He collapsed on her shoulder, gasping and shaking like a child. Her shawl was wet—was it his tears? He crushed her to him, trembling and heaving.
Elizabeth’s arms were about him, her hands stroking over his back, into his hair. “You are safe, William! They are gone. You are safe, I am here,” she repeated.
Still, he did not loosen his grip. His body racked with panicked spasms as he drank in great draughts of fresh, free air. Elizabeth had given up on speech, and merely crooned nonsense into his ear. He pressed his eyes against her neck and held her for dear life.
Chapter fifty-six
Ithadbeenovertwo hours, and William was still not speaking more than one or two words at a time. Elizabeth allowed him to retain her hand, never losing contact for a moment, but the fear still haunted his soft, dark eyes, and he still sought her face before attempting a response to anyone.
Georgiana and Lydia came and went, as well as Mrs Reynolds and Mr Hodges. It seemed that every servant on the entire estate had rallied to form a party of warrior sentinels, all crying justice for their master, but mercifully the two senior staff members were able to quell the tide of outrage. All save they, and Mr O’Donnell, had been ordered from the room where Darcy held a drink in his trembling hand.
“You are certain, Mr O’Donnell, that you saw no others?”
The tall, red-haired footman shook his head with energy. “None, Miss Bennet, just those two. I saw them come from the woods near the lake, and they cut through the rear of the garden maze. That was when I alerted the house.”
Georgiana passed a cup of hot tea to Lydia. “I do not understand,” she frowned. “I thought all the entrances to the estate had been watched more closely these last days. From where could these men have come?”
“With all due respect, Miss Darcy,” Hodges put in, “a determined man may come round where there is no path.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Have their horses been found?”
Hodges hesitated, then looked to the footman. Mr O’Donnell swallowed. “I found a fishing boat, Miss Bennet. The streams flowing in and out of the lake are still wide enough at this time of year that boats come through on occasion. No one would have thought a thing about it, until after they had gone.”
Elizabeth glanced down as Darcy’s hand flinched within hers. She could well understand his frustration. Pemberley had always held the reputation as a gracious, accommodating estate to visitors, but now its master was made to suffer for his hospitality.
Georgiana seemed no less agitated. The girl’s eyes flashed with a rare anger, and she sat straighter and taller than Elizabeth had yet seen. “So, what are we to do with these men? You have questioned them, have you not? Who is their employer?”
“Unfortunately, Miss Darcy, they both claimed Mr Jefferson’s name.”
William’s eyes found hers. Elizabeth waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. His jaw worked, his breathing quickened, and he looked as uncomfortable as he had on that day in the Hunsford parsonage. She squeezed his hand, understanding.
“Thank you, Mr Hodges and Mr O’Donnell,” she dismissed them. “I think that will be all for now. Please send word if anything more is found.”
The men left the room, and William seemed to sag in relief. She turned to him. “Do you think Mr Jefferson truly hired all those men? Could he have sent them on behalf of more than one person?”
He pursed his lips, took a calming breath, and nodded. “Jefferson had the money.”
“So that explains all of it,” Georgiana decided. “Itwashe, all along!”
William shook his head and gripped Elizabeth’s hand painfully. He looked to her one more time for reassurance, then his gaze traveled wistfully to his sister. “Someone wanted you, and I was in the way.”
Her eyes rounded in horror, then her features hardened. “I want to know who is behind this! I have had enough of hiding away here at Pemberley, Fitzwilliam, and I have no intention of losing my brother again! Let us go to London right now!”
“What shall you look for?” asked Elizabeth. “How are we to know where to begin?”
“The deed,” Darcy sighed. “We begin there, if it exists.” A tremor passed through him, a remnant of the day’s terror, and Elizabeth wrapped her second hand over his.
“William, perhaps you should take some refreshment,” she urged.
He made no response, merely stared ahead at the bookshelves. He was pale, his eyes still dilated, and she could feel the bounding pulse in his wrist. She feared for his state of mind. Finding himself again in the same helpless position—blinded, bound, and unable to free himself—seemed to have thrust him back into that dark place of his captivity. What would be his reaction when she must inevitably separate from him for the night? Even adjourning to their rooms to change for dinner seemed beyond him at the moment.
Elizabeth sent a glance to their respective sisters. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “we will take our refreshments here this evening.”
So it happened that the delayed afternoon tea became an abbreviated and highly informal evening meal in the library. Elizabeth waited, Georgiana coaxed, and Lydia watched in unaccustomed silence, but William was no more at peace by ten that evening than he had been several hours earlier. Elizabeth stretched her hand within his and stifled a yawn.
He turned to her. “I am keeping you from rest,” he admitted.
“I like libraries,” she smiled and caressed his forearm. “I have spent many a sleepless night in this one.”
