"Lizzie, my dear, it is not like you to dissuade me from going to the aid of someone in trouble, especially where a family and children are at risk," he said and she felt a little ashamed of her selfish desire to put his safety and her own peace of mind first. But with her Uncle Gardiner's recent illness, she had begun to worry more about her husband's health.
"Would you let me come with you to London?" she asked, adding, "At least that way, I would not worry as much. It is just that with my Uncle Gardiner so ill, I cannot help feeling anxious when you are away for long periods and I have no knowledge of your whereabouts."
When her husband shook his head, indicating he did not think this was a good idea, she continued, "I know you wish to help, and I love you for it, but will you not send one of the men first? Then, if there is a need, you could follow and maybe take Richard with you," she suggested. Darcy threw his head back and laughed out loud.
"And do you suppose Cassy would have no objection to that?" He was very touched by her concern and put his arms around her as he spoke.
"No doubt, the two of you will probably find any number of arguments to stop us going after these villains. My dear, do you fear that I am no longer capable of looking after myself and the footpads will get me?" he asked, teasing her gently.
Taking her cue from him, Elizabeth lightened her tone, "Indeed no, why I am quite sure you are well able to fend for yourself, but I do hear a great deal about the criminals and villains who roam the city streets and will not hesitate to strike you down, should you get in their way."
Darcy smiled, "Dear me," he said, in mock outrage, "villains and criminals! It does seem as if the world out there is a truly fearful place. Perhaps I should just send Richard? Or will our daughter be as anxious about her husband, as you are about me?" he teased, but then seeing she was quite genuinely concerned, he was keen to assuage her fears and said gently, "If it upsets you, my love, of course I shall not go, but I will send a couple of my men to meet Mr Bartholomew, who can make some enquiries for me. It will not be easy for this Sutton fellow to hide two young girls for very long. It's bound to come out."
Ever since the news had reached them, Elizabeth had been thinking that London was an unlikely place to take two little girls, if you wanted to conceal their presence.
"I find it difficult to believe that Sutton would have taken the girls to London," she said. "Why would he? Why not keep them hidden away in the country? Place them in a home with a large family and they would hardly be noticed. Wait until the hue and cry dies down before moving them away."
Darcy, who had been standing in front of the window looking out at the park, turned around in a trice. "Lizzie, my dear, you are a genius! Why have I not thought of this before? It is far more likely. Indeed, it is quite probable that they are even now in the neighbourhood with someone he can trust or pay to keep quiet. I shall send Hobbs to Hertfordshire, let him stay at a public house in the area and make some discreet inquiries." He was full of enthusiasm for the idea.
"Thank you, my dear, that was an excellent idea," he said. Elizabeth glowed, not just from his praise, which she enjoyed, but from knowing that he was no longer likely to insist upon travelling down to London. The very next morning, a man was despatched posthaste to Hertfordshire, with instructions to frequent the public houses in the Meryton area and make discreet inquiries. He was also to watch out for any sign of the two Sutton children in the neighbourhood.
Meanwhile, Colin Elliott and his helpers had been in London and, having drawn a blank there, had reached a similar conclusion. They had no idea, however, where to look next. Returning to Hertfordshire, hoping to find more information but finding very little, they felt thwarted and annoyed. The two Sutton children, it seemed, had disappeared without trace. Until an express received at Pemberley brought astonishing news.
Mr Darcy's man, Hobbs, had taken a room at a small local inn outside Meryton and in the bar, on the second night of his stay, he had found himself in the company of two young men probably in their thirties, he thought. They were both drinking quite heavily and talking volubly. He had guessed they were ex-militia, from their manner, as well as their language, which was colourful and loud.
Introducing himself as a visitor to the area, Hobbs had discovered that their name was Wickham, Philip and George, two brothers. And, he'd gathered they were not happy. Their main complaint appeared to be that their mother, recently widowed, had apparently taken to letting rooms in their house to itinerant travellers. Her sons had returned from Eastbourn to find their rooms let to a man from London, an ex-soldier named Sutton. This man, they grumbled, had two little children, girls who were constantly weeping and whining, so no one could get any sleep.
"We had to doss down on the sofas in the living room," grumbled the younger of the two, Philip, while his brother pointed out that his mother was kept awake as well, since her room was just next door to theirs.
