The sun was beginning to rise, the sky fading into dark grey of early dawn from the inky black of night. Elizabeth sat in the window seat, her forehead pressed against the glass. Kitty had relinquished her seat an hour ago to curl up in a chair.
Everyone was still in the sitting room. Elizabeth and Jane had not convinced anyone to go to bed; Mr. Bingley had politely declined use of the guest room, preferring to stay awake and offer Mr. and Mrs. Bennet—who steadfastly refused to seek rest while Lydia was missing— support. Jane had, of course, elected to stay with him. Kitty had not wanted to miss anything, and Mary offered no reason for her continued presence. In the end, everyone caught a few minutes of sleep here and there, but no one rested for long.
Elizabeth was in the middle of one of those few moments of rest when a crunching noise in the driveway pulled her back into consciousness. Gazing out the window, she saw an unfamiliar carriage coming up the drive. Squinting, she tried to make out the driver, but the lanterns on the front blocked her view.
“Someone’s here,” she said, her voice sounding rough and dry.
The carriage turned slightly, moving the lights out of Elizabeth’s line of vision and she saw with a leaping heart that the driver was Mr. Darcy! Someone was sitting beside him, burrowed deep in what appeared to be his jacket. She could not see for certain, but deep inside she knew it must be Lydia.
“Who is it?” Mr. Bennet asked quickly, standing and hurrying to the window to see for himself. “It’s Mr. Darcy!” He realized at once. Seeing Mr. Darcy was not alone, he changed course from the window and went instead to the door. “And he isn’t alone!”
“Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet asked, confused. She too had been in a momentary doze, and her senses had not yet fully returned to wakefulness. After a second, Mr. Bennet’s words sunk in and she too jumped out of her chair. “Not alone? Is it Lydia? Did he find my dear daughter?”
Elizabeth had begun to move to the door as soon as she saw it was Mr. Darcy coming up the drive. Her father was close on her heels as she left the sitting room, crossed the front hall, and pulled open the front door. She was walking up the front path towards the drive when the carriage pulled to a stop.
“Lydia?” She asked at once.
“She’s here,” Darcy nodded, putting the reins down and climbing out of the phaeton. Elizabeth’s heart leapt with joy. “But I’m afraid she has relapsed. I believe she has a fever and she is coughing quite terribly.”
“Oh, Lydia,” Elizabeth said sadly. Mr. Bennet hurried past Elizabeth and went to the carriage to lift Lydia down. Elizabeth saw her open her eyes once Mr. Bennet’s arms went around her.
“Hello, Papa,” she said sluggishly. Elizabeth caught a whiff of what smelled like brandy, and she pursed her lips, casting a questioning look at Mr. Darcy.
“Hello, my dear,” Mr. Bennet replied, staggering a bit under her weight. Elizabeth went to help him but he shrugged off her help. “Let us get you to bed, eh?”
Lydia nodded her head, closing her eyes once more, and settled her head against Mr. Bennet’s chest. By this time, Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the family had joined them outside. Mrs. Bennet rushed right up to Mr. Bennet and blocked his path into the house.
“Is she alright?” She asked, starting to fuss with Lydia’s hair and the jacket in which she was still wrapped. “Whose jacket is this? Where was she? What happened?”
“I’m sure Mr. Darcy will be happy to answer our questions,” Mr. Bennet said through gritted teeth. “Once we are inside. Please step aside, Mrs. Bennet, and I shall put our daughter to bed.”
Mrs. Bennet stepped aside at once and Mr. Bennet walked inside with Lydia in his arms. Once certain that Lydia would be fine, Elizabeth turned to face Mr. Darcy and realised he was shivering.
“Oh, you must be freezing!” She exclaimed. “Please, come inside, you must sit by the fire.” She took him by his cold hand and pulled him into the house. Despite the chill in his hand, she felt a warmth run up her arm at his touch.
Darcy followed gladly, and once inside, Elizabeth directed him into a chair by the fire. Sitting down, he looked as exhausted as she felt. He held his hands out to the fire, but his eyes never left her.
