Surely he would grow weary of sitting on a dirty rock, but he did not complain or even squirm. He held her gently and carefully until her sobs subsided and her eyes dried. Elizabeth would have been happy to sit thus forever.
Public, she reminded herself. Inappropriate. Reputation. Moreover: Mr. Darcy!
This last thought prompted her to pull away from him with a jerk. He released her readily enough but did not move, maintaining a steady, compassionate contemplation of her face. She wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, which would require laundering before returning it to him.
“I-I apologize for my inappropriate behavior,” he said solemnly.
She managed a shaky shrug. “There is nothing to apologize for. Friends should comfort one another.” She retreated even further, curling her arms back against her body. “I apologize as well. I am not usually such a watering pot.”
Mr. Darcy stood, brushing the dirt from the seat of his breeches. Feeling vulnerable, she stood slowly to ensure that weak legs would hold her.
He regarded her rather quizzically. “I would imagine not. You are obviously serving as your family’s rock.”
How had Mr. Darcy guessed that so readily? His tender expression completely disarmed her. Tears threatened again, and Elizabeth had to quickly avert her eyes.
He was silent for a long moment as Elizabeth collected herself. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea where we should search for her?”
Elizabeth swallowed and turned back to face him. He knows your face is tear-streaked. There is no sense in hiding it. “No. After Mr. Wickham…abandoned Lydia, she lived for a few weeks with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at their house in Cheapside. But she chafed at their restrictions and was certain that Mr. Wickham would return for her. One day she wrote a note saying that she was going to seek him—and disappeared. My uncle’s agent was able to trace her to a lodging house in an…unpleasant part of London.”
She had been a barmaid, but Mr. Darcy did not need that information. “But she was gone by then. The innkeeper said she spoke of traveling to Brighton, but my uncle found no sign of her there.”
Mr. Darcy nodded solemnly. “If you can give me your uncle’s direction, I will have my man seek him out so they might share their knowledge.”
“Thank you. You are most kind.”
“It is the least I must do.”
Elizabeth scrutinized the path. She had recovered sufficiently that she was now equal to returning to Meryton. Hopefully, her eyes were not too terribly red.
But Mr. Darcy appeared to have little interest in departing. He took one of her hands in both of his, drawing her to face him. “But I must do more for your family than that. Being of assistance to Miss Lydia is wholly inadequate.” No doubt he could feel the callouses and work-roughened skin of her hand. She should withdraw it, but she did not want to appear to reject him. Or was she fooling herself? Perhaps the real reason was that she took pleasure in the illicit sensations.
“We cannot possibly accept any further assistance,” she said. “It would not be proper. Nor is it necessary. My sisters, mother, and I are all faring quite well—as you see.” His expression was full of skepticism. “You know we can accept nothing from you.”
Lydia had little remaining reputation to protect; it mattered not if Mr. Darcy gave her help. But the Bennet women could not be seen receiving assistance from an unrelated gentleman; it would give rise to all sorts of rumors and speculation.
“Are any of your sisters being courted?” he asked. “Perhaps if any of you visited London, I might…in
troduce you to young men of my acquaintance.”
Was he offering to facilitate introductions to wealthy young men? Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. This was the same man who believed her family was barely worthy of associating with. Was there some substance in the Canadian water that made people nicer? “I thank you for the offer,” she said. “Perhaps if Jane or Kitty were to visit the Gardiners, they might call on you and your sister.”
He dropped her hand. “But not you or Miss Mary?”
“Neither Mary nor I have any intention of marrying,” she said.
Now he seemed positively alarmed. “Not marry? But why?”
She glowered at him. “Surely, sir, that is a deeply personal question.”
“Of course. Forgive me.” He glanced away from her, swiping hair from his eyes in an agitated move.
What had possessed her to tell Mr. Darcy such a thing? She had not even revealed her intentions to Jane.
He appeared about to reach out for her again but then clasped his hands resolutely behind his back. “I am sure there must be some small service I may render to your family.” His expression was so earnest that Elizabeth had no doubt of the sincerity of his request, but she was struck by the absurdity of such a man asking her for a favor.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… At the moment I do not need any minotaurs slain, and we seem to face a shortage of menacing lions in Meryton…”
His lips quirked in a smile. “Perhaps if I linger long enough, a monster will happen along to threaten Longbourn.”