Page 50 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

— E. Bennet.

She had handed it over to be delivered and had then lain next to Jane, glancing unblinkingly at the ceiling until the household began to stir fully.

Mr Thwaite arrived as early as seven. He had not slept a wink. This was obvious in the stiffness of his movements, which was effortful rather than natural. He had returned home the previous evening only because Jane had pressed him to, on the grounds that he could do nothing useful by remaining, and he had returned now for the same reason he had left: because Mary required people capable of acting in her favour, and he intended to be part of that group.

When Elizabeth handed him some of Mary's letters, he read them with full concentration and furrowed eyebrows that made it clear he found the task painful. Once he reached the passages about Caroline Bingley, he winced and tilted his face up to the sky in a silent prayer. He was hit hard by Mary’s disappearance. That much was clear, and Elizabeth knew then and there that she would never doubt the veracity of the love he had for Mary.

"She believed she was losing me," he said in a tone that was not a question.

"That appears to be the case."

He set the letters down. "I will never give her cause to doubt my attentions again. Not for a single day." Then: "That I did not see all of what she was withholding…I said it once and I'm saying it again. I intend to account for that when she is home."

Elizabeth took in the absolute, uncomplicated clarity of his feeling for her sister, visible in every line of his face. Mary had had nothing to fear from Caroline Bingley. She had never had anything to fear from Caroline Bingley. She had simply not known it, and no one had told her plainly enough, and that was a failure that had compounded over weeks into the morning's crisis. But never again.

"I do not doubt that you will, sir. I'm so glad Mary has you for her suitor."

Mr Bingley arrived at half past eight with Mr Darcy beside him. Quickly, they were made aware of the latest discoveries and the family’s determination to go to the address.

Then, Mr Bingley went to Jane without preamble. "I owe your family an apology," he said, making eye contact with Jane, Mrs Bennet and then at Elizabeth in rapid succession. "My mother cultivated your mother's friendship with the intention of gathering information to use against your family. My sister participated, knowingly, in an attempt to undermine Miss Mary's connection with Mr Thwaite. I cannot undo what has been done, and I will not insult you by suggesting the apology is adequate to it. But I want you to know that I am ashamed of their conduct, and that I have addressed it, and neither of them will trouble your family again this season."

Jane fixed him a look of affection. "You are not your mother. Nor are you your sister. We know that. You are someone whose company we enjoy, myself most of all." She squeezed his hand briefly. "Now help us find Mary."

Mr Bingley appeared relieved. "Certainly. I have been granted a chance I do not deserve, due to my family’s conduct, but I intend to prove myself."

Mr Darcy had been at the edge of the room for the duration of Bingley's apology, and now he came forward with a propelling energy. He turned to glance at Elizabeth, she met his gaze, and neither of them said anything immediately.

"I have spoken to a friend who works with the Bow Street Runners," he announced. "I will send a message via messenger to ask him to meet us at the address. They have the authority to search the premises if required. Their Hackney coach will follow at a distance. We do not want to alert the household before we have been able to speak to them. We should go now."

They were distributed between two carriages, with the Hackney coach trailing far enough behind to be unremarkable.

Mr Thwaite, Mrs Bennet, Mr Bingley and Jane took the first. Elizabeth, Mr Darcy, Kitty, and Lydia took the second. Kitty and Lydia sat together on the opposite seat with a subdued air. They had after all spent a sleepless night worrying about a sister who had, until recently, seemed the least likely to disappear.

The carriage moved along the streets, and Elizabeth looked at the city going past and thought about Mary. Mary out in the cold night, Mary in an unfamiliar area. How would Mary feel upon learning that the correspondence she had kept, valued and turned to in her most private moments had been engineered from the start? Devastated, most certainly. She would require plenty of support to recover from that shock.

And what was she doing currently? No matter how Elizabeth tried, she couldn't conjure a suitable answer to that question. She shut her eyes, praying that Mary was safe and that they would find her soon.

She thought about Mary's sweet face, often animated when discussing subjects that mattered to her. But otherwise tranquil. She was a figure of support, like Jane, always present to aid Elizabeth however she could. Even in matters she did not approve of, Elizabeth mused with an internal chuckle. Mary did not always share the same critiques Elizabeth held about specific practices in society but she always lent a listening ear.

"She will be safe."

She glanced up. Mr Darcy was staring at her, with an attention that was not the measuring edge she had assigned to him across the season but something softer. Concern, she thought. For her, specifically, not just the situation in general.

"You cannot know that."

"No. But I believe it." His voice was pitched for her rather than the others. "She is resourceful, she is not easily frightened, and we are not far behind. We’ll find her soon. I would not say it if I did not mean it."

Perhaps she was experiencing a clarity that arrived at the end of a sleepless night, when the ordinary defences had worn thin, but she believed him. Maybe it was because she had spent so long reconsidering what she knew of him and arrived, repeatedly, at the same conclusion.

"I was very unjust to you yesterday. You came to warn us. You came because you thought we needed to know, and you were right. I said it in a way I did not mean. I was aware of that even as I was saying it. But I went ahead anyway, because I was frightened. I was also angry and you were the nearest available person to lash out against. That is not an excuse. I am sorry."

"You were frightened. That is understandable."

"It is not sufficient reason to behave in such a way."

"Perhaps not. But it is an explanation, a valid one." Something in his countenance shifted, revealing a bright smile, one she had never witnessed from him in the months of their acquaintance and doubted many did.

"The apology is accepted, Miss Elizabeth. Completely and without reservation."