“I’ll ring for some tea,” Elizabeth said, suddenly nervous. “Or perhaps something stronger? Brandy?” To her surprise, Mr. Darcy gave a short laugh at this suggestion.
“Tea would be wonderful,” he said. “But I will pass on the brandy.”
Elizabeth nodded, immediately hurrying to the kitchen to fetch his drink. She returned several minutes later with a steaming cup and some bread and cheese on a plate. Mr. Bennet, Jane and Bingley had re-joined them in the sitting room. Their mother, Kitty and Mary had no doubt remained by Lydia’s side. No one was speaking, and Elizabeth wordlessly handed over the tea and food to Mr. Darcy.
“Thank you,” Mr. Darcy said gratefully. He immediately tore into the food, and carefully took several sips of tea.
“Alright, Darcy. Miss Elizabeth had re-joined us, now will you tell us what happened?” Bingley said, his patience evidently worn out. Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy in surprise; he had waited for her before telling his tale? “Why did you disappear so suddenly?” Bingley asked.
Mr. Darcy took one more sip of tea before answering.
“I saw Wickham,” he said. Elizabeth felt her stomach plummet. If Wickham was involved in Lydia’s disappearance, she dreaded to learn what had really happened. “He was getting into that phaeton you saw in the drive. He was helping… well…” Mr. Darcy glanced at Mr. Bennet nervously.
“I think we can all assume it was Lydia,” Mr. Bennet offered gravely. “And if Wickham is involved in this story, I fear we may also assume this story had many pieces that will be objectionable. I have heard enough tales in the village to not trust the man at all.”
Elizabeth looked at her father in surprise; she had no idea that Wickham had earned a poor reputation in Meryton. Mr. Darcy looked at the Bennets apologetically, as if confirming everything Mr. Bennet had said.
“Pray, Mr. Darcy, tell us everything,” Mr. Bennet said in a resigned tone. “We cannot help Lydia if we do not know the whole story.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Darcy said, clearing his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, I saw Wickham getting into the carriage with a young woman who appeared quite inebriated.” Elizabeth frowned deeply. That explained why Lydia had reeked of alcohol, even if it did not explain why. “I thought I recognised Lydia, but in the darkness I could not be sure. They left before I could get a better look and I feared I would lose them if I stopped to explain.”
Bingley nodded his understanding, and Mr. Bennet looked thoughtful.
“I did not catch up with them until they had left town.” Mr. Darcy looked apologetic. “Fearing what Wickham might do if I approached on the open road, I followed them at a safe distance until they stopped…” He paused once more to look at Mr. Bennet, but the man simply nodded for him to continue.
Mr. Darcy took a deep breath before his next words. “They stopped at an inn about an hour outside of Meryton.”
Elizabeth gasped involuntarily and heard Jane match. She quickly looked at her father and saw his face had gone pale.
“An elopement?” Mr. Bennet asked hoarsely.
“It would seem so,” Mr. Darcy answered, sounding angry. Given Wickham’s history with elopements, Elizabeth understood the rage that now radiated from him.
“Did they… Did you find them…” Mr. Bennet could not seem to finish his thought.
“I caught them before they even entered the establishment,” Mr. Darcy said quickly. Mr. Bennet rubbed his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief.
“If there is anything to be grateful for…,” he said solemnly. “Mr. Darcy, I do not know how we can ever repay you for what you have done.”
“There is nothing to repay,” Mr. Darcy said firmly. “I feel as if I have some blame in all of this—I know Wickham and his despicable behaviour all too well, and yet I said nothing. I allowed him to prey upon this town, and for that I must take some responsibility.”
“My dear boy,” Mr. Bennet said kindly with a small smile. “You cannot take responsibility for the actions of other men. To live your life thinking you can, or you must, will be exhausting.” Elizabeth smiled as well—she sometimes forgot how wise her father could be. Under the circumstances, she was quite proud of Mr. Bennet.
