A light tapping drove the remembrance from his mind. Marking his place in the Scriptures, he crossed quietly to the door. Expecting the maid with the meal he had ordered earlier, he was shocked to find his wife on the other side of the portal. “Lizzy,” he rasped. A heartbeat later, he had scooped her into his arms. “You are a most blessed sight,” he said as he rained kisses across her cheeks and eyes. “But how?” As if fearful that she was some sort of apparition, Darcy pulled her closer.
“I followed you,” she said simply. “We should speak privately.”
Darcy belatedly realized the inappropriateness of kissing his wife in the open hallway. “Come.” After closing Joseph's door so his wife could not see the clergyman in repose, he pulled her into the
next room. Inside his own rented quarters, he took Elizabeth into his embrace again. “The Lord has answered my prayers.”
“And mine,” she said as she kissed him tenderly. When their lips parted, she gave a wavering smile. With a release of the pent-up breath she had held since learning of her husband's presence at the inn, she said, “Speak to me of Mr. Joseph's injury. Mr. Simpson says you were set upon by a highwayman.”
“Simpson?” he asked.
Elizabeth's tone spoke of urgency. “I shall explain Mr. Simpson's presence in a bit, but please know that Mrs. Joseph is below, and we cannot keep her husband's condition secret.”
Darcy released her and began to pace the small open area. “No highwayman. Lieutenant Wickham.” His wife paled, and he assisted her to a chair. “The bullet was meant for me. Because of my association with Lieutenant Wickham, Mr. Joseph could lose his life.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam.” When he knelt before her, Elizabeth cupped his hand between her two. “You had no way of anticipating Lieutenant Wickham's duplicity.”
“But the lieutenant warned us that he would seek his revenge,” he countered.
“Yet, not as this,” she insisted. “None of us could predict the man would sink to this level.”
Darcy released her to pace again. “Joseph must survive this, or I will never forgive myself. My foolish pride has cost an innocent much.”
Elizabeth took his hand and kissed his palm. “Lieutenant Wickham constructs one quagmire after another. You are not responsible for his choices.”
Darcy bit back his response. He would know regret forever. “Mrs. Joseph should be told of her husband's condition. You and I can debate who bears the most fault at a later date.”
“I shall go.” Elizabeth nodded to her husband. “Mary is my friend.”
“Hurry your return,” Darcy pleaded. “I am in great need of your closeness.”
“O God, your Son accepted our sufferings to teach us the virtue of patience in human illness,” Mary led the others in prayer. “Hear the prayers we offer for our loving husband, father, brother, and friend. May all who suffer know that they are joined to Christ, for our Lord suffered for the salvation of the world. Protect Matthew and give him peace during this ordeal. Amen.”
Darcy and Elizabeth had remained in the background as a very shaken Mary Joseph had tended to her injured husband. She had immediately forgiven Darcy of any blame in what had happened to Joseph. “I would prefer to think that Matthew saved your life because you are needed elsewhere. Mrs. Darcy shall share her own concerns with you.” Then she had caught Mr. Joseph's hand and had kissed it tenderly. Ruth Joseph had placed William on the bed with his father before joining her brother's wife in her vigil.
“Come,” Elizabeth had whispered. “It is in God's hands now.” She and Darcy slipped from the room. “Mrs. Joseph is correct. We must speak privately.”
Holding the door to his room open for her, he said, “I had hoped Mr. Joseph's injury was the worst of it, but the constant scowl gracing your countenance tells me otherwise.”
“You know me well enough, Fitzwilliam, to know I would not risk Bennet's life on Scottish roads if I did not think it necessary.”
He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Although I prefer to think you could not withstand the despair of having me gone from Pemberley, I suppose you should tell me why you have followed me to Scotland.”
Elizabeth relished the steady beat of his most loyal heart, and she dreaded the possibility of hurting him. “Although I fear what I have to share shall give you pain, I must speak honestly.” She paused to add her other hand. With a sigh of defeat, Elizabeth described Lord Lindale's visit, the erroneous report sent by the military, the gist of his cousin's letter regarding the major general's tardy return to England, and the Countess's attempt to assuage Georgiana's heartbreak.
During her recitation, she had felt her husband's pulse quicken under her fingertips, but he calmly said, “My aunt acted foolishly, but Edward's return will ease any anguish Georgiana may have suffered. I would not wish my sister even one moment of grief, but this is easily rectified. Yet, it does not explain your journey, Elizabeth. As you so aptly stated earlier, you would not risk Bennet's life on the road simply to bring me belated news. Tell me the rest.”
Elizabeth lovingly caressed his jaw. This man was her universe. “I had planned to send a rider to Mrs. Fitzwilliam to correct the Countess's too-early assumption, but then Papa brought me a message, which had been mixed in with the Longbourn correspondence.” She reached in her pocket to retrieve the folded-over letter. “You should read it yourself.”
Darcy reluctantly accepted the papers and stepped away to light another candle. Then he unfolded the page and read the words that set his hands trembling. “This is impossible,” he rasped on a sob.
