Page 62 of Her Affections and Wishes

What would she do now that her attempt to poison Elizabeth had been inadvertently foiled? The footman had said Lady Metcalfe came out with Elizabeth hours ago, but where were they? What would she do to her?

The effects of the poison were nothing to the horror he felt now.

He could not give in to the panic and the anxiety threatening to bury him. Darcy ran into the house, and within minutes had demanded everyone search for Lady Metcalfe and Elizabeth, inside the house and out. On his way back outside, he went into the kitchens to ask the cook about Elizabeth’s tea.

“Lady Metcalfe had me make it for Miss Bennet,” she answered. “Came down herself rather than send her lady. It was that important to her.”

“Did you see her add anything to it?”

“No,” she said, disappointing him. “But she told me the sugar bowl was nearly empty. I turned round to get more, and she stirred it in herself. Rather presumptuous of her, I thought. Let the lady sweeten it as she likes. Is it true it was poisoned, sir? No one at Woodcote would put arsenic in anything!”

He ignored her and strode from the kitchen. The magistrate would sort it all out. Once Darcy mustered the servants, he went back outside with several people to search the grounds. His throat burned, and his hands and feet were being pricked by a thousand pins, but doing nothing when Elizabeth was in danger would destroy him long before the arsenic did.

He was about to head into Woodcote’s park where he and Elizabeth walked on Monday, when the head groom called his name. “We found this by the stables.”

In his outstretched hand was the love token he had given Elizabeth. The coin was dirty and the chain was broken. Darcy snatched it and carefully cleaned the dirt from the inscription. It must have been ripped from her neck in a struggle.

“The stables?” he muttered. Elizabeth did not ride. “Did no one see anything?” he demanded. “Why are there so few people working at the stables?”

“Mrs Tessier travels little, and only Mr Henry rides. Her guests bring their own grooms when they visit.”

It was not their fault there were few servants, not their fault Lady Metcalfe had done this. In a steadier voice, he asked, “Are any carriages or horses missing?”

The groom took a quick glance inside. “Mrs Tessier’s open landau. Said she did not want anyone on a roof after what happened to Miss Bennet. The coachman took her to the races with Mr Henry. Mr Travers and Sir John rode their own horses.”

“But Lady Metcalfe’s coach and horses are still here?”

“Aye. Only other missing is the cart and an old pony.”

That seemed odd. “Who would have taken that?”

“Usually only the butler or housekeeper if they have an errand in Epsom and don’t like to walk.”

They were both still at Woodcote. “Find out who took it,” he growled.

The answer came a quarter of an hour later from the sole stableboy. “A boy,” he said. “About an hour before you started hollering for us to find the missing lady.”

“A boy?” Darcy repeated. That was not the answer he expected.

“At first, I thought it was Mr Henry. The fancy clothes looked like his. The lad said he served one of the guests and had an errand and for me to leave him be. He loaded the cart himself, said he did not need any help, though he struggled to haul it in. I knew it was a boy then, not a man, on account of the voice.”

His stomach churned and his heart beat erratically, and it had nothing to do with the arsenic. “Loaded it with what?” he whispered.

The stableboy shrugged. “Something rolled in a horse rug and tied up, about this long,” he said, holding his hand at about his own height. “I did not see it well. I was back to work by then.”

“Did you see in what direction they went?”

“Toward the races,” he said, pointing.

He could not allow grief to overpower him, nor transports of anger. Elizabeth might still be alive, and she needed him. She might be unconscious and restrained, but alive. Would he not feel it if she were gone? Like how she had sensed him whilst blindfolded. He would feel it—a chilling dread in his bones—if she was dead.

But why had Lady Metcalfe carried Elizabeth to the racecourse? He ordered the groom to saddle his horse, and for everyone to go with him to the races to search for Miss Bennet and Lady Metcalfe, who was dressed in boys’ clothes. He would venture all fires of hell to find Elizabeth.

And he was also resolved. No entreaties would prevent him from resorting to every mode of punishment in his power if Lady Metcalfe had killed Elizabeth.

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth blinked open her eyes despite the excruciating pain in her right temple that begged her to keep them closed. She saw nothing. She tried to turn her head but could not move more than an inch either way. Something covered her face. She was sweltering.