Page 67 of Near Pemberley

“But I do not believe a single act of folly ought to condemn a person entirely – particularly when others far guiltier escape censure far more easily.”

Lydia stared at him. For perhaps the first time since coming to London, Lydia felt herself treated with seriousness rather than contempt.

Darcy drew a slow breath and straightened slightly, returning again to practical composure. “You will remain quietly with my sister for the present. She is kind-hearted, and I think… perhaps… the two of you may comfort one another better than either expects.”

Lydia began crying again, though quieter than before.

Darcy turned towards the darkened window.

Beyond it lay London – vast, indifferent, and full of places where a man might conceal himself if he wished.

Wickham had succeeded for nearly two months.

He would not succeed much longer.

Chapter XVI

Darcy did not retire directly after leaving the establishment in Bloomsbury.

Though the hour had grown exceedingly late and London itself seemed at last beginning to sink into uneasy silence, his mind remained far too active for rest. The events of the evening had altered everything with such violence that stillness became impossible.

Lydia Bennet had been found.

Safe – or as nearly safe as circumstances now permitted.

And Wickham had vanished.

Darcy entered his study shortly after returning to Grosvenor Square and remained there until dawn began faintly whitening the windows behind him. More than once, he attempted to arrange his thoughts rationally; yet every effort returned him to the same intolerable conclusion:

Miss Elizabeth had endured all this believing her sister lost beyond recovery. The image would not leave him.

He imagined the horror of the first letter. The weeks afterwards. The silence. The growing disgrace spreading through Meryton, with no relief in sight. And beneath it all, Elizabeth’s own self-reproach, which he knew too well she would feel, whether justified or not.

His exhaustion had hardened into a decision by morning.

Wickham must be found.

Not merely pursued. Not merely reasoned with. Found and stopped before he escaped again.

Darcy rang for Fletcher, his valet, almost as soon as the household stirred.

“You will go to Bloomsbury directly,” said he. “You will bring Miss Lydia Bennet here directly.”

Fletcher inclined his head.

“A maid and carriage will accompany you. Choose someone discreet. He placed a packet of notes upon the desk. “Two hundred pounds. The proprietor is to receive it without discussion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She will be received here as my sister’s guest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Darcy paused only briefly before adding, “And Fletcher – ensure she understands she is entirely safe now.”

Something in the gravity of the instruction caused the servant’s expression to soften slightly.

“Certainly, sir.”