I ordered a three
course, they warmed right up. As the meal required several trips to
my table, I was able to strike up a conversation with the serving
girl. Her name is Millie and, with the help of a few coins, she had
an interesting tale to tell.”

“Excellent! What is it?”

“First, she was able to tell me that the
regiment is expected to return the day after tomorrow.”

“Two days! I am to remain in this useless
state for another two days?” Darcy protested. “Well, I shall bide
my time for now, but I will not waste another minute once he is
back! What else did this Millie have to say?”

“She tells me she is well-acquainted with
Lieutenant Wickham and his companions. They are regulars to the
establishment, every Wednesday and Saturday night when their
presence is not required elsewhere. She remembers him in particular
because when the regiment first arrived, he proved to be a very
charming officer full of empty promises and empty pockets. She was
left to pay his bill out of her earnings more than once.”

“Unfortunate for the girl, but nothing new
for Wickham,” Darcy snorted in contempt.

“That is just it, sir. Things are quite
different now. He pays his bill in full – every time – and even
buys a round for all on occasion. He tips quite generously as
well.”