Page 64 of Elizabeth and Caroline
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, Elizabeth woke to her husband’s voice in her ear, his whiskers whispering against her neck, as he said that he wouldn’t mind getting right down to the business of getting with child with all seriousness, and something unfurled deliciously in her body as she rubbed her bare skin into his.
They were kissing in what could only be termed a frenzy when there was a frantic banging on the door of her husband’s bedchamber.
He broke their kiss only long enough to issue a bark that they were not to be disturbed and then went back to kissing her senseless.
The banging came again. “Sir, it’s your sister! She’s gone.”
So, this necessitated their getting dressed immediately and leaving the bedchamber.
Georgiana had left a letter, left it in the breakfast parlor, right in the midst of the table. Her husband read it, crumpled it up, and slammed his fist with the ruined letter into the table. Then he left the letter and stalked out of the room.
Elizabeth darted over to pick the letter up, smooth it out, and read it for herself.
She was stunned.
She hurried out to find her husband going up the stairs to his bedchamber. “Fitz, how could he even be here? He iswith the militia in Meryton!”
Nothing from her husband.
She rushed after him. “If she had been seeing him secretly, we would have known. She is never alone, is she not? She goes straight to her school and comes directly home. How could this be?”
Mr. Darcy ignored her and bellowed for his valet to dress him.
She came in after him.
The valet scurried in, gave her a look, and then went directly to her husband’s wardrobe. “Riding clothes, sir?”
“Of course,” said Mr. Darcy to the valet. To her, “They can’t have gotten that far. It’s a long ride to Scotland, and Georgiana will not wish to travel at breakneck speed. I’ll catch them up. I think this time, I shall have to kill him, however.”
Elizabeth twisted her hands together. “I should have said something. When I was considering making a match for her, she described the sort of man she wanted, and the physical attributes… well, I suppose I should have realized she still had some fancy for him, but I dismissed it.”
Her husband didn’t respond.
“I suppose I cannot come along.”
He looked up at her. “After I bring her back, we shall all go to Pemberley. I cannot allow her to be running free in town. I have spent too long not keeping an eye on her, and this is the consequence.”
She licked her lips. “Yes, the country. I do long to see Pemberley, of course. And that is likely best for her.”
“I know you wished to be in London, but you must see that isn’t possible anymore. I am sorry if you are disappointed.”
“No, of course I understand.”
Too quickly, he was simply gone, and she was left alone in the house to wander around, feeling as if she had been run over by a stampede of wild horses. She could not make heads or tails of it, truly.
When had Mr. Wickham come to town? How had hegotten to Georgiana? Why was she so eager and willing to go away with him? Did Georgiana wish to marry that man?
She was still reeling when something truly mad happened.
A servant arrived with a letter for her, one that he insisted must be delivered only to her own hands. He waited as she read it.
It was from her sister, Mary. It outlined the fact that their sister Lydia had gone missing, leaving behind only a note indicating that she had eloped withMr. Wickham.
Elizabeth dropped the letter with a cry.
Then, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat gone off the rhythm of the rest of the band, she picked it back up again to read that there was a hope that they would receive news soon that Lydia and Mr. Wickham were, in fact, married, but that certain inquiries amongst other officers had led them to worry that Mr. Wickham’s intentions were less than honorable and that there was some cause for worry. Mary said their mother was beside herself and that no one in the household was doing anything about it, but that Mary wondered if Elizabeth might speak to her husband, who was somewhat acquainted with Mr. Wickham, was he not?
