Mr. Bingley was to return to Netherfield? Any other day, such news would fill Elizabeth with boundless joy, but the timing was terrible. “Jane will not feel herself in a position to accept him should he make an offer. Lydia’s scandal—”
“If Bingley’s resolve is not firm enough to withstand this trial, then he does not deserve to marry her. From what Darcy has told me, she has everything to recommend her. As for the potential for scandal … Bingley can afford to weather society’s scorn when he stands to win a wife who shall rise above it.”
Elizabeth hoped so. Jane had suffered more than enough senseless heartbreak lately. This reminded her of another lady who would be devastated to learn Mr. Darcy had vanished. “Have you told Miss Darcy?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted in his chair. “She iscoming to stay with my mother and sisters at Matlock House. We felt the news would be best delivered in person.”
Elizabeth nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“It is possible we will find Darcy before she arrives.” The tenderness in the colonel’s tone made her look up. He continued, “Between our efforts and the further assistance your father and uncle are willing to provide, wewillfind him.”
Elizabeth could not blink fast enough to contain her tears, which spilled over her cheeks. When she had learned he had arranged for Lydia to marry—thus saving her and her sisters from certain ruin—the small spark of hope in her heart had kindled into a flame that burned for Mr. Darcy. She loved him more than she had dreamed possible for her to love anyone.
And now, she must face the grim reality that she might never see him again.
The colonel cleared his throat and handed her his handkerchief. “How fares Miss Lydia?”
Dabbing her eyes and taking a sip of tea, Elizabeth was grateful for the change of topic. “I do not suppose the vicar has had a cancellation and the wedding could take place sooner?”
Aunt had told her all the details, relating that the colonel looked perilously close to piercing Wickham through when he refused to wed Lydia immediately. Elizabeth almost wished he had, for all the trouble the rake had caused her familyand the Darcys.
“I fear we must wait until Friday.”
Three days hence. Elizabeth sighed. As long as the previous night had been, three days sounded like an eternity.
Colonel Fitzwilliam continued, surprising Elizabeth by describing the adjustments he had made with Mr. Darcy’s man of business—matters gentlemen did not usually discuss with a lady, much less a lady who was not family. In conclusion, he stated, “There is nothing for Wickham to object to. They shall wed, and any talk of ruin shall be squelched before it can begin.”
If only it were so simple.Elizabeth said bitterly, “It is only Lydia who needs convincing now.”
The colonel sat forward in his chair. “What is this?”
“She threatened to swallow poison rather than marry Mr. Wickham. My aunt, her maid, and I must keep watch over her constantly.”
He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Hardly a promising beginning.” When he looked up again, his eyes were intense, his voice deep and sincere. “Would that we could turn back time—undo the senseless damage which separates two people who would otherwise be happy. I spoke out of turn that day at Rosings, and caused you and Darcy pain. I beg your forgiveness.”
Not a moment had passed since reading Mr. Darcy’s letter that Elizabeth did not wish the same. She could no sooner fault the colonel for his honesty and openness than excuse the real villain for his falsecharm. She had been completely taken in, and while Elizabeth could easily forgive Colonel Fitzwilliam’s loose tongue and Mr. Darcy’s interference, she could not forgive herself for her ignorant prejudice and stubborn pride.
“You have it. Only, find him. Please.”
If she ever saw Mr. Darcy again, she would seize the chance to make amends.
CHAPTER 9
It was daytime when Darcy woke. The clothing he had left to dry at the end of his hammock was gone.
Rising, careful not to entangle himself in the hammocks above or hit his head on the low ceiling, he stretched, enjoying the effortless movement all the more because he knew it would not last. Beckett would make certain he worked, and Alexandra would love to see him suffer in as many ways as her first mate could imagine.
He had planned to wake during the night, when there were sure to be fewer sailors to catch him snooping for clues of their location. If only he knew where the charts were kept.
Smoothing the wrinkles from the lawn shirt and rough trousers, he made his way to the upper deck, peeking inside every cabin he passed along the way.
Jaffa found him.
Darcy looked around for listeners. Lowering his voice, he said, “Thank you. If not for your advice, I would have perished last night.”
Jaffa shook his head firmly. “Cap’n Alex knew you would survive.”
Darcy frowned. “How can you say that? She tried to kill me.”
