When I learned that Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam departed via a phaeton and had yet to return, I set the staff to scouring the town in the hope he had rented her a room or a different cottage. The two could not be found, but some of the staff returned with reports of a phaeton matching their description taking the north road. Given theirapparent absence from Ramsgate and their complete lack of communication, it is my fear they have run off together.
Sir, I do not know what to do. I can only hope you have had some communication with either your sister or cousin that refutes my fear. If not, your presence is required with all speed.
Mrs. M. Younge
“The man who brought it was relieved to find you here, sir,” Darcy’s butler said tentatively. “Said he had been ordered to stop here, but to continue on to Pemberley if you were not found in London.”
“It makes no sense,” Darcy murmured, shock spiraling through him. Richard running off with Georgiana? Richard had never shown any indication of viewing Georgiana as anything other than a much younger sister. And Georgiana…she loved Richard but she had no romantic feelings for their cousin. Darcy was certain of that. And what of this ‘sudden illness?’ How could an illness come on so suddenly and thoroughly? Had his sister been abducted, with Mrs. Younge a coconspirator?
Then there were the papers Darcy had less than an hour ago signed. Richard protecting Georgiana’s dowry from himself? Or endeavoring to show that was not why he wanted to marry her?
No. Darcy shook his head. He could not think that about Richard. Him running off with Georgiana defied all reason. Something else had taken place. Darcy knew not what, but something that didn’t involve his favorite cousin deserting his post, for he would have needed to in order to flee north, and absconding with Georgiana.
“Send for Patrick,” Darcy said in reference to his valet. “Ready my horse and my carriage. I must depart immediately.”
“Sir?”
Darcy looked up from the letter he held to find his butler staring at him in concern. “My sister needs me.”
Shoving Mrs. Younge’s note into his pocket, Darcy stepped past his butler, unwilling to tell the man any more. He took the stairs two at a time, his mind racing ahead to the route they must travel. To the inns they would check on their way south.
He had to hurry. He had to leave. Now. Whatever was transpiring, Darcy wouldn’t find any answers here in London.
Chapter Three
Darcy stared at the woman seated before him, taking in how her every feature creased with misery. How she twined her hands so tightly in her lap that her knuckles stretched white. The anguish radiating from Mrs. Younge seemed incongruous with the airy cream-and-floral parlor of the cottage he’d rented for Georgiana’s stay in Ramsgate. As did her limp demeanor, thinness, and pallor, for Mrs. Younge indeed appeared to have been ill for some days. Had his sister and Richard in fact poisoned her, or had they simply used Mrs. Younge’s indisposition to make their escape?
Trying not to loom menacingly, yet unable to sit with so much agitation roiling through him, Darcy stood before Mrs. Younge, the woman he’d hired to protect his sister, and said slowly, “Let me see if I have this correct. My cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, spent the past month here, calling on Georgiana nearly daily, until, last week, the two departed together?”
Mrs. Younge nodded, the movement jerky. “He joined us for tea, as had become his habit. The last thing I recall of that day was becoming suddenly ill, and Miss Darcy helping me to my room. When I woke, days later, and asked after Miss Darcy, I was informed of their departure. I sent the staff out looking, and when they found nothing but rumor of a phaeton that matched their description departing town, going north, I searched Miss Darcy’s chamber. Her jewelry is gone.”
Tightness clenched Darcy’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. “And you have not seen nor heard anything since? Received no communication from them?”
“Nothing. I sent a rider to locate you, and had the footmen keep searching. Two here in Ramsgate, and two following the north road.”
“This makes no sense,” Darcy muttered.
Richard and Georgiana? It was…impossible. Laughable. Except, no mirth touched the room in which he stood.
“I am so very, very sorry. I should have written to you to ask permission for Colonel Fitzwilliam to spend time with Miss Darcy.” Mrs. Younge shook her head. “It is no excuse, but he is her cousin and co-guardian, and twice her age. More than that, though I admit I had never met him until he happened upon us here, he has a reputation as an honorable gentleman. I had no thought, no idea, he would abscond with her.”
“No,” Darcy murmured, pressing fingers to his forehead in a fruitless attempt to dispel the pounding there. “No. How could you?” And yet, despite the reasonableness of her error, despite her strange illness, she had failed. She must be dismissed. Nor could he provide her with any references. Not after how unsuccessfully she’d discharged her duty. “And you already have men searching? Following them north?”
“I do.”
Still, he would need to go. He must make every attempt to overtake the two, though he was days behind and had already asked at every inn between London and Ramsgate, and learned nothing. He should write to—
He halted that thought. What good would writing to Richard do? Would anyone even know where to find him? Should Darcy write to his uncle instead?
The thought of informing the earl that Richard had run off with Georgiana made Darcy queasy. There simply must be some other explanation than the obvious one. Richard would not do this.
“I should have known,” Mrs. Younge said bitterly. “A man that charming, with that handsome a visage, cousin and guardian or not, should be left alone with no woman, let alone an impressionable one of fifteen.” She shook her head, the picture of misery. “I should have known.”
Darcy dropped his hand, the pain in his head forgotten. “Handsome?” Affable. Reliable. Easy to converse with. Those were terms people used to describe Richard.
Mrs. Younge blinked up at him. “Well, yes. I would say so. Most anyone would say so.”
Darcy shook his head. “No, most would not. Describe him to me.”
