She understood Mr. Darcy now, and despite the complications surrounding the Rembrandt—perhaps because of them—she respected him more. What she felt for him surpassed a fleeting infatuation. She loved him.
Darcy triedto apply himself to his letters, but he lacked concentration. Every thought, every breath and blink brought him back to Elizabeth. His thoughts ought to be occupied with his sister, whose disappointment was so great she suffered from a headache and had isolated herself in her rooms.
Slumping forward, he propped his elbows on the desk and cradled his head in his hands. There was no helping him. He loved Elizabeth. And she was the one woman he could not have. Mr. Bennet would not even see him; he would certainly not agree to allow Darcy to marry his favorite daughter. It was hopeless.
Leaning back, he pulled her sketch out of his pocket and the envelope he created to protect the charcoal from smudging in his pocket. He would much rather have one of her likeness, but he took great comfortknowing that she saw him through kind eyes. He heard her laughter in his mind and felt his lips tug into a smile in response.
Glancing around him, he tucked the sketch back into his pocket and stood before he could start imagining a conversation between them and talking to himself.
He needed something to do. He could help Bingley find Archie.
But first, he must check on Georgiana. He glanced at the clock standing in the corner. It had been over an hour since she had retired to her rooms. Not wanting to wake her, he tapped on Mrs. Annesley’s adjoining room. “How is she?” he asked.
“She is sound asleep. She asked not to be disturbed until dinner.”
Darcy’s concern increased exponentially. Dinner would not be for hours.
Mrs. Annesley smiled understandingly. “I had thought to peek inside her room without waking her to ensure all is well.” She understood him perfectly.
“I shall accompany you.” Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, he opened Georgiana’s door.
As expected, he saw where she lay sleeping in her bed. Mrs. Annesley reached to close the door, but he stopped her, unable to tear his eyes away from the lumpy bed. Something was not right. The room was too quiet. The figure in the bed was too still.
Moving silently in case his instincts were wrong, Darcy tip-toed to Georgiana’s bedside. His stomachtwisted as he got closer. Her hair was not visible on the pillow. Had she covered her head with the blankets?
Hoping with every fiber of his being that his instincts were wrong, he pulled the blankets back… and saw a narrow mound of feather pillows.
Panic surged in his breast. Georgiana was gone! Alone! Had she run away? Where would she go?
Mrs. Annesley was at his side, one hand over her heart. “I shall enlist the help of the servants.”
“Tell only Mrs. Nichols and the scullery maid named Molly.” They were trustworthy and would not alert the Hursts?who had not called with Bingley at Longbourn?about Georgiana’s disappearance. “I am going to the stables. Richard is there. Perhaps Georgiana is with him.” That was unlikely, as she clearly had wished for her absence to go unnoticed.
Darcy ran downstairs and out to the stables, his mind reeling. If she tried to get a horse, Richard would have seen her. One of their grooms would have informed them of her actions. She had almost an hour and a half advantage. If she was on foot, she could not be more than three to five miles away… unless she secured a horse or arranged for a conveyance. In which direction would she most likely travel? South to London, or north to Pemberley? She had retired to her room after learning that Darcy had failed to return with her painting. Perhaps she had called at Longbourn. Would she try to talk to Mr. Bennet? Darcy groaned. Not only was she bound to be disappointed again, but Miss Bingley would witness her defeat.
Potential scenarios heightened his panic. Georgiana was injured. She was accosted by a band of ruffians. She was kidnapped by a highwayman.
By the time he reached the stable, he burst inside, causing Bingley’s groom to look up from polishing a saddle and the stable boy to set down the wheelbarrow he had been carting. “Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Darcy asked with enough calm to encourage the stable boy to continue with his duties.
The groom nodded down the hall of stalls. “Third on the right.”
After giving his thanks, Darcy followed the groom’s directions and crossed his arms over his chest to hold himself together when he saw Richard casually brushing his horse. “Is Georgiana here?”
His cousin stopped brushing. “No.”
“Have you seen her?”
Instinctively, Richard reached for Constance. “Tell me what has happened.”
“She is gone. She put pillows in her bed and asked not to be disturbed.”
“She sneaked out?!”
Darcy shushed him. If word got out, Georgiana’s reputation would be in peril. It was his responsibility and Richard’s to protect her, and they had failed. Again.
Richard crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. “Impressive.”
Had he gone mad? “No, it is not! She could be hurt or in danger or lost or… We need to find her!”
