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“Oh God,” Elizabeth whispered, sinking onto the bed. “What is going to become of us all?”

Chapter 21

Darcy was on his way to the stables, in search of the kind of mindless occupation that seemed the only thing likely to quiet his racing thoughts, when raised voices from the library changed his direction entirely.

“Lizzy, you do not know that she has gone with him,” Mr Bennet was saying. From the tone of his voice, Darcy received the impression that it was not the first time he had made the point. “You have built a catastrophe over nothing except a note from Mary, who, forgive me, is not the most reliable of sources. She may have followed Mrs Forster as a lark, or she may have simply gone to a friend’s for a night or two to punish your mother and me for forbidding her to go with the regiment. She is most likely safe at home at this very moment, quite pleased at having caused such a fuss.”

“Papa,” Elizabeth said, and Darcy had never heard that edge to her voice before when she was speaking to her father. It was sharp, almost angry, and made Darcy look away as he thought of that tone being directed at him just hours earlier. “She is not with Mrs Forster; Colonel Forster said so himself. If she is not with Mrs Forster, she is with no one respectable at all, and the man she is most likely with has already shown us what he is capable of with her.”

“You cannot know that,” Mr Bennet said, though his voice had lost some of its certainty.

“I can,” Elizabeth said, “and I do, and I do not have the luxury of pretending otherwise simply because it is more comfortable to imagine. And, respectfully, Papa, neither do you!”

Darcy entered without ceremony, making father and daughter turn to him abruptly. Mr Bennet’s face was red with growing irritation, and he did not look overly pleased to see him. Elizabeth was pale, her eyes huge and shadowed, her hands twisted in front of her as though she were holding them still only through her force of will. She flinched when she saw him, but she did not look away.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Darcy said, “but I could not help overhearing as I passed by. What has happened?”

Elizabeth answered, immediately and in a rush, as though she had been waiting for someone who was capable of acting on her concerns rather than arguing about whether concern was warranted at all. She told him about Mary’s letter and the militia’s departure; she told him of Lydia’s note and the claim that she was travelling with Mrs Forster, and of Colonel Forster’s letter to Mrs Bennet denying that claim and confirming that no such arrangement had been made.

“My father believes it may yet prove to be nothing,” she finished, “but I do not share his confidence.”

“It seems excessive to assume the worst on so little information,” Mr Bennet said, but his voice sounded rather weak, as though he were arguing more to defend his position because that was the stance he had chosen than because he believed in its merits.

Darcy looked at him for a moment, then made a decision that was without a doubt the best that he had made that day. “Sir,” he said, with as much patience and respect as he could gather considering the urgency of the situation, “I believe that your daughter’s instincts are considerably more reliable than any more pleasant alternative upon which we might wish to place our hopes. I have reasons of my own to share that conviction.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lifted to meet his, and he saw the growing dread.

“I agree that if she has left with anyone, Miss Lydia is likely with Wickham,” Darcy said, meeting her eyes and not looking away, though it cost him to hold steady under the look she was levying on him. “You will recall that I told you some months ago that the officer seen near the library on the night of the ball had been addressed as Wickham. I told you then that I would write for further evidence as to the man’s identity and share what I learned. When I received confirmation from his regiment, your party had arrived here at Pemberley, and I took it to your father rather than to you, believing it more discreet. I… I should not have broken my word to you, Miss Elizabeth. I thought it best to allow your father to handle the situation, but…”

There was a brief, charged silence when Darcy trailed off, unable to continue without saying something openly condemning. Elizabeth continued to look at him, and he dropped his gaze as he saw hurt added to the swirl of emotions in those dark eyes. “We have no time at present to discuss that,” she said finally, and Darcy looked up. Her words did not indicate forgiveness, but they were not outright condemnation either, which, considering the circumstances, was surely more than he deserved.

“I had hoped that my direct prohibition to Lydia, and the departure of the regiment, would be enough to bring an end to any danger,” Mr Bennet said quietly. “I see now that it was not.” His earlier defensiveness was gone, and he seemed shaken.

Darcy did not pause to condemn the man — there was no time for that. “We must act, and quickly, because whatever has already happened would become considerably worse through delay,” he said. “Mr Bennet, you must return to Longbourn at once. Your family will need you there, and you must be present in order to support your wife, to be prepared to receive Miss Lydia if she returns, and to be nearer in order to more efficiently agree to whatever settlements prove necessary. Bingley will arrange the carriage and accompany you; he has connections that may prove useful, and he will not quickly forgive either of us if we leave him idle at Pemberley while the rest of us act.”

“The rest of us?” repeated Elizabeth. “Are you planning to…” She trailed off, apparently unsure how to word the question.

“I will go to London,” Darcy said. “I know something of Wickham’s habits and his usual creditors, and I am better placed to trace him quickly, having been obliged to do so before. If he is with your sister, I mean to find him and see them married, whatever inducement that requires. They have been together too long for any other alternative.”

Mr Bennet looked at him for a long moment, a mix of expressions crossing his face. He looked older, as though he were seeing, much too late, the full cost of years spent declining to be overly involved in his family’s troubles. “You would do this,” he said, “for a girl who is no relation of yours, and whose folly has already cost your close friend dearly enough?”

Darcy caught his breath, hearing the question the older man was not saying — not aloud. He looked at Elizabeth, his gaze holding hers a little too long, until she looked deliberately away.

“I would do it because it is necessary, and because I am in a position to act efficiently,” Darcy said. “It need not be more complicated than that.” He excused himself before Mr Bennet could press him further and went to find his uncle and his cousin.

He located them in the billiard room, where Fitzwilliam was lining up a shot. Upon seeing Darcy’s face, his cousin straightened up, the game immediately forgotten. He opened his mouth to speak, but Darcy got there first.

“I must apologise for my abrupt departure,” Darcy said, and told them, as briefly as he was able, what had happened and what he intended to do about it.

Fitzwilliam set down his cue and walked around the table to Darcy. “I am coming with you,” he announced without preamble. “You will need help, and I am rather more practiced in finding men who do not wish to be found than you are.”

“But your leave —” Darcy began.

“Is mine to spend as I please until it is over,” Fitzwilliam said, “and I cannot think of a better way to spend the remainder of it than in making Wickham’s life considerably more difficult than he thinks it will be. I have wanted an excuse to do so since last summer, and it is most obliging of him to deliver one to me.”

The earl, who had been seated by the window with the newspaper, set it aside and watched his nephew closely as he explained what had happened and what he intended to do.

“Wickham,” he said at the conclusion of the explanation, saying the name slowly with an expression of mild distaste on his face. “I confess I am not entirely surprised to find him in this sort of situation. Be it soon or late, men such as he always find their way to this sort of disaster eventually. So it was he that was involved in the situation at Netherfield Hall.”