"When we told her to send them packing, she claimed she needed the money. Sutton was paying her well." Hobbs, suspecting he had a good source of information, had bought them more drinks and loosened their tongues to the point at which they were telling him everything. Mrs Wickham, he learned, had been paid in advance for two weeks--she had insisted upon it, especially since Sutton was going back to London, ostensibly to arrange accommodation for his children.
He had claimed his wife was very ill and could not care for them, but Mrs W. had not been taken in, they said. "Mama winked and grinned when she told us about it, and it was plain she did not believe a word of it. But as long as he pays well, she is not complaining," said Philip.
"But we are!" his brother had claimed, adding that he'd like to discover what Sutton was up to in the area. "He could be a smuggler and we may get a reward for handing him over to the police," he'd suggested.
Hobbs, who was fairly certain the two girls referred to were the abducted Sutton children, had dissuaded them from going to the police, but was asking Mr Darcy for instructions.
Darcy thought long and hard before despatching careful instructions to Hobbs and an express to Jonathan with the details of what Hobbs had discovered, urging him to go to the police at once.
"This is not the sort of matter that you and Mr Elliott can deal with on your own; I strongly advise you to take this information to the police," he wrote, careful to ensure that his nephew knew of the grave risks involved.
When Darcy told his wife of the information he had received from Hobbs, Elizabeth could not believe it; nor could Jane. Their wayward sister Lydia Wickham, recently widowed when her husband's body had finally succumbed to the forces of nature, after a lifetime of self-indulgence and dissipation, was once again involved in a stupid scheme that was bound to end in disaster or disgrace or both!
"She was probably trying to make some extra money, without giving any thought to the consequences," said Elizabeth, who knew well that Lydia's extravagant habits could not be sustained on the meagre annuity she received after Wickham's death. She was always applying to her sisters for money to pay a variety of bills. When Darcy had revealed to her the contents of Hobbs's message, she had been shocked and ashamed.
"Oh no, not Lydia again! Darcy, I am so weary of carrying the shame of her impropriety. Is there never to be an end to this?" she had cried and he had comforted her, as he had always done on these occasions, reassuring her that he was quite indifferent to the antics of the Wickhams, especially now that Mr Wickham had departed the stage. Indeed, he declared, it was probably an advantage that the woman concerned was Lydia, because she was at least predictable in her attitude to money and was probably open to negotiation.
"She has probably agreed to keep the children there, for a fee, and it is quite possible that, if Mrs Sutton or someone on her behalf offers her more, she will let them return to their mother. All I need do now is send a message to Jonathan, so he can alert the police. They will then wait for Sutton to return and nab him," he said with a degree of satisfaction.
Elizabeth and Jane had long since ceased to be surprised by their sister's behaviour. Quite incorrigible, mainly as a result of special treatment in her youth by an indulgent mother and an indifferent father, Lydia was a law unto herself. But neither of her sisters would fail to be ashamed at the vulgarity and coarseness of her conduct.
Since the death of her unlamented husband, Lydia's bizarre activities appeared to have increased. Both Jane and Lizzie were grateful to be living at sufficient distance from her, as to prevent her visiting them on one pretext or the other, as she did constantly with the unfortunate Mrs Collins.
Time and again, on family occasions, chiefly weddings and funerals, Lydia would appear dressed in her best, which was usually more striking than tasteful, and proceed to embarrass her family, who had to observe her absurd behaviour.
"She does not have to do anything, Lizzie," Jane had once said. "Just her being there makes me all nervous, as though something calamitous could happen at any moment!" Elizabeth knew exactly how she felt, but on this occasion, if Darcy was to be believed, it seemed Lydia might be, albeit unwittingly, instrumental in assisting the recovery of Mrs Sutton's children. Indeed, she may actually do some good, without intending to, of course. Elizabeth prayed that her husband was right.
I must stress, Jonathan, that you should not attempt to confront this man under any circumstances without assistance from the police. My information is that he is both unpredictable and likely to resort to violence in a crisis. Sutton is an unknown quantity; he appears respectable but is known to be truculent and easily roused. Please advise your friend Mr Elliott that he, too, must avoid dealing with him on his own. The man may be desperate, and in that state, he is not to be trusted . . .
The rest of the letter detailed the information received from Hobbs and wished them luck in their efforts to recover the children and apprehend the miscreants.
