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CHAPTER 19

Anxiously, Elizabeth sat perched on the edge of the shabby, badly worn cushions with her eyes trained out of the windows of the rickety hackney coach. That way she felt as though she was doing something of meaning. Otherwise, she might surrender to the tears threatening to consume her, to cloud her judgement, and cause her to blame herself for her son’s going missing.

Any sign of a young child on the passing street corners and she knew she would take flight from the coach without a second thought. Lurking about on poorly lit streets teaming with filth and garbage were hordes of nefarious characters—beggars, folks of ill-repute, and the like. Silent blessings abounded as none of them turned out to be small children.

Elizabeth’s heart overflowed with despair. By comparison to all those people, she and Ben had enjoyed a sheltered and privileged life. People actually live this way. The prospect that her son, her heart and soul, was now lost amongst that world, alone and helpless, was too much to bear. Elizabeth cried.

Another long and uneventful day was shaping up to be yet another long and uneventful evening for Darcy. Rarely did he venture farther than his sister’s establishment since his return from Kent. The Season was well underway, but rather than revel in it and take advantage of all the excitement it offered, Darcy felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Inevitably, when he felt that way, his thoughts tended quickly towards Elizabeth and her refusal of his hand.

Another Season meant another year on display for all the scheming mamas and their eager daughters. Might any of them even compare to Elizabeth? Darcy wondered. He doubted it was possible.

The rich echo of his austere butler’s sonorous voice interrupted Darcy’s reverie.

“Miss Caroline Bingley,” he announced, as she sashayed into the room, adorned in the latest fashion of the Season and looking quite fetching, a fact that Darcy would not deny, if pressed.

The butler, who quickly made his escape from the room, had no sooner closed the door than Darcy crossed the room and opened it. He looked up and down the hall, before returning his attention to Caroline. “Where is your brother?”

“Am I my brother’s keeper, Mr. Darcy?”

“I suppose not,” he uttered, nonchalantly. He walked over to take a seat at his desk and commenced composing a letter to his steward, hardly giving a thought to her presence. He looked up to find not only had she closed the door, she also was hovering on the edge of his desk.

“There are several chairs about, if you would care to choose one,” he offered.

“No thank you, sir. I am quite comfortable here,” she waxed, coquettishly. Caroline eased herself atop his desk and proceeded to smooth the indiscernible wrinkles in her gown.

“I warn you, Caroline, if you do not take care to mind your reputation, I certainly shall not.”

“That sounds promising.”

Darcy yanked himself from his chair and stood to give Caroline a hand down from his desk. Leading her over to the settee, he urged, “Please, have a proper seat.”

“If you insist, Mr. Darcy,” she said. Caroline patted the empty space next to her. “Will you join me?”

“What brings you here, Caroline?” Darcy asked, ignoring her wanton invitation and moving instead to pour himself a drink. He took a long swig and eyed her intently.

“I was most eager to see you.”

“You were? Whatever for? What is it you want?”

“Have I not made myself abundantly clear,” she purred as she eased from her seat and flounced towards him.

“Please, not that again, Caroline.”

“For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Darcy, when do you intend to stop this game of cat and mouse?”

Darcy regarded her with an incredulous look, one that served to spur her on further. “You persist in leading me on. You speak to me as tenderly as you look at me. You even address me by my given name!” Caroline accused.

“That was only at your insistence. I see now what a mistake that was. Surely, you must know there is no chance for a meaningful future between us, and I refuse to take advantage of you.”

“No, I refuse to believe it. I am exactly what you need, if you would but give us a chance,” Caroline exclaimed as she threw herself into his arms.

Gingerly, Darcy took both her slender wrists into his hands and tried to release her hold on his body. At that very moment, a knock at the door summoned his attention. Taking note of the compromising position, he urged her apart from his person. “Please, get a hold of yourself.” Allowing a few seconds to pass for her to compose herself, he called out, “Enter!”

His command went unheeded. There was yet another knock. Annoyed, Darcy walked over and flung the door open. “What is it, Mr. Brooks?”

“Pardon me, Mr. Darcy. There is a young woman here to see you.”

“Why did you not show her inside?”