tonight?”
“We saw her walking down Bow Street as we drove home from Drury Lane,” Darcy said.
“Bow Street? Good God!
“Mr. Darcy intervened. As far as we can tell, she was not hurt.”
“Thank heaven you arrived when you did! Sir, please know that you shall always have my deepest gratitude. As do you, Mrs. Darcy. Caroline is fortunate in your friendship.”
“We are glad to have been of use,” Darcy said.
Mr. Parrish set his glass on the tray and lifted the decanter to refill it. “Did she say anything to explain why she was on that street — any street — in the first place?” His countenance, which had been so happily animated only that morning, now appeared grave.
Darcy declined Parrish’s gestured offer of more wine. “No. She volunteered no account, and we did not press her for one.”
“How did she seem? Was she — was she quite herself?”
Elizabeth searched for words to accurately describe Caroline’s state without further alarming the distressed bridegroom. “When I first saw her, before the robbery attempt, she appeared… unaware of the circumstances in which she had placed herself. She progressed steadily down the road, but her gait held no sense of purpose.” In her experience, Caroline Bingley did nothing — even take a turn about the room — without purpose. “Afterward, in the carriage, she seemed shaken by her encounter with the thief, but otherwise acted herself.”
Parrish nodded pensively and looked to Darcy. “This was your observation as well?”
“It was.”
He released a heavy sigh and slumped into a nearby chair. “Caroline told me just now that she cannot recall leaving the house, nor anything about her journey until the moment the thief accosted her. I had hoped you might be able to provide some insight. As it is, I’m not even sure how long she was gone. She must have departed after I fell asleep, for I didn’t hear her. What time did you find her?”
Elizabeth sat down across from him. “Shortly after midnight. Perhaps quarter past.”
“I don’t know what time I fell asleep. Half-past ten?” He glanced from Elizabeth to Darcy and back. “You are wondering, but too polite to ask, if I know whether Caroline was yet awake when I nodded off.” He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I know for certain that she fell asleep before me. I then retired in my own chamber. Forgive me if I speak too openly about delicate matters, Mrs. Darcy. I seek only to comprehend what happened to my wife this evening, not to embarrass you.”
“I understand.” Far from suffering embarrassment, she was grateful to have her curiosity satisfied on this point. She, too, wanted to solve the puzzle of Caroline’s actions, and Parrish was right — she never would have voiced such a question. They now knew that Caroline had not deliberately remained awake to leave after her husband retired.
Darcy, however, appeared discomposed by Parrish’s candor. He stiffened, and a slight flush of displeasure crept into his cheek. Elizabeth sensed what he was thinking: A gentleman did not allude to certain subjects in front of a lady, and chief among them was whether he had spent the evening in conjugal activities. No doubt he was also contemplating the notorious vulgarity of Americans.
“You say she doesn’t recall leaving the house?” Darcy asked. She knew he was trying to steer the conversation back to more appropriate territory.
“Not a moment of it. Somehow she rose, dressed, walked out the door and traveled all the way to Bow Street without consciousness of having done so.” Parrish studied his wineglass, tracing the rim with his index finger. “This is probably a question better suited to her brother, but since he is not here and you are, I will ask it. Is Caroline in the habit of sleepwalking?”
“Sleepwalking?” Darcy blinked in surprise, then pondered a moment. “Not to my knowledge. I have been a guest in the Bingleys’ home many times, and they in mine. Never have I witnessed or heard of anything like this.”
“Back in Louisiana, there was a young woman — Marie Chevenier — who used to sleepwalk every time she visited her cousins on the plantation next to ours. Sometimes she’d wander so far that we’d find her sleeping on our porch early in the morning. They said she never did it at home, only her first few nights in a strange house. I thought perhaps this being Caroline’s first night here…” An expression of anguish, tempered by hope, flashed across his face.
Elizabeth felt herself moved by the unveiled, unintentional display of Parrish’s distress. What an inauspicious start to his marriage! — spending his wedding night talking to near strangers in a desperate attempt to interpret his new bride’s peculiar behavior. Sleepwalking may indeed have caused Caroline’s bizarre journey; it provided as good an explanation as she could devise. But even if it hadn’t, right now Parrish needed to believe it possible.
“I think perhaps you are correct,” she said. “Not only is she in an unfamiliar house, but I’m sure the strain of planning such a grand wedding in little over a week taxed her nerves. In a few days she will be fine, and in a month you won’t remember this incident, either.”
“Do you really believe so?”
“I do.” Then, sympathy overtaking self-interest, she added, “May we call tomorrow to enquire after her?” A glance at Darcy revealed his approval. The call would mean changing their travel plans yet again, but it was the proper thing to do. Mr. Parrish needed the support of friends at present, yet would not wish to disclose tonight’s events to others. Chance had made them confidantes in the matter; they had an obligation to carry through their involvement.
Parrish’s face brightened. “
“A day’s delay is of no consequence,” Darcy said. “Besides, we cannot be easy at home until we know Mrs. Parrish is all right.”
However true that might be, Elizabeth could not help but feel disappointment settle upon her heart even as she smiled reassuringly at poor Mr. Parrish. She was beginning to think she and Darcy would never reach Pemberley.
“And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses.”
Elizabeth slept late the next morning, Caroline Parrish’s escapade having kept her awake much longer into the night than she generally retired. She awoke to find Darcy standing before the mirror, tying his cravat. He had already dispatched a servant to the Gardiners’ house with a note informing Georgiana of their delayed departure.
“What did you tell her?” She sipped her chocolate in bed, a post-nuptial addition to her morning routine that Mrs. Hale had introduced and to which she had readily become accustomed.
“That we found Mrs. Parrish wandering the streets in a scandalous manner last night, and remain in London to circulate gossip.”
She nearly dropped her cup before realizing he jested. As much as she delighted in their banter, it was usually she who initiated its more preposterous turns. “I trust you also included details of the duel you nearly fought with that ruffian, not to mention Mr. Parrish’s account of the couple’s sleeping arrangements?”
“In the postscript.” Having achieved a passable
