The warmth left Darcy’s countenance in an instant.
“I do not expect Colonel Forster will prove more effective now than he has before,” Darcy said curtly, turning to the footman. “Peter, ride to Netherfield. Inform Hurst of what we have discovered, and ask him to inform Mr Bennet of what we have learnt. Then, he can communicate with Grant. Between them, they may rouse the neighbouring tenants to assist in the search. The men of Longbourn and Netherfield can help us scour the roads.”
He turned back to Richard.
“In the meantime, we ride north. If the scoundrel has left a trace, we shall find it.”
A muscle worked in his jaw.
“At least the ladies are together. That may preserve them from the worst consequences, should we fail to overtake them at once.”
Fitzwilliam gave a single tight nod.
“North, then.”
Darcy looked once more to the footman. “Assume he will favour the smaller roads. Search where you may, and if you find sign of Wickham, follow and then send word back as soon as you can. With luck, we shall soon have the blaggard in hand and the ladies safely returned.”
They set their heels to their horses and surged forward, the animals leaping eagerly into a hard canter while the footman wheeled his mount and rode back towards Netherfield.
Darcy keptthe colonel close beside him as they turned their horses on the main carriage roads towards Luton—not the great turnpike, but those routes sufficiently travelled to bear a heavy carriage without attracting undue notice. Wickham would avoid the narrow byways that scarcely deserved the name of road, yet he would be equally wary of the most conspicuous thoroughfares.
“They may think us fools for this,” Richard called across the short distance between them. “The others will likely press northeast towards Stevenage.”
“They may,” Darcy replied, “yet I cannot believe Wickham would risk the Great North Road. He has not the funds to change horses often. He will prefer the quieter way and expect us to hunt for him where traffic is thickest, supposing he may lose himself in the press. He will not expect us to pursue him here.”
Richard swore under his breath. “The damnable fool is trying to be clever.”
“He has ever thought to outwit those who pursue him,” Darcy replied. “Unfortunately, I know too well how his mind works.”
So little time had elapsed between Wickham’s departure with the ladies in their coach and Richard’s discovery of the coachman that Darcy refused to think him already safe within the village or beyond.
“We may yet come upon him,” he said. “If he has reached Luton, the horses will require rest, and he will be obliged to remain there for some time.”
Richard nodded sharply. “Then we look to the inns at the edge of the town.”
“That is our best course,” Darcy answered, still holding out hope they might come upon the carriage before they were compelled to search so far afield.
Hope that the ordeal might soon be ended—for Elizabeth’s sake, if nothing else—rose, sharp and unwelcome, in his chest, but he did not attempt to quell it. His gelding, Hector, was fresh beneath him and could carry him to Luton in less than an hour,if need demanded it, which it did at this moment. Nor would Richard be delayed; his mare Vixen was spirited and eager for the run, pressing against her rider’s hand as though she, too, understood what was at stake. Richard was as tense as Darcy had ever seen him, and he recognised in him the man who rode into battle.
“If he has misjudged,” Darcy said at last, “if he has trusted more to confusion than to speed, we may still have him before the village lies behind him.”
For some time, they rode in silence, their eyes casting around them looking for anything that might give them a clue as to where the Bennet carriage may have gone.
They had travelled nearly five miles before a carriage came into view ahead of them. It appeared vaguely familiar, and Darcy’s breath tightened as he recognised the pale green panels and the pair of chestnuts harnessed before it—horses he had seen more than once in the stables at Millwood during their frequent visits.
The carriage moved slowly, almost dragging upon the road, and both men instinctively checked their own mounts.
Darcy narrowed his eyes towards the box. He thought he could distinguish Wickham’s figure seated there; at this distance he could not be entirely certain.
Without speaking, he inclined his head towards the carriage.
Richard understood the unspoken message at once.
“The coachman said he was armed,” Richard murmured, careful that his voice did not carry.
“He was always a terrible shot,” Darcy replied. “I should be more concerned that we might strike someone unintended if we firedon him, even as a warning. There is also no guarantee that the horses would not react badly to the sound of a shot.”
“Then we should plan an ambush,” Richard said thoughtfully. “We could ride through the fields there, so he would not see who approached, and stop him just before he reaches the village. If we rode quickly enough, we might find a few men to help us secure him. Once he is delivered to the magistrate, he may answer not only for kidnapping, but for desertion from the militia as well. Charges of that sort are not treated lightly.”
