Page 19 of Dear Friend

Now she could only hope those hands were somewhere on their way to Somerset, that Julia yet lived, and that each passing day found her a little stronger.

She crossed the room and picked up the letter, then set it down again. “Before I write, I mean to speak to Mrs. Tunley’s neighbour. Polly did not press for much. Perhaps, I may learn something else.”

Jane immediately offered to accompany her, and Kitty and Lydia were equally determined to go. Mrs. Bennet consented readily enough once she was assured that none of them intended to enter Mrs. Tunley’s cottage, though she accompanied her permission with several warnings against going anywhere near the door. Mary alone elected to remain at Longbourn, observing with some gravity that after so dangerous an illness, unnecessary exposure to the house would be most unwise.

“We shall speak only to the neighbour, Mama,” Elizabeth assured her, reaching for her bonnet.

Jane was already drawing on her gloves, while Kitty and Lydia hurried to fetch their own things. Elizabeth remained by the table a moment longer, looking down at the undelivered letter.

An hour ago she had thought she knew where Julia was, and had taken comfort in believing that her daily letter might lift Julia’s spirits. Now she could be certain of neither.

Elizabeth took up her gloves and followed her sisters from the room. She could do nothing about Julia’s sudden removal to Somerset, nor about whatever illness she might be suffering there, but Mrs. Tunley’s neighbour was within walking distance. A few minutes later, having taken leave of their mother, the four sisters set out for Meryton.

Chapter Six

20th July 1811

London

Darcy

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was waiting in the hall when Darcy came down, his coat still bearing the dust of the road and his expression carefully composed into something less than the alarm he plainly felt. He had evidently arrived only moments before.

“I saw Georgiana as I came in. She would scarcely lift her eyes to greet me, and looks as though she has not slept properly in a week.” Richard kept his voice low, mindful of any servant who might pass through the hall. “What has happened, Darcy? Your note said only that you had returned from Ramsgate with your sister and required me here directly.”

“Come into the study.”

Darcy led the way and shut the door firmly behind them, unwilling that a single word of what must now be said should travel beyond the room. He did not immediately sit. For a moment he stood with one hand resting upon the edge of his desk, uncertain where an account so nearly disastrous ought to begin.

“I very nearly lost her, Richard. Georgiana.” His fingers tightened against the polished wood. “She meant to elope. I discovered it only by chance, the day before they were to leave.”

Richard went very still. “With whom?”

“Wickham.” The name came with a bitterness Darcy made no effort to disguise.

“I arrived at the house in Ramsgate without giving notice and found him there, standing at the door as though he possessed every right to cross its threshold,” Darcy continued. “Two years I have sought that scoundrel, since he took my father’s ring from the house and disappeared with it, and at last I find him in my sister’s company, entirely at his ease.”

Richard stared at him. “You never told me he took your father’s ring.”

“Now you know.” Darcy sank at last into the chair behind his desk, the exhaustion of the preceding days asserting itself now that he had begun the telling. “It is only one offence amongst many. There have been debts enough these past years, difficulties I settled quietly for my father’s sake and, afterwards, from some lingering sense of obligation I ought to have abandoned much sooner. I believed myself finished with him.”

Richard made an impatient motion with one hand, as though Wickham’s earlier offences, however contemptible, might be put aside until the greater matter was understood. “Wait. You said Georgiana meant to elope with him?”

“Yes.” Darcy’s expression darkened. “When I left Georgiana with Mrs. Younge at Ramsgate at the end of May, Wickham contrived to renew his acquaintance with her. I had never told Georgiana the full extent of his conduct. She remembered him from Pemberley and had always regarded him with affection. He made use of that familiarity.”

“And persuaded her to receive him?”

“He persuaded her that he loved her.” Darcy looked away. “And that I would never consent to their marriage.”

Richard stared at him, his astonishment rendering him speechless for several moments. “She believed herself in love with him?” he asked at last.

It was not a question.

“She did. He convinced her that the only obstacle to their happiness was my refusal, and that there was therefore no hope of obtaining my consent by ordinary means. They meant to leave for Gretna Green the following day.”

Darcy’s hand had closed into a fist upon the desk. He became conscious of it and deliberately opened his fingers.

“I had been reading her last letter and determined, upon little more than impulse, to surprise her with a visit. Had I delayed another day...” He stopped. Even now he could not comfortably follow the thought to its conclusion. “I arrived in time. That is the whole of the mercy afforded us.”