Page 54 of To Win Her Affections

Elizabeth nodded, but her mind was not on the impending journey. Instead, she was considering Mr. Darcy, the changes in her perspective, the almost incomprehensible fact that she had accepted a proposal from him. It was beyond anything Elizabeth could have imagined only a month earlier, yet now she was betrothed to him, pending her father’s approval, of course. Then again, Elizabeth was already one and twenty and knew she possessed the ability to marry him without her father’s approval.

For the first time, Elizabeth imagined what her family’s response would be. Her sisters would be shocked, though Jane had always thought better of Mr. Darcy than the rest. Mrs. Bennet would be struck speechless until her natural excitability made her behavior mortifying. As for Mr. Bennet, he would think she had taken leave of her senses, though she thought she could persuade him with the truth. The truth of Mr. Darcy’s conduct during Lydia’s crisis would also weigh heavily with him.

What she could not quite discover were her own feelings on the matter. That was something she knew she would ponder for many days to come. The most curious part of it was her pact with Jane to marry for only the deepest love—Elizabeth’s feelings were a jumble of confused and conflicting thoughts, but somehow, she did not feel as if she were breaking that agreement.

The footman arrived and transported their luggage to the entrance, and they took up station outside, standing in the shade as the bright sun warmed the uneven cobbles beneath their feet. Elizabeth stood alone while her aunt and uncle spoke in quiet tones, pushing her thoughts away by gazing about at the little town, fixing it in her memory until the next time she saw it.

When the carriage arrived, Mr. Darcy stepped down and started giving orders. The driver, with the assistance of the inn’s stable hands, soon unhitched Mr. Darcy’s horses and replaced them with post horses, while the footmen—including one burly man who looked more like a pugilist than a gentleman’s servant—loaded the Gardiners’ bags onto the roof. When this was underway, only then did Mr. Darcy turn to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet. We will be ready to depart in only a few minutes.”

“Thank you again for your assistance, Darcy,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I must wonder if you know what you are taking on, but I am grateful for it, nonetheless.”

“With Wickham, one never knows,” said Mr. Darcy, though his eyes were on Elizabeth. “Much will depend on what we find in London.”

The moment the driver pronounced the carriage ready, Mr. Darcy motioned for them to enter. He spoke to a footman who would ride on to the next stop to ensure post horses were ready for their use, then entered behind them, closing the door, seating himself beside Mr. Gardiner in the forward-facing seats. Then the carriage lurched, and set out through the winding streets of Lambton, gaining speed once they reached the countryside beyond.

“Now that we have time,” said Mr. Gardiner, “I am curious about how you mean to go about discovering them.”

Mr. Darcy did not hesitate. “There is a woman who was once in my employ who owns a house in London—after she left my service, I discovered a connection between her and Wickham. If he needs help—and Wickham almost always requires some form of assistance—he will go to her.”

“Do you suppose he will be there?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.

The carriage jolted on a stone then settled into the familiar rumble again. “That I cannot predict,” said Mr. Darcy. “Even if he is not there, I expect she will know where we can find him.”

“It will not be a reputable part of town,” observed Mr. Gardiner.

“No, it will not. When we arrive tomorrow, I shall send word to my cousin, who is a colonel in the regulars. With his assistance, we should have every advantage once Wickham is found.”

Mr. Gardiner frowned. “Is that at all wise?”

“I trust my cousin implicitly, Mr. Gardiner,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Fitzwilliam has despised Wickham for years, and has urged me to do something about him. When I tell him that I mean to act against Wickham, he will not hesitate to offer his support.”

“There is one other point to consider,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham was in the militia—from everything I know, he deserted his position.”

“Just so,” said Mr. Darcy, appearing pleased at her understanding of the situation. “The army is not the militia, but as a colonel, Fitzwilliam can ensure Wickham’s desertion is properly addressed.”

Mr. Gardiner peered at him. “Then you do not mean to ensure they marry.”

Mr. Darcy hesitated, and Elizabeth thought she understood why. “I believe, Uncle, that Mr. Darcy does not wish to usurp Papa’s authority.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy with a grateful nod. “There is more, but that is the essence of it.”

“Then what is your opinion?” asked Uncle Gardiner.

Mr. Darcy turned to look out the window, the trees passing at a pace far beyond Elizabeth’s usual experience in a carriage. Outside, she could hear the driver urging the horses on and saw the clouds of dust raised by their passage. It was a long road to London, but it appeared that Mr. Darcy’s assertion of making the journey in two days was not boasting.

“There is no one better positioned to tell you about George Wickham,” said he at length, turning back from the window. “While I am certain we all agree that Miss Lydia behaved foolishly, she does not deserve a connection to a man like Wickham for the rest of her life—Wickham will make a poor husband.”

“That much I have apprehended,” said Mr. Gardiner, wryly. “The question is whether there are any other options.”

Mr. Darcy was again silent, though this time he appeared to be struggling with something. “Though I hesitate to raise such a delicate subject, in what state do you expect to find her?”

“I have little hope in that quarter,” replied Elizabeth. “Lydia has always been a silly girl—she will agree to just about anything Mr. Wickham suggests.”

“Perhaps you are being a little blunt, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner, directing a pointed look at her, “but I cannot disagree. What young man who steals away with a woman will not take liberties with her? I suspect many of stronger moral fiber than Lydia would yield in such circumstances.”

“Considering she went willingly, I fear you may be right,” said Mr. Gardiner.