“I know you are correct,” Mr. Darcy sighed. “The challenge is to remember such things.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet said, standing and stretching. “I think I shall go to bed for a few hours. I think I need to rest before I speak with Lydia.” He frowned deeply, his disappointment in his youngest daughter plain across his face. “I would scold her right now, but I prefer my children sober and healthy when I dole out punishments. They remember them so much better that way.”
Elizabeth bit back a laugh. It seemed that Mr. Bennet’s joy over Lydia’s safe return was slowly emerging through his anger and disappointment over the situation in which she was found.
“Gentlemen,” he said with a slight bow. “Please avail yourselves of our guest rooms. For after we have rest, we have much to celebrate.” He kissed Jane’s cheek and clapped Bingley on the shoulder. “Your engagement will no longer be overshadowed by your foolish sister,” he promised Jane.
“Thank you, sir,” Bingley said with a wide grin. “I will gladly accept your hospitality.”
“As will I,” Mr. Darcy agreed, sounding exhausted.
“Excellent,” Mr. Bennet said. “I bid you all good night.” He glanced at the weak sunshine beginning to stream through the window. “Or rather, good morning.” He nodded as he walked out the room.
“I’ll be happy to show you to your rooms,” Jane said, standing as well. Mr. Bingley jumped up immediately, eager to follow her, but Mr. Darcy remained sitting.
“Perhaps I could finish my tea?” he asked, holding up his cup.
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll be happy to show you to the guest room when you have finished.” Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush, and quickly ducked her head to hide it. When she glanced up, she saw Jane hiding a smile behind her hand. She feigned a cough to keep her face hidden a few moments longer, and when she looked up again, Jane and Bingley had left the room.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I echo what my father said: I do not know how we can ever thank you enough.” He gazed at her over his tea cup, but did not respond. With a start, Elizabeth noticed the discoloration upon his hands. “Mr. Darcy,” she gasped, taking hold of his free hand. “Your story did not explain these.” She gently touched the bruised knuckles.
“I’m afraid my temper got the better of me,” he said after a moment, allowing her to lightly trace each bruise. He winced slightly as she touched a tender place. “But I am not sorry,” he admitted. “Wickham deserved what I gave him and much more.” Elizabeth saw the ferocious look on his face, and found herself drawn to it.
“I am quite certain you are right,” Elizabeth said. She smiled mischievously. “How hard did you hit him?” Darcy turned bright red and ducked his head.
“Hard enough to mar his previously perfect face,” he said with a look that was a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I do believe I broke his nose.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing at the admission. Under normal circumstances, she abhorred violence, but given Wickham’s unrepentant behaviour, she could not find any pity for the man.
She realised that she was still holding Mr. Darcy’s hand and quickly dropped it. It was her turn to feel embarrassed. Mr. Darcy tipped his teacup back and finished his tea just as Elizabeth tried, and failed, to hide a yawn.
“I believe I am ready for your guest room,” he said through a yawn of his own.
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “We are both asleep on our feet. If you’ll follow me?” They both stood up and headed towards the door. Just as they were about to leave the sitting room, they ran into Hill on her way in.
“Miss Elizabeth!” She said, clearly not expecting to run into anyone. “I was just starting my chores.”
“Good morning, Hill,” Elizabeth said. “I was about to show Mr. Darcy to the guest room.”
“Oh, I’ll do that, miss,” Hill offered at once. “You look asleep on your feet!” Elizabeth opened her mouth, but could not think of a reason to turn down Hill’s offer. So she turned to Mr. Darcy and gave him a small curtsy.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I hope you sleep well.”
“And you,” he replied with a bow.
Hill beckoned Mr. Darcy to follow and they began to climb the stairs. Elizabeth followed at a slower pace, thinking about the disappointment settling over her. She had not wanted Hill to take Mr. Darcy, she realised. She had wanted to stay with him as long as possible.
The thought thoroughly confused her. She slowly opened the door to her and Jane’s room, her tired mind unable to comprehend the mixture of feelings. She would just have to save thoughts of Mr. Darcy for when she woke up.