For a terrible instant, Darcy appeared fixed in astonishment. Then he stood up and paced before her. “How did it happen?” he prompted tersely.

Elizabeth drew a steadying breath, determined to respond in as controlled a manner as possible. “The militia left Meryton about the same time as I left for Hunsford. My sister Lydia was invited by Colonel Forster's wife to stay with her for a few weeks. Lydia left Brighton together with Mr. Wickham on Sunday night, and they were traced almost to London, but not beyond.”

“What has been done? What has been attempted, to recover her?”

“My father is here in London. He has been trying to find her for the past three days, with my uncle’s assistance. He sent for me from Kent at the same time. That was the reason I requested this meeting. You have known Mr. Wickham since your youth. I beg for intelligence to help us in our search.”

Mr. Darcy made no answer. He continued to pace for a while, then stopped and looked sharply at her.

Elizabeth returned his gaze through teary eyes.

“And what would be my reward for helping you?” He asked at last.

It was Elizabeth’s turn to widen her eyes. “Reward? I am appealing to your gentleman’s nature to help a family in distress.”

He laughed coolly. “As I recall, you stated yourself that I had a selfish disdain for the feelings of others, and that I was no gentleman. Why would such a man help a family in distress without some reward in view?”

“But you are a man of fortune. What more…?”

Elizabeth's trembling voice faded. Standing abruptly, she said to him coldly, “It was a mistake for me to beg you for intelligence. Mr. Darcy, pray forgive me for interrupting your day.”

She began to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and prevented her retreat. “Sit down, Miss Bennet. You can ill afford to be missish when I can help you recover Miss Lydia and force Wickham to marry her.”