It was this letter that Jonathan had enclosed within a note to his wife at Netherfield, urging her to acquaint Colin Elliott with Mr Darcy's advice without delay.
Cassandra and her husband Richard Gardiner called on her parents and aunt at Pemberley with the news that they were travelling to Cambridge, having received an urgent request from her brother Julian.
"He is concerned that Josie is unwell and will not see a doctor in Cambridge. He has begged Richard to come and take a look at her," Cassy had said, and Elizabeth was most concerned. For a few years their lives had returned to normal, when Julian and Josie had returned to live at Pemberley with their young son, Anthony. But, sadly, Julian was restless; nothing could keep him from his beloved laboratory at Cambridge, where scientific studies were engaging some of the best brains in the nation. Josie went with him and so did their son, to the chagrin of his grandparents, who loved the child dearly. Elizabeth was worried and so was Jane, who'd had no idea that Josie was unwell. Cassy, wise and practical, was keen to let her mother know the truth.
"You see, Mama, it is not easy for Richard to go at this time. Mr Gardiner grows weaker every day and Mrs Gardiner needs Richard when things get difficult. But you know how Richard is; he will not refuse a call for help, whether it is from a patient or a member of the family, and he truly believes this one is quite genuine."
"What did Julian say?" asked her mother.
"Not very much, except that Josie has not been herself lately; he believes she is ill but will not see a doctor. They both trust Richard and wish he would come to Cambridge and take a look at her. That was all, but reading between the lines, you could tell there was more to it. Julian is not the type to cry wolf, is he?" she said.
"He certainly is not," said Elizabeth, "which is why I am most concerned. Cassy, my darling, will you promise to send me word and tell me how things are and if there is anything your father or I could do to help?"
Cassandra promised. "Of course, I will, Mama," she said, but begged her mother not to worry unduly. "Richard believes it may be a condition of the mind. He knows how very disappointed Josie has been at having her manuscript rejected. She would give anything to have her little volume published and, indeed, I believe if it were not for the spate of women writers appearing recently, producing popular novels, she may well have been more successful. But no one wants to publish a learned documentary on the conditions of the rural poor, when they can produce cheap novelettes. Poor Josie has been unlucky and it is understandable that she is depressed," she explained.
"If only they would settle at Pemberley; it is their home," Elizabeth mused. "There is so much to occupy her, she would have far less time to be depressed."
Cassandra was more understanding than her mother.
"I know also that Josie has been concerned that Julian and she are not here to play their part at Pemberley. She has told me that she feels she is letting you and Papa down. I have reassured her that I am happy to help with the work at Pemberley; I enjoy it and Richard does not mind, but I know Josie is not convinced. She believes she is not doing the right thing, yet her loyalty is to her husband."
"As indeed it should be," said Jane.
Elizabeth had voiced her own disappointment, and that of her husband, that their son had shown very little interest in managing the family properties, content to leave it to his father, his manager, and stewards. Not even the gift of one of the Welsh estates, on the occasion of their wedding, had engendered much enthusiasm, apart from a short trip to Bristol. Elizabeth, Jane, and Cassandra all knew that Darcy had been bitterly disappointed, especially when his son and heir had decided, at very short notice, to return to work at Cambridge.
"Perhaps, if they were to have another child?" suggested Jane a little tentatively, but Cassy was doubtful.
"Josie has declared that she could not cope with another child just now. Anthony, who is three, is a lively little boy and she has her hands full keeping up with him," she explained, and then, seeing Richard and her father approaching, begged her mother to keep these details from him.
"It would only upset Papa and I should hate to do that."
Cassandra was her father's favourite and they had an excellent understanding. They shared a deep love of Pemberley and spoke frankly together of many things. Yet, she was just as eager as her mother to protect him from undue anxiety or hurt. As it happened, Darcy was deep in conversation with his sonin-law, for whom he had great affection and respect, about his work on a new method of preventing infection in hospitals. Darcy, having financed Richard's initial research in antisepsis, was exceedingly proud of the work he had done. He was fast becoming an authority on the subject.
Fond farewells over, Cassy and her husband left, hoping to arrive in Cambridge early on the following day. Darcy, having heard a version of the news from Richard, was glad he was not leaving for London; clearly, Elizabeth would be anxious and needed him at Pemberley.