Elizabeth fought for her own control. “Of course, it is impossible. If Georgiana⦔ She could not say the words. “We would know,” she declared with certainty. “Your heart would know, as well as mine.”
Darcy ran his fingers through his hair. “I dreamed of my sister last evening,” he said hoarsely. “In a lucid moment, Mr. Joseph spoke of his wife and child. Later, as I sat with him, I dozed off. You and Bennet were paramount, but I also pictured Georgiana wrapped in
my mother's arms. Just as she was the first time I laid eyes on her. She was perfection, and my mother doted on her.”
“Every child is perfection,” Elizabeth murmured and rested her hand on her abdomen in that protective way of mothers. Wrapped in thoughts of his sister, Darcy took no note of her maternal gesture.
“Could my dream have been God's warning that Georgiana rests with my mother?” he asked distractedly.
“Did you not also dream of Bennet and me? The letter was addressed more than a week past. Although we have both expressed our anxiousness over Georgiana's early departure from Pemberley, neither of us has sensed danger surrounding our sister. Even your dream was of happy times. Of a time when Georgiana remained protected by her family. You simply continued to grieve for Georgiana's moving into a new phase of her life. You would keep her a little girl forever.” She smiled at him. “You have been the best of brothers.”
“We should leave for Alpin Hall immediately,” he declared.
Elizabeth walked into his embrace. “Not until morning, my love,” she said as her arms encircled his waist. “We must see to Mr. Joseph first.” His automatically pulling her closer spoke of his need to protect her from harm, and she gladly accepted the unspoken promise. “We must support Mary and Miss Joseph.” Darcy did not object, but Elizabeth realized that he would not be easy with the wait. “One of the blacks has taken on a stone near his frog. He cannot continue. I have instructed Mr. Simpson to locate a suitable replacement. We can leave in the morning.”
“You have thought of everything,” he murmured as he aimlessly stroked her back. Every nerve in Darcy's body sang of his need for action.
Elizabeth tightened her grip. “It is my province to see to your peace of mind, Mr. Darcy. That was my pursuit's purpose.
Tomorrow we shall continue north, and we shall either welcome Georgiana into our embrace, or we shall oversee her rescue. I refuse to countenance the possibility of another ending to this nightmare.”
Darcy kissed the top of her head. “Mrs. Joseph requires your sensible counsel as much as I. While you see to the lady, I will speak to Mr. Simpson. I wish to ascertain his progress.”
The girl suspected that the MacBethans had placed something in both her food and her water to keep her mind less engaged. Although she would not refuse the food, she would do what she could to minimize the effects. When the boy-man the family called Aulay had last visited her, she had asked to share his ale rather than to drink from the cool water she had been provided. Lost to the hotly contested game in which they partook, the man had barely taken notice of her sipping from his tankard.
And it had made a difference. She had had the same troubling dreams as before, but this time she had awakened with remnants of the dream still clinging to her memory, and she would use those memories to orchestrate her own release.
First, I should learn more of this place
, she had told herself.
And the easiest way to do so is to appear to accept the path Lady Wotherspoon has chosen for me.
He had stopped twice for directions and to listen for any rumors regarding Alpin Hall and its residents. Therefore, it was with confidence that George Wickham released the brass knocker and waited for someone to admit him. As he waited, Wickham examined the capabilities of that end of the house. The lawn, bounded on each side by a high wall, contained beyond the first planted area a bowling
green, and beyond the bowling green a long terrace walk, backed by iron palisades, and commanding a view over them into the tops of the trees of the wilderness immediately adjoining. Finally, after several wavering minutes, the door slid open on silent hinges. “Yes, Sir?” an elderly butler asked.
“I am Mr. Hurlbert, the Fitzwilliams' cousin. The family has sent me to deal with the situation which has recently occurred.” He spoke with as much military bravado as he could muster. From those at the nearest inn, Wickham had learned of Mrs. Fitzwilliam's disappearance and how the neighborhood had searched to no avail for Darcy's sister.
“We be expectin' the Major General,” the man said suspiciously.
Wickham smiled his most solicitous smile. “Wellington has delayed the Major General's return, and Lord Lindale has a new child. Surely, you have heard as such. Besides, I live in Cumbria, much closer than either Lincolnshire or Derbyshire. Now, will you permit a proper admittance or must I tarry on the steps a bit longer?”
The butler blustered as he swung the door wider. “Of course, Sir. I be Jacks. Me wife and I tend the house when the family not be in residence.”
“Just the two of you?” Wickham asked as he surveyed the main foyer. He could sleep in luxury for a couple of days before he would need to seek another place to stay. He had assumed that Darcy would wait until he knew the clergyman's fate before giving chase. Wickham knew enough of his long-time foe's pride to realize that Darcy would not inform the authorities of the attack. Darcy had always hidden their interactions because of the previous Mr. Darcy's fondness for his godson. Fitzwilliam Darcy would attempt the impossible to preserve Pemberley's reputation. No, Darcy would come for him himself. Wickham would eventually have to face Darcy, but he did not fear the local magistrate looking for him.