“Excellent!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “Then, as all is forgiven, you can accept my offer for a ride. Come, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Again, thank you, sir; however, I honestly do prefer to walk. Good day, Marquis.”
She curtseyed yet again and began to turn, flabbergasted afresh when he grasped her elbow firmly. “I must insist, dear lady. Your feet are drenched with mud and your face is ruddy and perspiring. You appear unwell. What manner of a gentleman would I be to leave an ailing woman stranded on the roadside?” His smile was lecherous, and Lizzy was seriously apprehensive but also angry.
“Lord Orman, unhand me at once and leave me be. I wish to walk, and Mr. Darcy would certainly not be pleased to hear of your attentions.” She shook her arm but he tightened his grip painfully.
“Is Darcy the only man worthy of your attentions, Mrs. Darcy?” He roughly pulled her toward him while leaning into her body and she realized with dawning horror that he intended to kiss her! Without conscious contemplation, Lizzy acted. She resisted forcefully and swung the wooden bucket with astonishing velocity and accuracy, smashing it into his head. He yelled and released her elbow. Lizzy spun and bolted into the woods without a backward glance, dropping her bucket of purple berries on the road.
Lizzy ran in a blind panic for some fifteen minutes as she zigzagged among the trees and heavy underbrush. She wasted no effort on glancing behind her to see if Orman followed, her mind conjuring an image of him capturing her in the emptiness of the wood so terrifying that she was spurred by a burst of energy.
However, as young and athletic as Lizzy was, even she eventually reached the end of her endurance. Gasping and wheezing, she stiffly plastered her body to the rearward side of an enormous pine and cautiously peeked behind her. Nothing. The wood, except for her panting, was silent. Nonetheless, she remained still for another ten minutes as she caught her breath and slowed her erratic heartbeat.
Only as her terror of Orman subsided was she able to contemplate her current predicament. Lizzy was gifted with an excellent sense of direction, so even though she had careened crazily and the tall trees effectively blotted the sun, she felt fairly certain she had taken a roughly easterly course. This meant she would need to turn to her right, south, to reach the Pemberley thoroughfare. She did not think she had crossed the deer trail in her wild dash, so hopefully she would find it now. It was getting late in the afternoon and, with the thick trees, darkness would fall rapidly in the wood. With a last careful inspection of the area behind her, she set off.
For a half hour she walked. The forest was damp, murky, and far colder. The sweat on her skin cooled and she began to shiver. Just as the edges of panic crept over her, she stumbled upon a deep ravine with a briskly flowing river at the bottom and the straight outlines of a trail running clearly alongside. Lizzy inhaled loudly and closed her eyes in relief.
She stood there for a spell, breathing deeply of the mingled aromas of earth and pine. Her mind now unclouded by panic, she allowed herself to meditate on all that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. William’s treasured face floated before her and she smiled. She ached to hold him. She was humiliated by her actions and comprehended the magnitude of forgiveness she did not deserve from him, yet knew he would grant without hesitation. Such is the love he bore for her.
Tears sprung freshly to her eyes at how blessed she was to have him in her life. She closed her eyes once more and imagined his fingers touching her face and his lips on hers. She could hear his voice in her head and she trembled. Her hands spread over her abdomen and she wondered. Oh, please, Lord, she thought, let the root of my sickness and moodiness be a blessing. She fleetingly pondered how she would tell him about Orman and then pushed the thought aside. No unhappy thoughts, Lizzy. Just William.
Her heavenly reverie was sharply interrupted by a crashing from behind her, accompanied by a hideous warbling sound. She pivoted in fright and involuntarily took a step backward, one foot catching on an exposed tree root at the edge of the ravine while the other slipped in the loose mud. She flailed her arms but there was nothing to grab. Her last conscious thought as she tumbled over the edge of the ravine, her shoe violently wrenched from her foot, was how William would laugh at her being spooked by a turkey.
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!”
Darcy glanced up from where he was standing in the yard before the cotton mill and into the frantic face of a young stable boy named Mathais, who was galloping full tilt toward him. He frowned as Mathais reined in, nearly pitching over the head of the horse. He grabbed at the bridle. “Whoa, girl! Steady there. Mathais what is the…”
“Sir, you must return to Pemberley immediately! Mrs. Darcy is missing!”
All the color drained from Darcy’s face, and only decades of contending with disasters and grief kept him from collapsing. “What do you mean, ‘missing?’” His voice was controlled and only someone who knew him well, like Mr. Keith, would detect the note of hysteria.
Mr. Keith yelled to saddle their horses and a dozen men leapt to comply as Mathais launched into his tale. “According to Miss Darcy and Mrs. Langton, Mrs. Darcy left to take a walk at about half past two. She was going to the berry thicket on the main road.” Darcy glanced at his pocket watch; almost five-thirty. Mathais was continuing, “Miss Darcy became concerned after several hours and a groom was sent to the patch. He found the bucket of berries along the road and footprints heading into the woods.”
Darcy swore, sensing violent tremors and raging panic threatening to overwhelm him. One hand instinctively moved to the breast pocket where he daily secreted the pouch with her lock of hair. Only movement, action, could prevent him dissolving in a puddle of desolation and anguish. He yelled for his horse, although Parsifal was already saddled and heading his way, and turned again to the boy. “What is being done?”
“Mr. Thurber and Mr. Clark were organizing the stable staff and groundsmen for a search of the woods. I was dispatched to you, so I know nothing else.”
Darcy barely heard him. He mounted Parsifal and in a flash was gone.
Dusk was swiftly waning to full darkness by the time Darcy and Parsifal raced into Pemberley’s drive. Darcy was hailed instantly by Mr. Thurber, who was supervising the search, pending his master’s return.
“Mr. Darcy, we have been searching for three quarters of an hour, thus far to no avail. I directed one group from the road where Mrs. Darcy’s footprints were seen entering the wood. Unfortunately, the prints disappeared some hundred feet in where the underbrush and leaves obscured any tracks. Another group set off along the deer trail in hopes that Mrs. Darcy would have happened upon it. I have several other smaller groups spaced at intervals methodically edging their way inwards.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Sir, we found this.”
He handed Darcy one of Elizabeth’s simple cloth bonnets, torn and muddy. Darcy stared at it, tears welling and throat constricting. Mr. Thurber looked away, heartsick for his master, and for all of them, truth be told. The entire staff had grown to admire Mrs. Darcy and the thought of her coming to any harm had them all in varying states of sorrow.
“I… .” Darcy swallowed, tucking the bonnet in his coat pocket, “I need to help. You are in charge here, Mr. Thurber.” He remounted Parsifal.
“Mr. Darcy, here is a whistle. It is the established signal.”