Page 63 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Mrs Younge’s face shifted, a slight flicker of concern crossing her features before she masked it with an imperious expression. “Mr Wickham?” she said, her voice betraying nothing. “I do not know what you mean. I’ve not seen him since you dismissed me from Pemberley two years ago.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Please do not tell Banbury tales. We know you sheltered him after he fled the militia. And I know you have been sheltering him now.”
He knew no such thing of course, but Elizabeth admired the confidence with which he hid this fact.
Elizabeth stood beside him, watching Mrs Younge carefully. There was something about her calm demeanour that unsettled Elizabeth. She had an air of someone who had grown accustomed to lies and deception.
“You cannot be serious,” Mrs Younge said, lifting her chin. “You are accusing me of harbouring a man I have not seen in years, Mr Darcy. I have done nothing wrong. I am simply a woman trying to live a quiet life.”
“My sister was taken from her home without informing her parents or sisters. She is under the influence of a man I know you understand is utterly self-serving who has no interest in her welfare and I will not stand here and let you lie and deceive us,” Elizabeth hoped that her words would sway the woman, but from the expression on her face she feared they were falling on deaf ears.
“Mrs Younge, I did not take matters further when you attempted to corrupt my sister,” Darcy said his voice now lower than before, almost threatening. “I only did so because I discovered you were in allegiance with Wickham before you had a chance to put your plan into motion. Otherwise I would not have been so forgiving. But if you dare to try and repeat your actions now with my sister-in-law, I will not be so lenient.”
“I do not appreciate being threatened,” she said.
“You do not have to appreciate it, but I will tell you this only once. My family has wide-reaching connections both in the North and in Town. If you wish to keep your employment, or have any hope of working in another great house anywhere you will tell me where Miss Bennet is. And you will do so at once.”
The woman considered this and then, to Elizabeth’s relief, she stepped aside.
“She is upstairs in the bedroom to the right. Mr Wickham is out.”
Without waiting for any further invitation, Darcy moved past her, rushed upstairs, and pushed open the door.
Chapter 36
Darcy
As he and Elizabeth ascended the grand staircase, an air of urgency surrounded them. Elizabeth stopped outside the door, her apprehension tangible. Darcy looked at her, gave a single resolute nod, and then reached for the door handle.
Upon entering the room, the sight that met their eyes confirmed their worst fears. Mary seemed distraught, traces of tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Mary,” Elizabeth called gently. The instant their eyes connected, Mary looked up, her composure faltering as she darted forward, seeking solace in her sister’s embrace.
“I think I’ve made a dreadful mistake,” Mary murmured, her voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and regret.
Darcy could contain himself no longer. “Indeed, she most certainly has,” he grumbled under his breath, frustration simmering just below the surface.
“Darcy, please,” Elizabeth urged, glancing back at him with a firm yet pleading look, “allow me to speak with my sister first.”
Mary could hardly meet his gaze. They settled on a settee, and Mary’s tears flowed freely as she confessed, “I feel like such a fool.”
Elizabeth felt a rush of sympathy for her sister and gently pressed for clarity. “What do you mean, Mary?”
In a trembling voice, Mary shared, “I overheard Mr Wickham and Mrs Young speaking this morning. They thought I was asleep, but I was not.” Her words came rushing forth, recounting how she had woken at dawn, filled with excitement for the new life she envisioned with Mr Wickham. Yet, her dreams had been dashed when she descended to find the two of them seated at breakfast, conspiring.
“Mr Wickham talked to Mrs Young about their plans. We were to remain in London for a few days, ostensibly to afford you and Mr Darcy time to find us, so that he could extract payment from Mr Darcy,” Mary continued, her expression a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak.
Darcy scoffed, unable to keep his opinions concealed. “Just what I expected,” he muttered, his disdain for Wickham clear in his tone.
Mary gave him a fleeting glance before returning her attention to Elizabeth, tears pooling in her eyes. “I thought he loved me,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I was so foolish.”
Sighing, Darcy took a step closer and sank into the armchair nearby, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon him. “Mary, it truly was unwise to run away with Wickham,” he said, his tone firm yet measured. “But you are not the first to fall for his charms.”
She lifted her head to look at him quizzically.
“My own father often favoured him. Indeed, sometimes it seems he esteemed Wickham more than he did me. It is a bitter truth I do not care to share often but it is true.” Darcy lamented.
Elizabeth shook her head, unwilling to accept such a notion. “I am certain that is not true!” she protested.
