“Fletcher!” Darcy was upon his valet before the man had a chance to catch his breath from his unexpected summons up two steep flights. “We are leaving for London tomorrow. You must pack only what is necessary, for I will not be entertaining or going about Town in the usual manner.”
“London, sir?” Fletcher wheezed in surprise. “Tomorrow? Good Heavens, sir!”
“Pray that it is so, and that Heaven will be good.” Darcy paused, the look of bewilderment on Fletcher’s face setting him to wonder whether taking his valet into his confidence might be the wiser course. “We go to the rescue of a young woman, Fletcher,” he finally added, a ghost of a smile creasing his face, “an activity with which you and your finacée have some experience, if I recall.”
“Y-yes, sir,” his valet agreed uncertainly. “When do you wish to depart?”
“Six, absolutely no later. That will be all — No, wait!” Darcy caught the man before he could bow. “Tell no one until later tonight; then you may let it be known among the servants. I will inform Mr. Reynolds, but my guests are not to know until I tell them.”
“Yes, sir.” Fletcher bowed.
“And send a servant to find Miss Georgiana. I wish to speak with her at once.”
“Immediately, Mr. Darcy!” Fletcher quickly bowed again and disappeared behind the servants’ door. For a moment, Darcy stared at the closed door, his valet’s steps receding into silence. A deep sense of wholeness spread through his soul, accentuating as it did so the sweet freedom of a clear conscience granted by having come to a decision that he could act upon.
“Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana appeared in the doorway in response to his call of “Enter!” Darcy looked up from his portmanteau just in time to catch the smile upon her face fade into puzzlement. “What are you doing? Packing?” She looked at him in astonishment.
“Yes, dearest, I leave tomorrow at first light.” He dropped what was in his hands and went to her.
“But, our guests…” She looked up at him as he took her hands in his. “And Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy looked down into her eyes and marveled at the calm self-possession he found there. The quality of mercy…Yes, that was what he saw there, the effects of mercy and the wisdom its bestowal had brought to her. The urge to tell her his plans was strong. Georgiana, of all people, would understand what he was about to do.
“It is on behalf of Miss Elizabeth that I must leave you here to entertain our guests, sweetling, and travel to London for I know not how long.”
“London! For Miss Elizabeth?” He could see her curiosity warring with an awakened concern and a proper reserve.
“Yes. Elizabeth…Miss Elizabeth received some distressing news by post just moments before I was introduced. She was so distraught that she confided its contents to me in a most unguarded fashion.” He paused. “It is a matter, oddly enough, that touches on our family and for which I hold my own actions to be a highly significant factor.” He looked deeply into his sister’s eyes. “I promised Elizabeth my silence, but it involves Wickham, my dear.” Georgiana gasped, and for a moment, the old look of pain and shame crossed her delicate features, but these emotions were rapidly replaced by intensity.
“Wickham and Miss Elizabeth? You must tell me, Fitzwilliam!” she demanded, her grip on his hands tightening, her regard of him steady.
“Wickham has…has compromised Miss Elizabeth’s youngest sister —”
“No!” Georgiana breathed it out in a strangled whisper.
“I fear it is so.” He looked at her apprehensively, but she nodded and motioned that he continue. “He has taken her to London and effectively disappeared. The post pled for Miss Elizabeth to return home to Hertfordshire and for her uncle to assist her father in his search. I expect they are already gone. Georgiana.” He sighed. “I cannot think but that if I had exposed Wickham for the danger he was, this could not have happened. Perhaps I am wrong, but at the moment I can only accuse myself of behaving with no thought for the protection of anyone beyond our own family.”
“And so you go to London to assist in the search?” Georgiana finished for him. “They will not want it.”
“No, they will not; therefore, I will make them no offer but will employ my own means in secret. Which brings me to this next.” He caught her eye. “You must tell no one and carry on here yourself. Can you do that?” He cocked his head at her. He was asking much of his young sister, but as he put his hands on her slim shoulders, he felt them straighten to the task.
“Yes, I can; it is the least I can do.” She looked him full in the face. “It was for me that you kept silent, Fitzwilliam. We must put that right; we must help Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy smiled at her “we” and put a palm to her cheek. “You have become such a lady that I dare not call you ‘my girl’ any longer. Lord Brougham warned me it was so and, as in so much, he was right.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, I must finish my packing. I will announce my departure at dinner tonight, not before; and you must plan your own strategy, Miss Darcy!”
The profound consternation of his guests when informed that Darcy was leaving them to their own devices might have gratified the conceit of a lesser man, but after briefly acknowledging their disappointment, he refused to entertain long faces or petulant looks. Instead, he plunged into the next matter, that of insisting that his guests treat Pemberley as their own while he was gone from them, ending with the small caveat that any large entertainments should be discussed first with his sister.
“Dash it all!” Bingley exclaimed at the news of the unnamed emergency. “What deuced bad luck! And everything has been so agreeable…more than agreeable,” he murmured. “When will you return, Darcy?”
“I cannot say. It is completely in the hands of Providence.” Darcy’s mouth assumed grim lines. “But I believe it will be a matter of weeks rather than days.”
“Then p’rhaps we should think of pushing on to Scarborough.” A new chorus of disappointment from his sisters greeted Bingley’s words, but he pointedly ignored them. “Unless” — he peered into Darcy’s face — “unless there is any way in which I might help you.” Bingley’s earnest offer was gratifying to behold, for not long ago he would not have dared even to think he could stand as his friend’s support.
“No, I thank you.” Darcy steadily returned his regard. “If the matter were such that you could help, I would pounce upon your offer; but as it is…” He let the sentence dangle.
Bingley nodded. “Well then, we shall keep Miss Darcy company.” He winked at his friend. “And plunder your trout stream in the meantime. I know of nothing else so likely to hasten your business in Town.”
“Indeed.” Darcy smiled back. “But having observed your skill with rod and reel, I have not the least concern for the health and safety of my trout.”
Upon bidding his guests adieu and retiring to the sanctuary of his bedchamber, Darcy found his valet awaiting him in his dressing room with all at the ready. A single trunk, closed but as yet unbound, stood discreetly to one side awaiting his inspection while a solemn-eyed Fletcher, caught in the midst of evening preparations that would end only after Darcy ordered him to bed, bowed.