“For a price. How long, Darcy?”
“Hmm? How long what?”
Richard stepped near, shaking his finger. “How long do you mean to keep cleaning up after the Wickhams? Bribing and shepherding them into rectitude, settling their debts, mending the path of destruction in their wake?”
Darcy threw a hand in the air in exasperation. “What would you have me do? You see what he has done, whom he has harmed. You were bitter at me after I got you to wed Anne, but can you think of a happier resolution?”
Richard grumbled, rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the desk. “No,” he admitted through clenched teeth. “It is not as if I expected to hold any special affection for the lady if I ever married, and I needed a bride with a fortune.”
“Precisely. Anne’s needs and yours were both satisfied, and the family honour preserved. Yet, if I had not nearly forced the issue, can you say it would have come about?”
“You are deliberately avoiding my point, Darcy. What of Wickham? He has gone from one offence to another for years, and will continue to do so as long as you pick up the pieces.”
Darcy looked towards the window. “You know why I cannot confront him openly. Georgiana’s reputation—”
“A pitiful excuse. Why not do as you did with Bernard and send him to prison?”
Darcy rose from the desk with a hiss. “He has been shrewder in his debts. I searched last autumn but discovered very little of use.”
“And you did not ask me for help?”
Darcy cocked an eyebrow at his cousin. “If I recall correctly, you were still threatening to knock me down if I came near.”
Richard stroked his jaw in thought. “Oh, yes. I would have helped you back up, you know.”
Darcy offered a sort of laugh, then a knock came at the door. At Darcy’s summons, the footman opened it and announced a harried, red-faced Bingley.
“Ah, there you are,” Darcy greeted him. “I had almost given you up. You remember Richard, of course.”
Bingley spared a short nod for Fitzwilliam, then came forward. “Darcy, I have just come from Corbett. Something dreadful has happened!”
The room turned cold, and Darcy’s stomach twisted in dread. “Mrs Wickham? Is she injured?”
“No, no, it is Miss Lydia. She has disappeared!”
“Miss Lydia?” Darcy repeated. “When did this happen?”
“This afternoon, they said. I rode by—just a bit of a detour before coming here,” he confessed with an abashed look. “Miss Jane met me in the drive, saying that Miss Lydia had gone, and Mrs Wickham is out going round to all the farmhouses looking for her. I came here as quickly as I could.”
“I feared that one would be trouble,” Darcy answered tightly. “I will come at once.” Fitzwilliam was already at the door of the study, calling for his hat and coat. Darcy and Bingley followed close on his heels.
DarcyfoundMrsBennetin a fit of hysterics to rival any thrown by his most flamboyant aunts. She greeted the search party from her sofa, a lace handkerchief fluttering about her ample bosom as her middle daughter strove to keep a vial of salts before her ever-wandering face.
“What has become of her?” she lamented. “My poor sweet Lydia, my innocent girl!”
“When did you last see her?” Darcy asked for the third time. “Was she here at luncheon?”
“Oh! I hardly know, I am in such a bad way. Lizzy would know, but she has gone off too, and for all I know they are both carried away to heaven knows what kind of fate. My poor girls! How could they do this to me?”
Miss Bennet sighed and spoke the first words of sense Darcy had heard since coming to the house. “Lydia was here at breakfast, but she asked for a large basket to be packed for a picnic. I heard nothing of this until later, but the kitchen girl did as she asked. I hardly know how Lydia could have carried it, if it was as full as Millie claims. Lydia told Kitty she was going walking with Lizzy, but then she told Lizzy that she was going out with Kitty. We knew nothing until luncheon when she did not return, for Lydia never misses a meal, and she is too addle-headed to embark on anything more than a quarter-mile walk.”
“Has she any friends among the villagers?”
Miss Bennet pressed her lips together. “She would never go with us when we took baskets round, so I do not believe so.”
Darcy caught Bingley’s eye, for the latter had drawn close to his lady and was standing protectively behind her. “Where has Mrs Wickham gone, do you think?”
Miss Bennet gestured helplessly. “I expect she has been almost everywhere by now. I do not know where to tell you to look for her, but perhaps we may hope that she has discovered Lydia somewhere, and they are even now on their way back.”
